Embracable Aberration

The Tension Magazine Cinnamon Season has begun!

We are using a new rolling format, instead of quarterly issues. The new offerings for today are:

	Centrifugal, a fab hat pattern by Kira Dulaney.
	Disparate Measures, an article about Nerdcore and Chiptunes by Steven J. Holetz. (With links to free downloads at the end of the article - check them out, especially if these styles of music are new to you.)
	Baked Caramel Apples, a recipe by ME.

Best of all, to show our appreciation for your abiding interest, we are throwing a Super Fabulous Yarnaholic Giveaway. Enter weekly for a chance to win the top prizes.

The happy meds are certainly helping with my ability to navigate the gazillion bureaucracies I am now dealing with.

The good news is that Chicago has a lot of help available, you just have to look for it. And then go there, fill out a bunch of forms, get doctor's signature and medical records. And then wait. And then resend some paperwork that was lost, and call about the medical records. And then wait on hold.

To be honest, I had no idea how much help there really was out there - but it also took me not really being able to pull in an income for a while now that I end up qualifying.

Getting sleep has taken off the frantic edge of all it. But I think I'm catching up on about a year's worth of restlessness because I'm sleeping a lot. I can tell I need it though. I had been really sick with a headcold, and then pneumonia, but I couldn't rest. I'm just now starting to feel like I am breathing normally and I'm pretty sure it's because I'm getting enough rest to heal up.

and hooray! the yawns are just now setting in. so goodnight all. I hope you sleep as well as I am about to.

I like my psychiatrist. Funny lady - and she gets it. She totally gets it.

I mean, it helps that my old-old-old medical records got to her in merely a week... but the hospital I was at in those years is top-notch and totally digitized these days. She had a PDF, of records from almost 25 years ago, within 48 hours of her requesting it.*


Her having that record was such a relief. It means I don't have to say a whole lot of stuff unless that is where I intend the conversation to venture. The upshot:

Lexapro

and

Abilify

and

Klonopin

was her recommendation. Lexapro and Abilify do not have generic equivalents, so I opted out of Lexapro for Paxil. The doc was going to give me a month of freebies for Abilify, but it is $460/month(!!!!!) and I want to make sure that the I am approved at the drug company for a year's worth of freebies. I have no idea how long that takes, but I'll have all the paperwork for my doc when I see her in 2 weeks.

I took the Paxil and I remain skeptical about me and SSRIs. They give me a giddy feeling that seems to turn mania into paranoid delusions eventually. I told the doc about this, she said give it a try and we'll see how it goes. She said she'll trust my judgment if I just try it. I think she wants the combo of the paxil + the abilify, but I don't know if I can make it a month just on the paxil. It shortens the time it takes to go from zero-to-panic.

However... then... I took 1/2 a klonopin about 2 hours after taking the paxil. and good lord almighty if this isn't, as always, as usual, as habit and precedence, my everything drug. I'm going to sleep tonight, without racing thoughts or stressful dreams. I'm not going to wake up at every little noise.

I took half to see what it would do. It's been so long. It's a break from being me, klonopin is. It's my antidote. It's cheating because it can't be normal to feel this good, relieved.

* * * * *

After I wrote the above, I started yawning. And I realized how long it had been since I yawned. Being sleepy feels so much different than the exhaustion of fatigue. Fatigue hurts, and makes sleep difficult because every position irritates some ache somewhere. Fatigue hurts because my body is tired but my mind is still awake, and in a foul place, and I resent fatigue and it effects so I war with my body. Being sleepy, though, is a soft comfortable feeling of desiring rest and being able to slowly drift off under the comfort of my blankets.

I woke up still sorta groggy. I took the other 1/2 of the klonopin right before bed. I think it was overkill - and I think I'll just take 1/2s from now on (unless I am experiencing high levels of freakout).

The doc was honest. She said that with my history, it probably won't ever go away, that I'll probably always be prone to anxiety-induced paranoia. She agreed that talk therapy might not do all the much for me, because the work I do on my own (this journal, other writings, researching mental health, etc) yields about as much as someone less-self-aware who is in counseling. She said that people who live through on-going violence for as long as I did don't usually shake it off of them, but instead they do the best that they can to cope.

Ok, so I've got this thing I've written about the 80s for Tension, but I'm not thrilled with it.

So I'ma gonna brainstorm a little here. Feedback, memories, nostalgia welcome.

* * * * *

80 to 82 -
leftovers from the 70s: feathered hair, tight jeans, clogs, corduroy, macramé belts, roach clips with huge dyed feathers, rabbit's foot keychains, short-shorts with knee socks, boatneck sweaters

82 to 84 -
michael jackson-esque red jackets, members only jackets, zippers, safety pins, tulle, slouchy sweaters that show bra strap (or tank top), leg warmers, purple eyeshadow, rat tails, vans, jams, pocket logos in gold thread, izods

84 to 86 -
acid washed denim, drop-waist dresses, paper-bag waisted jeans, denim jackets with yoked collars, puffy sleeves, shoulder pads, mini skirts, pumps, chucks, docs

86 to 88 -
spandex, hair wings, pink, purple, mohawks, bobs, swatches, bike shorts under mini skirts, boots with buckles, boat shoes, combat boots, black leather jackets, suede bomber jackets, lamé, bustiers

88 to 90 -
ripped jeans, flannels, scarves, fringe, lace underskirts that peeked beneath maxis, beads, vests over bras, cuffed denim shorts, tie-dyes

Ok, now it's my turn. I have some third cousins in Italy I've just connected with and...

ooh la la

talk about *pretty* boys...

whew.

This is a pic of my great-great-grandparents, in Italy.

They are the parents of my mother's father's father.



I am amazed at how much my sister resembles my great-great grandmother. I always thought my sister took after her father's side, but... WOW. There she is.

The best possible thing just happened.

The tech editing for the Cinnamon issue of Tension has been a nightmare for Julie.

And THAT is defeating, and makes me concerned about Tension as a concept... mostly because it came out in the conversation with Julie that this is par-for-the-course and that when she edited for Interweave, there were only 3 designers that didn't require a lot of back-and-forth in the tech edit.

whew.

I don't know what to do with that information except put my head in my hands and cry.

THIS IS NOT ROCKET SCIENCE. It really isn't. 10 year olds can write computer code, and a crochet pattern isn't any more complicated than that. IN FACT most patterns don't even have more than 100 lines. We're talking really simple stuff.

I come from a background with a zero tolerance policy for errors. My goal, as a systems accountant, was to create a workflow and check-and-balance that accounted for every single screw, every single nut, and every penny earned/spent/invested. Coding is the same way - one teeny tiny mistake of forgetting a single semi-colon and the whole program breaks. Being flaky about the details just because one sees the whole picture is not acceptable.

Not. Acceptable.

bleh. I needed to rant. Now I'm back to work.

I'm a third wave feminist, and proud of it.

I'm pro-Free Will. If a woman wants to get by on her looks, more power to her! Likewise the women who do so with their brains, and the women who do so with their charm, and the women who do so with their brawn... and the women who combine it all, too.

I've got support and a pat on the back for each and every one of them, and I'll fight any(every)one who tries to limit the options women have to choose from and I'll get in any(every)one's face who tries to pass judgment on the choices women make for themselves.

I take this quite far in my application. One word I am super crazy extremely careful about using is "demean". Besides that I feel "demeaning" can only be assessed from a personal point of view (and cannot be used accurately when expressed in general terms), and besides that I am not personally apt to allow something to demean me, I feel it is an assessment reserved for the most extreme behaviour.

As a for instance, if I were to call an explicit music video "demeaning" to women, that has implications about the women who participated in the making of the video. I wouldn't say that, though, exactly *because* saying so means I am either accusing the women of being willingly demeaned, or I am accusing them of being too stupid/unaware to even realize what they are participating in.

And I WON'T do that, because I have no ground to stand upon. Each person is allowed to define her own dignity, and what that means to her, and unless that person says otherwise - who the hell am I to assume?

* * * * *

As an adjunct to all of that, I don't take each and every portrayal of sexy ditzes as a personal affront to my femininity. Why? Because sexy ditzes exist, and nearly every one of them that I have met in real life are good-hearted, fun-loving femfolk and if they can wrap men around their little finger with a giggle and a jiggle - More Power To Them. Right On, Sister-Woman.

You wanna know what bites my ass lately? When people refer to me as "strong" as if that means I have more raw capacity to deal with life's shit than the person standing next to me.

The days keep marching on, no matter how tired I am. It has nothing to do with me being strong. It all just continues to happen.

I hate being sick, and bitterness creeps up my spine sometimes. I want to know why it is happening to me, no matter how self-pitying that is, and this year has been the worst of it.

I look nothing like my icon and that photo was taken only a year ago. My hair fell out, my face has many scars, and my eyes are bulging/red/and the white part hangs over my bottom eyelid like I am a zombie. I am back down to 85 lbs.

And part of asking why is this happening to me is guilt. Guilt about not having health insurance and wondering if I had made different choices, if I would have health insurance and then maybe I wouldn't be so sick right now. Guilt about being sick and looking old and having a young vibrant handsome husband. Guilt about not earning money, and then spending everything I do earn on medicine and doctors. Guilt about my fear of medical procedures and how that keeps me from keeping appointments sometimes, and how it makes me a horrible patient to have to deal with.

It angers me that this might be the best I can hope for, and that not letting it get any worse is the most I will get from treating lupus (with the medicines I can afford).

I'm not strong, I just don't want to be pointless. I could go on disability, slap on a pain patch, and let the days slip into each other. I don't that out of vanity, not strength.

I take my anger and I let it burn me until it gets me off my ass. I use that bitterness like smelling salts - to keep me present and alert. If I was strong, I'd be able to do it all with a smile and a kind word for everyone. But no - I am like everyone else, and swearing like a sailor helps me deal.

so... didja know you could get blisters on your eyeballs?

well, you can. I don't think the official term is blister, but considering it is swelling due to an immune response to friction, I think blister suffices.

I've got buggy eyes from hyperthyroidism. That's been the case for about 18 months, and it has gotten slightly worse over time. What is new is the manifestation of Sjogren's - which is my immune system attacking moisture producing glands. So I've got dry eyes, dry nose, dry sinuses and dry skin. I don't have dry mouth really badly, (it's more my lips than my mouth) but I CRAVE cold fluids almost constantly.

So anyway, the combination of poor tear production and buggy eyes rubbing up against my eyelids = eyeball blisters.

There's nothing I can do about the blisters themselves - they "resolve"¹ themselves. As for the cause - I'm using artificial tears 2-4 times/day. I'm supposed to rest my eyes every few hours (haven't done this yet). And the bulging may get better as my thyroid gets better, or it might not. If it doesn't, and if it gets worse, my only option is surgery to remove the pressure.

My eyes water constantly. Which would've seemed to me to be contradictory to having "dry eye" but I guess the problem is that the tears I am producing are bad tears, and the chemical balance is off and my own tears are making the problem worse.

¹they get bigger until they burst, sometimes they get reabsorbed. usually the former.

Ummmm...

ok, first the props:

Brianna Mewborn - I love the flip-flop floor pillow. Way cute.

Annette Petavy - gorgeous menswear! and thank you for the sizing that will also fit teens.

Kim Guzman - lush texture and flattering lines = WIN.

Marlaina Bird - I want to make this for myself. I love layers like this - it would go with so many different looks. I want to make it in a summer yarn, though.

Edie Eckman - mmm tessellations in the form of toasty afghans... yummy.



everyone else...

not one, but 2 ugly blanket-coats. a sweater that evokes an eggplant in both shape and color. mittens that look like oven mitts. salmon and indigo *ewewewewewewew*, a vaguely duncecap-like hat, a beanie that is begging for a propeller, and a plushie stitched with way too big of a hook to keep the stuffing inside.

I feel really badly for the people who live life according to a filing system.

...y'know, the people who insist that This is This and That is That and they each have their own spot on a different shelf. People like that are apt to become angry at the thing which is both This and That, the thing that deserves the spot that hovers between the shelves. For those people, the thing that is This from one view and That from another is an object of derision. My mom was the type of person to throw away the thing that is both This and That, because ambiguity is resistance to categorization and that Shall Not Be Tolerated.

For me, categories are merely tools and like all tools - they have an associated tolerance. They are guidelines, not rules, and there is never a system complete enough to account for all possibilities. (the map is not the territory. say it again - the MAP is NOT the TERRITORY).

People seem to want to attribute tone to my written words, when there is no need to do so. I will never imply that I think someone is an idiot - I'll come right out and say that, if that's what I mean.

You'd think that it would be obvious: that I am obvious. Go ahead and try to read in-between my lines, but I'm pretty sure my message will merely fractalize.

Somehow, though, people read my words as if I intend them maliciously. There's never any doubt when I'm being malicious. It's never a situation that is subject to interpretation because I take skin off with the first lashing. I don't need to hide behind passive-aggressive jeers, so it is a sure thing that you are getting me wrong if you think I just issued one.

Additionally, if I haven't yet strayed into obscenity laden insults, I'm probably still trying to negotiate communication. Once I have called someone an asshat or a jagoff, though, anything else I write is an effort to get their undies in a bunch.

Annual birthday blather:


This past year has been my biggest challenge yet. It feels like my body crumbled into a billion little pieces.

I'm a vain person. I don't wear cosmetics because I don't think I need them - when I was younger it was about costuming and over-the-top glamor, and not about making myself look "better". My thick mane and super strong fingernails were points of pride. My ability to squeeze 16-18 hours of work/day from myself, even with lupus, made me feel like superwoman.

Prior to this year, I used this journal to kvetch about my aches and pains, my ups and downs. But that's what it was: whining. I had a few episodes of physical crisis, but in-between were long periods of easiness (especially as compared to right now). For the past 12 months, though, that has reversed.

To be honest, I've been too tired to care too much. It's easier to avoid mirrors than it is to notice how I've aged 10 years in the past 2. It hurts, but vaguely and from a very far-away place.

Tension Magazine keeps my spirits up. I am crazy excited about Cinnamon, our winter issue. It's a trick to stay motivated, though, because I get that "oh my God this is bigger than I can handle and how the hell am I going to get it all done" feeling. It's harder these days to muster the necessary chutzpah.

I am getting healthier, but the process is slow. My hair is growing back and my nails are long and strong once again. I have names for all the various problems I've had for the past few years, and my progress is being monitored by the appropriate specialists. My rheumatologist still thinks the root of my perma-flare has been my thyroid issues, and that once my thyroid is killed off I will experience overall relief. I've been on anti-thyroid meds since April, but it can take up to 2 years.

Deep in my heart, I know this will reverse itself in the next year. I still feel my essential underlying structure is sound, and that my decades of caring about nutrition and exercise still give me a leg up. It feels like a hibernation... or maybe a cocooning before a rebirth.

Disappointed.

There was this girl in junior high that was the main target of insults. She got it worse than everyone else. She was in special ed for a few classes, and mainstreamed for everything else. The group of guys who grew up right near her house made her the butt of their jokes from the first day of kindergarten.

I didn't meet her, or them, until 7th grade. In Biology, I made her my lab partner. In Home Ec, we shared the same station. I've never liked it when people are left out. That's not how I was raised.

Popular kids have rituals of acceptance that reflect the hierarchy they are buying into. I was the new kid often enough that I picked up on it quickly. When a popular kid sidles up next to you and leans over and cuts down someone else, it's an offer to join them. But I never could muster the response of laughter-and-agreement that would secure my invitations to the "right" birthday parties. Instead, I'd call them assholes, and any cruel observations I made were directed at *them*.

Flash forward to 2 days ago:

The same group of guys made cruel, dismissive PUBLIC comments about that same girl they picked on daily for 14 years.

I saw red. RED. I mean: the blood pulsed behind my eyes and I saw RED. I wanted to rip their arms off their bodies and beat them with their own limbs.

But the most annoying part came when the guy who started it all sent me an email with an apology.

Um. No.

First, I'm not the one who deserves an apology.

Second, I don't even know how anyone apologizes for putting an innocent girl through Carrie levels of torture for 12 years, and then resuming it decades later, with sincerity.

Third, the only reason I got an email of apology, instead of an email of "fuck off", is that I am now considered one of the popular kids. (and this guy has made several come-on sorta comments on my photos, even though he is married-with-children)

And finally - the cost of being an asshole to a decent person SHOULD be the respect of the other decent people in one's life.

Diagnosis - Sjogren's of the eyes (autoimmune dry eye) and moderate Graves' ophthalmopathy. Myasthenia gravis is still a possibility, but I'd need a bunch more tests to know for sure. In any case, I have to wait and see if anything progresses because the treatment is the same as for lupus, and it's the same approach of suppressing flares and slowing the progression.

Well - except that there are surgeries that might help, depending. Or immunoglobulin replacement (what I would do if money wasn't a consideration).

I have a few eye tests that I am supposed to give myself every day, and if there are ever any changes I am supposed to go into the office asap.

I can't believe how many kids, in this day-and-age, don't get the basic facts about sex and birth control from their parents.

10 years old is not too young to start talking to kids about this stuff, girls or boys. You won't be keeping them innocent by not talking to them. The only thing not talking to them does is it allows their heads to be filled up by other people's ideas on the subject.

Don't they have a right to the benefit of your experience in this, just like in everything else you've been through? Don't girls deserve to know the signs of someone who just wants in her pants, and don't boys deserve to know about the dangers of getting involved with a desperate girl? Y'know - besides the straight scoop about STDs and birth control?

I don't mean teach them techniques (obviously), but tell them the mistakes of yours that you don't want them to repeat. They will listen to you. They will take to heart what you say. They will blush and act embarrassed and you will, too.

And likewise - treating the topic of sex with lightness and humor is a great way to help your kid grow up without hang-ups. The one thing in common amongst the happiest people I know - a great sex life.

I have a new blog: With A Side Of Awesomesauce. It won't be replacing my LJ. Instead, it's a place for me to blather on about the stuff I like.

If anyone with a paid account wanted to make an LJ RSS feed, that would be fabulous.

Well, yesterday was certainly filled with misinformation. The shooter responsible for the massacre at Fort Hood is: not dead, and was born (and educated) in the US, and had not yet been deployed overseas.

He was a clinical psychiatrist, responsible for the treatment and counseling of soldiers returning from war. He had just received word that he would, for the first time, be deployed overseas - in Afghanistan.

* * * * *

I am glad he is not dead because he is the only person who can help society learn the build-up mechanisms, and therefore learn to intervene before a massacre occurs. To be honest, I am also relieved that the trial and punishment will be handled through military courts, because it reduces the spectacle. He is guilty, no matter what led up to his acting on his rage.

* * * * *

Aside from the question of his guilt, which does not seem to be a challenge to answer in this case, there is the responsibility of the military to recognize and treat mental illness.

A military psychiatrist is someone who knows exactly what happens to the careers of the people who need that sort of help. Yet outside the military, those who treat trauma victims are HIGHLY recommended to get regular personal counseling -to aid in dealing with the side effects of depression, anxiety and anger that come from hearing about the worst aspects of the human condition as a part of their daily responsibilities.

* * * * *

PS - what sort of retarded bumblefucking assclown could think this guy was a terrorist? He had the rank of MAJOR. If he was organized in any way whatsover, or working with any other people in any sort of plot, even with just a day or two of planning - he could've done a lot more damage. A LOT more. Hundreds or thousands of dead. So I'm not buying the terrorist theory at all. He's a nutcase.

The scene: I'm walking in the drizzle after scoring some french fries because my cupboard is bare. I'm wearing cargo shorts, moccasins, a plain black t-shirt & a denim jacket with a faux fur collar that melted a little in the dryer. The rain was making my hair frizz and I was not wearing any makeup. I was carrying a fairly aged canvas bag that is a little dirty around edges even right after a washing.

Walking towards me, on the same side of the street, are 2 sorta beefy late-20s cop/Marine looking fellas. The sort of guys most likely to roll their eyes at my aging hipster self, and usually the last sort of guys to ever hit on me. The bigger of the 2 dudes looks right at me and doesn't stop... from like almost a block away. He wasn't flashing a flirtatious smile, or giving me the once over, at least that I could perceive. He was staring.

I have a few new spots that are making me self-conscious and I am all too aware of my freaky hair. As we got to the point where we were walking right past each other, he maintained his stare and turned his head to follow me. I had already determined I didn't know the guy, and this was just...

I don't know. It was just weird. So I said as he was almost past me, "Is there a reason for all the staring?!" His response was the absolute last thing I expected to hear - "Yes, because you are beautiful."

o.O

Oddly enough, I think the dude meant it, that it wasn't just a cover... I am the farthest from beautiful that I've ever been in my life. I've managed to avoid mirrors for a few months now.

I don't want reassurance about this from y'all. I'm not plagued by it. Bummed - yes. Devastated - no. Any reassurance will hit me like that guy's comment did - somewhere sorta sore.

so let's see...

on Saturday, Bob and I will have been married for 10 years. We were going to throw a bash, but I've been too run down to put together what we had in mind. We're still going to renew our vows, but it will be much like the first time around - just us and our very closest friends.

In a little over a month I will turn 39. Which is better than 38, much better than 37, but nowhere near as good as 36. Still... 39 has its own special properties that give it something 36 never had.

I seem to be feeling better than I did this morning, so I think I'm almost past the bug I caught. Except that I feel some post-nasal drip, and that seems strange because I'm not congested at all. Whatever the case, my headache went from a 7 to a 3 and I'm happy for it.

General health stuff is... why I haven't been writing non-private journal entries. I'm doing better than I was, but not nearly enough better. I'm still mostly not-so-good and it is frustrating.

To focus on the small triumphs: I went through 2 waves of hair loss and I ended up losing about 1/2 of my hair. The last wave was about 3 months ago. In one sense, it's not nearly as bad as it sounds because I started off with a ridiculous amount of hair. In another sense, it doesn't matter that I'm not actually patchy or that scalp only shows at the part - I lost half of my freaking hair. my HAIR. It was everywhere - on my pillow, on my shoulders, on the back of the chair, clogging the drain in the shower.

Losing my hair - I tried to be cool with it. But I am so not cool with it. Thankfully, it is growing back and has been for a little over 2 months. I've cut it very short, and in the back the new growth is already to the length of the stuff that did not fall out. It will take 6 more months for the rest to catch up if I stay with the same front-weighted layered bob... but I am tempted to go 2 more months and then chop it all to about 2 inches long.

Other good health stuff: I think my thyroid issues are finally balancing when it comes to the dosage of my meds. It still flares up suddenly for a day or two, and from what I understand - those episodes could be last dying gasps of "hot spots" on my thyroid.

more good stuff: Tension Magazine excites me. The Cinnamon issue is going to be really really fabulous. Which reminds me... I have sleeves to stitch!

Stuff that cheeses me off:

county hospital. Yet again, going to county has led to me being ill. I probably have the flu. It's not awful - only 100°F fever + a headache (and flimsy muscles). Bob isn't showing any signs, so I'm pretty sure I brought it home and the timing is just right for it to have been my last wait at Fantus.

being hooked on tobacco. I keep trying to quit. I will keep on trying, because if nothing else it ensures that I strive to smoke less and I am constantly aware of every time I puff. But it turns me into a raving she-devil who can't put one foot in front of the other.



stuff I love:

glass. all glass. cut glass colored glass etched glass shaped glass. crystal beads windows trinkets glass.

fresh doughnuts. the real ones from a real bakery that uses real yeast and real butter and real eggs and real cream.* one of the nearby greek bakeries takes hot doughnut holes, dips them in boiling honey/rose water, then sprinkles them with slivered almonds. They are only 50 cents each, I can't eat more than 2, and I can't think of any other way of spending $1 that could possibly make me happier.

rain. It's been the best weather in Chicago, for me at least. A mild cloudy summer followed by a cloudy wet fall. Rain makes me feel safe. Even loved.

clean floors. Bob swept and vacuumed and mopped the whole place on Saturday. It's nice to have a floor that one can get clean. My last 2 apartments did not offer so much (cracked tiles, gaps between floor boards, etc, resulted in places a mop or sponge could not reach).

*and not a bit of that icky coat-yer-mouth filling/icing/hydrogenated-nastiness (you people who can eat krispy kremes scare me. one bite and my mouth feels coated in slime.)

I feel stuck in-between visual trends, color palettes, design flourishes, layouts.

Is it just because that's where we are at again, about to see something new, and the old seems so tired but the new hasn't arrived?

I have an idea what the new will look like. a Recession palette with a Hopeful hemline.

but in the meantime I have a digital magazine to layout and it is driving me bonkers. b.o.n.k.e.r.s.

I'm obsessed with structures.

building structures

business structures

skeletons

foundations

bones

joints

pyramids are stable and withstand bad weather

circles roll with the changes

squares pack well, stack well

right angles need assistance

wide roots make for tall trees

I don't play girl games. In fact, I find them tiresome.

I blatantly flaunt the "rules".

If I am in the same room, physical or virtual, I don't go out of my way to avoid the people who make it clear they don't like me... especially if they feel that way because they consider my bluntness to be a fault.

I made a determination a long time ago that people who don't like me don't get to control my actions, so that means I will converse directly with them if they enter a conversation I am a part of. I choose to be myself in front of them, with no reference to, or acknowledgment of, their distaste.

The ones who get offended that I dared approach them because I already know they dislike me... I used to get a lot of pleasure poking at those people. These days, though, some of those people are getting in my way and that is a really stupid place to stand.

I don't care who likes me. I'm so full of myself that I think I'm doing something *right* when I have h8rs. What I do care about though, is how I get treated and how my friends get treated.

Maybe this is easier for me because I don't like most people, so in most social situations I have to deal with that personally.

My mama cat has gone missing. She pushed her way through a spot where the mesh was pulling away from the edge of the screen door, and she might've been gone for a few hours before I noticed (at feeding time).

My neighbor feeds a few feral cats, and they keep the area cleared of other animals... and I worry that is why she hasn't found her way home.

I wallpapered my area with color flyers and I've told every kid between 9 and 13 that there is a cash reward for her return.

I am sleeping next to an open door (the one with the screen that locks and meets flush with the frame), so that I can hear her if she comes home in the night.

I've known many cats in my life, and Minnie is one of six in my own household - and she is also, hands down, the smartest and fiercest cat I've ever met. She's not afraid of anyone or anything, and that's why I am worried about her.

My relationship with my cats...

I speak to them and I assume they understand me, and I assume my interpretation of their communication is accurate. And it works.

and so I know that Minnie would've come home if she could've (she's been gone 4 nights now). She is the mama to the (very grown) "kittens", and I owe her my efforts because she changed my life for the better when she decided to have her litter in my home. Three days ago I woke up certain she was gone.

The apartment I lived in for 8 years, where I found her, is about 4 blocks (1/2 mile) away. I've been over there a few times, too, because I think she would feel safe in that backyard... but she'd have to cross 18th Street to get there.

I notice her absence all day long. She used to sit between the monitor and the wall and keep me company. She kept all the other cats in line. We're all moping around, and they are huddling extra close to me at night.

Bob is heart-broken. Minnie was his cat. She loved him more than I've ever seen a cat love a human. She greeted him when he got home, and would sit near him like she was guarding him. He's the only one who could get her to behave because he's the only one she wouldn't (usually) bite.

I'm very sad.

Both pieces will be available as patterns in the Cocoa issue of Tension Magazine.



The blazer: double-breasted, open neckline, puffy-shouldered set-in sleeves. Made in Knit Picks Gloss DK, a DK weight wool/silk blend.

The skirt: flat-front A-line mini, 3-button closure at center back, "tushie pocket" shaping ( ensuring that the back hem does not ride up). Made in a DK weight cotton/wool blend.

And no, my love affair with the 80s is not over. Even this has not yet purged it from my system.

(and yeah, this pick is kinda wonky but it's the one I am posting. better pics when the issue goes live)

30 minutes of sun for a photo shoot and 8 hours later I'm flaring. I think that's a new record.

bleh. too stiff to sleep.

I crack myself up. I just had occasion to write:

"I was poking at your sister. I don't think she is a monster, I think she is an asshole."

I've gotta get to work tomorrow and stay at work for the next 15 days. So tonight I'm screwing off in a sorta last hurrah before Tension launches (OMG OMG OMG OMG).

* * * * *

An amazing thing happened a couple of nights ago as I was slipping into sleep. I found my rhythm again, I passed over but stayed aware and heard the bebop tipped my hat to scat and sat with the fat cats until the party shack shook.

that's always the root of the inspiration (mine always grow reaching upwards, perches for things with wings): song.

* * * * *

(did I mention the bitch is back)

* * * * *

I created this php code that randomly-generates front-post stitch patterns based on a few simple rules. Then I hit refresh like 100 times. Then I changed the rules. And hit refresh another 100 times. (and maybe 3 or 4 more rules changes, etc)

It, um, makes me so happy that I'm thinking of doing something that puts unnecessary pressure on me but it would be SO FREAKING COOL I don't know how to stop myself.

* * * * *

I always meet some really crazy amazing people when I go off my intardweb rails.

I know I promised some snark, and I will deliver, but there's more important stuff to be done first.

* * * * *

I feel like I've entered a new and better orbit. (passed through a shake-up, went through a restabilization)

Some things have been returned to me.

I remember: chocolate flake milkshakes, the salt-and-pepper shaker carnival ride, running to catch the bus, when scooby doo lunchboxes gave way to charlie's angels, roller skating parties, banana seats, combs in back pockets, four-square, movies at The Century, Haunted Trails, yo-yos.

* * * * *

Yesterday Mary Beth Temple tweeted, prior to my LJ post:

"Someone keep me off of Ravelry today please - my stalker is getting on my nerves and I need to rise above :-) Show last night was GREAT!"

This is yet another example of how Mary Beth Temple lies to get people to believe her point-of-view.

Prior to my disagreeing with her, on Ravelry, about her out-and-out lies regarding Knit Picks policies, I had never had any contact whatosever with Mary Beth Temple. After disagreeing with her I sent her a single PM (private message) on Ravelry, the sole contents of which was the refutation sent to me by a Knit Picks representative.

After that, she made comments on Ravelry to the effect that I had been harassing her (a comment she's since deleted, along with her disparaging and untruthful comments about Knit Picks), and I sent her another PM requesting that she not lie about her contact with me.

That is the sum total of the contact I've had with Mary Beth Temple.

Does that sound like a stalker to you?

I was given a heads up about her Tweets... so, Mary Beth, you've got a snitch on your roll call.

Crap on a cracker.

Mary Beth Temple tells out-and-out lies about Knit Picks AND her experiences with me (on Ravelry), yet I am the one making personal attacks that warrant banination by the mods of the Designers forum?!

Fine, this shit is ON. Mary Beth accused me of snarking her, when all I did was disagree and point out her lies and hypocrisy.

Fortunately, her design skills suck ass, so snarking her doesn't take much effort... and since I've already been accused...

well, I had already planned on writing an editorial (in Tension) about Knit Picks - in order to dispel the rumors that are flying around about them. And nope - they aren't paying me, and they haven't paid for Tension advertising (nor will I accept ad dollars from them for at least a year, to prove my own impartiality)... I just hate misrepresentation and lies. Now, though, I'm going to include Mary Beth's disparaging and untruthful comments, I will cite her lack of a retraction and/or apology and point out that her response to Knit Picks pointing out the truth was simply to rewrite history.

and I'm going to town on her crappy crochet.

Because seriously - anyone who supports that cuntsicle and her crappy designs isn't a customer of mine and won't like the tone of Tension anyway. I won't use Tension as a platform to snark her designs, but I will do that here.

Stay tuned, I'ma gonna pull out all the funny. Nothing pisses me off more than liars. Nothing.

Jealousy is not something I experience often. But I am SO jealous that my grammar school friends got to go to HS together. My parents were assholes for moving us to Alsip. My grammar school friends are still the best ones I've ever had.

My former classmates from my HS are pretentious, shallow and irritating. My grammar school compatriots, on the other hand, are warm, boisterous and worldly. The kids from the wrong side of the tracks have turned out to be much better people than the kids who had it much easier. The kids from the wrong side of the tracks have also led much more interesting lives, with many twists and turns and adventures, and the kids from my HS mostly seem to have followed the same basic path (just the minor details are different).

I know a lot of people, at this point in my life, who go to great lengths to afford a suburban life and education for their kids... and while the schools might offer a better curriculum, the sacrifice is sending your kids to school with privileged entitled boring brats who think the efforts of resourcefulness are beneath them.

Cousins are the best.

Y'all know who you are! (shhhh - on LJ it's a seeekrit)

PETA's new ad:



I am not interested in the direct message of this ad (especially as I know several obese vegans and vegetarians), but I am VERY interested in the reaction to it. Huffington Post had a hissy, and the reaction over at Feministing is as one might predict. It's the new feminist taboo - discussing obesity in a negative light.

* * * * *

I am a tobacco smoker (yes, still). I've cut down to 4 or 5 hand-rolled cigarettes per day, and a 3/4 ounce pouch of tobacco lasts me more than a week (and I've maintained this lower level of addiction for about a year).

Although I've quit for years-at-a-time, I started smoking daily when I was 16. I've always been a very physically active person, though, and between swimming and dancing and walking and bicycling, I always had a strong heart/good muscle tone/good lungs. It's been lupus, and not cigarettes, that changed that...

but it would be completely deceptive of me to believe or purport that smoking hasn't given lupus some advantage.

* * * * *

Smoking, in and of itself, is not an indication of poor health. The same can be said of being obese (not fat, clinically obese).

However, smoking IS, in and of itself, bad for one's health. The same can be said of being obese (not fat, clinically obese).

* * * * *

One of the biggest shockers I've had on Facebook is... well... how much bigger my former classmates have gotten.

We're only 38...! When I think back to my mom and her friends at the same age, and my older cousins and aunts at the same age - in the whole group, there is only one person I can think of who would've qualified as obese. My family is *curvy*, yet the women older than me (while they were still pre-menopausal) were physically active enough (racquetball, aerobics, etc) that they fit into Gap sizes well into their 40s.

* * * * *

I hate the term "fat acceptance". I understand it is a reaction to lookism, but...

I'm a smoker. I don't think it is "smoker hate" to say smoking makes a person stinky, or that the resulting yellow teeth are unattractive.

I don't think it is "smoker hate" when the ill health effects of smoking are shoved in my face.

And the same stuff goes into being a smoker that goes into being obese: there is a genetic predisposition to becoming addicted to nicotine, women get more easily and more completely addicted than men, there is a STRONG cultural/familial component indicated by children of smokers being much more likely to become smokers themselves.

Yet the "fat acceptance" movement gets up-in-arms about the "discrimination" of studies that show how bad being obese is for overall health (and how incredibly damaging to internal organs being obese is for children).

"Appearance acceptance" is something I could get behind, though. I think it is valuable to love yourself no matter the stage in life that you are in. I think it is self-love that leads to healthy choices, after all.

Obesity is a choice inasmuch as being a heroin addict is a choice, and there are plenty of people who come clean and stay clean. As a society, we've reached towards not demonizing the addict, but seeing the underlying problems which led to addiction. But being an addict is still undesirable.

* * * * *

And if you disagree, I want to hear from you.

What if, instead of being paid per visit and per procedure...

what if doctors who accepted medicare were paid based on results...?

on how many of their patients quit smoking

or lost weight

or lowered their cholesterol

or got their diabetes under control

or had full-term healthy babies with no cesaerean needed

...?

do ya think that would lower costs and improve the overall health of Americans?

My hair is now WAY short. So short in back I have to razor my neck hairs. It hasn't been this short for 18 years.

But I was thoroughly hating the style it was in, and the only way to change it into something I didn't hate was to go shorter. The new style will grow out better, too.

I'll post pics eventually. My face is speckled with fresh spots, so I want to wait until they clear up a little. The cut I gave myself is drastically longer in front than in the back (about 4 inches), and the top and upper-back are very layered.

I'm also growing out my own color and HOOOBOY it's coppery red. I have less grey than I thought, though - just the same streaks I've had for the past 10 years. I think I'll probably add a few bold streaks after I chop off the last of the bottle-blonde, but I don't think I'll ever do all-over lightening again - way way way too much maintenance.

I am so relieved about finally having my female issues being handled properly. I mean - I'm surprised at how relieved I am... I guess the stress of it had just been added to the overall pile and I had forgotten its details.

Normally just the thought of a procedure where they were gonna stick a camera up my cooch and fill my uterus with saline solution and then video tape the whole thing on an ultrasound...

normally just thinking about that would make me queasy, remotely angry, and feeling somewhat caged. Instead, thinking about the procedure makes me feel oddly comforted, somehow safer in my own skin - pretty much the exact opposite of normal.

Knowing that I have polyps and tufts of tissue growing where they shouldn't grow has always really really creeped me out. I mean... it makes me really disgusted by my insides, and fed up with my body, and frustrated. So being able to get such an accurate picture of what it all looks like... phew.

Mostly, though, the relief is from being taken seriously even though I don't have health insurance. Female issues are the most difficult to get financial subsidies for (unless it is cancer) - because their treatment is seen as elective if the main negative effects are either "discomfort" or infertility. "Discomfort" is up to the doctor to determine, and infertile uninsured women are actively discouraged from getting pregnant so they are left untreated until their problems effect more than their fertility.

The problems with all of that is my fertility is also tied to my overall hormonal balances. Endometrial tissue can produce hormones, and so can certain polyps. Those imbalances, if they persist over time, increase a woman's risk of cancer and heart disease. This is well-documented, yet the treatment of endometriosis, fibroid tumors and/or polyps is seen as elective until there is either a complete disruption of menstruation, significant interference with the lower bowels (my issue) or growths large and firm enough to be palpated from outside.

Even with health insurance, those are the criteria if a woman *is not* being treated for infertility... meaning the only women who are considered important enough to treat for such conditions (before they reach the above criteria) are the women who are immediately interested in procreating. Every one else... well, why bother if you aren't using those parts to make babies?

hmm... this started out as a happy post... I *am* happy that I am getting the care I need. But I am simultaneously very frustrated with the journey to this point. It's probably hysteria... ;·)

I decided to keep my gyn appointment. I'm really glad I did. I have to have a SonoHysterography and a separate abdominal ultrasound. They'll do them both in the same appointment (abdominal one first), and it's to assess endometriosis and general uterine/fallopian health.

The Sonohysterography has to be performed at a specific time in my cycle (4-8 days after menstruation ends), so I have to wait for a few weeks. I have to go back before those tests, though, because the doc I needed to see had emergency surgery and wasn't in the office. I saw a regular ob/gyn instead of the surgeon. I guess there's a chance that I might go into surgery right from the ultrasound, depending on what they find, and I have to go through pre-op instruction. Or at least I think that's what they were trying to explain to me... that part still confuses me.

I was already told by the ob/gyn I saw today that this surgery, in my case, won't be considered "elective" so it will be covered by Access (the program that subsidizes my healthcare). I'll have the usual $55 copay, and that's it for the surgeon. For the hospital part of the bill, though, I need to apply directly through them.

I feel so relieved to finally be able to take care of the endometriosis. I'm really glad to be this far down my list of health issues... and I'll be ok if they tell me more kids aren't an option. That's not the main reason I am doing this, anyway. But if it makes it easier to get pregnant, well - that would be pretty freakin awesome.

So far this year, the out-of-pocket medical expenses that I *have* paid for (not including the stuff I still owe), amounts to 22% of me-and-Bob's combined net income. If I include what I still owe, it amounts to 125% of me-and-Bob's combined net income.

His temp assignment ends in 10 days.

I canceled the appointments I had this week (2 of them - one endocrinologist appt, but I got the blood draw and she'll call me if the results are wonky; the other is with an ob/gyn surgeon because they feel my endometriosis needs surgery and after putting it off for 6 years I think they are right but I need to put it off again).

I have a cardiac appointment next week that I can't miss. I'm finally getting a stress test.

Earlier this year, when I was getting the cytoxin, lupus was simultaneously attacking my joints, skin, brain, heart and lungs. I walk around knowing it could happen again at any time. I try not to think about that, but every time I make a plan or a commitment, it's all I *can* think about.

Lupus has remained in check, though, and that's why treating the other stuff is a current option. They won't do surgery (thyroid OR endometriosis) if I'm in an active flare unless my life is otherwise threatened.

I just needed to let it out a little. It should be alright with Bob's job. The temp agency doesn't want to get nailed for unemployment, so they should place Bob somewhere else quickly. The temp business in Chicago is booming.

I think my thyroid stuff is finally normalizing. I think that being able to make that post the other day, where I acknowledged depression, was the first sign that I was coming out of it.

* * * * *

anyone up for a slice of baby?

* * * * *

For those of you following the Yarn Harlot dramaz, I want a t-shirt that says:

You're atheists!
And probably wiccans!

* * * * *

woohoo - Tension Magazine launches in 5ish weeks!

Few things rile me up more than nutrition, especially what children are allowed (or encouraged) to consume.

The candy and breakfast cereal and soda pop industries are, in my opinion, responsible for something far more evil than Big Tobacco ever set into motion.

This shit didn't exist 60 years ago, and it wasn't until the 70s that generations of kids were allowed to consume something from that list every damned day.

If you are unhappy about your weight, without changing any other single thing, remove ALL corn syrup and artificial sweeteners from your life (including splenda, nutrasweet, etc). I am not claiming this is a cure-all (and many people not satisfied with their weight have already done this). What I am saying is this: talk to me after you try it for 6 months. Tell me about how your mood swings have evened out a little, and so have your energy levels. Tell me about how you've lost your taste for really salty things, too, and how you now eat a piece or two of fruit every day.* Tell me about how your weight has redistributed now that you aren't giving yourself quick-energy you do not need. (*if you are eating fruit ON TOP of candy and soda, that's so much sugar you are headed for diabetes quickly.)

And giving refined sugar to a kid? Why? Aren't there always better options? Or... at least treat it like the poisonous vice that it is, and gleefully and wickedly allow a seldom and moderated use: Halloween, birthday parties, trips to the county fair/amusement park. When really bad food is allowed on a less-than-monthly basis, it becomes something put in its proper place: enjoyable in a decadent way, to be used only in quantities that keep the concentrations and consequences low.

I feel really badly for those of y'all who eat candy and/or consume soda pop every day. What you are doing to your body is as bad as alcoholism, and far far worse than being a heroin junkie. Don't believe me? Well, give up your habit and see.

I really hate what all this thyroid stuff has done to me. Out of all of my health problems, it's the least serious from a life-threatening viewpoint, but

fuck me running

the treatment is screwing me up.

I've been depressed for 4 months. Treating the hypERthyroidism leads to hypOthyroidism, and that leads to me being on the verge of tears All The Time.

How do people with biological depression get on with their lives?

It's driving me nuts. Every effort seems too huge, even though it's not. Everything that doesn't go perfectly makes me want to quit.

I'm tired all the time, but it's not physically tired - it's mental exhaustion.

and I'm not sad about anything, but I feel sad. I'm not upset about anything, but it all seems bleak.

yet somehow this is biologically preferable to the mania of hypERthyroidism? I prefer anxiety to this shit. At least when I have anxiety, I get shit done and don't cry in my soup all day long.

I'm sharing a basic spreadsheet that I've put together. It incorporates body measurements with gauge and ease in order to give you stitch/row counts for your sizes. It can be used for knit or crochet.

It isn't an exact replica of the one I use, but it has all of the dimensions as listed on the Yarn Standards website (sizing for Women).

In the upper-left corner, one can enter the ease & gauge and the rest of the spreadsheet will auto-populate.

These measurements are whole measurements, and do not take into account the shape of the neckline, or the type of sleeve, but they are the industry standard starting point. A few things for anyone who wants to use this spreadsheet:

1. The file itself is in MS-Office Excel format. That is the only format I am providing, but if other people want to convert it and share it with others - feel free.
2. The file has no copyright attached - use/copy/share/alter as desired. I don't even require credit, but it would be nice.
3. I am not offering *any* tech support either for the use of the information, or the use of MS-Excel spreadsheets, or the rationale behind my formulas (it's really straightforward stuff).

FILE: Measurements

I've just been really cranky lately. Stuff that annoys me:

1. People who claim to be sensitive, when what they really mean is fragile.

2. People who start off "compliments" with "I had no idea...".

3. People (especially youths) who interrupt conversations to take a phone call or a text.

4. People who exit through the front door of buses, even though the GREAT BIG HUGE ARROWS say exit to the rear.

5. People who stand/stop their cars in the crosswalk.

* * * * *

It looks like I qualify to get a fancy new medication for free (from the pharma company). It's called Protopic, and a month's worth is about $125. My discoids are being very resistant to treatment, and this stuff is supposed to work when other stuff has failed. It won't do anything about the scarring already present, but it should help clear up new spots when they pop up (and get the active spots under control).

It's also possible that I might get a subsidy for the stuff that makes scars go away, but I can't use that stuff until a spot is no longer active. So I'm waiting to apply for that until I can actually use it, because it's somewhat perishable. (I can't remember the name of it... not mederma, something else)

* * * * *

I see the ob/gyn on Friday. It's been a few years since I've had a pap and all this thyroid stuff has really messed up my cycles. I'm also going to feel her out regarding Clomid. It won't even be an option until at least October, but if I do get everything else under control and can go without a flare for several months - I wanna try. I turn 39 in November, and even if I give myself until 43... that means I've got around 50 chances (months) to get pregnant. So I wanna feel out the ob/gyn on this issue.

* * * * *

I'm SO thankful for the mild summer Chicago is having. It's been downright chilly for summer, and it's *wonderful*.

My total bill, after discounts for not having insurance, for my recent trip to the ER - $13,000

That's all tests, labs, xrays, consults, pharmaceuticals, procedures and I was in the ER for about 10 hours.

Thanks to bouncing between hyper- and hypo-thyroidism several times in the past 2 months... my hair is falling out in fistfuls.

I have a lot of hair, so it's not as bad as it would be for someone with less hair (or straight hair), but it doesn't show signs of letting up either. It started about a week ago. I was REALLY upset about it, but I can't do anything to change it and if I end up patchy or balding, I'll shave it all off and start over. I have a big ole alien head, and I can't let the sun touch my scalp, so I might look into a wig for the short term.

There's a chance it won't all grow back... but... I really don't think that will happen to me. I've been really sick for a long time, and it took majorly fucking with my hormones in a very short time period for it to finally get to my hair. Not even chemo got to my hair (although there's a chance that chemo *plus* the thyroid stuff is what it took to make my hair fall out).

I pushed myself through the emotions of it quickly, though, because I just don't have time for self-pity right now. My first reaction was the strangest - when I saw the huge gob of hair on the hairbrush and imagined a resulting bald patch, I felt oddly ashamed. Fortunately, that reaction seemed ridiculous so I laughed that off and moved on to FUCK, THAT'S MY HAIR rather quickly. Then I went to dammit, I'm 38 years old, I have scars all over my face - my freakin hair is what I have left!. Then I worried that Bob would find me old and haggard if I lost too much hair. Then another huge gob came out in the shower and I realized that what's going to happen is going to happen.

My hair is sorta my in-person trademark - poofy blonde (big messy) curls that fly all over when I move my head. People who haven't seen me in a long time can tell it's me from behind, even if I have a totally different hair cut. I've been likened to Woodstock (Snoopy's bird friend) by several different people. And I am not ok with losing my hair, but I also can't let it wound me.

I'm turning comments off for this post.

3 months ago, I was diagnosed with hyperthyroidism, so I went on anti-thyroid medications. After being on the anti-thyroid meds for 2 months, my blood tests showed that I had gone over into total hypothyroidism so they took me off of the meds for 2 weeks. That made me go back to being *very* hyperthyroid (even worse than before), so now I am back on the anti-thyroid meds.

That's made me mostly insane with the ups-and-downs of my hormones being fucked with. I gain weight, then lose it, then gain it again. I'm an emotional wreck. It's totally screwing with my menstruation (my cycles are all over, and I'm either bleeding like a stuck pig for a week, or barely bleeding at all for barely 2 days).

If I had insurance, I'd get some of my thyroid removed. It is considered "elective" surgery at this point (for me), because I have other options (the meds), so the Access Network doesn't offer me a reduced fee. The hospital would give me a 50% discount, but that means I'd still need to come up with about $10-15k.