In non-bear related news…
Some of you may recall that <a href=”http://shipwreck-light.livejournal.com/94925.html?mode=reply#add_comment”>my immediate neighbor has a serious power washing problem</a>, although that does predate the great friending memes of Summer 2011. By and large, the people who live in our neighborhood are sweet and interesting, as opposed to rude and loud. Lucky us, we’re between the two local jerkfaces. The neighbors on the other side built an ugly house in a wash and fed their dog to a mountain lion, but that’s another story for another day.
So, we’ve been having some issues with the Power Washer family, unrelated to yardwork. It started when they kept sneaking onto our wi-fi. I don’t know what they were doing. Streaming porn seems to be the obvious answer since our connection would visibly tank when they got on. So, we secured our network and it became a pain for visitors to access, but the only porn on it was porn that we put there. All was well.
For about a month. The Power Washers got themselves an access point which they set up on the side of their house closest our access point. Kind of rude, and we both got shitty signals. But, to make matters worse, they set it to the same channel as ours. In other words, we both had shit connections, especially when they went on their nightly bandwidth raids, which were so regular, I could time how many seconds I had left to be unproductive by when the kitchen light went out across the way. Now, you’d THINK they would pick another channel or move their access point, but instead they got really aggressive about this being their channel in their space even though they had a brand new wi-fi hookup and COULD HAVE SWITCHED THE DAMN CHANNELS.
We bought a new one instead, so that we could switch channels. And all was well.
For about a day. You see, any time we switched channels, they would switch onto the same channel. You may think this is a paranoid explanation for our own wireless failings. We had a channel tracker application up in the evening and watched them do it. We would have full power and so would they, but then they’d skip onto the channel we were using. I’m not sure if this should be attributed to stupid on their end or brilliance. I just know it’s been annoying as all getout.
Also, it should be mentioned that between our new router and the frankly aggressive behavior on their end, they stopped greeting us, looking at us or braking for us when we happened to be in the street. As to their problem, I know not. They’re loaded and can easily afford their own connection. Their use of our network couldn’t have had that great a signal. Access points come with instructions for getting a better signal, so why set up on our side of their house? But, why power wash rocks? There’s so much we don’t know about this situation.
So, we got another access point. An enterprise class access point. Which we have set to full power. We jury rigged the old one as a signal booster for this side of the house. Currently, I have the fastest wireless speed available in the US.
We’ll see how long it lasts.
I’m a bit bummed though: seems like Violet’s gone under, so my Nabaztag no longer works. The last thing he said to me was. ”I’m running off. Off into the wild.” Goodnight, sweet prince. I suppose Google will just have to tell me the particulate levels from now on. Maybe I’ll repurpose him as an Easter decoration.
On Friday while driving into work, it started to rain. I’m sure people somewhere panicked, as they do out here when rain occurs, but on the street I happened to be using at the time, everyone rolled down their windows and stuck their hands out in it, leaving me overwhelmed with cuteness.
I spent yesterday at the bead store, actually talking to people as opposed to fielding three word emails from bears on the other side of my cubicle wall. I made a lovely pendant for Mum and made efforts to work out another one, but it quickly became the professional opinion of those in attendance that I could do better myself just noodling around, a vote of confidence which I much appreciated. I talked about bears and my most recent visit to the rock shop, and one of the visitors told me about her Giant Fucking Hunks Of Moonstone Collection, which would just about make my humble rock garden coprolite itself, by the sound of things.
Noppin FINALLY shipped the Magical Shower Princesses. The box may be here on Tuesday or Wednesday, but more likely everyone should expect them next Saturday, since I won’t be here to get them and such.
Short version: job sucks. Dealing with it by conceptualizing of the other people there as bears. Waiting for an excuse to quit with panache. I’d be gone but I want to at least have money for Fishmas. Actually, if I can stick it out until 16 September without getting eaten by Mama Bear, I will have just enough to squeak past the end of the year.
To give you an idea of how few people she told she’d hired me: one of the VP Bears dropped in today and went on a growling, den-destroying rampage which surely would have ended at least one unfortunate hiker if it had taken place in the wild. She was quelled only with promises of a welcome email. Which went out three days after I started work in the Bear Dimension, and wherein my name was spelled wrong.
On brighter horizons, this bear business appears to be amusing to others. And you know what? That makes me happy. If my days consisting of what, the, and FUCK improve yours, well someone’s laughing at this. So, I say we all have a good chuckle and drink heavily (booze, caffeine or the union of the two, as you like).
Also, I now have a bento box. I’m still learning how to pack it in a manner which is both effective and tasty. I treated myself to a small box of cutesy trappings for it, despite having a hardcore silver insulated bento in which to use them. However, I did buy the flower and star cute things and not the cartoon fish ones, so I can kind of maybe pretend I’m an adult.
And I’m still writing. Somehow, I am still goddamn writing.
Still waiting. Not that I expected any less, but I hate waiting. I want to do THINGS and I want to do them NOW and I WANT TO KNOW WHAT THERE IS TO KNOW. Short version: Wikipedia has spoiled me.
I had a very nice, relaxing weekend which involved sneaking out to the bead store on Saturday due to extreme boredom here at home. It’s so nice to go somewhere and have everyone be happy to see you. And then sell two more kits (one of which I assembled at request, much to the purchaser’s amusement). I think part of the reason being beads are measured in grams. You know, like drugs. I got lots of hugs and TOLD to converse with a service dog. ”No, you should talk to Mandy! She loves it when people talk to her. She’s a little social butterfly.”
And then I got the Laura McCabe pattern that’s been driving me up the wall since before the kits to work. This required only minimal alcohol consumption.
I came home to find my new Doll magazines waiting for me. For non-dolly folk, Japanese doll magazines are cover-to-cover glossy photographs with patterns, tutorials, contest results and freebies. Well, I can’t get the freebies due to not being in Japan. Anyway, Dolly Dolly 26 (quarterly) and Dollybird 16 (biannual) are both totally sweet. The former has Wonder Frog and Odeco-type body patterns. The latter is wall-to-wall sewing with a feature on the Unoa Elder Sisters. Good stuff!
[I’m not sure if, when I’m employed again, I’m going to start by filling in the Soom MDs I missed, make an Unoa size chart out of actual Unoas or go bonkers at Souldoll.]
Anyway, while I was doing some of my cursory translations so I got all of the pattern parts I needed, Jake came across a spider on the floor. I have no problem with his spider-eating, but Mum’s paranoid about it. So, as soon as she started eeking, I threw the Dollybird on the floor, stomped on it, cleaned up the resultant spider goo and then went back to reading. This was apparently funny. I only bent the cover a bit more than usual, so totally worth it.
Sunday, I sewed. Not too much- I tend to get sloppy if I go for more than five hours a day. Also, I wanted to preload the last episodes of Baccano! Everything went well, and the end of Baccano! pleased me muchly, so a review will be showing up sooner or later. I’m so happy I got to watch it with Starphotographs. It’s really been lovely and short review: good show is GOOD.
I’ve been slogging away at the Halloween story, and the next installment of the Deer Business for RaTs is kind of sort of almost done. I got angry at one of the outlines I’ve blown twice previously and started with the notecards v. my closet door. Again. NaNo has been tempting me with her sweet siren song, but I know I don’t need another thing to mess with, as much fun as it would be to do so.
Dad bought Mum a raft for the pool- a two-person survival raft. She named it Biff. There are no oars and currently it is tied to the barbecue.
Mr. Dennis R. Upkins Jr. (neo_prodigy in Livejournal) has been busy since his latest bouts. Somehow, after saying women of color who disagree with him are using the race card and any unfortunate woman who’d get into a relationship with him would be forced to take contraceptives he’s been…
And other stuff I did today. Short version: TODAY WAS AWESOME.
Although, I’d be lying if I said I was looking forward to two interviews on the same day, both of which took place in the hot middle of the city. After more than enough nervous wibbling, I went anyway.
The first interview was a cinch to get to, and situated in an office park that frankly qualifies as beautiful, unlike most office parks. It went OK. A different person than I spoke to interviewed me, and I got the feeling she didn’t want to do it. I still gave it my best shot. Then, I went for a walk about the block, because I like trees and sculpture and also I was a bit peckish. Turns out, I was only a matter of yards from a bistro I used to love. I knew it was closed, but seeing it again, still empty, filled me with sadness and a longing for chicken salad sandwiches. So, I went in the place across the street.
I no longer miss the old bistro as much as I used to. The salad I had for lunch was honestly one of the best I’ve ever had. Fresh greens with bacon, sunflower seeds, dried fruit, goat cheese and spicy chicken? Yes, please. I could eat another one right now. It was downright luscious.
While I ate, I happened to overhear the two women at the table besides me talking about their office. So, after I had finished, I neatened myself up in the restroom and asked them if they needed any office assistants. They didn’t, but they offered to show my resume around, which they totally didn’t have to do. So, that went well besides being totally delicious. However, I still found myself with some hours to kill until my next interview. I drove up the street where the nav system promised a consignment shop. Well, that turned out to be a bust, but wandering around the shops nearby was not.
First, I came across a lovely linens shop, wherein the owner encouraged me to touch everything, and frankly, who wouldn’t enjoy that? Mmm, silky things. And a $15,000 mirror encrusted with Swarovski gems. We talked about beading for awhile, and I updated her crystal color chart from memory because that’s just kind of what I do. I am so in love with the one chair there. I think I might have to go back and get it once I have a job. And some sheets, pricy as they may be. She had some that match my accent wall dead on. /interior decorator
Just around the corner from her, I discovered a lovely little gallery. The owner and I spent a long time talking about the endless road construction and loving swirly glass things. Some of which weren’t even that expensive, though many of them looked like vulvas or penises, though that’s art I suppose. I promised to do some Fishmas shopping with him, besides that I really want to bring my sister down there. He was so nice! And, he had a dog. A King Charles, no less, who decided I was worthy of bestowing belly rubs.
After that, I did eventually wind up in the consignment shop, and was not impressed. By then, it had come up on time to leave for the second interview, so I ducked in the local AJs to freshen up in the bathroom. As I was struggling with my hair, a lady walked in and said, as she too took to a mirror. “This humidity is just the worst for curly hair!” To which I agreed, bemoaning a bit that I was on my way to a job interview no less. She reached into her pocket book and handed me a hair tie. “Here. Put your hair back until you get there. It’ll be much better, I promise!”
I am so keeping that hair tie in my pocket book from now on.
Oh, and while that was going on, “Give A Little Bit” by Supertramp had come on the radio.
My second interview? I think that was the best one I’ve given, ever. I made myself sound perfect if I do say so myself. Also, there was actual conversation with laughter between me and the two people interviewing me. One is a beader. I happened to be wearing her favorite color. And OHMIGOSH the place sounds heavenly to work for. The drive is beautiful. Everyone treated me so well. The job? Making everything RIGHT. I want to work there, I really do. I’m all out of digits to cross.
On the way home, I stopped for a berry tea and the clerk spent the whole time fixing mine talking about how much she loved said berry tea and she made mine with love. Delicious love. I drove home with the music up too loud, watched Charlie try to eat Mum’s foot and then jumped in the pool to watch the clouds get all golden and Baroque painting.
And that’s what adventures are all about. You don’t have to go far or put yourself in danger. You just have to say yes to the world.
We make yakitori last night on a charcoal grill. Scrumptious! Messy and time-consuming, but scrumptious. Mum’s not much for Japanese food, but she inhaled hers, so I think we’ll do it again once the weather cools down some. Hot grill and hot sun is a bad combination.
I don’t talk about it a lot, but Dad writes too. He has a secret project. Sometimes, we talk about writing together in general terms. Sunday, he said something about writing a mystery wherein the culprit is some random person, ergo the reader can’t possibly guess whodunit. I had to tell him I beat him to the punch, although not quite to the effect and plot he had in mind. We stared at each other for a moment, and laughed. If we both end up publishing that scenario, even different takes, well, that’s pretty cool if you ask me.
After this, and dinner, I got to watch more Baccano! With starphotographs*. That show is so awesome. It’s like someone took a crowbar and jammed awesome into it. I’m going to be kinda sad when it’s over, y virtue of there being no more and such. I won’t be sorry I watched it. starphotographs*and I talked about including the same torture technique in things we each wrote, then acting sassy about it if anyone brought the similarity up. Hurray for plans!
Still working on that business for RaTs and trying to get the 80’s toy discussion back on track. I have to do a bit of sewing and possibly make another purchase or two. It’s going to be mad cute.
Tomorrow, I’ll be down at the bead store. I have the sneaking suspicion it’ll be my last time. On one hand, I’m going to miss the place if things work out for me with that second interview. On the other, JITTERS. JITTERS EVERYWHERE.
Mum: Oh my GOD, you have got to come out and see this!
SWL: It’s the best year ever!
Mum: There’ve been like ten, just in the little time we’ve been out.
SWL: It’s sweet.
Dad: OK, OK, I’ll come watch the meteor shower and… *looks at the sky*
Mum + SWL: :D
Dad: OK, then. You guys have fun. *walks back inside*
Sky: I’m totally overcast!!!
SWL: You know, this does happen every year. We could go back inside.
Mum: NEVER. I have x-ray vision. I’m going to see a shooting star.
SWL: Well, at least the clouds are pretty funky.
I’ve known G and K for years. They’re partners, living in Iowa, and they are currently both dealing with medical problems and can’t find the funds. They have both been declined from CareCredit, and K’s Social Security income isn’t coming through.
G has two abcessed teeth and the government will not give her enough money to afford antibiotics and get surgery. K is still trying to pay off an ER copay from last month while also dealing with possible arthritis complications. Any donations would be highly appreciated, and please feel free to signal boost and/or link back to this post either on LJ or Tumblr.
Their Paypal address is kelly.pittman AT gmail.com.
We are almost finished with the kits! I mean it this time. As in, I will have an order form to share any time now. I’ve actually been checking my email every so often for it. But, we’re putting these suckers together on Monday and then there’s going to be a launch party Tuesday and then I’ve been told I get dinner and wine. I was already happy when I got to pick my job at the assembly conference. I picked quality control. Hell yeah! Quality control!
I have exactly one more of the motif we’re using to make for display purposes. Well, I tentatively expect I’ll have to pick up a few more on Monday, since making them no longer requires thought on my part. I’ve put together about 200 total between all of the prototypes and examples. I’m sorry if this is the second or twenty-second time I’ve mentioned, but SO MANY MOTIFS.
I’m saying farewell to the project with some dolly-sized iterations. And then I am going to make all of the stuff I had intentions of making, oh, at various times between April and now.
Last Thursday was the final day working on the directions. We actually went out and downloaded a few sets of other directions priced in the range of what ours are being sold for (as part of the kits). Then, we laughed. After that, a dog stood on me for attention, which I can’t say I objected to. I would have ended the day on a note of sharing the dog and LOLs with others, but I developed a migraine and had to go pass out for awhile. I also had to drive myself home with it and this resulted in my knocking over one of the blinky posts along the construction on our crossstreet. Which was supposed to be done more than a week ago, thank you. I was not hurt, the car was not hurt, but Mum thought I was dying. She does that. Thinks I’m dying. It’s heartwarming, but very loud for migraine times.
Sunday, for the price meeting, I showed up way early and got to bake for forty minutes while waiting for everyone else. Total misunderstanding on my part, and I did end up using the time well- thinking about porn. So, that was good, things were photographed, and the day ended on homemade ramen and pool. Delicious pool. Alas, we are now out of homemade ramen and eating more in the future will also require MAKING more. But! Worth it. Also, I walked out of the bead store with a spool of fireline I hadn’t paid for. After my apologies on Tuesday: “It’s OK. I know where you live~.”
Monday was a good day for jobs and listing things on eBay. I have a box of old doll stuff I’ve been clearing out bit by bit. I’m approaching the bottom at last. Most of it’s Pullip-related. I have nothing against Pullips, but I did have a bad experience with someone who parked me in a Pullip-filled room for an extended period of time. So, I’ve been selling them off one by one for dolls that don’t give me nightmares and also for new pants to wear to the job I don’t have. Anyway, I told this particular story to everyone at Tuesday beading. This lead to the conclusion that A) the nutty Pullip people sounded like child molesters to both of the retired social workers and B) *MWAHMWAHMEAH* NOOOO WE LOVE SWL HUGS AND KISSES. I don’t know about that first part since I was not a child at the time, but I’ll take mwahmwah any old time, especially since after the Pullip incident- and to a lesser extent, certain miscreant housemates -I never figured I’d have corporeal friends again. I may have to do a speech if I’m not too drunk at the party.
Ahem. Anyway, I also got to hear stories about the printing business and vacations in China while being tall, fabulous and not Chinese.
Today, more cleaning. I made some killer barbecue. You know, last year at this time I had no idea how to make barbecue. I’m putting off doing the last earring for reasons I can’t quite fathom since I’m dying to be rid of this project. I really am. The job market is finally looking up around here! I’ve sent in 40ish applications since Saturday. As for why I was job hunting on Saturday, I don’t know that either.
On the writing front: I have something for RaTs! I’m revising it now. I may be in the market for a beta reader. I also have the outline done for T. rex #4, which is, oddly enough, composed of four scenes. I’m shocked how late in the year it’s gotten. Soon, I’ll have to go finish the Halloween Story from last year! Which I know how to do but OHGOD it’s going to take a lot. Parts of it got so over-written. And I got myself into this awkward position where I have to fill in smut. Some of you may ask: how can you cram anymore smut into that? Fucked if I know. I need a crowbar at this point.
For recent additions, I should mention that Halloween Stories consist of bondage porn and mindfuck. They are an ancient tradition. They are not, however, scary. Or so I was told apropos to the one that was actually supposed to be scary. I know why that is though! What scares me is not what scares other people. And it’s hard to be so much as threatening when two hot men bang with enthusiasm every so many scenes.
Anyway, I’ve been having some connection issues unrelated to the DDoS business. Very frustrating. I finally mentioned it to Dad, who said he’d look into it. Just now, he comes in to ask if my problems started after I reorganized the pantry. I remembered this to be the case as I sat down here to think about something other than five year old candy when my connection started acting goofy. Guess who stacked the beans between herself and the router?
I’m also planning an exhibition of my 80’s playthings, since WHY I have such a hoard makes for a good story itself. Feel free to make requests. I’m even primping some of the ones I don’t keep on the shelf. And I’ve got some weird stuff, lemmetellyou.
Is it odd that I wonder what my child-intended dolls think of having to spend their days on shelves and live with a grown woman who alternately writes smut and slice-of-life fluff?
I love watching Mum play video games. The fact powerups exist excites her. She’s taken to playing some racing game with one of my wee cousins over Xbox Live. Me? I got to watch TV with <lj user=”starphotographs”> via Googlechat and erm, some piratey deaths of the interbutt. Mum’s actually practicing her drifting now, and I like <i>Baccano!</i> so far. It had me at skipping psychopathic murderers who monologue while punching people to death.
YES. I love violent entertainment. Am I a violent person, well, in person? Not at all. Also, I should mention I prefer my violence with some snark for maximum amusement. So happy she talked me into that show, lemme tell you. Full review when we get done!
We have all of the stuff to put the beading kits together. Well, most of it (we got one wrong color; missed ordering two more) and likewise most of the stuff currently appears in the database. I know because I entered most of it last Friday. I also met a very nice person employed by a health insurance provider. One who needs some work done in her jewelry studio. She came up to me and was all: “You’re doing inventory, aren’t you?”, which would be what she had in mind. I’m going to email her then. It nothing else, perhaps I can get a few bucks and some knowledge out of her. It’s a win-win for me. Inventory makes me HAPPY. Happier than blood, even.
I sewed most of the weekend, determined to make that damn skirt and shirt ensemble in the Volks SDC booklets. Conclusion: WHY DID I DO THAT? I mean, I’m happy I finally conquered them and all, but I don’t think the patterns got tested at all. Note that they no longer appear in the SDC paperwork. The outfits came out cute and all, but the top-stitching is brutal, the skirts didn’t fit at all and forget about ironing the shoulder seams, they have to be pressed oh-so delicately between one’s teeth. On the plus side, I did get them on my SDc girls in the end and my new iron performed splendidly.
I updated my resume AGAIN yesterday. Such things can always be better and all. The guy from last week never did get back to me. But, there were more jobs than usual up compared to most Mondays. I remain hopeful!
Today. Today was FREAKING EPIC. Except for the person on the cel phone who honked at me for being on the street when she wanted to pull out. Hmm. Well, at least that part sounds dirty.
Some of you may recall The Crazy Elephant Story from last year. Well, ever since that happened, I’ve wished I’d gotten the emails of the two ladies I chatted with at Meg’s. About all I knew about them was that they liked hugs, liked elephants and oh, hailed from waywayWAY out of town. So, single serving friends they were and that was just fine.
Until they walked into the bead store this morning. As an added bonus, I was wearing the same outfit as last time I encountered them. On a point of AWESOME BEYOND THE STARS, we recognized each other right off. There was much happy squealing, introductions, more hugs and DAMN RIGHT I HAVE THEIR EMAILS. Then, one of them found a bead she’d been looking for among those in the store. Now, for the new peeps I should also mention that a disproportionate amount of improbable things happen to members of my family. Imagine the Luck Virus episode of <i>Red Dwarf</i>, only even more ridiculous. But this, this was one of the coolest moments of my life ever. My new (retrieved) friends think we must be destined to be together. And you know, I tend to argue with destiny a lot, but today I don’t feel like it.
I then visited one of the beady ladies at her house; the one who previously had stopped in to see the boys and our kooky house. She lives in a gated community, and I’d be lying if I said I got right in. The keypad’s old and hard to read in full sun, though that’s no excuse for the amount of trouble it gave me, really.
I thought from her description that her cat was just a cat-cat. He’s a purebred red-point Siamese who gets his own plates of fish with dinner and sits on his cat tree near the table to survey all other meals. He’s also super-friendly. He walked right up to me and rubbed all over my legs. Then, he hung out on my lap for a good long time, chin-scratches ensuing.
Her husband was there too. He was so boisterous as to be a little imposing to start out with, but I got to like him a lot too. And the lunch we had? I’ve never had watermelon with savory dressing before, but it was GOOD that way, but there was that, and black bean soup, and prosciutto sandwiches with goat cheese and chocolate chip oatmeal cookies (my favorite; no I did not tell her this) and holycrap good coffee. What did we talk about over this?
They told me about their travels. And they have been goddamn everywhere. Shanghai, Prague, Guatemala, Rome, Germany, Egypt, the south seas… It was so interesting. I felt by the end that I might explode from all of the delightful information. Oh, also they used to live in Seattle on a lake, where people would see their house from the water, stop at their docks and knock on their door to compliment the place. I stayed as late as I possibly could, and left to them holding the kitty up for me to hug goodbye, after I’d already, you know, hugged them.
Jake has already forgiven me for cheating on him with another cat.
Anyway, since I’ve been delayed in posting this *frowny face*, I’ve ended up with two new updates that oddly enough have nothing to do with my scrubbing the grout.
#1: I’m vaguely considering doing a little photostory comic about wacky 80’s toys verses BJDs in a battle of wits.
#2: I have a scene I just outlined for a thing which involves an older guy chatting with some children. It doesn’t need written right now and I’m not sure I will be dealing with it any time soon, but if someone would be interested in vetting it for creepiness whenever it does come to exist, I’d be much obliged. It’s absolutely not supposed to be creepy.
#3: My back hurts and everything I need to do yet today requires sitting. Damn.
#4: I can’t count.
This is one of the most adorable things I’ve ever read and it’s only just begun! Check it out.
This is how Jane and Helen met.
It was the Halloween dance. They were both dressed as male FBI agents. Jane’s hair was pulled back in a pony tail. No makeup. She wore an ill-fitting suit that she borrowed from her brother. The jacket looked silly over her breasts unless it was…
Aaron Gouveia and his wife were already having the worst day of their lives. Then came the abortion protesters. [Source]
“You’re killing your unborn baby!”
That’s what they yelled at me and my wife on the worst day of our lives. As we entered the women’s health center on an otherwise perfect summer morning in Brookline, two women we had never met decided to pile onto the nightmare we had been living for three weeks. These “Christians” verbally accosted us—judged us—as we steeled ourselves for the horror of making the unimaginable, but necessary, decision to end our pregnancy at 16 weeks.
After extensive testing at a renowned Boston hospital three weeks earlier, we were told our baby had Sirenomelia. Otherwise known as Mermaid Syndrome, it’s a rare (one in every 100,000 pregnancies) congenital deformity in which the legs are fused together. Worse than that, our baby had no bladder or kidneys. Our doctors told us there was zero chance for survival.
I’m not a religious person and I’ve never believed in heaven or hell. But there is a hell on Earth. Hell is sitting next to the person you love most and listening to her wail hysterically because her heart just broke into a million pieces. Hell is watching her entire body convulse with sobs because she’s being tortured with grief. For as long as I live and no matter how many children we have, I will never forget that sound. And I vowed to do everything in my power to make sure she’d never make it again.
Across a crowded street, two people with “God Is Pro-Life!” signs and pictures of torn-up fetuses managed to drive the blade in even deeper. Again, I was left trying to console the inconsolable, feeling even more helpless this time, because I wasn’t allowed into surgery with her.
Running on pure adrenaline, and without even a hint of a plan, I grabbed my cell phone and crossed the street. I didn’t know what to say or how to say it, I just knew I wanted to make public the cowardice of these protesters. The video’s below—they didn’t disappoint.
I learned a few important things from this encounter. First, these people aren’t used to being confronted. They prey on the weak and they pounce on the wounded. It’s easy to berate people and shame them when they’re too beaten down to fight back. But I chose to do just that, and you can see what happened.
They spout the same tired rhetoric passed out at rallies and subway stations. They don’t have one salient response to any of my questions.
The most telling thing about their cowardice is when the woman on the right gets upset that I’m recording the conversation (which is perfectly legal) and then threatens to call the police. The irony is rich. She wanted to call the police because I was peacefully expressing my opinion on a public sidewalk and exercising my First Amendment rights, which is exactly what she was doing. But I’m not on “God’s side,” am I.
She also claims the women at the clinic are suicide risks. Even if she believed that were true, does she really think yelling at them and shaming them in public is going to encourage these women not to kill themselves?
After I took a walk and calmed down, it was time to pick up my wife and go home. When we pulled out of the clinic, the protesters were gone, and a police cruiser was parked nearby with the lights flashing. My wife, still groggy from the surgery, managed to crack a little smile, and asked, “What did you do?”
I have no idea if it was my interaction with the protesters that got them to leave. I doubt it was, but my wife was convinced that was the case. At first, I didn’t think of it as a big deal, and I actually felt a little foolish for getting so heated.
My wife, suddenly serious, pointed out a women entering the clinic. Within minutes, she said, that woman would be making a serious choice. Whether she kept her baby or not, it didn’t matter—what matters is that she can make the decision that’s right for her. And she can make it without people screaming at her.
My wife and I wanted our second child. We loved her. We even had a name for her, Alexandra.
You never know the circumstances surrounding this kind of decision. Consider this my plea: stop terrorizing women. Stop adding trauma to their trauma. If you’re able, stand up to these bullies in nonviolent ways. Speak out. And if you have a camera, use it.—Aaron Gouveia is a regular contributor to The Good Men Project Magazine.
Let me tell you, Tumblr: nothing is more offensive to me than when other gamers treat “the gay option”, as they call it, as “fangirl fodder” or “pandering”, whether it’s in my personal favorite game or others that offer you the option, like Dragon Age, Fable II/III, and Mass Effect 2…
Thank you for posting this! Amens to you :D.
That gigantic dust storm that hit the Phoenix area? We were smack in the middle of that. It still hasn’t settled, and it’s humid here now, making for total grossness upon walking out the door. And my pool, my beautiful pool, has been absolutely trashed. I mean, it rained mud! I have it on good authority that flying in over the city right after the storm hit resembled shots of Dave Lynch’s <i>Dune</i>. Every dog in town has on little cinnabar booties. OK, that last one is kind of cute, but the poor pool. It went from blue and sparkling to green and murky in less than an hour. I wouldn’t be so upset if this wasn’t prime pool season and the weather otherwise making a swim sound all the more delightful.
And since it had just rained, all of that dust in the air came with free Valley Fever spores. In a week, a notable percentage of the population here may well be sick out of their minds. So glad I’ve already had that. Note: it’s Valley Fever isn’t dangerous except in the immunocompromised. It does however suck mucho ass. Imagine bronchitis with a side of poison ivy.
On Tuesday, I brought in the display board I made for the kits and worked on making things to hang on it, so it wouldn’t be hanging out empty. Nothing sadder than an empty display board. Anyway, while I was working, someone mentioned that they thought they saw my design in one of the major beading magazines. Cue my freaking out. I couldn’t see anything from the website promos, but I did look. Oh, did I look. And I finally got to help the lady I taught to peyote stitch finish her bracelet. I actually ran into her last Friday wen we went out for sushi (again), but I didn’t recognize her and this was quite embarrassing. She seemed more happy to have a handmade bracelet of her own than miffed at me.
I think I forgot to mention: last Thursday, we had a very professional kit meeting with voting and spreadsheets and everything. And that sushi the next day? Well, it was good quality stuff, but I very much got the impression the person in charge of slicing hadn’t exactly graduated sushi school with honors. That is totally NOT how you slice sea bass.
This Wednesday- yesterday and all -I went over to one of the beady lady’s houses. The one with the dogs and Publisher. The dogs remembered me. Oh, did they. That’s why she now has a photo on her iPhone of them sitting on me. I think I am a cat person, deep down. This does not mean however that I dislike dogs, especially cinnabar bootied hunting dogs with kooky dispositions. Since this was right after the haboob and all. I don’t think we could have done much more with the day in question. I mentioned what I’d heard about someone else possibly getting to this particular use for Tila beads before us, which lead to a certain mad charge, mailbow-wise for the latest issue of Bead and Button, given that I’d already checked out Beadwork.
Her: Hey, this doesn’t look anything like our design.
Me: Yeah, ours is much more convoluted.
Her: Fuck a duck.
But, we got a lot done, despite ducks and haboobs. In fact, we kind of decided “haboobed” now means “suffering from massive brain block”.
Four deer sauntered across the driveway in front of my car this morning as I headed out. They were so beautiful and calming to watch. I accepted that I would be late rather than shoo them away. We had another very professional meeting thing which absolutely did not involve dancing and cute pet stories. We have some editing, printing, sorting and ordering to do. I’m not sure how long it takes bead wholesalers to ship, but my previous estimates of a week or two may be overly optimistic. This thing is HAPPENING. Just as soon as I get the order sussed out, since that’s my job. Payment has been in love, hugs, and foods, but I would have done it anyway. It’s a fun project! Trying at times, but fun nonetheless. You know, just like writing.
I’m down to two more scenes for my current project. My iron broke the other day and a kangaroo rat got into Dad’s car, where it devoured several relatively important wires before hopping off on it’s way. He’s fine, but the owls aren’t doing their part around here.