Until now I have refrained from commenting on the state of American politics. It isn’t because I don’t have a position (I do).
It’s because I’m completely terrified of where it’s going.
The nation managed to elect a wholly inexperienced, morally and multiply financially self-proclaimed billionaire to the highest office in the land, a man who bragged on national television about the enormity of his sexual member and bragged (on a hot mic) about how his fame and fortune lets him do anything that he wants to women, up to “grab[ing] them by the pussy” if the notion struck him. There have been incidents of this happening around the nation now, with the only excuse given that “this is Trump’s America now, we can do that.”
As someone who is equipped at present with the aforementioned anatomy, that’s terrifying.
Further, all of his picks for cabinet positions all are unqualified for the positions he’s put them in—it’s like he’s playing a matching game and the only matching he’s doing is to match the least qualified to the office position. But that’s not even the scariest thing about it. There’s a pattern and until recently, it went unnoticed.
Enter Jeff Sessions, a Dominionist Christian who doesn’t believe in the separation of church and state and wants to bring the church’s system into every decision that is brought down. Suddenly, everything is on the table. The governnent is in the bedrooms again, the operating room, the OB-GYN clinic…and this man is even worse than the usual of this sort because he’s been on the side of racists before, having been caught saying he was ok with the KKK until he found out they smoked weed. I don’t care if he said it as a joke…that isn’t a joke that you make in today’s America, when half of America is looking over its shoulder for someone wanting them dead for the color of their skin or the god they pray to.
The next four years will be truly terrifying for me and other People of Color, gender minorities, the disabled, the infirm—and those like me who lie on the border of all of these axes.
All we can do is raise our voices and march, give this new government the “hell no” it needs to hear while we still can.
- Current Mood: uneasy
An ice storm is barrelling down on the area. I've hunkered down with an absurd amount of bread and milk, as Midwesterners tend to do when these things happen. I'm prepared for the worst but hoping for the best. Any kind of help is appreciated; being in the dead of winter in a hotel? It's no way to make a living.
Hours...hours...well, those are a little less on the sunny side of life. It's the slow season, though, and that's to be expected. The slow season is always kind of ugly. It's going to especially be ugly on bills.
To top it off, the freeze is going to keep me from going to this place I've been told to go to by my therapist: it's out of the way and right in the way of the freeze area. I've also been told to start getting my legal in order: their disregard of my pronouns is officially illegal and I can now officially call them on it. Them being work. There's a lot of things to take care of. (Help. Lol.)
- Current Mood: cold
I'm for makeup. I'm for the otherworldly look. I'm for the natural look. I'm for the somehow-blending of the two (How does Bayonetta do it and is it obvious I've got the girl on my MIND). And I can read between the lines when someone expresses an appreciation of that otherworldly aesthetic, that it is NOT ripping the other looks down and tearing them down.
Of course I got to see that point wildly missed the other day.
I could see clearly just how it could misconstrued, though. I could see both sides. I could also see how far it had been blown out of proportion. My perspective as a womanshaped not woman gives me an interesting perspective on the topic. As a teenager I had to sneak in my make up and I had no interest in the natural look. I would put it on at school, and make it otherworldly as possible. Of course this meant carrying Noxzema with me or else wrath as well. So what if I got looks. It was my aesthetic.
It didn't require validation from anyone—man, woman, or other. It's intriguing that others sign my aesthetic, but that's all it is—intriguing. It does give me a little confidence booster to carry out the next resolution I've got. Last year's was getting more comfortable with my self image via selfies—and that got me more fans than haters.
I definitely don't require validation from anyone for my makeup choices, but it will be an adventure.
Now I know that sounds like a HORRIBLE THING but it means two good things:
— I can take official action against the asshats and
— I can get things going on an official basis... Starting with what they call me at the doctor. :)
In fact while they were doing it my new counselor corrected someone in earshot and I thought she was calling me.
We got a lot done. Like, A LOT a lot. Like I didn't even realize how far back this started until we got started.
I feel lighter today.
Having my food stamps cut so low means that I'm going to have to see if my income qualifies for trips to the food pantry. Bills and stuff will be triaged.
It's scary. I'm sitting here in what is officially a safe apartment, but the money is thin. My job has been threatened thanks to my injury. But, they do this every week. I'm still not sure if they're just trying to scare me or what...
Dinner is almost ready. A one meal system at least works better if you got the food that your body doesn't reject, unlike over the summer. Tomorrow I use my tiny "allowance" to get cheap things to stretch meals with.
...Time to settle in to my sandwich. At least it's a good one, right?
Pain, Fever Dream…
It's 3:10 AM. I lay down in the evening thinking that I was going to be out a mere half hour but the next thing I knew I'm waking up to the same pain I fell asleep to. I've slept through my meds, and the only reason my temperature is as low as it is sits in my grade fridge—a high quinine rasberry-cranberry tonic water I mixed myself.
…different reason. I like the bitter bite of tonic.
I woke with pain a few hits minutes ago. My pills are hours late.
I hope I don't oversleep…
More pills than I care to count.
More fluids than I am comfortable drinking.
Skin sloughing off where it most certainly should not be.
And enough fainting spells that that Ion—you know, the kitten?—has taken a spot near the recliner I'm sleeping in tonight.
Despite my best efforts, somehow pestilence has followed me here. My allergy went off and I did a check in paranoia. It either came in from the job or a bus.
It's a fuck of an occupational hazard. And not the only one.
My doctor's oh so brilliant idea to lower my pain management meds led to me having unmanageable pain. My side is worse than ever. The fainting spells are back—not “near” syncope, flat out syncope. I've hit more floors than the bodies in the song.
An exterminator will be called. …here, not the apartment. They still don't have this together.
And I'm fighting two opportunistic infections right now. It sucks.
The Pain is like a crosscut saw, below a rib as if looking for something to remove, then realizing that it's made a wrong turn and curving down and sawing on the dotted line that is my hernia scar.
I can't focus. I can barely function.
There are things I wanted to do today. I did none of them.
All because I have not been able to get my side fixed.
Pestilence Day… I don't know. Too long.
My “WTF is this Weather I'm stuck in” (for three hours in a laundromat) vine got 2.5k views. Six of us were in there, rocks and branches were flying, and a door kept banging open despite our efforts.
Still the safest place to be.
The power went out four times. I had to restart my dryer twice. I went out from exhaustion… It might have been three times. I distinctly remember being out when the power was, and back when it was once. Pills were missed. Meals were missed. Returning to the apartment—I'll advised, but the only physically possible route—resulted in a SPECTACULAR splat onto the floor, with only the package of sheets I'd bought to cushion my head. I managed to get my sleep pouch out long enough to splat into it.
Two hours into splat, I realize I am so dizzy that I can't move. Getting out is not possible. Dinner is a vending machine cupcake. And I'm in enough pain that this is enough.
I'm heavily medicated right now. Sleep is soon.