This is the lounge. You can discuss anything you want, but you will do it kindly. Aaaaaaaaaardvaaaaaark!
Status: Heavily Moderated; Previous thread
Pharyngula
Evolution, development, and random biological ejaculations from a godless liberal
This is the lounge. You can discuss anything you want, but you will do it kindly. Aaaaaaaaaardvaaaaaark!
Status: Heavily Moderated; Previous thread
Joe
I think if the critters actually ate a bunch of cornstarch-packing-peanuts, the poo would be awesome (in the older sense of awful).
well.
First!
the answer to little nicky lenin
Yeah. I hear you. When I get depressed, the guilt becomes damn near overwhelming. Why didn’t I do more, why didn’t I tell, why can’t I remember the names, how many more were victimized by my silence, etc. When I’m not feeling depressed, I can argue, quite effectively, with the part of my brain that keeps bringing up all of my mistakes. When the depression hits, though, I start to believe myself. I try very hard not to drink when I am depressed. Or if I do, I limit myself to one beer (Ommegang Witte tonight with dinner).
Wait. Cheez Doodles have nutrients? When did that happen?
experiment
The comment box on Page 1 is still open.
If I comment here, will it show up on Page 2?
huh.
interesting.
Ask Nate Silver.
Now I have an image of a bunch of cats playing in a huge container filled with those packing peanuts.
That reminds me, I wonder if Caine ever decided to do something similar for the rats…
Is he any relation to Rebecca Watson?
They also make a great practical joke. Fill a cupboard with them, then ask the victim to get something from that cupboard. Watch the hilarity as thousands of packing peanuts come cascading out. Then duck.
Only on the first Tuesday of November. Every other year.
Ogvorbis:
On the other hand, for me beer is (mostly) pretty good self-medication. Since my depression mostly manifests as anxiety, drinking tends to shut down that part of my brain that normally is screaming at me 24/7 about how much work I have to do and how likely I am to screw everything up. Alcohol usually empties me, leaves me hollow and dull and QUIET. And I need that, compared to the alternative. It worsens the insomnia, but everything requires trade offs. And maybe once a year, I have a bad depressive meltdown thanks to the alcohol… but the ability to get through the rest of the year makes the risk seem worth it, I guess.
It isn’t easy, is it? I know you’ve got trauma I can’t comprehend… and I’ve got a sinking feeling I have trauma that I can’t remember… but I can empathize with what you’re going through, and I feel something similar to some of the things you feel.
Remind me never to confuse Menkalinan and Miaplacidus.
More seriously, hi everyone. ‘s a good saturday for me. Good luck on moving, Joe. The rest of you, also hello; I hope today was good.
thunk,
Hey buddy, and I guess you’re having an easy weekend and good on ya!
I think I would be incapable of not spreading it out on the floor and rolling around on it.
It’s tough because I don’t think of what happened as trauma. I know who’s fault it was (not mine) but I can’t shake that I was complicit and even enjoyed some of it so it can’t be traumatic. And I see my silence and acquiescence as weakness (and I know it wasn’t but that’s part of the internal monologue I get when I am depressed).
Two or three years ago, I just remembered that I didn’t like being a cub scout. Never really wondered why, though. During the misogyny wars here and at SB, something triggered the memories and I keep remembering more and more and more. It is scary and, if you do start to go through that, do what I have been too scared to do and talk to a therapist immediately.
It’s never identical, but I know what you mean. I really do feel broken but I think I am better off now knowing why I feel broken than I was when I felt broken but had no idea why. I mean, the shit from 9/11 certainly doesn’t help, but my one (unsuccessful) suicide attempt was years before that. I actually feel a little better knowing why I feel the way I do. I’m still scared, feeling guilty, hurt, angry, etc, but at least I know why.
chigau:
Imagine the sharts…
Oggie
[platitudes redacted]
have a hug
chigau:
Wrong question.
Have you ever seen Nate Silver and Rebecca Watson together?
Inquiring minds want to know.
@355. thunk, Blob Alert!
&
356. John Morales :
FWIW, M31 is the Andromeda galaxy located about two and half million light years away.
The Dark Horse nebula is at an uncertain distance within our Milky Way – parts of it (Barnard 78 & 59) are 6-700 ly off.
See : http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dark_Horse_Nebula
While the Horsehead nebula in Orion is one thousand, five hundred light years distant.
So the Andromeda Galaxy (M31) is the odd one out being neither a dark (obscuring cloud) nebula nor a Barnard ctalogue object nor within our Milky Way!
Ogvorbis,
I’m given to understand that most people have childhood memories from as early as 2 years or so? My first few real memories start when I was around 8 years old, nothing solid until right before I turned 11, and I remember virtually nothing before that. I don’t really have anything before that at all. There are homes we lived in and I know I had to have attended school before then, but I don’t remember any of it. I have mostly playground memories between 8-10, including being beaten up a bunch of times by classmates, but I don’t remember a single teacher I had or most of anything else that happened off the playground. I know I read a lot of books, and I know I was an atheist even back then, but most of the rest is just blank pages.
I know my older brother was molested around that time, and I wonder if something similar didn’t happen to me. Why else is most of my early childhood a complete blank?
That sucks. I din’t even realize that there were holes in my memory until a couple of years ago.
When you get set up in your new digs, will you have health insurance? If so, I would suggest talking to someone who knows what the fuck they are doing (and, again, this is stupid advice coming from me considering I am too scared to actually take that step, so take it with a huge grain of NaCl).
And I’m heading off to bed. G’night and be safe.
Ogvorbis,
Sleep good, friend.
And I wish I had holes in my memory, rather than a giant fucking canyon where the first 20% of my life should be.
plodded my way the Tami Hoag’s “Cry Wolf” by sheer stubbornness at the fact that I spent money on it. When one superlative is unneeded she uses ten. Won’t make that mistake again. Grabs a Jack Higgens off the shelf and pour another cuba libre.
Improbable Joe, could be worse, I remember in almost photographic terms everything from age 3 on, in detail, shit I will not go into ever but it was a fucking horror show. Flashbacks do happen but are ruthlessly suppressed. We all find our own crippled way to cope.
broboxley,
I don’t know how you did it. I have a hard enough time powering through the less-compelling books by authors who I know that I like.
Joe
Episodic memory is a funny thing. This sounds like my [lack of] childhood memories; I can recall a couple of specific instances from before high school, but pretty much all my memories of my childhood consist of stories people told me about it later, asking if I remembered too, which I don’t. I forgot my own time in the cub scouts for years, until I happened to see a group of them come into the store where I worked, and thought “Hey, I did that.” The thing is, for me, this is more or less a rolling phenomenon; I have only marginally clearer memories of my first marriage than I do of my childhood, for instance. I don’t have any reason to suppose that it stems from trauma, though, although others have suggested it when I mention my memory. As an alternate explanation, I recall reading in a psych textbook of some young men in Britain who had such poor episodic memory that upon coming home from school, they could recall the lesson material, but not where they’d learned it, nor where they’d spent the day. i can’t remember why this was the case, but I empathized strongly with them. I can’t say if my case is the same as yours, but I offer it up in case it helps you.
Oggie
sleep dreamless
I could have told them that. >.>
Dalillama,
The thing is, for me there’s a pretty steady progression backwards in time, where the past year is sharper than the year before, and ten years ago is faded compared to the past year but sharper than 20 years ago… and then there’s an almost solid brick wall when I hit when I was around 8 years old. Much before that is just… nothing. We moved around that time, and maybe the first full memory I can assign a date to was our first night in our new place in Harlem when I was just about to turn 8 years old.
There was an outside deck, because we were on the top floor of a brownstone, and the previous tenants had left a Shogun Warrior toy outside, and it had wheels on its feet and a missile-launching chest plate that was missing the missile, but would shoot pencils if you stuck them in just right. I learned how to write cursive there, in dry erase marker on a Formica tabletop that we later ripped off when we moved and used to protect the floor underneath the newspaper my parents laid out for our dog Fluffy. There was Fluffy and BG the cat with one blue eye and one green eye, and I slept in a pup tent that had a fitted sheet on it, and I can remember so much of it and I can’t really remember anything before. I could talk for hours about being 8,9,10… and there’s nothing before that.
Did I mention that my fitted sheet contained a pup tent? How cool is that?!?!?! Also, the frame my mattress sat on had drawers built into it, so I had a convenient place for comic books and toy guns!
Improbable Joe
Bleeding luxury!
I know, right? And in the
ghettoneighborhood where impoverished ethnic minorities live, no less! Thrilling!So, it’s -16°C outside and +16°C inside.
I’m putting on a sweater and wool socks and going to bed.
*hugs all around*
Joe:
That’s horrible Joe.
I’m so sorry for your brother.
I wouldn’t say that lacking early childhood memories means you were molested (obviously unless you have some proof of it, and I really hope it didn’t happen buddy). I have very little memories of my childhood and had nothing traumatic happen to me as a youngster. I’ve just always had bad long term memory, with special emphasis on my childhood.
chigau,
Sleep well bud, and I am off as well. My dog is past ready for bed, and without my wife here she’s miserably lonely upstairs.
… yeah, we really do have those sorts of weird relationships with our fur-covered family members.
Dalillama @27:
I have similar issues with my memory.
I’ve found that I lack an emotional connection with some of my memories. At times, when recalling memories, it feels like I’m seeing them through the eyes of someone else as things happened to me. It’s strange. I’ve just chalked it up to the human brain being a strange and wonderful thing.
Joe, Ogvorbis:
Pleasant dreams.
****
chigau:
Sleep well and stay warm!
chigau:
Hehe. It’s +16 outside here.
Be careful Joe. The existence and nature of repressed memories from childhood trauma is still a controversial topic. The Pfft article is worth a read as a starting point. Please understand that I am in no way questioning the validity of anyone’s memories by posting this. I just want to urge that caution and great care is needed because memory is a slippery thing and early childhood memories are even more so.
For myself, I remember snapshots of my childhood, ugly snapshots of isolated incidents that add up to a pretty unpleasant whole. There’s much I don’t remember and I don’t care to look too deep into it. On the whole I feel that the positives I’ve lost are not going to outweigh the negatives.
That said, I’m 99% sure that no sexual or physical abuse happened. I had a therapist dig and dig because he seemed to think that given my problems there must have been some kind of physical abuse. I ended up having to tell him flat out to stop because what he was looking for wasn’t there.
Do I know this for sure? No, not quite. But I do remember one incident where my father hit me. It was a mostly playful slap to get me to stop shaking my presents under the Christmas tree. It wasn’t truly painful but I was so shocked that he’d hit me that I ran and hid in the bathroom. That is not the reaction of someone who had been repeatedly abused in that manner.
I’m also pretty sure that had I been in an early, more fragile state when I saw this therapist it would have been much harder to say “No, that didn’t happen.”
Spouse and I were just talking about this. How would you know if any of your memories are real memories or basically retrograde hallucinations your brain came up with to fill a gap in memory. It knows blank happened but lost the actual memory so it makes one up.
I seem to remember that the Radiolab podcast episode on memory was interesting and full of surprising bits of information. Might be worth a listen for those who are curious.
Ok, wow. The Atheist Pig actually entertained me with talk about fucking Twilight.
Edward is Romney. Jacob is Obama.
****
I’m watching Faith is not a virtue (an AronRa video). A young woman somewhere around the 39 minute mark said the Bible isn’t sexist. Headdesk. Facepalm.
And of course I come in late. Sigh. [raises fists to the sky] Damn you timezones and gainful employment!
Goodnight one and all.
May your dreams be celphapodic
With (or without)
The requisite numbers of horses and peas.
May your awakening be gentle
Not by a bladder most despotic,
And may your new day be one
Of perfectly dotted I’s
And handsomely crossed T’s.
Apologies to anyone who likes actual verse.
thunk:
I’ll see your +16, and raise you my 63ºF. :P
Hmm, here I am again. Didn’t go to Skepticon this year, not enough other folks to make it worth the bother. Had a bad week, yet another failed date. Managed to get out on the bike for the last warm day of the year, did most of the trip back in the dark with a flickering headlight.
What’s this about a shooting? Jeez, hugs to Ogvorbis.
Tony: I call with my 17 C.
sucks first veterans day powwow I have missed in Choctaw MS for 4 years. Fry bread mill be missed :-(
It’s 63 F here in Chiwaukee at the moment. Unseasonably warm. I blame global warming.
Joe, Og, otherts:Good night and sleep well.
Tony, what you’re describing sounds more like me than Joe’s case. There’s a couple of things I recall semi-clearly, but not in the detail that Joe gave about that bedroom age 8. I can’t even place my age in any of them except from context; i.e., I was hit in the head by a kickball hard enough to concuss me at one point; that must have been when I was in elementary school because my middle school allowed electives for P.E. and I wouldn’t have signed up for a game like that. I know that I had major anger issues as a child and would react to regular teasing by going into berserk rages, but I have no actual memory of this occurring, except vaguely on the last time it happened(Not in response to teasing, someone hit me in the groin during a game and I flipped out). That was in middle school, I think, or maybe high school, but I think it happened before my next, and much clearer, memory of stepping in a wasp nest, which I think was my freshman year. After that I have a few more memories, but they’re very spotty, and mostly take the form of stories that I know, rather than recollections of experience, if that makes sense
thunk:
It’s about +3C outside where I am, and the humidity is 80%
24.1c and 37.1% humidity.
Dalillama:
That *totally* makes sense.
I know various events that happened in my life, and I know they happened to me, but I don’t feel them, if that makes sense. I remember playing baseball in my early teens. I remember playing center field, and getting hit in the head with the baseball. I “remember” passing out and awakening 20 minutes later (I used scare quotes because I don’t actually remember that. I think my brain filled in the information based on what I was later told). I don’t have any emotional connection to that event, nor do I remember when it exactly occurred. To place it in the chronology of my life, I have to recall where I was. I remember living in North AL, some time after we moved there in January 1988-at which point I was 13. I think this event happened when I was 13 or 14 (not much later, b/c I know I didn’t even have a Learner’s Permit).
I recall writing a paper of the Reverend Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. while I was in middle school, which was also when we moved to North AL. I also remember it being shortly after we moved there, so that likely happened in 1988.
I have virtually *no* memories of my high school years. I could find my old high school easily. I can remember where some of my class rooms are, but not classmates or any of the teachers.
Now that I think about it, I have very few memories of my childhood before we moved to Alabama. What I remember is probably based on pictures or conversations with my parents that enabled my brain to fill in the blanks.
Knowing that I don’t remember information over the long term is the reason I wrote down much some of the highlights of my friendship with M (I also wrote a fairly detailed account of what happened the night I found his body). I was afraid I’d turn 50 one day and not remember much about our friendship.
Dalillama:
Oh, I forgot to ask: You stepped into a wasp’s nest? Oooooh boy.
Nerd:
Also being in Chiwaukee, I blame the passage of a warm front. This situation will be rectified tomorrow.
The Pharyngula Weather Network?
Mildly threadrupt (likely to be a chronic condition for a bit), so *hugs*, sympathies and congratulations where they are due.
–
I really wish I’d had that much foresight when I was younger, as I’m very much in that situation myself, and it hurts incredibly when I let myself think about it. I’m having trouble typing right now from crying in fact.
…So, the wasp nest. My family was out for a hike, and I’d gone off the trail to get a look at a waterfall in the gorge we were hiking past, and couldn’t hear anything over the noise. My sister stepped in a nest of ground-dwelling wasps, but escaped before they boiled out in defence. I didn’t hear the warnings they shouted, and headed back to the trail directly through a cloud of angry wasps. They got into my shirt, and I wound up covered in stings from neck to ankles, including my arms. I’m amazed none landed on my face, and fortunately I had my pants belted tightly and tucked into my boots, or I’m sure they’d have gotten there too.
Yes, and I believe we have someone here with meteorological knowledge…
::looks around the Lounge::
Dalillama:
I’m sorry.
I hate that I may have helped to contribute to that.
I will say that I took the advice of Pharyngula regulars to write stuff down. I didn’t have the idea on my own. I’m very grateful that I took that advice. While some stuff will probably be stuck in my mind for some time (grabbing his leg and knowing that rigor mortis had set in…gives me the chills) I know that my memory is shitty.
Have you thought of making an audio recording (perhaps on a cell phone) of events that you do remember? This may not help you recall past events, but maybe it will help get you in the habit of doing something like that, so that future events can be documented. Now that I think about it, perhaps the act of trying to remember stuff will trigger memories for you.
cicely:
quit horsing around and get UNthreadrupt :)
It’s not so much trying to remember that’s the problem, it’s failing. There was a guy I knew in high school. my dearest friend and the first time I really fell in love, not that I ever said so, Right up until his suicide. And now, there’s so little I can remember of the time I did have with him, and that really hurts.
Dalillama:
I am so sorry my friend.
If you ever feel the desire to talk about it, know that I’ll listen.
It may likely be the same for you, but one of the things I miss most of all is M’s voice.
I have photos of he and I.
I have some of his personal belongings.
I have his bed frame.
But I fucking miss his voice so much.
Aaaaaand now I’m crying.
I’m sorry, Tony. I didn’t mean to upset you too. I’m personally taking comfort from some nice pear brandy that one of L’s customers gave us last month. I have something he made, a little clay figurine, but that’s it. No pictures, no recordings, nothing. I have trouble even picturing what his face looked like anymore, and I don’t know how accurate even that picture is.
Hugs all round for those who want them.
But no hugging back, it’s 29C here with delightful! humidity of 14%.
Yadehawk,
Yay, I’m glad you’ve found that email contact form. I second the advice ImaginesABeach gave you that, in case they don’t respond, you send an email directly to an administrative secretary (or someone else who seems appropriate) listed in the “our staff” section.
—
I have very little memories of my early childhood, but I always figured that’s normal. I was surprised when I heard people much older than me recounting stories from when they were less than ten with great clarity. I always thought they started remembering the retelling of the story rather than the memory itself.
I dunno. My memory isn’t the best working thing even now.
—
Tony and Dalillama,
*hugs*
I’m sorry you’re hurting.
5°C here, humidity 93%
@55.thunk, Blob Alert!
34 degrees Celcius here outside.
***
Armistice day today :
https://proxy.freethought.online/amilliongods
&
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nNVCR39dX0o
Sorry about the unintended embed there. Wasn’t showing on preview.
Dalillama:
No need to apologize.
I just ran to the store for some Ginger Ale, and on the way back, I heard Whitney Houston’s Greatest Love of All.
I can recite every damn lyric from that song, even though I haven’t heard it in several years AND I learned the lyrics back in the 80s, yet I can’t remember conversations with M. For all that I desperately would love to remember more about the time we spent together, my brain doesn’t recall much (I remember big things, like the trips we took to Orlando, Dallas, New Orleans, Atlanta; I can remember sitting up late at night talking about comic books; I can remember sitting in the movie theater-many times-with him and a few other close friends; no finer details though). But I can remember the words to a song I learned 20+ years ago. ::SIGH::
****
Beatrice:
Thank you.
Oh, and 93% humidity??!!
I am not jealous.
Do more countries use Celsius over Fahrenheit?
thunk, I noticed you used Celsius earlier. Is that a personal preference, or is standard for meteorologists?
Ah, I love taking songs and changing the lyrics. T is a personal trainer and she frequently creates routines around certain songs. I get a kick out of messing her up occasionally by altering the lyrics to a song as she’s practicing. I’m listening to Lady Gaga at the moment. Every time she says “…caught in a bad romance…”, I say “…caught in a white boy’s pants…” (I should change that to white *man’s* pants, though she knows what I mean, and I trust most people here do as well; 18+ only–heck, after dating K for all of 5 seconds, I’m thinking to avoid guys under 30)
I have today learned that to julienne something (meat, vegetables) means to cut into thin long strips.
Huh.
maybe someone posted this at some point already, but even if so, I figure it can’t hurt to repeat it:
by making the following changes to the user agreement, paypal is basically admitting that they’re planning on screwing people over in the near future, and would prefer if you couldn’t do shit about that:
if you can’t or don’t want to stop using paypal, they have an opt-out procedure that’s a pain in the ass, and that sounds kind of worrisome (comments from resident lawyers?):
the only country that uses Fahrenheit that I know of is the US, Everyone else seems to use Celsius. Wikipedia agrees:
thanks Jadehawk!
Jadehawk,
Worth knowing. This binding arbitration bullshit seems to be getting more and more popular.
Humidity dropped to 86%, that’s probably as low as it’s going to be today.
All over the world
Strangers talk only about the weather
All over the world, it’s the same
It’s the same, it’s the same
Celsius is better than Fahrenheit.
I’m so confused today. About a lot of things.
And it’s Bear-ripper Day (Lāčplēša diena) – also known as the Day Latvians Kicked Everyone Else Out Back in 1919. Yay us.
And a good Remembrance Day to all Canadians – I forget, what do Americans call it? Or do they even have it?
PS By ‘everyone else’ I mean colonial Russian forces and colonial German forces.
Since 1954, it has been called Veterans Day.
actually, it’s Narodowe Święto Niepodległości. Since we’re arguing.
also, the beginning of Carnival.
it’s supposed to snow today. whee!
Don’t Eat The Yellow Snow
11 11 used to be called Armistice Day. back when peace actually meant something.
Argh maties.
There be a snow lover in our midst!
Sliding Through Life On Charm
Pirate Jenny
No Child Of Mine
DLC, peace did not follow in the wake of the Great War. Do not kid yourself.
In Germany Before The War
[previous iteration of Lounge: Orania]
They wrote back to me, with pamphlet. I need only translate it now for Mr rMoney & Co. Link to Thunderdome to prevent gratuitous cross posting.
@67.
D’oh. Wrong link too. This :
https://proxy.freethought.online/amilliongods/2012/11/11/poppy/
would be the right one. Hopefully.
Thinking links :
http://gregladen.com/blog/2012/11/post-election-funnies/#more-7085
Some classics there via Greg laden’s relocated X blog.
Best line : You know your party’s in trouble when they tell you the rape comment guy lost and you have to ask which one.”
Good morning
I see you had time for writing last night ;)
Dalillama
Sorry for the trouble you’Re in with the flat
*hugs*
Jadehawk
So much been there done that. My student counselling wouldn’t let me make an appointment by mail either. If you really have to call enlist somebody to help you. For me it’s enough to know that Mr. will just ask me how it went, because, duh, I’m not worth that mich care but disappointing him that’s bad.
(((hugs)))
Ogvorbis
I guess that’s the worst kind of messed up trauma you can end up with. (((hugs)))
childhod memories
I remember the good stuff and the bad stuff. So I remember my mum’s emotional abuse pretty well. Thing is that she denies it, my memories are constantly questioned by her. Quite ironic, sometimes, when she yells “I never stopped speaking to you when I was angry”, hangs up the phone and doesn’t call for two weeks. Fortunately I have my sister who’s 6 years my senior and who tells me that indeed, I’m not making sh
Accidentially hit “submit”
Fortunately I have my sister who’s 6 years my senior and who tells me that indeed, I’m not making shit up. And tehre’s my mum heself who used to tell the story about how I was always so fucking stubborn and ran away when I was just three years old because I wouldn’t accept that I had knocked the jello out of her hand. Or how I made her hit me with a piece of wood because when she called me out on some misbehaviour I covered my butt as if she regularly beat me and had reson to do do. I was about 5 or 6…
Tony
I am also a snow-lover.
As for childhood memories, I remember mostly everything (good and bad), which is probably why I’m still scared of my dad, even though things have improved a lot over the years.
Also means I know where my own rages come from, but it doesn’t help much with the fear.
Ah well. It could be worse.
I’d just lie about it, because that’s the path of least resistance. and I don’t actually have these “i’m worthless” thoughts. I am however full of “i run out of fucks to give about anything and everything”, which sounds badass but is really just… kind of like the folks in Serenity who died from insufficient fucks given
Janine : to a guy in a trench in France in 1918, peace meant something. It meant going home. Of course, there never really has been a period of true peace. The cynical side of me says that such a state is impossible. But, there have been periods where there was no large scale war with industrial scale killing going on. And there was a time when Peace did not have an Orwellian meaning.
– in the name of Ingsoc!
Strictly speaking, by the time the First World ended the period of trench warfare was over.
I hate when parents try to use your lacking memory of early childhood to spread lies. My father indicated that my mother was… well, not really violent, but let’s just say that she (physically) expressively showed that she wasn’t interested in my hugs and cuddling when I was little.
Since I do know that she wasn’t much for showing physical affection, I almost believed him. But since he’s the asshole in this family, who has been known to change facts to suit him, I managed to dismiss his words (there were some doubts, though).
I miss having memories of my grandfather. He died when I was 8. I will forever be convinced that I would have grown into a much different person had he lived longer. When I say different, I mean better and happier.
rq,
I’m not afraid of my father, but he does go into impressive rages (no physical violence, but verbal… ugh) often, with no good reason. I recognize this predisposition in myself and try really hard to control it. My mother gets enough shit from him, she doesn’t need it from me too.
And if I ever have a partner and/or kids, I hope I’ll be able to keep my temper under control for their sake too.
Beatrice
It’s not easy sometimes, but my dad had the physical part, too. I suppose in a way I was unlucky, being second-oldest, because I know my older brother and I got more or less the worst of it. The physical part phased out as we got older and as more children were born (and probably other influences as well, possibly my mother, but I can’t speculate). It stopped when I was I think 7 or 8, because I think I was about that old, maybe even a bit older, because it had to do with practicing piano and it ended with the leather belt.
I know my youngest siblings didn’t get any physical violence at all; by that time, my dad had mastered the emotional guilt-trip part of maintaining control, and that has been difficult to get out of, even more so than the physical aspects.
We have a decent, polite relationship, but he scares me and makes me nervous and I hate telling him anything that he might see as bad or wrong, because I’m terrified of what he’ll say or do, even though he has been surprisingly positive about other things that have come to light. But even important things, like I never told him the first time I was pregnant until after #1 was born (I didn’t tell anyone but that’s a whole other story).
Anyway, I’ve figured out several ways to deal with the rages, and one of them is remembering myself when I was small. Also, writing and/or drawing (especially painting – throwing paint at large canvas, fingerpainting) seem to have an effect. But I haven’t done it in a while, mostly because of other life happening in the meantime. I think it’s starting to show, and I don’t like it.
Jadehawk
Well, either it’s just that my psychological make-up is just a different one (one part of my upbringing was that lying was the worst offense ever*. whatever I’d done, if I lied about it and were found out, things would be unimaginably worse than otherwise. Not too bad a principle if only making mistakes and fucking things up would have been met with a bit more compassion), or I simply managed to board the mental healthcare train a bit earlier. I think that I made it just in time before tumbling into a “real” depression. I think I was depressive, but still on the point where I could change it by changing things (does that distinction make sense?). By now I’m mostly able to recognize when I fall back into self-destructive vicious circles and stop them.
I still notice that this is so deeply ingrained into me that I have difficulties. I have difficulties believing people here and in meatspace when they show me compassion for the fact that I’m running a very tight schedule and think that I have it hard.
*Apart from not being 100% as my mum wanted me to be, of course
rq,
First, I’m sorry that you had to go through that during childhood.
My father actually had better control when I was young, or rather, when he was younger. The older he gets, the worse it is. I have no idea how we (or just my mom, since I hope to move out) will deal with him when he retires. All day at home, doing nothing… Especially if he makes the time go by quicker with some schnapps.
Beatrice
I suppose getting him some kind of help is out of the question? :( Or your mother going elsewhere? Hobbies…?
Funny, mine seems to be improving with age. Marginally.
Ah, well, that’s parents for you.
I also know I got a lot of good things from him, so I try to dwell on that rather than the negative, but sometimes it’s just not that easy.
And the self-destructive circles have also improved somewhat with changes in life-style and general outlook, but they come back, from time to time, and as much as I’d like to wallow, I try so hard not to. But again, it’s not easy. *sigh*
@ All
OK. I’m intrigued. There is a lot of complaining, by , that taxing people destroys economies. In China there is a progressive tax rate. The more you make the more tax you pay:
How does the above compare to the situation in USA? It would appear at first blush that China, with its booming (still) economy has a higher rate than the US?
In happier news, I have realized that:
1) I have mastered the roundabout (a rarity in Canada, where I originally learned to drive); after going through one twice (there and back) today, I only realized afterward that I didn’t do my usual eye-batting beforehand;
2) the so-called instinctive feel for driving is returning, in a renewed sense of security about which bits of the car are where at any particular point in time (thus reducing parking anxiety);
3) instinctive gear-shifting is returning.
However, I doubt I will ever get used to the Let’s All Rush the Exits attitude around here, where, when driving along the main road, people from the side-roads or parking lot exits make a mad dash for the main road, only to brake suddenly at the very edge, leaving me in a nervous state about whether they really would have stopped in time or not. Apparently the point of this precipitous braking is to frighten those with a right-of-way into conceding the non-right-of-way driver’s superiority.
Either way, still don’t like the driving attitudes here (lacking in general politeness, consideration and defensive driving); I do like my renewed comfort at the wheel. (But the anxiety – that’s what you get for not driving at all for about 5 years in a strange, strange country…)
Should do it more often.
theophontes
Can’t speak for the US, but here, they want to start the whole idea of a progressive tax, which, in principle, I support… BUT when your ‘wealthy’ class starts at the point where people are still scraping by month-to-month and can’t afford to set up any kind of a savings account, then I think the whole classification system should be reconsidered. :P Plus, the lower tax bracket is still too high for those making less than necessary to even make it through the month (yes, we have lots of those, after taxes).
Here’s to the survivors.
Here’s to the strength that we cannot recognise in ourselves, because doing so would require shattering the gorilla glass not-so-fun house mirror of our distorted perceptions.
Here’s to the damage done and the cobbled together workarounds that get us through the day. MacGuiver ain’t nothing but a wanna-be hack, a pathetic poser compared to us.
Here’s to the monumental self-control we possess. Having chosen time and again to not show the thoughtless, privileged fuckers that sometimes that which does not kill us makes us weaker. No matter how much we might wish to let the emotional spackle crumble before their very eyes leaving them agog and speechless at the transformation.
Here’s to our ability to love, to care, to strive and to learn despite it all.
Here’s to us, the survivors.
We are still here. We are still here.
And that my friends deserves to be celebrated.
FossilFishy, how do you do that? You’re making me cry again. And it’s only 3PM. :)
Also Giliell we had a similar thing about lying, but it got to the point wher I found it emotionally easier to remain completely silent about anything, rather than (a) saying the wrong thing (by that I mean ‘what he doesn’t want to hear even if it’s true’) or (b) lying and being found out. Being sent to my room or otherwise punished for not saying anything was far preferable to the unknown consequences of an actual answer.
So now my default stress reaction is to shut up, and it has taken a lot of effort to get over it, but I have to say, the Husband has helped with that, because he insists on talking. We actually made an agreement where, if something is up, I am not allowed to answer with ‘Nothing’ or ‘It’s fine’, and while he doesn’t have to remind me about that as much anymore, it still takes a great deal of effort to actually say something, usually with a great deal of (silent) emotional preparation (which looks like I’m trying to avoid the answer) that can’t be upset, otherwise I have to start all over again.
My other default stress reaction is to cry silent weepy tears, partly (I think) because, if I’m crying, I can’t really talk, can I? But I’ve realized, with the crying, it’s easier to let it out for a bit rather than try to hold it in and try to talk. So now I cry a little bit in silence, and then I can sort through the thoughts and feelings and start talking. Not a pretty sight, but it does get the job done. Mostly.
I also have a very difficult time in accepting praise and compassion and all the rest, because I never felt that I deserved it (I could always do just a little bit better). Which is why I prefer to go around telling everyone else how impressed I am with their efforts (which is all true anyway), and that way I can put my own stresses and issues and complaints on a little shelf and pretend they don’t matter as much. I do it all the time.
Ah rq, I cheat. I write about things that already have a heightened emotion attached to them.
Now, if I may be so bold as to make a request? Please dry your tears and the first chance you get hoist a celebratory beverage to yourself. All of us who’ve seen the short end of the stick often enough to have counted it’s rings and hoped it had a happy life as a living branch deserve to celebrate getting as far in life as we have. And truth be told, with the way the world is and always has been, that means just about everyone. Here’s to us all, we fucking rock.
Bah, begone apostrophe, you were not wanted there.
rq,
As long as mine will be able to go work in the garden we have out of town, he’ll be manageable. Otherwise, he has no interests. Nothing. He doesn’t read. He just watches tv.
Anyway.
As you say, parents.
Happier news. I had a nice lunch and am now trying to make myself burst by eating apple pockets (Giliell’s recipe – thanks!!!)
Fossil Fishy
Beautiful as always
rq
Yay for driving. I like roundabouts. They give you a chance to take a second look before you take a wrong turn.
beatriceave
I can only hope that you can make it out there before that happens. Oh, and if you have to do the teaching don’t be too shy to ask for help, it’s my business after all.
taxes
Cold progression is a problem in Germany, meaning that the brackets don’t get adjusted to inflation, so you might make 2% more a year while inflation is also 2% so you have the same money as before, only you pay a higher tax. Also tax credits, because they only apply once you make enough to actually pay taxes.
Worst of all: taxes on income from capital are much lower than taxes on income from work.
++++
Fucked up childhoods.
Maybe it will surpise you, but I will still say that I had a happy childhood. It just left me unprepared for being an adult. Since I accepted my mother’s view on myself all the rest was just the logical consequence and not her fault.
Of course it was abuse, but as a child I didn’t realize it as such and didn’t “suffer abuse” in a way.
I understand now why she acted as she did. She had severe seperation-angst herself as a child. My grandma was often ill and she had to be with aunts and grandmas and then there was this “holiday” she was sent on by the health authorities because she was underweight which absolutely qualifies as child-abuse (only custard to drink, people watched her when she brushed her teeth so she wouldn’t take a sip, letters home were censored and so on). She should have gotten that ballast out of her way before having children, especially before she had my sister in a situation in which she had to hand her to grandma for most of the time herself (yes, that was planned).
I’m the same way. My entire life history is a collection of specific snapshots in time, with vague impressions inbetween. If someone reminds me of a specific event, I may be able to recollect it (like when you hear a song you totally forgot knowing but find you know all the words), but some of what I think of as memories may be entirely reconstructed in my head rather than actually remembered.
Although according to this Radiolab, all memories are complete reconstructions.
Heh. I literally read #41, wrote my above comment/link, scrolled to 42, and saw yours.
Sometimes when I’m having a really good moment, I stop and try to force myself to remember – to notice everything about it, to note it in my head as “pay attention, this is a REALLY GOOD THING happening”. I’m not sure if that will help in the long term or not.
But most of my memory is more just impressions. For example, I remember specific things here and there about when my kids were little, but more just overall, general feelings. I loved them fiercely. They were sick a lot and I worried. I was rushed and harried a lot of the time. Things like that. It hurts that I can’t remember more things, especially because my spouse can, and I feel awful when he recounts something that happened and I don’t remember it.
There’s a line in “I wish I could go back to college” in Avenue Q that forlornly says “I wish I had taken more pictures”, and that’s how I feel about my whole life.
FossilFishy
I’ll do my best. :) And yes, most days I do agree, we all fucking rock. Some days it’s a bit more difficult to remember, though. :)
Beatrice
Gardening is very, very good, so I hope he’s mobile and coherent for a long, long, time, spending more time on picking species of roses or dahlias or tomatoes to grow rather than being angry.
Apple pockets? Do tell. (I’m still finishing those pumpkin muffins I made a while ago, and feeling quite proud – another large vegetable defeated and put away where it belongs!)
Giliell
I would also have to say that I mostly had a happy childhood. And a very good one, compared to some. But I also know that I tend to put the bad parts away and not think about them at all, so when they come out, they seem really bad. But what you said about being unprepared to be an adult – well, I seem to be agreeing with a lot of what you say in general, and here I go again. A lot of trial-and-error and reading and realizing that I was having very unhealthy relationships and being educated, all of this over (I suppose a relatively short amount of) time, has helped me to deal with the World in General.
But yes, mostly happy, a lot of adventures, a lot of positive things. I think part of what gets me down is that the bad parts manage to cast a shadow on all of it, as well as my current life and the way I deal with things, so sometimes it all seems a bit worse in retrospect than it actually was or felt at that particular time (like you say, I don’t remember ever feeling abused).
After all, my father did teach us to draw, be musical, choose for ourselves (mostly – he had a narrow selection for us, but within its bounds we could ‘choose’), things like that… He just also liked a lot of discipline (I expect due to his own childhood).
Anyway. Rambling again. Meh.
carlie
Thinking that you really need to remember something because it’s AWESOME might work, if you practice it – anecdotal, personal evidence from high school: there was this really, really awesome sunset once near my house and I went out to watch it, all the while thinking to myself, I need to remember this. Tried taking a mental snapshot and all that.
And I can still remember it, but I think mostly because I remember thinking that I need to remember it, and the actual sunset memory kind of comes with that text. :P
Don’t know how it works for emotionally heightened things or remembering things when you have a background of stress, but… it seems to have worked that time.
I’ve started writing things down about the kids, even little reference words/short sentences, in the hopes that they’ll trigger the actual memory. We shall see in another few years if this method works out.
Pictures work, which is why I love digital cameras: LOTS of pictures for trigger-happy me!!!
rq
Oh not telling was definetly preferable around here, too. If you come home with an A- and get asked why it’s not an A+ you’re pretty not encouraged. I remember bringing home the one and only D of my school career…
Also when I sewed something, the first thing I would hear was what I did wrong.
I never realized how much I had shut up over time, mostly after the kids came. I can tell you the names, relationship status and pets of Mr.’s colleagues but he would hardly know anything about my job. And don’t talk about unhappy things because we only have this little time. But we took the effort and changed that. Which means I feel valued and appreciated in what I do and also know that somebody will notice when I slip back into cocoon-mode.
Also, I don’t cry, I puke. I really unlearned to have emotions about myself that my body needed to find another way to signal that something is wrong…
Giliell
You just made me glad that all I do is cry. I imagine puking every time I have an emotional stress response, and yeah… Bad image.
I’m very glad you found yourself a Mr. to pull you out of cocoon-mode. I’m also very glad I found one for myself, even if it was in a roundabout sort of way (we did a lot of things backwards – we broke up, had a child, then got back together again…).
The one thing I very consciously try not to do is the whole negatives-first reaction, especially with the kids.
The Husband has pointed out to me that my first reactions (to almost anything) are often, to the point of always, negative. It’s one thing I have to constantly work at, because it gets kind of annoying for him to tell me about some event he would like to go to, and me saying NO!, and then coming back an hour later and being all, Well, it doesn’t actually sound too bad.
And I try to compliment the kids first on anything they do, and not pointing out the little mistakes at all, especially if they’re a matter of taste or age-related ‘incompetence’. At least it gets easier over time, when I reflect more on their happiness on having accomplished something rather than my ideas about how things should look.
rq,
Recipe for apple pockets is from here (in case I screwed up and linked to the wrong comment, look at Giliell’s #401 on that page).
I listen to ESPN radio (sports radio) on my commute. I enjoy sports and it cuts down on me shouting at the radio every time NPR lets a right-wing lie go unchallenged. This being Veteran’s Day weekend (by the by, thanks to all who served with personal honour intact), one of the shows had a piece about a purple heart and bronze star soldier who is now a wide reciever for Clemson University. They replayed parts of an older interview in which he recounted the horrific battle in which he earned his decorations (out of 50 soldiers at the outpost, 8 were killed and about 30 wounded during an 18-hour firefight).
All in all, it was a well-done, feel-good story. And the asshole host of the show had to add his own comments. Which included (paraphrasing), “He could have been weak. He could have curled up in the foetal position and cried and wimpered. He could have gone to the bottom of a whiskey bottle. But no. He was strong . . . .”
Y’know, asshole? I fight hard enough against myself when I find myself referring to myself as weak. Not handling trauma in a macho, bury-the-nightmares manner does not make me, or any other survivors, weak. It makes us fucking survivors! My nightmares and panic attacks for the last 11 years about the World Trade Center are not a sign of weakness. My depression, nightmares and panic attacks from childhood trauma does not make me weak. Not covering this up with macho bullshit does not make me, or any other survivor, weak. It makes us human. It makes us survivors.
Three nightmares last night. Two from 9/11. One from cub scouts. Nothing new. But finding a way to talk about, finding strategies that allow me to cope, crying, does not make me weak.
I shot off an email to Kincade’s show. I can virtually gaurantee he won’t read it on the air, but maybe he’ll think next time. Or not. It made me feel a little better.
Boy was at a bar with a friend. There was a shooting at the bar. Boy’s friend was close enough to be spattered with blood and got a slide burn on his hand when he tried to push the weapon down and away (neither one was the target(s)). He gave statements at the scene and then went back to the police station for additional statements and to identify the suspects. He is doing okay and all three of us will be looking for warning signs of stress so we can get him to a professional early.
So as we share our local weather, we are PWNing each other?
rq – good to know it might work to remember! My mother has several pages of anecdotes from when I was in kindergarten; she’d write down what I said about the day when I came home. I love those. I wanted to do it for my kids, but I was in grad school and barely holding it together, never mind thinking of archiving things. That’s some of what I’m consciously trying to remember now – when I’m having a really fun time with my kids, I try to make a snapshot in my mind of it.
I sleep. Or, rather, get overwhelmingly tired and then grouchy if I don’t sleep. There was one time a few years ago, when I had just started working through a lot of old mental baggage, that I came down with some mystery virus that laid me up in bed for days. I was literally awake maybe 4 hours per day max. I’m pretty sure it was maybe 40% whatever the virus was and 60% my brain entirely shutting down to cope.
Ogvorbis
Supportive hugs for you, and agreement about the whole ‘weak’ thing. You are not weak. I think ‘weak’ can only be applied to physical strength and physical forces (for instance, the weak nuclear force), rather than some kind of psychological state or situation or inability to act.
+++
Anyway I’ll be back later, we’re going out to lay a few candles in memoriam .
The weather man says fine today,
he doesn’t know what else to say but it’s raining …
raining in my heart
(I always “hear” the Buddy Holly version)
carlie @123
The sleep is my recovery mechanism (I cry; I talk, at great effort; then I sleep from emotional exhaustion), and waking up usually brings a kind of weird emotional euphoria with it, an emotional hangover, of sorts – a relieved lightening of the spirits.
Sometimes it kicks in as an avoidance (sleeping, can’t talk now), but rarely.
I would like to keep a notebook as a children’s archive, but at the moment, I stick to notes in the calendar and emailing my sister (who’s trying to keep a blog of the funny things my kids keep saying all the time). So one day I’ll have to search through all my sent emails to discover what my kids did on particular days.
Hugs to a lot of Horders.
Ogvorbis
Those assholes will most likely never have to deal with any of the shit some of us had to make it through. I also resent this whole weak=bad idea. Bullshit. Curling up crying is human and sometimes the only thing left to do.
rq
Oh yeah, I’m very lucky with Mr. I could have ended up with an abusive guy or a guy who turns abusive when he realizes that I’m not very good at setting boundaries.
I was really good to supply the abuse myself. I have the most respectful guy when it comes to sex that can be. No means no and never complaining or making me feel bad for not having sex with him/ doing XYZ. Still I remember having sex with him when I really didn’t want to, because I thought that I had to do it, poor guy, not getting sex tonight, can’t be, what if he leaves me if he doesn’t get enough sex because what could he like about me if not fucking. None of this happened in the real world, it all happened in my head and what he saw was an enthusiastically consenting partner (who totally faked it. I’m good at faking happieness)
Funny, the only thing I was ever negative about was me. But I had to concentrate on remembering positive stuff as well, to think about the nice things every day/week.
Like when this morning #1 made me go “give me an O, give me an S, give me a T, give me an R, give me an N, what did you just spell, Ostern!” (Easter. Yes she missed an E, but she’s 5)
@124.Ogvorbis :
Seconded by me – and virtual hugs & ashouted beer or three if you want them from me as well.
You strike me as a good, honest, strong, compassionate, intelligent and worthwhile person.
@129. Arrgh! For clarity, that was quoting 124. rq ‘s post.
Thought I had the rq name cut’n’pasted there but didn’t. Too late at night /early morn here.
Sorry rq.
British weather forecasts still sometimes translate into Fahrenheit after giving the Celsius.
I’ll stick with Fahrenheit. I’ve been in 139F heat (nine straight days of it) in the shade. If that had been 139C, I’d’ve been dead.
Giliell @128
I’m going to respond more later, but – me + boundaries? Yeah… The whole saying ‘no’ and possibly disappointing someone part has been difficult, when doing what someone else wants; trouble is, I think I overcompensate these days.
For some reason, pleasing others still seems more important than myself.
Just for comparison (I had a completely non-traumatic childhood), I certainly have memories from the age of 3 – I know because they include a memory of my grandmother, who died when I was that age, arriving on a visit. Maybe one or two from earlier, although these are just memories of being in a specific place, so are not really datable and may be the trace of multiple events. From 5 onwards, when I started school, there are lots of memories.
I hate thinking about my childhood, it is just missed opportunity after missed opportunity. Whatever happened to me, whatever crap my parents hung on me about me and what I was allowed to have in life, whatever it was it prevented me from having friends. Or, more accurately, it has prevented me from being able to be a friend to other people. I find it impossible to make and keep friends over any real duration at all. And I had people who were my friend, who probably still think of me warmly… I have never kept up with them, and have no idea of how to re-establish contact.
Oh well… sucks to be me. I’m nowhere near the only one with problems, and at least mine mostly only affect me. Time to pack something. :)
I remember a few incidents from kindergarten, which would have been age 5. I have vague flashes of pre-k, but that may be more of a constructed memory from what I was told (although I do distinctly remember when they tried to feed me celery with peanut butter and raisins. CELERY!) Nothing before that, definitely.
Hi all.
I do have memories at the age of 3.5-ish… one from looking out the window, and another was a gift of a very big pack of gum (spearmint).
Probably explains why I still like it.
I have one clear memory from the first time that we lived in Maryland. I was, at the maximum, three. I got a blue felt cowboy hat. I loved it. It was bright blue and had white stitching around the brim. And it disappeared. And I found it a few weeks later. And it was now grey and furry. I know that this was in Maryland because the next place we lived was Death Valley. And there is no fuzzy fungi at Death Valley. Lots of lichens and biotic crust, but no fuzzy fungi.
I wonder if that explains why I still have a thing for cowboy hats?
I had a cowboy hat once. I got it for Halloween, so that I could be a proper cowboy, er cowgirl. I know how it sounds, but it actually looked quite nice.
I searched for it years later, but my parents seem to have thrown it away. We usually throw nothing remotely reusable away, but I guess I was just out of luck with that one. Oh well, it would probably be too small anyway.
I have a couple very early memories of being in a crib, but I’m not sure how old I would have been. Old enough to stand up in the crib but young enough to still be in it. From pre-school onwards, I have quite clear memories. I had a very happy and non-traumatic childhood. Adolescence was less happy, but I still remember all of it.
For some reason, though, I remember almost nothing about the third year of my undergrad. It seems like a weird thing to forget. I’m guessing that that year didn’t include very much that was more exciting than studying.
Moments of Mormon Madness from 1972 advice to female missionaries (excerpts from a longer article):
Source:
http://www.lds.org/new-era/1972/10/a-letter-to-girls-about-lady-missionaries?lang=eng
Time to start the potato soup? Yeah, I think it is time to start the soup. I cheeseball it a little bit by using an instant soup mix as a thickener rather than making a light roux, and I decided to throw a little green chile salsa into it rather than roast peppers myself, but I’m otherwise playing it straight.
It may become clam chowder at some point also… it is a good way to eat leftovers without eating leftovers, by changing it somewhat along the way.
I’m not totally caught up on the older comments in this thread, so please forgive me if this has already been posted.
http://www.floatingsheep.org/2012/11/mapping-racist-tweets-in-response-to.html
The Floating Sheep website published data showing the areas of the U.S. responsible for the largest number of racist tweets during and after the election. Nine out of ten of the states posting the most racist tweets went for Romney. Not a correlation the Republican Party should be proud of.
The map of tweets is great.
99# Matt Penfold shh, don’t let the Koreans know that
Giliell:
Have you expressed this to him?
Lynna @142:
Ah religiously inspired gender roles.
How I hate them.
What purpose would that serve?
This is kind of a long one, since so much happened after I went to bed:
parents and childhoods
This is the thing: My parents are great folks, and I get along really well with them. I feel kind of bad saying so in the face of so many others here, but I swear I’m like the only person I’ve ever met who has no complaints or lingering greivances with their parents, and I don’t think it’s because I can’t remember things either. So, hugs and sympathies to all you folks who weren’t as lucky on that score.
taxes
Oh yeah, we’ve got that in spades here in the States.
carlie
Might is the operative word for me. If it happened more than about 2 years ago and I haven’t been reminded regularly of it since, I’d gues there’s about a 15-20%chance that I’ll be able to pull it up again to some extent.
No kids, but I feel the same way when L talks about some of the things we’ve done in the past.
Joe
Fucking hell do I know that feeling. I’ve got no more explanation for it than you do, except maybe just that I didn’t really make friends as a child and ndever got the knack. I have no reason to suppose that it’s anything to do with my family, but I can definitely empathize with the problem there. Best wishes.
Ogvorbis
That DJ ‘s an asshole. USBHugs and liquor too.
Tony
Hell no. As I said, the problem was 100% on my side, never a word or action from him that even got into the direction of the red line. We talked about the fact that in general I am bad at drawing lines, expressing my wants and needs and we’re very careful to watch this. So, guilt-tripping him by sharing that piece of my fucked-upness with him would serve nothing good but a hellotof bad.
It’s different now and that’s what counts.
rq
Even better, I even refused to let others do something for ne and be it such trivial shit like giving me a cushion when they have a chair and I’m sitting on the floor. Much like with the sex-thing, I supplied the abusive person in my own head and didn’t even think about asking anybody whether it was OK if I did this or that. I just told myself no, I can’t or yes, I have to.
It was good to learn again that yes, I can have nice things.
carlie
Oh, I sleep like a toddler after a party (why do people say “sleeps like a baby? Babies are the worst sleepers on earth, they often want food in the middle of the night). I was kind of surprised by this, thinking that I would lie awake at night thinking.
memories
I have quite a lot of memories from kindergarten but most of them aren’t so much events but rules and rituals. Like we would always try to enter the dining room quickly so we’d get a seat on the bench on top of the radiator.
Oh, yes, Jadehawk, you might also like Steeleye Span’s version of Pirate Jenny, listed as The Black Freighter.
a petition you might like :-)
https://petitions.whitehouse.gov/petition/peacefully-grant-state-louisiana-withdraw-united-states-america-and-create-its-own-new-government/1wrvtngl
Giliell
We actually did have a conversation about the sex thing, because we were at a point where I was feeling bad, being the one more often to initiate sex or even want it. And once I pointed out that from time to time I would make the effort for him, and why couldn’t he make the effort for me? So we’ve gone so far as to have a schedule, since he has realized that it’s difficult to be spontaneous with 3 children and both working and all the rest of that wonderful stuff. That way, I don’t feel neglected, he knows I’m not feeling put-upon, and that settles that (in a way it’s a bit sad, but really, it got depressing trying to find time for totally spontaneous sex among all the other things going on, because it would just happen too rarely – and we find other ways to make things interesting ;) ).
But then, I’m bad at faking unhappiness, and even where I would try to put up with things (like visiting his family and listening to gossip where I would have no idea about who they were talking about and feeling too shy to speak up), I would come across as anti-social and aloof. For the most part I don’t mind, but they’re supposedly a ‘social’ family, and any kind of reticence or non-talkativeness is frowned upon. Trouble is, I’m really bad at faking small-talk, or faking that I like someone or something. It wouldn’t help that he would become a totally different person around them, to the point where he actually would ignore me, a little bit.
And I never feel comfortable intruding into a conversation or trying to bring up a topic where I don’t know how people will react, so I put on my neutral face (apparently quite stern) and pretend that I’m somewhere else.
It’s better now, and the Husband doesn’t ignore me anymore, but it’s still an effort to put on the smile, because I’d much rather crawl away into some comfortable place and read books than small-talk and gossip about people I don’t even know, and to whose faces everyone is oh-so-delightfully polite and smiling. It makes them fake, and it also makes me not trust them, because I wonder what they say about me when I’m not around, knowing that they think I’m not the right kind of person (see previous comments about controlling the husband and stuff). I know that’s a bit of an egocentric and probably incorrect way of viewing things, but I can’t help it. :(
+++
re: memories
I remember snapshots of being I think 3, and kindergarten (having a boy speak to me and not knowing English enough to reply – at least, not trusting my English enough to talk about it; bringing a book for show-and-tell with a story all in my head, but not being able to say it when the time came; writing words in Latvian, and the teacher’s assistant asking me what I was writing, and not being brave enough to tell her, also being unable to explain to her that the squiggles between words were for spaces because I’d written the words too close; running around outside with the siblings, watching an airshow once from my dad’s shoulders…). I’m totally missing a year or half a year from high school, though; mostly I remember that I’m missing that year because I rediscovered my favourite pair of mittens from that year (a few years later), and remembered that they had been named Toffee and Caramel. And that I’d had a sweater that looked like a waffle. But somehow I’d forgotten…
Dalillama, you are getting your “J”‘s mixed up.
Janine
So I am. Sorry about that. I’m bad enough with names in meatspace when I actually have faces to attach them to, it’s worse online.
rq
I can very much sympathize with this part. Hubby has severe social anxiety issues, though, so he has it a lot worse than me on that front, and we really don’t get out very much.
FossilFishy @ 112
You are a masterful writer.
Accept it.
Own it.
I should also add that I’m feeling particularly down today, hence the long-windedness, and that things aren’t nearly as bad as they might seem. Lack of sunlight or something.
And also that most of my securities are from a fear of abandonment (unfounded) due to being undeserving of other people’s time and affection; which is somewhat ironic, because I’m a bit of a loner by nature, and also I tend to try to push people away as a way of testing how much they like me (of course, if you keep pushing at boundaries, at some point, someone’s bound to question how much you yourself want that relationship).
Being with the Husband has improved my personal views on myself and also the not-being-abandoned bit, because I finally convinced myself to look at his behaviour and the things he was putting up with from me, instead of listening to the jealous little voice of my inner self.
Anyway, I think I’m going to stop there – it’s a bit late and one child still needs a bath and I’m too tired and sleep-deprived to come up with anything particularly joyful for the rest of you.
Good night, all!!! Thanks for having a space where I can say all of this, all at once, where SOMEone will read it (even if only read it) and I won’t feel bad about intruding (because, let’s face it, you can always skip ahead. :) ).
So yes, GOOD night!! Hugs to all.
Good night, rq
I need to finish tomorrow’s dinner before I can go to bed.
Shared troubles about spontaneous. I’m soo looking forward to the time when we can just kick the kids out and send them to the playground alone.
memories again
My mum in law has the most amazing memory. She’ll tell you date and weather for trivial stuff (bad if the trivial stuff was something that insulted her. She can warm that up endlessly like a goo soup, but not in front of the person who offended her)
Me, I don’t have a real “order” in my memories. They’re more “ordered” since the kids because I can remember what age they were when we did X, but before that…
I can remember all our holidays and the good times but I can’t tell you spontaneously if we went to the South of Spain the year before or after Ireland and what year it was.
Ogvorbis @ 122
THIS. 100%.
DLC, saying that peace occurred in the aftermath of the Great War because trench warfare was over in the west (As pointed out, by the fall of 1918, it was over and the German Army was in full retreat.) takes an Orwellian act.
Conflicts within Russia with all of the Allies placing armies there.
The dispute between Italy and Yugoslavia over Dalmatia and the occupation of Flume by Italian rebels.
Armed conflict with Germany. Look up the Bavarian Soviet Republic.
The Hungarian-Romanian War.
The Polish-Ukrainian War.
Greco-Turkish War and The Turkish War Of Independence.
The list goes on. While the western front in Belgium and France are rightly recalled for being scenes of horror, it was hardly the only actions of the Great War. And conflicts did not end just because Flanders was reverted back to farmland.
Except I forgot – for Giliell about boundaries and saying no…
It never applied to sex, but I (still) have a hard time saying ‘no’ to anyone who asks something of me. I manage it every now and then, but usually, especially when family/close friends ask, I have a miserable time admitting to them that I just don’t want to do something or go somewhere, but I’m bad at faking the happiness part where it counts – when I actually do/go. Because I look miserable, or have a hard time getting into it (event/party/gathering), although usually the fact taht I have a known tendency towards observing people and being sarcastic, most people don’t notice (ah, the masks we cultivate!).
But I often find people taking advantage of me, although the over-compensation bit comes now, when I do say no, but I say no to everything – along the lines of, If I’m not going to have any fun, no one is! I do reconsider usually, after some time, especially knowing that my stock reply is no, but I’m getting better. And Husband knows about it, and tries to bear with me.
The only time I was really put out recently was in the summer, with an overnight, out-of-town bachelor party he was going to attend. And this time it was honestly not a matter of trust, but not being able to handle a full weekend with all 3 kids (on top of already having spent the whole summer with all 3), with the youngest still so small and attention-needy, and him coming home hungover and stinky. I tried to be gracious, but in the end I couldn’t pull it off, and he went to the half of the party that was in town. :) I still felt bad, but I knew that, had he gone, I would have had a bad time of it, and he realized he would be indirectly paying for it for the next few months (I do tend to hold grudges; working on that, too).
Alright, that’s all!! Good night again and hugs al round
Good night, rq. Sleep well. I think you and my hubby would find a lot to talk about; he’s said what you just did to me almost verbatim more times than you can count.
I gave two tours today. The first tour was with a small group of steam enthusiasts. Second group was about 40 people — including 25 or so cub scouts. I handled the tour well. No problems. Afterwards, though, I had to go off by myself for about an hour to get my racing thoughts under control. That is one nice thing about being a smoker (cigar and pipe only, rarely more than 4 or 5 a week (except at fires, where it is 4 or 5 a day)) — I can just say, “I’m heading out for a smoke,” and don’t have to try to explain why I am almost in tears, why my pulse is racing, why I feel sick to my stomach, why my bowels feel loose after just seeing cub scouts. Damnit! I’m a professional. I can work through the tour — engaged the children while not boring the adults, found hands-on stuff for the kids (picture a double-ended wrench for four inch bolts being held by a nine or ten year old — they all got to hold it), I staircased from the physical objects to the intangibles, did all the things I am supposed to do and as soon as the tour was over all of the physical shit hit me.
Calmed down now.
Going to make homemade clam chowder for dinner. I have an excellent recipe from the Northern Pacific railroad that comes out wonderfully no matter what.
NOM to go international in it’s campaign against LGBT people.
Just remember, there are countries in the Middle East that just being openly queer can get you executed by the state.
Ogvorbis
That’s fucking brave if you ask me.
Clam chowder sounds good. I just made shepherd’s pie for tomorrow
rq
Oh no, I’m the Queen of faking it.
Data point that really illustrates this:
I had some very bad luck with my first wisdom-tooth removal, which left me in severe pain for several days and had to be removed under general. So for the second one I was scared as chicken shit. Really, really, really. Crying and puking scared. The dental surgeon told me it was so nice working with me, I was always so friendly and relaxed.
That’s faking it.
Nah. Just doing the job. No bravery involved.
Ogvorbis
I read ‘clam chowder’, and I thought, recipe! Share? I can trade you a decent salmon chowder, although I doubt they’re all that different.
AND: I am constantly impressed by your fortitude and your ability to work through these things. I don’t know how to say that in a way that doesn’t make me sound like a pompous ass, but seriously, I think you’re amazing. Good night, good dreamless, restful night!
And Giliell, I cede the Faking It crown to you, hands down. My wisdom teeth? Crying all over the place, through all possible calming measures (chemical and non-chemical – they gave me a lot of stuff that didn’t work at all), and it showed. Oh damn, did it ever show. Only got worse when one of the nurses walked in and said, ‘Oh, we have a weepy one today!’ It’s funny now, but… Nope, can’t fake this shit. Not me. :)
Good night!
Ok, that’s it from me. :) (I have a bad habit of not being able to leave – there’s always one more thing I could say. But I’ll stop now. Leave the Americas day shift to it.)
PS Ogvorbis
Sometimes, just doing the job = brave. The ordinary, every-day kind of bravery. :) The kind that lets you go on.
We’re having roast chicken for supper.
We had clam chowder a couple of days ago.
Today has been CLEAN ALL THE THINGS Day.
Have done quite a lot. Feel pretty good (albeit stinky).
That stinkiness is not helped by the anti-flea spray I’m dousing stuff in. D: Damn this shit stinks.
Well… today has been a complete fucking bust so far. I got basically zero packing done today. One box, which is all the bedding from the guest bedroom and nothing else. Well, I did throw a couple of the oversized books in with the bedding, since there’s no other really good place to put that sort of thing. I was hoping to get more done, but it just wasn’t meant to be I guess.
My wife went looking at houses today. She found one house she really likes in our price range, but it is a pretty long drive from everywhere we need to be. We’re going to try to look closer to her job, without being too close to the center of the city.
Esteleth,
Nice to see one of us is getting something accomplished. :)
This is a test. I got an email from Janine wondering why Pam’s House Blend apparently trips PZ’s filters; I thought I’d see if the same happens to me.
Janine wrote:
… And there’s my post. What the hell?
I don’t know where I should put this, so I’ll post it here.
I want to figure out how to look at all the various posts I’ve put up on these blogs, so I can check for responses. I can’t really subscribe to threads (long story). Typing in my screen name into the search window doesn’t seem to work either. On some systems you can look at all your old posts through your personal profile, but I can’t find any way to do that here. Any ideas?
History of the ME in one short song
God damn it. Friggin’ iPad ate my post. Ok. Let’s try this again.
The move will officially be to Georgia. Sometime early next year. He got that job and my boss promised to help me find a position at our satellite facility, so that’s good. Apartment hunting has started, with lots of frustration, and some success.
I’m excited and scared and and…I just realized I’ve never actually contemplated moving out of my home state before.
And what does it say about how my mind works that once this was settled, I realized I need to go to my doc and get a more long term birth control, rather than having an “oops” moment or attempting to get the long term there?
Rawnaeris apartment hunting in GA. Depending on the job(s) the DRIVE is what to look for in an apartment
Broboxley OT, that’s where we think we might be having some success. According to the all-knowing Google, it should be a 10 min drive for me and a 20 min drive for the Mr. So thats good. Of course, we can’t actually see the complex yet, we’re currently having to rely on photos, and photos always lie.
Rawnaeris,
The DRIVE and the NEIGHBORHOOD. My wife and I learned to our continuing pain and dismay that being really close to things in a place you can afford often means being in a high-crime area. Better to drive 10 more minutes if you can avoid a higher-crime area, and you’ll probably save a few bucks or get a nicer place for the same money.
Thank you, Audley.
This is off putting. But still not as bad as christian defenders of marriage actively seeking to work with an enemy religion into order to punish international corporations that treats their LGBT employees like they are just employees.
do NOT trust the google!!!!!
at 4:30 the drive from my work complex 3 blocks to my FIRST turn home is often longer than 20 minutes. My 16 mile drive under excellent middle of the night conditions is 22 minutes. My actual drive time is best 44 minutes, worst 2 hours and average is one hour
How nice of the Vatican to look out for welfare of the US.
Why the fuck do you care if you are discriminate? You are demanding the right to discriminate, to keep LGBT people repressed.
Why the fuck do people who are not catholic take the pious mewling of these evil assholes seriously?
(I wonder the same about catholics. But this opens up the can of worms that was the idea that the MittBot 3000’s membership in the mormon hierarchy was off limits.)
Dalillama #183
Yeah.
I wanted to point that out but you beat me to it.
But can’t you see the extra set of wrongness if a mere woman had more then one husband?
And by wrongness we mean penis
Why the fuck is a journalist repeating this Catholic bullshit?
A) No the fucking Church does not teach that, as hard as they try to deny it and even may try to be understanding they fucking DO NOT. They teach it is a disordered condition.
B) Hey ass hole if they’re saying Homosexuals can’t be trusted with children, they are NOT saying their rights are to be respected. They are saying “their rights are not to be respected”.
*stares blankly into the ether*
@Janine
Don’t do that, you’ll pass out
Also who left this open ether bottle here anyway!? What were you all raised by undergrads!?
Ether gives me a headache.
I have a question for the Horde.
For amusement, I like to read the comments in the online editorial section of the San Antonio News. Some of the tea party faithful hang out there. Today, one of them was crowing that impeachment proceedings are already in the works and predicted that President Obama and VP Biden would be gone by the end of the year and that John Boehner (gasp!) would be the temporary president by January. He claimed that a NY Times article said that Obama’s “Asian Victory Tour” had already been postponed.
I combed the NY Times, and found not a thing about the President’s planned trip to Asia. Does anyone know where these wingnuts are getting their information (other their own fevered brains)? How can they refer to a fairly reputable site like the NYT, and not know that people might actually check?
If anyone can find this so-called article, please let me know!
You can find that coming from the same sources that claimed that Obama had his “Apology Tour” and “The Fact He Has Not Taken Ours Guns Proves The He Will Take Our Guns”; from their collective asses.
æther not ether
dark matter is the new æther
magistramarla,
They literally just make shit up, and the zombie followers don’t ever bother fact-checking to see if the made-up shit has ANYTHING to do with real life. Hell, I ran into it last night on Twitter. The article was something to do with regulating salt intake for food donations for homeless people. It had links in it… that went to things that had NOTHING to do with homeless people, and was about school lunch programs.
Much as I hate to seem like a spambot, I hate asking for charitypreset even more. So if anyone is interested in homemade costumery, clothing, or candies, I would like to present my husband’s shop for the purpose.
Apologies in advance to P.Z. if this violates Lounge policy as well.
Every day, lately, my email is filled with “Manage Your Subscriptions” stuff from FtB blogs—even those that as far as I recall, I’ve never even checked out—and all apparently sent at the same time. Anybody else having this problem? Suggestions for solutions, beyond “continue to delete them as they occur”?
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Tony, I never Horse around. Never.
I was more letting people know that if someone runs a mixed herd of peas and Horses through the [Lounge] and I don’t respond, I aint’nt ded, and it’s not that I’ve run out of napalm!; it’s that my attention has to be directed elsewhere. Priorities.
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broboxley, that was awesome!
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Our drive from home to office is…all of 10 minutes.
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:D :D :D
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Dalillama, your linky @196 leads to the [Lounge].
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Dalillama
I think a little self-promotion is OK.
but your link doesn’t work
My HTML sucks today, apparently. Here’s a corrected link, hopefully.
This happened to me once, a few days ago, but not since then.
Allen West has lost, but he refuses to quit.
I was going to watch The Walking Dead tonight, but I think I’ve hit my limit of racism/sexism for one show. Amazingly, they did a little better on the sexism between the first season and now. The racism is more obvious though, and it STILL grates on me that a show set in and around a city that is over 50% black, the show feels like they can and should only have one black guy.
Anyone from France about?
http://www.legion-recrute.com/en/carriere.php?SM=0 wondering what that huge white gap is on the page?
never mind, crap page design
I really ♥ my silk long underwear.
So, BossNurse starts her new job tomorrow. Funny, we haven’t talked much about it at all over the last week or so. At least from my end, I feel like my wife is so awesome that there’s really nothing to worry about on her end, except for maybe interpersonal conflicts. It is weird that way, you know? I think she feels the same way, that she’s just going to step in and be the hero and everyone will love her and support her and it will all work out well in the short term and long term both.
Confidence is a good thing, especially when it is earned, and my wife has earned it many times over.
#202 Improbable Joe
same reason you don’t see a lot of black folk in horror flics. At the first sign of a zombie outbreak they would get out of dodge
Richard Pryor’s take on Black folks in horror movies if you dislike harsh profane comedy with a lot of profanities don’t listen
Joe #205
Standing by to cheer on BossNurse!
Go!BN!Go!
—-
Black people in horror movies
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Blacula
broboxley,
***SPOILER ALERT***
The Walking Dead has black people show up occasionally, but as far as regular characters go, they only have the one black guy plus a black woman that they’re stuck with because of the source material. They don’t actually write real dialog for either of those characters, and when a second black guy showed up and looked like he was going to stick around, they killed the first black guy less than 10 minutes later.
chigau</b< 204
I wish I could find mine.
Joe Yay for you and Bossnurse. Also, disappointed but sadly not surprised about Walking Dead. The comic wasn’t any better, IIRC.
Dalillama,
I’ve only read through about the first fifth of the graphic novels, but it seems like they are so bad to everyone that specific bad to anyone is a little harder to see as especially bigoted. The TV show is really bad about women in general and race as well. There was a moment where the old dude basically told the Asian guy that he was close enough to a white guy to date his daughter…
The show really isn’t any good, but it is bad in a very odd way. The show is filmed very well, and the action is pretty good, and the score is awesome. If I didn’t speak English, someone could subtitle the show with competent dialog and it would be the best horror show in TV history.
1) we are doing our best to keep both drive and neighborhood in mind. We are considering driving out to verify what the neighborhood and actual apartment are like over Xmas. My boss also gave us neighborhood tips.
2) I’ve lived in and at the outskirts of major metro areas before, I do know Google can lie. One of the things I’m planning on doing is driving the path during a rush hour type time.
So… my wife is considering declawing our oldest cat so he doesn’t tear up any carpets in the house we’re going to rent in Albuquerque. I’m completely against it, but I need some more information to help make my case. Does anyone have specific advice on how to get a cat to not destroy carpet? Randall tends to aim for the spaces around closed doors… can I just tape something over the carpet at doorways and call it good?
NEW THREAD!
Sprizting the area with vinegar (Or lemon;cats usually don’t like the smell of it either) will often train them to avoid it. Also a spray bottle with water and a bit of vinegar is an effective way to discourage the behavior when you catch him at it.