psalm_onethirtyone: (The Perfect Pool)
Got my Yuletide assignment yesterday. It's pretty cool and I think there is a lot of potential in it, and I think I also can do a good job with it -- certain elements of it weird me out, but the prompter gave me a lot to work with so I think I leave some things out while still giving them what they want. So I am excited!

I go home to-day for Thanksgiving, so I'll be scarce for the next week.


A presenter in my cog psych class used this page about art by autistic people in his presentation, and I thought that was pretty neat, so here is the link. It is pretty cool from both an art and a mental shenanigans standpoint. (I also ended up talking about the gender issues surrounding autism with the professor after class, which was pretty neat -- she agreed with [ profile] mhari and said that autism is generally viewed as a "boy's disorder" and not something girls are supposed to get.)

Octopodes can go on land and that is totally awesome. Plus also super cute.

Although we already knew that, Ann Coulter is a maniac and I don't understaaaand, Jesus. I don't want to live on this planet any more? Liz said I should move to Canada, but I feel it is my duty to model sane Christianity for people in America.

I am currently using this programme to try and manage my issues with computer light = migraines; I've only had it downloaded for a day, so I haven't got a real clear idea of how well it works yet, but it's an interesting idea.

This tumblr exists and it is pretty pro -- Ugly Renaissance Babies.

A really interesting essay/article on why "born this way" is a bad argument for queerness.

This guy is my hero -- a devout Muslim whose faith led him to try to save the man who shot him. I heard an interview with him on NPR on Sunday -- he was really incredible. Warning: Article contains pictures of headshot.

For your webcomic organising needs, piperka is a great site for tracking updates and keeping stuff neat.

Finally, when you have just delivered a good Caruso zinger, the instant CSI. Yeahhhhh!
psalm_onethirtyone: (Only Time Gold Doesn't Sink)
I have a lot of ~feelings~ right now, but most of them are unprintable invective directed towards my mother, so they're probably best kept between me, my therapist, and Maria, who has been displaying a vast sense of understanding (she is used to being the "bad" daughter, so the switch in our positions has left her rather sage and sympathetic). Part of this issue stems from the fact that standing up to my mother will accomplish nothing, as she will misinterpret the reasons for the standing-up and then feel like a horrible person rather than just a perfectly nice person who is insanely passive-aggressive, and then I will feel like a horrible person too and nothing will get done -- so I am just capitulating with her insane passive-aggression, which makes her feel good, I assume, but makes me feel fairly awful.

In the meantime, I have a paper to write to-night, which I had better at least make some headway on -- I am starting to fall into the habit of panicking about papers but not actually writing them, whereas these previous three years I would panic while writing, so I need to get my act together. As long as I'm panicking, I might as well get work done.

So I will be probably not around to-night, [ profile] mhari, [ profile] raanve, and [ profile] pax_morgana, because I am busy beating my head against the metaphorical wall of Islam/US!Christian relations, which suck. Also I do not have enough Diet Coke, which is not helping matters.

HOWEVER my koi icon is here to remind me that even though this weekend is going to be TERRIBLE, I will at least get to feed my fish, and I do like that.

I am exhausted. I will say that I don't think it's fair that I'm already in major anxiety/bipolar mode and it's only about five weeks into the semester. I HAVE SO MUCH MORE TIME TO TRY AND FORCE COMPETENCY INTO. ;_____; Also, I'm still having migraines every day. Time to see the doctor and see about getting my dosage upped! I'm starting to wonder whether my Depakote was actually helping to mitigate the migraines after all, and whether stopping has actually had an effect. That would be really annoying.
psalm_onethirtyone: (Cascade Pond)

1. Wahhhh it's still hot I can't focus blah blah I hate hot weather I am currently sleeping on my parents' floor because they bought a small air conditioner for their room because it's HOT. Also the floor is not very comfy, trufax.

2. Wahhh I have been working for the last seven days straight and I will be working to-morrow as well, but Tuesday is my day off and I am going to spend ALL. DAY. in my parents' room watching Twin Peaks in the A/C. Unless I take myself out for lunch, but that will still be to an air-conditioned diner. AND THEN I WILL BE WORKING AGAIN ON WEDNESDAY. I-- yeah. I know some of y'all on my flist work a lot harder than I do, but this whole eight-days-in-a-row-8-hour-shifts-plus-one-12-hour-one thing is killing me. A lot. I just want some time to myself to fool around and take care of my keets and my poults and my fish and my hermit crabs!

3. Twin Peaks is really awesome, though. So great. I really want to read the T.V. Tropes page, but I refuse to spoil it for myself ahead of time. Which... I am the kind of person who reads the last page of murder mysteries first, so I am really feelin' it on this series.

4. Country music. Maaaan, I do like country music. Anyway, I just wanted to remark, apropos of country music, that "Hyundai" is not. pronounced. "hunday". FTLOG. Anyway, they keep playing my favourites on my way to work -- Thompson Square and Josh Turner and Blake Shelton and Reba McEntire -- and I just want to state for the record that I'm not ashamed of enjoying it. I mean, I'm not always in the mood for country, but I do think it makes really good commute music. I can listen to pretentious indie stuff at night while I'm writing poetry.

Also, regarding country music, [ profile] raanve, I found old!Lanselos' song. It's Toby Keith's "I Ain't As Good as I Once Was". Just check it out. :D

5. I am having ~feelings~ about some stuff, but I think that belongs in a locked post because a) ~feelings~ and b) boring introspection is boring. However, I will say that I tend to forget just how... mental illness phobic?... people can be, and it's very jarring to be reminded sometimes.

6. Thursday = surgery day! Woo! That means I get the day off! Now I just need it to stop being so goddamn hot, and we're good.
psalm_onethirtyone: (Not Me! Erro ero)
It wouldn't be a true clusterfuck of a week without something else going wrong, and on that note I went home early from my client yesterday with acute gastritis. :D! Which was okay, in terms of her care, because she went to the hospital! Yeah. But she's home to-day, and I'm supposed to see her, only I feel not great, so I am waiting for Mama to get home with medicine and then I'm going in for part of my shift, because there's no one else to see her and my guilt and responsibility complexes know no bounds. THIS IS HOW I ROLL.

A partial shift shouldn't be so bad. It'll only be five and a half hours, and the toughest part is driving, with the pain, which is what the medicine is for. ...sigh, what is my life.
psalm_onethirtyone: (Not Me! Erro ero)
Dear [ profile] mhari, [ profile] raanve, and [ profile] pax_morgana: for some reason, my im client is on strike to-day. >_> Which I don't approve of, especially since yesterday Mama was on call again (somebody quit at her workplace and someone is on vacation, so she's been picking up a lot of on-call shifts; she had to go out yesterday at 1 a.m. and the day before at 3 to pronounce somebody). She'll be doing that again Friday. >_<

In the meantime, if any of you have any ideas (I don't think I can convince gtalk to work on this computer, although maybe if I go and try it on her laptop~~
psalm_onethirtyone: (Annie with Red Hair)
I. have. meds.

This is technically my third day without them, as they did not show up in the mail until to-night, but although I have been dizzy and nauseated since Thursday, and to-day I barely made it through the family reunion because I had to go and hide on a couch somewhere and have fever dreams and try not to throw up, THAT IS ALL MOOT, because I took them this evening and I will take them to-morrow and hopefully that will prevent me from driving intro a tree on my way to work. :D Which would be good.

My paid account appears to have expired again. Pfffft. I would renew it, except I have spent literally two-hundred dollars on pills and gas money over the last week.

I am looking forward to sleeping to-night without the incredibly disturbing dream track. The last few nights and days have been really. Cut for triggery stuff, actually ) So yeah, I'd like things to go back to normal.

Also, just not getting so dizzy I can't see every time I move too fast will be nice. :D
psalm_onethirtyone: (Body Dysmorphia is a Cliche)
Soooo at my one client's house the t.v. was on, and there was an ad going for some weight-loss programme. It started out fairly inoffensively: middle-aged, stocky woman going "yay now I am not quite as heavy I can do more!" which is a reasonable approach, really; and the fact that she wasn't skinny made it seem much more like a "I'm just wanting to be healthier, this isn't about the beauty standard" kind of thing. So far so good.

And then the last line of the commercial is her saying "Thank you [name of product] for letting me be pretty one last time".

What. the actual fuck.

So yeah, I thought you all might like to know what's wrong with the world.
psalm_onethirtyone: (Mycroftian Horrors)
NOT in a very good frame of mind.

I called the insurance company this morning, and honestly the lady was very nice -- she called down to the pre-auth dept. to figure out why I still didn't have my meds, and figured out that it's because my (3) 75 mg caps a day (i.e. one prescription) are more expensive to the insurance company than (1) 150 mg and (1) 75 mg caps a day (two prescriptions, so more expensive for me personally). Which they didn't TELL ME, of course, they just refused to authorise my scrip for over a week.

Soooo she also found out that it would be about thirty dollars cheaper to do my meds through mail-order, so she gave me the number to have my doctor fax and gave me all the info for that, so I called Dr. C and got that arranged, BUT that means I don't get those in the mail for another eight days, even if they're marked urgent. That means I still have to pay out of pocket for the meds to cover me for that time period.

So theoretically I need to do that to-day, but I'm almost too depressed. x___x

However, I also have to go into town to xerox forms for my insurance claim for the x-rays I had in April, so I'll be there anyway, so I'll probably stop by the pharmacy and sell my soul while I'm in the vicinity. To soothe my wounded sense of justice, I am making my fourth batch of cupcakes, which I will give to the library ladies, I figure.

Anyway, I can't leave until my cupcakes finish and I repackage the pork from the butcher's into smaller portions for the freezer. Daddy says I can use the chicken scale if I can find it.

If I really were Mycroft Holmes, right now I would be having everyone deported left and right. Seriously. Argh.
psalm_onethirtyone: (Disappointed)
So I'm sure everyone is desperately interested in hearing the continuation of the Saga of the Insurance Company from Hell (yes, you are).

Yesterday my doctor told me that she had called the insurance company again and faxed them being all URGENT URGENT MY PATIENT IS DYING PLZ SEND HER HER MEDS, and she assured me, when I phoned, that they had told her I would be authorised to have them within twenty-four hours. So this morning I ran to the pharmacy, because I'm out again.

Where the pharmacist told me, as nicely as possible, that the insurance company had NOT authorised my scrip and everyone was now out for the weekend, so it was unlikely I would be authorised until Tuesday. He also suggested that I call the insurance company and grovel to them on Tuesday. In the meantime, I could buy some meds out of pocket.

Now, because the pill I'm taking does not come in 225 mg caps, which is the dose I take, I have to take three 75 mg caps every day. Which means in order to get by until Tuesday, I had to buy twelve caps instead of four. And because Mama is broke right now, I paid for them with my birthday money. ;___; Which is just a minor complaint, honestly, because at least I have money, but I am whinging because I wanted to get art supplies with it.

So my plan is to call the insurance company on Tuesday. Yayyy! In the meantime, I have incredibly expensive medication, and a twelve-hour shift at work to-morrow.

On the PLUS SIDE, Maria and Mama and I went clothes shopping to-day and I managed to find two pairs of jeans that fit, as well as a really cute denim skirt and even a pair of shorts (which is disguised to look like a skirt, which suits me just fine). Which is great, since usually the fact that I am shaped exactly like a hobbit makes clothes shopping a fairly traumatic experience. I also made cupcakes for a party to-morrow that I will not get to go to, but they turned out really nicely! Even though I burnt my hands, bleh.

Yeah. If it weren't for this insurance thing, my life would be going pretty nicely overall.
psalm_onethirtyone: (Try Again To-morrow)
Dear My Insurance Company:

Congratulations! You have proved your sagacity. The fact that I have taken the same medication every day for the last four years might convince a lesser mind that I actually need it, but you in your wisdom have seen through that ruse. As you have guessed, my medication is purely an extraneous expense that I continue to pay monthly in the hopes of making you, too, suffer the associated financial loss.

Someone else might just accept that since three different doctors have signed off on its necessity said medicine might just as well be purchased, but you, Insurance Company, understand that action is called for in these situations. That is why you have taken the bold step of cutting me off.

It is now my third day without medication, but I am still alive, proving beyond a doubt that I do not need it to survive. The symptoms of nausea, vertigo, migraine, and increased weeping are merely psychosomatic effects of withdrawal that will soon fade. Despite the fact that my job involves protracted stretches of car travel, I am sure that I will not endanger myself or anyone else by driving while dizzy. Within a few weeks, everything should be fine, and it will be obvious that you have made the right decision.

Or I'll be dead, I guess.

Thank you for your prompt and thoughtful actions!

Very little love,

Dear Pharmacy Man:

Thank you for fronting me two days' worth of my meds. ;___; I feel a bit less like I'm going to die now. You are a good man.

psalm_onethirtyone: (Annie with Red Hair)
Meeting with the Asst. Dean inconclusive. Definitely going home this weekend, though.

On an entirely different note, our school's production of The Vagina Monologues was cancelled because, according to the person doing the organising, it isn't inclusive enough: it doesn't let males help out or participate. So instead she's putting together a pro-woman show of some kind that anyone can participate in. I politely declined to be involved because I am mildly bothered by this decision. Somehow it seems like it's missing the point.

I like the new LJ header.

One paper done, one bibliography done; three papers left. Two of them are due to-morrow. Ha, ha, ha.
psalm_onethirtyone: (Cephalopods Need Heart)
Hawkeye got into Mark and Forge's tank last night. He didn't eat them, he just urinated all over them and their stuff, so to-day was spent nursing them through the shock. I had to boil everything in the tank clean and buy new sand. Luckily I have extra substrate back at school. As a present for being traumatised I also bought them some cocoanut climbing matting to play with, which Mark at least is really into. He is my good boy. <3 They seem fine now, I'm just worried that three days from now I'll wake up and check on them and they'll be dead from secret death-ray chemicals.

Hawk also ATE some of my art, thereby destroying about two hours' work, so he is in disgrace. Especially since nice scrapbooking paper costs hella monies. And then when I tossed him outside he clawed open my hand quite dramatically. I hope he roasts in hell. The Tribble can be annoying, but at least she isn't destructive to anything that's not cake.

I finally made the full switch to the new meds, and they're making me feel disgusting, but hopefully that passes. I've been having the weirdest nightmares, about four or five distinct ones a night, and I'm really hungover in the morning. Plus my tremor is ridiculous at this point--right before I came home, back when I was still on the 2/3 dose, a girl at school asked me if I was having a seizure. I'm not thrilled.

But my crabs are fine, and I bought a teeny tiny Brazilian firecracker plant at the flower show yesterday, and Maria is home now, which is the best. Also, I got my hair cut, and it looks really nice. I might actually take a photograph, because I really like it.
psalm_onethirtyone: (Mycroftian Horrors)
Dear GOD I am tired. Stress comes with insomnia, as always.

basically, rundown, I have one exam and four finals, one more therapy appointment, one more prescription to fill, four more classes to attend, one lovecraftian horror in Comm, one magnificent disaster in ConRes (is it a paper? is it an in-class exercise? WHO KNOWS? certainly not me, because I slept through one class and missed the other last week), and one excruciating confrontation in IntroSosh. And ALL THE BODY DYSMORPHIA IN THE WORLLLLD.

Also I screwed up my knee and it doesn't bend. >_>

On the plus side, [ profile] dreamer_easy made me a Mycroft creeping icon, which I love. Now I just need moar. Actually, I need icons for Sherlock, X-Men, and probably Iron Man, as long as I just got more iconspace and I have new fandoms to attend to.

AND NOW TO FAIL MY INTROPSYCH EXAM. I am so ready for this.
psalm_onethirtyone: (Not Me! Erro ero)
We are a family adept at attracting disaster, such that we are always equipped to deal with something going completely wrong in the least anticipatable way, and nobody is ever really surprised when it does, in fact, go wrong. But even taking that into consideration this trip was a pretty amazing failure.

For instance, we were an hour from home when the kayaks attempted to escape from the roof rack. We stopped, re-secured them, adjusted for the fact that we had filled them with supplies like the charcoal, the cereals, and the bags of chips. Things seemed basically okay. We have had things try to escape from the roof rack before (once I drove all the way to Altoona with my bicycle re-enacting Escape From Alcatraz off the top of Supercar), so no big deal.

Three hours from home, the Cape Cod potato chips flew out of the double kayak like a crunchy tasty missile, launching themselves into the unknowns of I-81.

This proved to be a good thing, however, as when we started to pull off the road to determine what exactly had gone flying (we were unable to tell at the time) the roof rack itself made a go at escape. THE ROOF RACK ITSELF. Bearing both kayaks and all the food supplies in them, as well as Maria’s banjo.

We were able to save everything except the chips: stuffed all the other supplies in around our feet, leaving Maria on top of the charcoal, Daddy on top of the stack of watermelons, the banjo between us in the backseat, remaining chips stuffed in amongst my pile of books. At this point, we decided we had probably weathered the worst of the disasters that our family was by nature going to attract.

Ha. Ha.

Of little significance is the moment when the painter tying the kayaks to the car snapped, prompting another frantic side-of-the-road scurry. Equally insignificant is the realisation, shortly after lunch, that the cereals we had left in the kayaks were about to pop out, spewing bread, Chex, and cinnamon buns all over the highway.

No, the truly amazing moment was when we ran out of gas on the side of the road in the middle of New York nowhere. The farmer’s house we petitioned for house kindly informed us that there was a gas station four miles down the road, and we could make it by coasting in neutral.

And you know what? We did.

But in the three hours left between us and our destination, we ended up having to borrow rope and secure the kayaks to the roof by wrapping the rope all the way around and through the windows of the car, where we hung on said ropes to hold said kayaks in place while I read stories by Bailey White aloud and we tried not to utter the last ominous words that would secure our miserable fates for good and ensure we never made it to our destination:

"Well, it probably can’t get worse."
psalm_onethirtyone: (Grow a Little Good)
How to make hay:

First, you have to be dressed right. Find a sleeveless shirt and your oldest pair of jeans. Faded is best. If you're driving the truck, you can go barefoot, but if you've got to wear shoes, go for ratty sneakers. Wear a baseball hat, and put a bandanna in your back pocket.

Turn off the A/C in the truck. Roll the windows down.

Play country or bluegrass music. If you would normally find these genres embarrassing to listen to (and you shouldn't), don't worry. They'll never be more appropriate. The more outrageously silly the better. I recommend Dierks Bentley's CD "Modern Day Drifter", especially the songs "Domestic, Light, and Cold" and "Cab of My Truck". "So So Long" is good, too.

Sweat a lot.

Get covered with stray alfalfa and orchard grass. It's going to itch. You're probably allergic. Expect to break out everywhere it scratches you. (This is why you're wearing jeans and not shorts.)

If you're not driving the truck, load the hay waggon with the bales. Hope the tension is right. If it's not, your bales will be too heavy (nearly one-hundred pounds) or too loose (the hay will fall out of the twine when you try to pick it up). If it's just right, your bales will weight forty to fifty pounds and will be pure alfalfa and orchard grass, no dead stems, sticks, rocks, dead animals, live animals, or chunks of wood.

In one or two hours, when you've loaded nearly three tonnes of hay into the waggon (that's about one-hundred bales), take it to the barn and stack it in the haymow. The best way to do this is by hand, but you can use a hay elevator if you like. This will probably hurt. You should be wearing gloves, or the skin on your hands will rub off completely. Your clothes will be completely soaked with sweat. The haymow is so hot that you're in danger of passing out. At this point you should probably offer to make dinner (it is now eight o'clock and no one has eaten), so that you don't have to break your back in the mow. That way you also won't get saddled with the arduous task of working the hay waggon back into the barn.

Make dinner by yourself. The new potatoes you just dug out of the garden, boiling on the stovetop, will generate enough heat to keep you sweating. Chop up the beans. Cut yourself. The meatloaf at least was made the night before, so all you had to do was put it in the oven and wait for it to cook.

When you've finished dinner, and you're ready to eat (your sister, personally, hasn't eaten since the biscuits she made for breakfast), wait for your father to come in and have a complete meltdown, involving yelling and passive-aggressive comments, because you want to eat dinner before he tries to fit the broken-down baler back into the equipment shed OH WAIT THAT'S JUST OUR FAMILY.

Maria and I rebelled and ate dinner anyway; he can't understand why we're mad. Now we're going to watch X-Men and can stuff and eat ice cream and probably not speak to him. :P We were discussing whether or not Mama will be sympathetic when she gets home from work, or whether she'll have had a worse day--the care centre has somebody who hits with her cane.

But at least there's ice cream!
psalm_onethirtyone: (Only Time Gold Doesn't Sink)
This evening I decided, for reasons unclear, that the way to be a stellar houseguest would be to have a major OCD meltdown all over [ profile] mhari's room. The only reason we are still friends is because she has a remarkable lot of patience and because her mother threw me out when the room was only about fifty percent cleaned.

On the other hand, we went to the beach on Monday, where I found this lovely specimen of crabhood and sat around in tidepools.

I'm feeling kind of weird--I'm not really sure where I am, mentally. I feel very lonely, in a way, like I'm terrified of everyone forgetting about me over the summer while I'm not around (for example Liz, and [ profile] the_chloroplast), and also people online, especially people who I want to be good friends with but am for-ever having anxiety over (like [ profile] tulipmonster, who I want to like me but who I am convinced sits around wondering when I will die already). I feel like I could be in a better state of mind, but on the other hand I'm not depressed, so--idk, be grateful for what I have? In the general scheme of things, anxiety is easier to deal with than depression (for me).

I'm also having a lot of anxiety nightmares and a lot of just random like--lying awake at night thinking of all the things that could potentially go disastrously wrong. Like I sit in my bed and think about all the ways my father could die (I think this is being triggered by Nana and Granddad just dying, and by [ profile] mhari's father dying, because he was pretty much my second dad, and it's made my anxious self hypersensitive to the possibility, I think?), or how I don't want to drive any more because I'm afraid I'll hit one of the cats, or how if I pick up Perci I could drop him and he's so delicate he'd just shatter. I will run through a good twenty or so of these scenarios just while I'm trying to fall asleep, and then I'll have even more anxiety because I'm worrying about whether worrying about stuff will make it come true. And not all of it is stuff that's grounded in reality, either--I think about how the house could collapse or I start to wonder whether I left the stove on and the house is going to burn down in the night or-- And so on, ad finitum, pretty much constantly. And any little noise or anything of that sort jerks me wide awake because I immediately connect it with one of the scenarios I've been worrying about and then I have to calm myself down until I can relax enough to sleep, and it's driving me crazy.

I've also started getting the daily headaches again, and that whole mess has been going off and on for over a year now, of terrible headaches in this icky swimmy place between a normal headache and a migraine (I've only had like two true migraines, and these are definitely not that bad), which last all day and cannot be chased off by painkillers. The problem with them is that I end up taking a lot more aspirin than is good for my system in an attempt to dull them at least. I'm starting to think that I should talk to a doctor possibly. <--and this of course is triggering my anxiety even further (what if I have a brain tumour? what if I have encephalitis? &c &c &c).

tl;dr my anxiety is worse than usual and my head hurts. Also, I like to whine.

But I do like it here, and I'm sorry I have to go home on Thursday. [ profile] mhari is pretty much my favourite person ever.
psalm_onethirtyone: (God Dammit)
So here's the deal. A bunch of the people I know, while generally nice people, do not seem to know the difference between 'this is a legitimate cause for annoyance' and 'this makes you look like a smug self-righteous douchebag'. So I am making a little primer to help with the problem.

The Culprit: Toria and Andy
The Crime: They have a lot of sex. A lot.
You Shut Up and Sit the Hell Down About This: They have a lot of sex.
S/he Deserves to DIAF Because of This: They like to tell you about it.

The Culprit: Jake
The Crime: Having a great deal of unpopular/unpleasant opinions.
You Shut Up and Sit the Hell Down About This: His morbid obesity.
S/he Deserves to DIAF Because of This: Stalking me for a semester.

The Culprit: Vesper
The Crime: Being a nerdy kid in my philosophy class. Also, a ginger.
You Shut Up and Sit the Hell Down About This: His potential Asperger's.
S/he Deserves to DIAF Because of This: "Women created the glass ceiling themselves. They choose low-paying jobs."

The Culprit: Lady Gaga
The Crime: Writing popular music.
You Shut Up and Sit the Hell Down About This: Her being transgendered.*
S/he Deserves to DIAF Because of This: Bad Romance has been stuck in my head for over a week.

I hope this was helpful. I only wish I could distribute copies en masse to the people I know.

*I can find absolutely NO evidence to suggest that Lady Gaga is transgendered or transsexual or anything of the kind, but since people WILL NOT shut up about it, here it appears.


In other news, campus is showing Sherlock Holmes free on the quad to-night. COUNT ME IN. I am still working on my Bechdel-approved Mary Watson/Irene Adler fic for [ profile] lokogato, so this is srs bsns.

Also, FREE COMICS DAY in State College to-morrow. Oh hell yes.

Now I just need to finish my paaaaper.

Edit: Woke up this morning and I CAN BREATHE AGAIN. I might finally be getting over this stupid cold omg.
psalm_onethirtyone: (God Dammit)
There is a LOT of healthy white male[1] privilege happening in my philosophy class right now. Like, a LOT. I'm starting to feel a little squicky.

Seriously, one of the guys just said that Darwin would endorse removing black people from the gene pool because their IQs aren't as high as those of white people. And the word 'retard' is getting bandied about quite a lot, as well.

I honestly think that when you start talking about social fitness and social Darwinism and people who 'should' be removed from the gene pool you are edging dangerously close to a certain twentieth century view held by a Very Bad Man.

I kind of want to duct tape a lot of people's mouths shut right now.

[1]none of the girls are talking, they may have healthy white privilege too, don't ask me.
psalm_onethirtyone: (Men Behaving Stupidly)
Just discovered this facebook group about my school.

Most of the items are in extremely questionable taste, but the one I find particularly interesting is the fact that he repeatedly complains about his inability to get laid here, stating that all the parties are "sausage fest[s]" and "Ladies stop coming to parties to dance with each other there is plenty of eligible sausage standing on the wall as long as he doesn’t smell dance with him". I dunno, man, maybe it's the rampant grossosity and sexism of that statement that's keeping you sex-less.

See also (all quotations [sic]): "22 Why did former NFL figure Chuck Knox donate 500,000 to the history department and not to the football team? What the fuck could the history department possibly do with it?" HA HA HA HA HA HA.

"14 I know life is supposed to be a meritocracy but how is it possible that the jocks aren’t the coolest kids in the school?" Go to hell.

"39 Speaking of parties…. Are those sweatpants? Can you please go back to your room and put on something decent please I’m wearing a Ralph Lauren shirt, cologne, and some prada shoes you can at least put on a blouse ." This does not make me think you're suave or classy. It makes me think you're a douchebag.

"32 Why can’t freshmen park in the east parking lot even if they live in east?
Maybe Kevin’s hummer wouldn’t have got trashed if he didn’t have to park it in Kansas." Maybe he shouldn't be a freshman with a fucking Hummer.

"50 For the love of god what is with the attendance policies?
We pay our fucking money to go here if we can past your test and not go to class so what. I was supposed to get a B in two classes but got a C in both because of attendamnce.!!!" I lol'd.

In conclusion: Wow. I knew some of the people who went here were assholes, but this really drives it home.


psalm_onethirtyone: (Default)

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