psalm_onethirtyone: (McCoy in the House Bitches)
The psychiatrist messed up my prescription again, which means I am once more living on the pharmacy's charity while I wait for her to be back in her office again. This is one of the most intensely frustrating recurring experiences of my life, because it is so hard for me to get to the pharmacy in the first place, and then having everything be wrong when I get there is hard, and trying to work out what the actual problem is--

She sent in my old prescription, not my new one, so they filled the prescription I was getting in the middle, which will... give me enough medicine for a week, after which I will have to go and pay ALL OVER AGAIN to get my new prescription filled, so I'll be paying for the same scrip twice, in essence, and there's nothing I can do about that because the insurance company will no longer pay for my old prescription and the pharmacy isn't authorised to front me this medicine -- unlike my migraine med, which they did front me, because I forgot to check my scrip and so didn't notice that I had no refills left, so that at least was entirely my fault. That doesn't make me mad, because it was me being careless that made it happen. But when it's the psychiatrist's fault, I just get so upset because she should know how important it is that I actually take my medicine on time and such.

The last time this happened, she sent my prescription in to a pharmacy I don't even use, and when I called her panicking because my pharmacy didn't have my scrip she said it must be my fault and i was doing something wrong.

I just. She is the only person at the school's health and wellness programme who has ever failed me so consistently and seriously, and she's one of the few people I will be glad never to see again when I graduate. Eugh.

ANYWAY. No more complaining. Remember that my fundraiser for [ profile] raanve is still going on! Share with your friends!
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: (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: (Body Dysmorphia is a Cliche)
Here's something that annoys me:

An excerpt from my psychology textbook regarding context-judgement.

Context effects also extend beyond immediate perceptions, across a wide range of events. For example, people generally define their own social and physical characteristics by comparing themselves with others. Often without realising they are doing it, many women compare themselves with the highly attractive and ultra-thin models in advertising. Since the viewers cannot match the perfect, air-brushed images they encounter, they experience negative feelings (e.g., Bower, 2001). If viewers are prone to making immediate comparisons, their moods become more negative, and they feel more dissatisfied with their own bodies (Tiggermann & McGill, 2004). One study found that when male and female college students viewed beautiful models, they rated photos of more average-looking people as less attractive than did a similar group of college students who did not see the models' photos (Kenrick, Montello, Gutierres, & Trost, 1993).

So far this makes sense and is fairly typical, if awful. Note that people actually think other people aren't as pretty after they've seen models. Which is >_>. But. Here's where I have a problem.

Thus women prone to feeling bad about themselves after seeing advertisements with seemingly-perfect models could stop reading magazines that carry such advertisements, or they could continue to read the magazines but remind themselves that these models set unattainable standards that do not apply to real people. [1]

Whut. I am extremely bothered that the answer to "advertising kills self-esteem" is "stop reading magazines you enjoy that have advertising" or "just try to feel better about yourself". NO. The answer is "make advertising change". That's like saying "murder kills people" so "stop being around people who murder people" "just try to feel less murdered" instead of "stop murdering". IDK it just seems so much like trying to hide the problem instead of dealing with it. I AM ANNOYED.

This is incoherent because I am also a teensy bit high, but I really am annoyed and I think that this is the kind of thinking that enables advertising to continue being full of douches and crushed female egos. So you know.

[1] Psychological Science, Michael Gazzaniga, Todd Heatherton, and Diane Halpern, 2010.
psalm_onethirtyone: (Men Behaving Stupidly)
Fff here is the letter I sent to Res Life. I am hoping it is basically professional:

Mr. [redacted],

I am writing regarding the issue of [redacted], the transgendered woman who is currently not allowed to use the female restrooms on campus. I really would like to express that I think this is appalling. [Redacted] may not be biologically female, but she is attempting to transition into a lifestyle that is appropriate to the gender she identifies with. Just as I would find it incredibly uncomfortable to be told that I was not a real woman and could only use male restrooms and showers, she is uncomfortable, and is feeling that there is a sense of stigma and insufficiency beginning to surround her and her identity. Transgendered folks are already marginalised by society and told that they are not "real" men and women because they don't happen to be lucky enough to have a biological sex that matches their gender identity. When we support that marginalisation and discriminatory culture we enhance feelings of shame and inability to fit in, and make people put their lives on hold while we--the privileged people in the conflict--argue over whether or not we are willing to concede civil rights to people who deserve them by virtue of being people.

Please consider that while it seems like a small issue to us cis folks because we can use whatever bathroom we want without even having to think about it, to a trans person this is a really big deal--a part of their identity is being completely denied. Small things like this are what lead to escalations in the larger society when we label people's differences with negative connotations. I know that Res Life is trying to resolve the issue appropriately, but I think that as members of a purportedly forward-thinking college and as decent human beings we cannot just "hide" our trans students off-campus or pretend that their gender identity is irrelevant. [Redacted] deserves the rights and consideration of any other student, woman, and person.

Thank you for your time,

I think this is okay? I am bad at writing angry letters. Incidentally, the student mentioned in this e-mail is currently facing suspension for using the women's restrooms/showers, and that Res Life has tried to fix the problem by offering her off-campus housing, which she feels would be not actually solving the problem. Also I think I am hoping that this letter reflects both some familiarity with transgendered issues and the fact that I am taking Interpersonal Comm and Conflict Resolution this semester (I want to be able to communicate!).

Anyway, it took me a whole damn hour to write and that is why I am not in bed like I want to be, so now that OTHER PEOPLE'S PROBLEMS HAVE INCONVENIENCED ME!!11!, I am going to try to get some sleep for once. >_> To-morrow is poetry day! yay!
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: (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: (Try Again To-morrow)
I remembered about an hour ago that I hadn't done any of the reading for to-morrow's class. Aghhhh. So right now I am reading a thirty-seven page article on how WITCHES ARE OUT TO GET YOUR PENISES, GUYS, SO STAY ALERT. Oh, middle ages. You so crazy.

Also, I finally looked at the scrip Dr. Crazypants wrote me, and it is totally useless. She basically wrote it in such a way that it will cost me over $100 to fill. So I just wrote an e-mail to my therapist asking if she would mind contacting the psych (whose contact I don't have) and letting her know that she's insane. Hopefully that will work, since I'm going to run out by the end of the week.

I'm up to ten pages on my paper, so if I can just write another five to-morrow, I will be done! I finished the section on Teresa of Avila, so now I just need to make the one on Catherine of Sienna come out nice. Although Belle (the professor) told me yesterday that I may be overthinking this paper, and possibly I should just narrow it down to Teresa. Except if I do that I have to bullshit five more pages about Teresa's stupid complex, and that means I'll probably have to talk about her book about Song of Songs, which I was hoping to avoid. IT DEPENDS. It has to be done by Friday, though, because a) that's when Belle said she would look over the rough draft for me, and b) that's when Dr. Wang assigns TWO NEW PAPERS for philosophy. I kind of hate him right now.

Actually, full disclosure, I kind of hate everyone right now. Especially Heinrich Kramer. THE WITCHES DON'T WANT YOUR STUPID PENIS ANYWAY, IT'S PROBABLY ALL GROSS.
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: (God Dammit)

being really, really stressed out atm, kind of wish professors would stop sending me cryptic half-e-mails in response to my painstakingly worded, highly nervewracking-to-me e-mails about important stuff that kind of needs to be addressed kind of in the near future.

List of people currently making my life difficult:

Dr. Matter needs to e-mail me back re: drag show
Dr. Peters re: drag show
Dr. Widman re: course equivalents
Dr. Rosell re: FISHN credits
Dr. Wagoner re: course equivalents
Valasko re: study abroad (I'm just going to have to camp on her doorstep again, I know it)
Dr. Braxton re: scheduling sign-off

The study abroad application is due to-day, argh. I need to call Mama and see if she will pay for it or whether I will have to get an extension to mail in a cheque.

I need to start the first draft of my 15-page research paper, I should outline my response paper for history, and there aren't any other writings that I can really do right now but STILL, anyway I just finally managed to beat my anthropology paper into submission.

Also, the anthro professor from hell told us this morning that part of the reason Western culture sucks is because we distance ourselves from birth and stick our grandparents in homes. Fuck you, lady, my nana had to be in a home because they had better access to care for things that we couldn't help with. Also, respite care is incredibly important because some people have shit going on and literally can't deal with the added pressure of taking care of an elderly and sick relative.


Me: ^^ Hi, I'm just trying to find a stapler--
Me: --It's out of staples.
It: *is out of staples*
Her: *glares at me accusingly*
Me: Heh, sorry, that's pretty much been the story of my morning.
Me: ok i'll just use the secretary's stapler do you want my paper now?
Me: *hides in classroom*

She is so loud, you giez. ;____; She speaks like four times about normal volume and it makes me so twitchy, I can't even. She yells.

Luckily, the pottery shop is letting random-ass students (a.k.a. me) come in and make bowls for a few hours this afternoon, so I am going to try and hide and relax there for a little while before my drag show audition.

I just want Easter to be here. I have enormous faith that things will get better once we're out of Lent. This is the time of suffering. Soon it will be full of joy, and joy will temper the crazy things. I can handle this. I just need to take deep breaths. And Dr. Miller, who is on sabbatical, came to lunch, and I said hi to him and he hugged me! And so did Dr. Hutto, the professor I want to be my adopted grandpa. He lifted me right onto my toes and asked if I was still writing poetry! And that made me feel warm all over.
psalm_onethirtyone: (Disappointed)
Ohhh, to-day was a cake made of badness--a triple-layer Bad cake with Bad frosting and a Badberry jam filling. I hate filled cakes.

Woke up at seven for Anthro, seriously considered skipping, did not skip, got my exam back, and then got into a fight with the professor. >_< Because she stated that band societies were totally egalitarian, and then went on to say that in band societies men were considered expendable. I asked how they could then be egalitarian. She said because men's work was valued as much as women's. I said that wasn't what I was asking. She said that I was missing the point. I said that it didn't seem possible to state that a society was egalitarian and then say the lives of a portion of that society were valued less. She said that they didn't see it that way. I said that it wasn't a question of how they viewed it, it still wasn't egalitarian. She said that I just wanted to argue with her. I wished that I had skipped class after all.

...anyway, I did skip French so I could work on my philosophy paper, which is due Friday. I worked on it for six hours, stopping only to go to Religion, and to go to supper at the Chinese restaurant with Charlie, Liz, Phil, Matt, Shawn, and Liz's friends.

Shawn was surprisingly nice. Charlie was an asshole and made me have an anxiety attack. Then we went to Wal*Mart and I had another anxiety attack because Wal*Mart is fucking huge and I had to go sit in the foyer and breathe into my hands. Charlie was so asshole-y that he actually apologised for his behaviour, something he has literally never done before, and that includes the time he punched me for surprising him when I was a freshman. It did not help, incidentally. He is no longer a Safe person, and honestly this is a time I can ill afford to be losing Safe people. I don't get them all that often. Now I feel sick to my stomach when I'm around him.

Then I worked on the essay until eleven, when Michelle kidnapped me and we reached the high point of the day, which was her reading to me and Maggie (we finished our book!). And now it's one a.m., I haven't checked any of my sites, I'm still not done with the goddamn essay (I have all eight pages of text, but I still have to organise and clarify and basically make them not suck), and I need to get to bed because I have therapy to-morrow morning which I probably need, not least because I really don't want to go to it. I am going through one of those squicky periods where I really really hate talking to a therapist.

...I am going to go lie in my bed and hate everything. I haven't even gotten any other homework done for any of my other classes because of this.
psalm_onethirtyone: (God Dammit)
I was just informed by my anthropology professor that I could cure my depression if I just exercised more. I am so mad I can't see.
psalm_onethirtyone: (Narwhals Narwhals Swimmin' in the Ocean)
Have been studying anthropology this semester, and have noticed two overwhelming attitudes in this field, at least as far as our teacher (who shares said attitudes) has chosen to expose to us:

First, dramatic fatphobia--the number of articles we've read in which cultures are praised because the people in them are skinny, or the devastating effects of white influence were summed up with "AND THEN PEOPLE GOT FAT OH NOES" is really squicky to me. Really? Really? Moreover, there is a definite trend of 'and all European societies are evil because they eat processed food and have bad teeth and teh fat'. I will grant that processed food is bad for you, but I think that making a value judgement about a culture based on the food they eat is really ridiculous. I don't think anyone I know is a bad person for eating at McDonald's, even though I think the food from McDonald's is disgusting. The plain fact is you are not what you eat, and the implication that Europeans brought processed food to various tribal peoples and TURNED THEM FAT OHGOD is just. What.

(please note that I'm not endorsing the idea that European culture has deeply influenced tribal culture and caused tribal cultures to change significantly, including in their eating. Again, I just don't think this tone of disdain towards European culture for their food choices is appropriate.)

Second, romanticism of band cultures. Our professor is hardcore in love with band societies, and basically spends ridiculous quantities of time talking about how much better they are than any other society, and some of our readings have definitely enforced this point of view. Once again, cultures are cultures. They have good and bad aspects, but you can't really assign value judgements to them as a whole. They just are.

Plus she (and, again, some of the texts) are just so in love with the idea that tribal peoples are more innocent and natural and attuned to the earth that some days it is like sitting in on an hour of James Cameron's Avatar at goddamn eight in the morning, and I am just not okay with that.

And if I sound touchy about this, it's because yesterday I had to listen to an hour-long lecture about how we all suck because of what we eat. YOU TERRIBLE PEOPLE AND YOUR SATURATED FATS. Goddammit I'll be in my corner with my chickens and my piggies and my screw you.

Anyway, has anyone else experienced this in anthropology? FWIW, there was a large focus on Maori people and how European New Zealanders corrupted them with cavities.
psalm_onethirtyone: (Try Again To-morrow)
I'd just kind of like to state for the record that it's an hour past our departure time, and, once again, the fact that my father is alive has everything to do with my self-control and nothing to do with him. Forty-five minutes ago I asked him if he would put his suitcase in the car so I could finish doing the packing, and he looked at me and said, in a pitiful voice,

"Now? Before I eat my breakfast?"

And you know what? I haven't eaten my breakfast either. I've been up since seven packing the car, dealing with the cats, wading through the morning dew for all the vegetables Maria wanted me to bring, on four hours' sleep, and I told him, "Yes, that would be very helpful."

And he gave me a pitiful look to go with the pitiful voice, waded upstairs, and started packing his suitcase, which he apparently had not done yet. Because before an eight hour trip where you were supposed to leave at eight o'clock sharp the obvious thing to do is to wait until departure time to do the actual packing of your actual stuff.

He just came back downstairs and informed me in a martyred tone that he had finished packing and if it was all right with me he would just have a "bite of breakfast". He's nowhere near ready yet, and I am going to finish the packing and then go to sleep in the car, and dammit he can just figure out what he wants to do from there. I will not be involved any more.

afasfjals I hate my mother right now, actually, for abandoning me with him again. I can't wait to get back to school, I cannot take much more of this man.


psalm_onethirtyone: (Default)

January 2012

12345 67
89101112 1314


RSS Atom

Most Popular Tags

Style Credit

Expand Cut Tags

No cut tags