chicating | Entries tagged with bittercrip

1. I hate that ad SO GODDAMN much. But thanks for the reminders of important things:

a. That suddenly becoming conventionally attractive and symnetrical wouldn't suddenly fix all the demons in my head.(Yes, Mom, I know I'm beautiful for about five minutes a year, after great effort and fiddling. Big whoop...I'm not a troll, but neither is my best day what I really look like, and they don't get me anything but photos I can't live up to, anyway.)

2. we can't count on women to always change things for the better, much less bring some kind of compassionate wellspring, etc. This pisses me off. part of me would love to make up for everything I've missed by being some kind of giant separatist.But I can't, because of bitches like you, Kristi Noem.

3.Based on even a cursory understanding of the US's role in Latin America(albeit undertaken while learning a second language, she noted modestly) we owe them, not the other way around. (Also, I love cherries so much that if I were Madam President, all cherry pickers would have instant protected status. their work is vital.
4. No healthy society sucks up to its president that much. Also, stop wasting our money.

5. Yes, threats make living here seem totally appealing.
6. You killed a puppy and bragged about it to seem like a bad ass that Makes The Tough Choices, you crazy ghoul.
7. The Indians won't let you on the reservations in SD.(I wish Indians had done that more. Not sure where I fit in that world, either, but it might be better than this one, anyway.)

Current Mood: irritated

A man goes to a doctor and gets bad news.
"I'm sorry, but you have a few weeks to live."
Understandably distraught, the man says "That's terrible. I want a second opinion."
"Ok," the doctor says. "You're ugly, too."
(This isn't my way of breaking health news...some bureaucratic bullshit brought it to mind.

Current Music: The clothes washer

You-Tube showed me a "Mix" that it made me this morning...sometimes music inspires me, although I hope never to be that writer that shows off character playlists and all that kind of...Anyway, I think You-Tube knows I was a Promising Young Woman in the nineties and have hippie parents with slightly dueling record collections(And, yes, Everclear, Dad's a white-guy disappointment who will be officially muted when James Taylor dies.) I have my own spin on all that stuff, as many of us do, but I don't think I'm that deep. (Anymore.) There is still one surprise, though-- my own history with "Joker" by Steve Miller.
Aside from hearing it approximately 3 million times when out with my mother as a sprout(as with Margaritaville, that I much prefer) one special place I must have heard it was at some point on my way to my biggest ADAPT action in Washington DC. I had it stuck in my head for all three days. Maybe everyone else was filled with grandeur and purpose and I was wondering what a pompatus is for about the fifty-thousandth time. That would explain a lot about my life, maybe. Anyway, pretty sure You-Tube isn't reading my memories, just yet...still wish they were better in case. probably it just "figured out' how much guitar I like or something.

I’d been pulling back a lot from my earlier mania about voter contact and stuff, before this.I had what might have been my beat, if I’d been the reporter I wanted to be. Kind of the same people I’d gently nag about the same stuff. Which either goes really well or just awfully and nothing happens.

And somebody tried to create a situation to be a showcase for my disabled talents, just in time for us both to find that whatever gifts disability had given me? Weren’t exactly compatible with running meetings and getting leaders to give up their time for free.(Do I think sometimes I have none? Yeah, but maybe they just weren’t what he thought. ) As much as I’m never gonna care about Agenda Items, who doesn’t think there’s some way they’re gonna blossom—I wish it could have been there, and not only to give my volunteer supervisor a point of pride and ally-mentorship.

But I am the least-effective member of that committee by FAR and I can tell because when I bring it up nobody argues I am not even the Spaz Lizard Queen, you guys…what am I for again?. And I am such a freak of both economy and nature that I don’t have a job I can quit—it’s “Take This Job And Shove It” not “Take This Mission And Shove It”, right?

Yeah, even though one of my friends used to think they exploited me massively. But he also thought an employer would not so there’s that. And I have worked on my share of, like, “What The Hell?” kinds of campaigns…having little chance, although a discouraging statement and a sad reminder that we don’t actually live the Schoolhouse Rock life, well, it’s fun, doing it like that, if not as satisfying and momentous as winning.

You don’t have to be as cautious, and the camaraderie can be the point in a way it’s not when you really think you could grab some Undecideds and all that stuff. I got to really wanting this one.(Not just for me, of course. Given Bowman’s Green New Deal advocacy, I almost could say “for the planet”, but that seems too grandiose. But, you know. Sort of, right?) and, gee, Congress just doesn’t have enough “business-friendly” cash-bags who are comfortable with casual racism in it, so it will be nice to see that marginalized demographic come into its own, much as we disabled people have.(That’s funny cause we haven’t. Ever. And it’s not just about me being the movement’s Tommy, “who ain’t got no job.”

But I had a friend die and I had believed she wouldn’t, and, well, basically my golden Accident-a-versary—50, is despite my every intent to imagine good things coming my way to match my numerical maturity, is kind of a bust, although I’m still adding “so far’ in case the Powers that Be skim Dreamwidth. But I went through this whole thing, you know?
Which sounds too corny to say:
“What would I do, if it was the last thing that I did?” “I didn’t cheat death to be on Zoom all the time!” blah, blah, blah, as Denis Leary says. So, I pulled back, and, like, looked around and waited for something to fill the hole(Nope, not that one. Or that one, either. Although maybe that would be nice, too. Definitely thought maybe meeting all these organizers for twelve years might be better for that, too. Again, not so far.) Maybe I just have a permanent void where my family life or career satisfaction was supposed to be. Like the Grand Canyon, except nobody wants to visit it.

But, unless I’m cooking with real gas, don’t usually write more than 500 words a day. Maybe I stream something (stand-up, or an hour of “Suits” or “Shameless) for another hour. Fight with numbskulls online. Worthy enough pursuits aside from the fact I both covet Jeremy Allen White and also think he is… kind of what my son would’ve looked like, at least around the eyes.
Even without that sometimes disturbing glimpse of my psyche, though, none of that stuff—or helping Mom do stuff online, ever feels like It, right?

Should feature "my" alumni association trying to get money from me on benefits.Sigh....

(Even if it's not till Monday, and I'm still halfway hoping for some kind of metamorphosis over the weekend. Even a full-on Gregor Samsa would give me more mobility, I guess, though there would be a lot else not to love about that shit.) And, okay, a few things have worked out since I was twenty-five: I've learned to meditate and half-assed find my body on a size chart. I finally found a decent moisturizer and occasionally have lived up to maybe half my promise as a prize-winning collegiate ink-stained wretch, if nowhere near what I imagined at sixteen or so(well, see, I believed in equality, access, and meritocracy, only to find out later that the Land Of The Free(TM) isn't into it, nor that whole "Leave no man behind," thing.

My life is on a thinner thread than most other Americans could ever imagine, much less cope with, or smile through.(what passes for a long-range plan is making a short list of people who help us and just... hoping they don't die before something else good happens...the long term care apparatus is as fake as a Western backlot, but much more oppressive and onerous. Judgemental, too. It sucks to feel that the activist you have the deepest common ground with is the one *on parole*, especially since you have no funny bender stories or wacky crime sprees because, even though your toes were on foot-pedals the whole time, you did nothing as well as you've toed someone else's line.)

Am I a good person, or just really scared a lot and inclined to vomit and/or soil myself.ETA: Mostly under duress, but if I eat too much or too little or something hits me wrong, I could have an Anything Can Happen Thursday on any day. Guess I can't get romantic about the Peace Corps either. As the ad from my youth said "Inquiring minds want to know..."(Well, okay, maybe just one. Maybe just the most important one.)

So there's that...it's a real triumph of the human spirit watching them go with their strengths I've stopped trying to have a better attitude, but I work better with the anger, anyway, so my job is kind of thrilled with that. And if paralympics ever has a "Dozens over 45" category, I'm so signing up!

Ok, I admit it. I'd like to be touched in an impure way by mutual consent again before I finally die.(If we can also hang out and talk about books or politics or something, that would really be a cherry on the sundae.) Also, I'd like someone to bring at least one dramedy out next year(once the writers have their new bangin' contract) so I could maybe have a My Show again. Something where I can fangirl the actors and put the first fanfic in the archive.

I am so sorry I can't play my cultural part and swear that I wouldn't change a thing or that when God nailed all my doors shut, He put in a skylight...not just for whoever ends up reading this, but for me. More than anything. But it's not true. Yet, anyway.(Blink and you'll miss it, but, hey: Optimism! Crippled magic!)
Even Gloria has lived to get tired of her little tossed-out quip as it has followed her through so many Big Days, including, iirc, her bittersweet marriage.

Current Mood: pensive

in college or just after, I liked the part when young Frankie said he wanted to "swim and eat sweets for Ireland", but until now I've never really felt it until now.
Everything about fighting through life as a disabled person(especially as an activist, though I don't want to leave the impression that I've ever flushed my eyes with milk after a tear-gas attack or anything, though I read writing by people that have.) can be so unpleasant. As if the movement only works if I sign a pledge never to expect any joy at all--- maybe that's the only way I am an effective recruit.

And I still have to get my plaque scraped and get nagged about starting mammograms(Although, yes, I know lack of medical access is a Real Issue(TM) and I should be glad someone cares about my plaque or my so-far putative lumps. And I am, but it doesn't really change the fact that I wish somebody had fondled them more before I get the joy of finding out if they are Instruments of My Doom or not.)

My dentist won't do anything about his inaccessible office, though everyone there has some tip for me, as if they're all on some hidden podcast called "Disability: UR Doin' it rong"(indeed, fully half this country has probably "contributed" and their tips? Suck. But if I tell anyone that, despite the fact that it as-close-to-never-without-ruling-out-miracles has helped to have a rando give me a tip about my life, I'm still the bitch because this person I may not even know Was Only Trying To Help.) If the United States had "00" status, it could probably be called that. sigh.

Do not feel like disability meeting tonight, though the people at the meeting aren't the reason the community annoys me today...maybe I'll get into that another time.

I'll be on that Zoom cause I expect to collect some "atta-girls" that I've been expecting since June. I hope it helps...it's rotten to be thinking how fast life slips away AND be in a shabby mood like this.

Current Mood: frustrated

To think I was going to retire the "bittercrip" tag cause I hit a smooth spot, if not a happy one.
Not quite yet, I guess.(and even if mom and I get this reprieve... I'm not young enough to pretend that we're...saved.)
http://bohemiancrip.blogspot.com/2023/07/all-up-in-my-feelings.html

Current Mood: indescribable

http://bohemiancrip.blogspot.com/2023/06/bohemian-crip-and-mystery-of-good.html
From the prompt about the internet solving a mystery on the GYWO newsletter.

talk to an old friend and kind of wish you didn't?
Just kind of shows me how far i *haven't* gone/come.

Nice to like a modern show, even if it seems forever since I had a My Show, that I wanted to look up all the actors and imagine alternate scenarios for, and all that. It's especially good for me that the people on it are fucked up enough that I can watch someone who's(thirty? Maybe?) and works in a magazine making listicles and hot takes and such without feeling like I'm trying to recapture my former hypothetical glory. "I coulda been a contender."(OK, hope that's out of the way now, but it *is* kind of a tag that never quite closes. for kind of a lot of reasons.) But it's not Sex and The City, you know, I'm not really supposed to be jealous, and I appreciate that.( Read more... )

Current Mood: pensive

Stayed up a bit too late last night reading one of the books I got over Christmas. Knew I was doing it, but it kind of felt like it had been a minute since I was into anything(my real life pales next to my dreams anyway. Like crumbs vs. croissants, I can’t help thinking, even though I am grateful for how people have stepped up to keep my life going as Mom recuperates. (Activist Brain wishes that were better, actually, but I have had a taste of that “It takes a village,” thing, just not enough to believe it’s a dominant principle in American life. Wonder if it’s Phoenix, or us, that’s kind of bad at building community. Wish we had one right now)
“Lessons In Chemistry” https://www.amazon.com/Lessons-Chemistry-Novel-Bonnie-Garmus/dp/038554734X was a fresh, flying car of a book that reminded me a bit of “Where Did You Go, Bernadette?” Except maybe the quirkiness was more effective in “Lessons” –I liked both books, but if quirky or anachronistic bugs you, you might want o read some other things.

she got attendant as a paid gig cause nobody else wanted to mess up their weekend.

today(Like usual. She's a morning person and I'm, way not.)Some days, she catches me in the first moment when I'm still dreaming, practically, to tell me what was up with our fucknut governor or sellout senator, etc.
So, maybe putting a brace on did some of the trick.
We'll just have to be patient, too, I think, but we both aren't good at that.

Current Mood: relieved

Barbra had to be high...needing people as much as I do, kinda sucks out loud.

Seriously, it had been literal years since I moved very much from my e-mail box, somehow. But in trying to get organized, I discovered that the rut I'm in(Though real enough, and not fully self-inflicted, but a combination of personal and systemic factors that I'm gonna have to be pretty fucking clever to make more than a token difference against) But I am, though. Even if the last thing an already-lagging life needed was a 3+ year pause to wait out a plague--which part I have been both blessed and excellent at avoiding(Except in writing...my muses return to it copiously)--the rut, while no-bullshit real, is not as deep as I thought. Although it can be hard to get excited about a personal evolution that feels like one of those old flip-books where you have to turn the pages very fast to see the picture move, it isn't really the same picture. Close enough to be annoying, at times, perhaps, but I've done some good work, both artistically and politically, and I have worked through some of my more ancient family drama--a little disappointingly, don't really think there are any happy endings there, but it's not a wound anymore.

Expected to put out a new blog post today, but it's just too loud and I'm too distracted...pretend I'm in solidarity with the Times Reporters or something.

I accidentally staked Elon. That's okay, right?"

spare me.(I don't even think I'm that sensitive anymore and have probably laughed at some things which I wouldn't have if I'd known the fucking depth of the ignorance the quips sprang from

Current Mood: satisfied

nothing I do is really moving forward, even this photo is slightly old, but it's fresher than 15 years ago!
Sometimes I feel like I'm just doing the same stuff over Including answering back an old friend on FB who contacts me every few years just to brag.
(And maybe she is doing better... I mean, she is married, even if, if he's the same guy, he looks like something best exhumed than connubial. Although I have love in my life, it's not the kind I can flaunt, which, mostly I don't care about, but society does, and I'm a chick(A chick who lives with her mama, no less) so my being engaged or something would excite extended fam far more than anything I write, etc.
And she has the graduate degree, which I think I could have if I really cared to have it--eventually.
But if I don't care enough to chase it, then why does her having one make me feel that she's rubbing my face in it?(she totally is, but why do I care?)
Well, partially because she didn't used to close anything, and when we used to hang out, my rep was "smart, but kind of a bitch"
Also, she's so much better at being the Inspiring Crip(maybe it's the big brown eyes) and getting people on her side praising her determination and and all that.