Tuesday, December 27, 2016

I Can't Even

Carrie Fisher? Really 2016?

I may be figuring out who and what I am and what I want to do, but I know for sure one of those things is to be an awesome, smart, funny writer and advocate like her.

Monday, December 26, 2016

Anger Issues

I turned 43 recently, and over the past couple of years I've realized a couple of things about myself that just are. They're just part of the fabric of my personality and they're not going to change.

I am a very messy person except where my closet space is concerned.

I have never really liked any kind of beef stew, however many different ways I try to make it.

I am an extremely angry person.

I say the last with no particular pride or shame--it just is. It can be somewhat daunting to realize that one would be better placed in the Red Lantern Corps rather than the Green Lanterns, or even the Blue. But it's just kind of there. And while I've had an interesting relationship with anger my entire life, I've been circling it a little more closely lately. Say, the last two months. (Gosh, I wonder what that coincided with.)

Anger has been a good friend to me. It has given me energy and purpose when I could otherwise find none. Anger has also been an obsession, impeding my progress and tainting relationships. The trick is--has always been--to somehow balance myself between the two. To feel the clean energy of anger without becoming mired in the swamp of wrath. And it's a really, really fine line. Especially because one of the ways my depression manifests is in displays of anger. It tricks me into thinking I'm not falling into an episode, because, hey! Lookit all this energy! Lookit all this anger. But then you run out of things to be angry about, and it is a hell of a crash. So you wind up spending a lot of time looking for things to angry about. The election was a godsend to my avoidance techniques.

My most recent wake-up call was when I did one of those Facebook end-of-the-year word clouds. "Trump" wasn't the center word, but it was right next to it. "Holy crap," I thought to myself. "How did I give that man so much headspace that his name shows up so prominently?" Now, I know how--this year, campaigning against DJT was seen as just important as campaigning for HRC. But still. That's an awful lot of bandwidth, and, oh, hey, I seem to have stalled out on any and all other writing. Another coincidence? I think not.

M. the Wonder Therapist has been trying to get me to let go of things I don't really like. Get rid of all but the most essential of oughts, musts, and shoulds. I'm even rethinking the day job I've held at various institutions off and on for twenty years. If I want to get out of bed voluntarily before 2:30 in the afternoon, a reason to do so is kind of key. I'm trying to find something that I have enthusiasm for. My life is safe, but it doesn't make me as happy as I could be. I need to find something that enthusiasm for it motivates me as much as anger motivates me against others.

I'll still be angry, because G-d knows there's plenty in this world to be angry about. But anger doesn't have to be a substitute for purpose, and it doesn't preclude happy.



Thursday, November 10, 2016

Day 2 of the Resistance

Day 2 of the Resistance was kind of underwhelming.  My usual rage was hijacked by the flexeril I'm taking for a spasming back.

I have continued, however, to post pictures and stories of newly emboldened misogynists and racists on my Facebook feed.  I want every person who voted to Trump, Stein, or Johnson to know exactly what they've done. That even if that man said those things to get attention, people took him seriously. That this is what third-party voters' special snowflake principles helped to bring about.

Swastikas are popular, as is groping. An entire kindergarten chanted, "Build that wall!" Homophobic graffiti abounds. African-Americans have been threatened at gunpoint. Jesus Christ, there have been suicides, both of transgender people and people who have lost hope regarding their health care and figured they might as well end their lives sooner than later.

DO YOU GET IT, YET? Lives have been utterly destroyed, and he hasn't even been sworn into office yet! I hope that claustrophobic, privileged little  life you voted to preserve suffocates you, because it hasn't been worth this.

Hey, look at that. The flexeril wore off.

I'll talk to y'all again tomorrow.

Wednesday, November 9, 2016

Let's Get This Party Started

So, yeah. That happened. That person is now President of the United States.

I'm still not entirely sure I'm not giving up on the shit show[1] that the American Experiment has become. I continue to reserve that right, but I know for sure that in the meantime I have to speak up. Loudly. Often. So, *spreads arms* here I am.

And I am angry. Furious. Wrothful. I am at the end of my rope with many of my fellow Americans, and, like the man said, I'm not going to take it anymore. Appropriately enough, I turn 43 in 41 minutes, and my main resolution for this upcoming trip around the sun is to stand up and fight: the patriarchy, racism, misogyny, homophobia, transphobia... At this point, if you name it and it marginalizes a group, I'll take a swing at it. I do not anticipate this being difficult, as I have run out of fucks to give[2].

I have named this blog for my two favorite historical shit-kickers, St. Thomas Becket and St. Thomas More. Both spoke truth to power. Both fought the establishment head on. Of course, both also paid the ultimate price for their courage, but I'll try not to dwell on that aspect. Relatedly, I am a practicing Catholic, and I will undoubtedly also wind up tackling those idiots from time to time as well[3].

One last administrative note: I am the final arbiter of what is and is not appropriate in these parts. I do not feed the trolls, I block them and delete their comments. My house, my rules--deal with it.

So, let's get this party started, shall we?




1. I curse a lot. You should probably get used to it.
2. See note 1.
3. Except Pope Francis. Love Francis.  Most of the time, anyway.