Blah blah blah morose blah blah blah

The thing I hate about all this, at this point, is that it takes on this familiar pattern. Go to the doctor, get some “That doesn’t seem right, I want you to see so-and-so” line, make the appointment to see so-and-so, call my family to tell them about the not-right-ness, come home, the Butcher says something about going on a trip or house sitting for friends and I start to feel like “Oh my god, he’s going to move out and I’m going to have to deal with this shit on my own,” and then I think “Um, does anyone in your family actually leave anyone alone?  Let’s pull it together here, B.” and then it comes, so predictable you could set your watch by it–the sure knowledge that some day I am going to die and that that will be the end of me.

Nothing terrifies me more.

I’m not afraid of being dead.  Being dead will be what it is.  Either you won’t be anything at all, in which case, you won’t be around to notice that you aren’t anything at all, or you will be yourself in some different way, though, being myself, I will probably be a big baby about it for far too long.

I’m terrified of a moment I imagine in which death is imminent and unavoidable and you suddenly know that these are your last moments and that whatever there might be, you can’t get out of experiencing it.

I know describing it, it seems pretty stupid.  Even when I try to remember that terror, I can’t get at it.  Even now, to try to describe it to you, I can just tell you that it’s terror.  But I don’t feel it.

And how stupid is it to feel terror so predictably?

I don’t know.  I guess what I want to say is that the novelty of this crap has worn off, so it would be nice if I didn’t have to do all this same old emotional crap every time, too, you know?

But, on the other hand, it would be interesting to know if all the shit wrong with me had some common cause.

On the third hand, blah I’m even tired of myself.

The Waiting is the Hardest Part

I just got home from the gynecologist and she’s concerned that I might have something else besides the PCOS going on. She said there’s no need to panic, but she wants me to see an endocrinologist and have him take a look at the tests she’s run and have him do some tests, just to make sure everything is on the up and up.

So, I feel kind of unsettled about the whole thing, of course, and I went right downstairs after my visit to make my appointment and the earliest they can get me in is the 22nd.

Wait for it.

Of October.

Eh, well, what can you do?

I’m a little worried, but there’s nothing to be done about it but wait.

Still, I don’t like it.

I mean, I’m not doing much with my life, but it’s mine and I like it, you know?

In Defense of Kanye West

Maybe I just have spent too long watching professional wrestling, but people, here is the truth about Kanye West.  He is not a bad guy.

He is the heel.

Do I think Taylor Swift was in on it?  No. I don’t.  And bless her heart, I’m sure that sucked.

But this is MTV.  This is Viacom.  This is the company that runs 20 hours of reality tv programming on almost all of their channels in which we can watch the dregs of society compete with each other for the right to fuck has-beens and never-was-es.  They let a guy who abused and eventually killed his ex-girlfriend onto two of their shows.  You think they wouldn’t publicly embarrassed Taylor Swift in order to get some publicity?  They aired a TV show where a woman did shots out of another woman’s cooch.

Believe me, Kanye West was just playing his role and it’s a role I would bet you $100 he was directed to and encouraged to play by MTV.

Think about it.

If MTV wasn’t in on it, why didn’t they cut the mic the second West grabbed it?

So, Feministe

I think it went well.  I really enjoyed it, anyway.  It’s weird to be on a blog that size and see just the magnitude of comments they get that get thrown into moderation and have to be sorted through.  Some things seemed to get caught in moderation for no reason (and I tried to check often to fish people out), but other things, blech, I’m sorry I saw them.

It really makes you wonder who are these people who are so eager to come into a place that is trying to be just about the opposite of what you stand for in order to try to get your nonsense posted.  I mean, what is the psychological mechanism at work there?

I get the drive-by stuff, the one inappropriate line.

But, say, somebody writes something specifically anti-racist and you spend a long time writing 5 thick paragraphs about how much black people suck, which you have to guess is only going to be read by the person who deletes your comment in moderation, what satisfaction do you exactly get out of that?  Does it feel like a victory?  I just don’t get it.

It was cool to be asked to guest blog, though.  But it’s been so long since I’ve brought my A game here every day that having to bring it over there every day was a little taxing towards the end. Ha.  I suck.  Sorry about that, folks.

Anyway, good times.  And it gave me a lot to think about.