Score One for Gen X

You know, nothing pleases me more than that the two biggest factions of the pro-choice movement have forgotten than there is a small, but still here!, generation of women between them. I know that sounds sarcastic, but it is not. Because the truth is, if I had to read this patronizing bullshit about how everything was peachy-keen until two years ago and think it was written with any knowledge of what my generation have been through and fought for, I’d be pissed. Livid pissed.

And if I had to read this ahistorical nonsense—

In addition, people need access not just to abortion and family planning services, but also to support when they choose to become parents. This means help for young mothers with continuing their education and access for all parents to paid family leave, paid sick days, affordable child care, and high quality education for their children. It means treatment for infertility for everyone, not just families with means. These issues are as important to us as abortion access, yet we don’t see our values reflected in the work done in the past or present by the Boomer generation.

–and think it was saying anything to or about the realities of my generation, again, I’d be pissed.

But since my generation continues to be so unimportant as to not even merit mention, as to be completely left out of any discussions about reproductive needs or who should be in leadership positions, I can let it roll right off my back.

Perversion in the Butcher’s Bed

People, I ask you, have you seen anything cuter all day? Sure, we might feel a little bad for the Butcher, who will have to come home and figure out what they did to his bed up there in the corner while getting it precisely comfortable.

But do you remember the years in which I would bemoan how much the dog wanted the cats to like her and how the cats would roll their eyes and go all mean-girl on her?

And here they are, the orange cat and Mrs. W. sleeping butt to butt.

It’s cute crap like this that makes me late for work in the mornings, I swear.

I Will Regret this Morning

Mrs. W. was kind of limping last night, so when she went to bed before I did, I didn’t make her get up and go to the bathroom before I went to bed. Which meant that she had to go to the bathroom at four this morning. Which also included all her nightly lollygagging. So, when my alarm went off at 6:15, I admit, I decided, “fuck it, I’m going to sleep in” instead of getting up to walk with her.

Which means I’m going to be grouchy all day and that there’s a good chance she will poop in the house, since she’ll be all off schedule. Plus, since she didn’t walk and stretch that knee out a little, it’s going to be stiff on her all day.

So, you know, not a victory of any sorts.

I also wrote a story this weekend which I hate. The weird thing is that I don’t hate it because it’s bad. I think it might actually be fine. I hate it because I find it so fucking unsettling. And I can’t really put my finger on where the unsettlement comes from. I mean, you might read it and like it or hate it just fine, you know? It might not be universally unsettling, just unsettling to me.

But it’s making revisions or even thinking about revisions impossible because I want to rush through reading it, just to get it over with. It’s like I read it the same way you rush past the creepy house on the way home from school.

I think it’s in part the protagonist. On the one hand, the story is about identifying with him and his grief pretty completely and compellingly. And then a thing is done–a sensible thing given the circumstances–and he takes devastating revenge and I deeply dislike it. I guess because I deeply dislike circumstances in which there either is no right thing to do or where the thing that looks like the right thing still costs.

And I wrote this post at Pith, which may be the most bitter thing I have ever written.