Shooting at Holocaust Museum injures guard, suspect – CNN.com
Shooting at Holocaust Museum injures guard, suspect – CNN.com.
The suspect in Wednesday’s shooting at the U.S. Holocaust Memorial Museum is James von Brunn, an 88-year-old white supremacist from Maryland, two law enforcement officials told CNN.
This makes me sick on so many levels.
And the real threat is still Osama bin Laden, right?
June 10, 2009
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Don’t squander yourself.
“Where you allow your attention to go ultimately says more about you as a human being than anything that you put in your mission statement,” he continues. “It’s an indisputable receipt for your existence. And if you allow that to be squandered by other people who are as bored as you are, it’s gonna say a lot about who you are as a person.” — Merlin Mann in this article
June 1, 2009
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Consumer Happiness Index: An Experiment
Ganked from the Tierney Lab blog:
List the ten most expensive things (products, services or experiences) that you have ever paid for (including hosues, cars, university degrees, marriage ceremonies, divorce settlements and taxes). Then, list the ten items that you ahve ever bought that gave you the most happiness. Count how many items appear on both lists.
Ten Most Expensive Purchases (In Order of Expense)
- House (pending)
- Car (2009)
- Higher education (ongoing)
- Family Wedding (April 2008)
- 4 trips to Scotland (various)
- Servers (1999)
- Engagement/Wedding Party for Friends (April 2008)
Ten Purchases That Have Brought Most Happiness (In Order of Happiness)
- Finding a place to live after having been homeless
- The first visit to the veterinarian that saved my little Annie cat’s life
- 4 trips to Scotland
- Various books, records, and CDs
- Various gifts for other people
- Phone cards, phones, and whatever it takes to make phone calls work
- Medication & therapy (this tops all the expenses but not all at once)
May 19, 2009
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The wrecking ball has landed
Thanks to Ray in Perth, my WordPress woes are over. Turns out the category access plugins I’ve been attempting to use over the past few years don’t work so well on this server, which is why only the Hemingway themes were working. Matt had me convinced I had a massive database issue at hand; why I was listening to him, I don’t know; he’s a Luddite.
Now that everything is truly in working order for the first time in years (at least on here!), it’s full speed ahead. I’m really jazzed to have this live again, as well as a new skin on thecounterculture.org. I picked up one new hostee last week and it looks like I’ll have another coming in soon, all of which makes my computers excessively happy. If only it could always be like this, eh?
Oh, and Ray — just for you, I’m working on updating my old bio. Will be putting it live later tonight, if I don’t fall asleep first.
May 8, 2009
Posted in: Updatery One Comment
The Body Pathetic
I remember when my body worked. I can feel those memories in me, beneath my skin and in my muscles, buried behind the current, never-ending pain. For some people, it’s their sense of smell, taste, sight, or hearing that are most acute, and therefore, most ingrained in memories. For me, because of my sensitivities, it’s touch — how my body felt. Whether it felt alive, felt like it was being crushed, or somewhere in between.
Surprisingly, my favorite body memories are not sexual, despite being able to easily relive even the most brief of encounters. No, my favorite body memories are not those of a sexual nature, but are memories of muscles being pushed to their limits in sheer physicality. Memories of a body unlimited in its range of motion, and moving without pain.
I remember what it was like before I was this disabled, when I could still dance. Feeling the bass in my head and my gut as my feet slapped the floor, my torso twisted and my arms swung. What it was like years ago when I was able to go rock climbing, when I buried my fingers into the holds and felt my skin abrased and my arms strained as I tried to pull myself vertically up. There are memories of horseback riding; of gripping the leather saddle between my thighs and the horse between my knees, pulling on the leather reins with sore wrists. My back and ass always hurting from never quite getting the canter correct.
I have fast memories of the cold wind burning my face and the snow freezing my body as I sledded down the hills in the winter. Short memories of being flipped off a raft that had been attached to a fast moving motorboat; the quick sting and the shattering sensation as though every bone had broken is now something I’m so used to feeling that this body memory is the least novel of all for me.
My favorite is swimming in the ocean, fighting against the tide. Every wave breaking against my body like it’s trying to break me down, but my body holds firm. I would duck under the waves or swim over them, which would allow the sensation of the rushing water to push its force upon me, then cause a small back draft behind me. I love the memory of the feeling of being pulled back under when a wave would go back out to sea, as the ground under me would rush out under my feet and I would lose my balance in the world. I love remembering sluicing through the waves and fighting the riptides, feeling nature pull me in the opposite way of safety. My skin would sting from the salinity, my feet would hurt from the pebbles; I’d often have brushed up against a jellyfish or two, but I’d still persist. The water slapping against my thighs as I made my way deeper in, then feeling the way the water seemed to part for each time the hand brought the arm down into a stroke — that’s the most peaceful feeling possible for me, yet it’s also a memory of action.
Memories of my body in action are almost all I have now.
I remember myself in crutches too many times to count. All the times with the cane, attempting not to lean on it even though I needed to. And this past year, my time in the wheelchair.
It’s amazing, how active I was when I was young: I was a complete tomboy, always at gymnastics or skating, running, swimming, biking, or playing football and softball. Then I got sick and had to modify my life. A little yoga and swimming are about all I can manage these days. I miss moving so much. Sometimes I just sit back, close my eyes and remember something my body used to do. I get so involved in the memory that I can feel each individual muscle aware of when it used to be needed. I remember being taut and trim, feeling able to almost fly. I bring those feelings back and relive it all vicariously…but I’d rather just be doing it again, now.
Of all the things I miss, I don’t miss my mind the most — I miss my body.
May 5, 2009
Posted in: Best, gimp the girl Comments Closed
new photoshoot today
Damn, it’s been busy ’round here.
Got a little something new for my portfolio, courtesy of one of my former co-workers at the bar. Thanks, Tristan!
© 2009 Tristan Spinski.
I love these shots, but damn, I need to lose forty pounds. Getting off the Abilify should help. Can’t stay on it, unfortunately, as I’ve developed facial twitches.
May 3, 2009
Posted in: Updatery, gimp the girl Comments Closed
female woes and bonuses
My husband freaked out awhile back because he saw that I paid $40 for a bra, which he thinks is insane. He thinks that’s a good price for shoes, and that’s about it.
I’m a 36-38D, depending on the cut. If I don’t want a very matronly bra or a piece of crap that’s going to fall apart in a few weeks, then yes, the motherfuckers are expensive little things.
But try explaining this to a man who goes to work with bleach stains on his jeans and holes in his t-shirts.
I did it to myself, going from dating nothing but metrosexuals to marrying a dirty ex-pro skater. Augh!
Well, I’m having my revenge. Obama’s stimulus package is giving everyone on Social Security on extra $150 in the month of May. My tits have grown and they need more coverage, so I’m spoiling them with $150 worth of Bare Necessities. My boobs and I thank you, Mr. President.
April 28, 2009
Posted in: Personal is Political One Comment
the body feels electric
Must remember/continue to hope that the 24/7 pins and needles in my feet are not diabetic neuropathy and are only a side effect of one of my medications.
April 25, 2009
Posted in: gimp the girl Comments Closed
academics, take seven
Classes start in a month. I’m so happy, I’m metaphorically creaming my pants. By the time the semester starts I might really be creaming my pants.
The Abilify has made so much possible for me in the past month; I really feel like school is going to be possible now.
The rest of my schedule to finish my AA looks like this:
Techniques of Reading & Writing II (required English)
Elementary Algebra (second time taking this non-credit, non-college level course; determined to pass it!)
Intro to Philosophy (required humanities)
Intro to Speech (required speech)
Media Appreciation (arts credit)
Environmental Biology (fulfills science lab requirement)
Environmental Biology w/ Lab (fulfills science lab requirement)
Intermediate Algebra Liberal Arts (pre-requisite math course)
Photographic Expression I (arts credit)
Survey of College Math (math requirement)
(physical education elective)
Natural Science of Chesapeake Bay (fulfills natural science non-lab requirement)
Photographic Expression II (arts credit)
elective
elective
Then, this time next year I’ll be a student at the University of Maryland. I can’t narrow down my major; hell, I can’t even get close. I want to do something in science but I can’t handle the math requirements. My understanding of math ceased in the 8th grade, and no amount of tutoring and studying has changed that. I don’t know if I’d be able to pass Calculus; hell, I don’t know if I’d even be able to reach Calculus. I’m interested in:
Biodiversity & Conservation Biology;
Environmental Economics;
Environmental Restoration & Management;
Global Environmental Change;
Land Use;
Environmental Politics & Policy;
Society & Environmental Issues;
Marine & Coastal Management;
Animal Sciences: Animal Care and Management;
Biological Sciences: Ecology and Evolution;
Urban Forestry;
and they ALL require Calculus! I’m so fucked; I’m probably going to end up majoring in anthropology just to avoid the math. How clichéd can I get?
April 22, 2009
Posted in: Academics Comments Closed
This Is How I Used To Kick It
I’ve finally reached that point where I actually FEEL overwhelmed by everything that’s happened in the past few weeks and in the past year. Just in this past hour it’s hit me, leaving me feeling exhausted and physically ill. My glands are even tender and my throat is sore.
I think of tears, of crying, because I want to have a good weep and let it out, but I can’t. It’s just not there. I think it’s the medication — it’s allowed me to maintain my sanity and to even stay relatively happy through all the extra stress, but I’m worried about how healthy that is — the artificial balance, I mean. Because even now, when I feel like sobbing, I can’t, and that feels wrong.
I’m dreadfully lonely and I miss my grandfather.
I feel like all the progress in the past year has been artifice designed to fool myself and those around me, but it really hasn’t taken me anywhere I want to be.
I climb on top only to not like what I see when I get there.
I desperately want one of the jobs at the animal shelters that I’ve applied at, but that appears to be going nowhere. I want something meaningful; I feel like I’m just living hand to mouth, both financially and emotionally/spiritually.
I miss myself. I guess that’s normal — when you get older you miss how it was when you were young and you felt calm, or interesting to others, or full of hope, or whatever it was you feel that you lost over the years.
What’s really been killing me on the inside of late is the realization that I miss all these times in my life when I thought I was truly miserable.
For example, coming out of middle school I was seriously depressed and up until about five years ago I thought those two years were the most troubling times I had every experienced. Now, I miss how happy I was during that time — all the friends I had, how challenged I was in school (and how I loved the challenge), the drive of being around a group of one hundred equally interesting, talented, and intelligent people (er, kids). But I wasn’t all that happy then, in fact I tried to kill myself twice during those years. And now I regard it as the happiest and most satisfied I’ve ever been.
What does this mean?! I realize I can’t see the time as black and white — it’s not just good or bad, but both. But just the fact that I now consider those years to have been the best of my life so far — what does that say about me?
That was 15 years ago, for a start; has truly nothing been better? And if I was trying to kill myself during the best time of my life, am I some sort of truly sick masochist?
What’s perhaps more troubling is the question of why haven’t I considered myself to be that happy since then?
What’s been wrong with me, or my life, that I’ve been unhappy? What’s been missing with now compared to then? Easy — consistent stimulation/challenge shared with a large group of very tight friends. Friends, a group of friends. Learning and producing. Hell, no wonder my life feels empty, meaningless in comparison.
I’ve been helping a friend deal with his love interest’s psychological problems. It’s starting to get to me a little bit, because it’s dredging up old issues within myself that I had previously managed to get over or forget about to the point of making them moot.
I’m afraid I’m going to have to tell him that I have to take a break and not talk about it for a few weeks because it’s starting to drag me back into my old head space. He mentions how she is and asks how to handle it, then I remember the similar ways I was and how things were or weren’t handled. The more we talk, the more I remember, and the more the old thought processes come back.
It’s a shame because he has told me I’ve been really helpful, and god knows I love being of service.
Self-preservation is telling me that I have to step back, but the desire to help others is pushing me to stay the course and learn to suck it up. Teeter-totter. If I run, I’ll feel like a (self-preserved) asshole. If I stick it out, my mental health could keep deteriorating (or it might not).
Was I happier when I was with Dr Maude or is it just that life was that less complicated then, thus making retrospect seem easier and therefore less stressed? I know I shouldn’t compare but every day I’m overwhelmed with the idea that I made a huge and terrible mistake. I don’t know how to let go of that idea, how to move on and just let the past be what it was without it having to be something to regret (or not). I know it’s easier to let go when there is something else to focus on, but nothing is catching my focus these days like I need it to.
The next time my phone rings, please let it be good news.
April 10, 2009
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