Warhead On Legs

( Gaeilge )

I can't describe the clusterfuck that happened in Texas last night without words that will get me into trouble. Let's just say I wish to employ a Texas stereotype to deal with the problem of women's right to competent medical care without government interference. Jesus hitman Christ is that too much to ask? That the government stay the fuck out of our examination rooms? You old dessicated sad sacks are, by and large, not medical professionals (and at least one of the ones who was in the past has shown no knowledge of basic female biology either, I have to add) so quit acting like you are and fuck right off. Go punch a chad or something. Stop freaking out that women might have brains and wills and ideas about how they want to live their lives that don't involve your idea of what a woman should do or be. You still don't have that right to make that decision for another, I don't care how you justify it.

God, politics today. I want to curl up in my fictional worlds and my costumes and not come out. Yesterday it was the Voting Rights act weakened, that Texas bullshit where a bunch of old white men literally argued about a woman's right to speak to them about women's medical care, and today the Supreme Court decides if separate but equal is still a valid approach to ruling the country. No matter how much of a lie it is. Freedom to marry a person of the opposite sex isn't freedom to marry, your honors. Sorry, but it isn't. Where's that consequences of gay marriage pie chart.

Deep breaths, Jag. Deep breaths. Politics is always politics. It's just more vicious now than it has been. Or the viciousness is more visible thanks to people deciding they can show their asses in public and being older and more able to recognize this.

So, okay. Less rage more building things, I wasn't able to do any sewing last night since my old Singer featherweight refused to sew the material. Not sure why, I tried switching through three needles, it didn't seem to be a tension problem, it just kept snapping the thread. So, now that I've found the cords for the upstairs one I'll see if that works any better and if not, well. I guess it's time to remember how to hand sew things. I did, however, get a bunch of writing done last night, so at least there's that. Hopefully the more advanced computerized whatever sewing machine will work better, and I can get everything done in a timely fashion still. Ugh, so tired. Too much adrenaline last night.

I CANNOT GO TO BED THERE IS EPIC SHIT HAPPENING ON THE POLITICS.

And since I cannot go to bed, y'all get Irish now while I'm still awake, because I'm sure's fuck sleeping in tomorrow.

Naked Irish, for that matter. No cut tag for you.

The phrase 'is le' (Lit. is with) is used to indicate ownership.

Is le Seán an carr sin. That car belongs to Seán

Whent he personal forms of le (with) are used you have:

Is liom an leabhar sin. that book is mine.
Is leat é seo, is dócha. This is yours, presumably.
Is leis an rothar. That bike is his.
Is léi na leabhair. The books are hers.
Is linn anpháirc seo. This field is ours.
Is libh iad seo, nach ea? These are yours, aren't they?
Is leo an fheirm sin. That farm belongs to them.

These personal forms are often reinforced to liomsa, linne, etc. when they are being emphasised or contrasted with one another. Is is optional before these reinforced forms.

(Is) liomsa an leabhar seo.
Ní liomsa é.
(Is) liomsa é seo agus is leatsa é sin. This is mine and that is yours.
(Is) leis-sean é. It is his.
Ní léise iad. They aren't hers.
(Is) linne an talamh seo. This land is ours.

Here is how you ask if somebody owns something:

An leatsa an cóta seo? Is this coat yours?
Is liom. Go raibh maith agat. Yes. Thanks.
Ní liom. Is le Máire é. No. It's Mary's.

An leatsa na bróga dubha? Are these black shoes yours?
Ní liom. Is liomsa na cinn bhuí. No. The tan ones are mine.

( Gaelige )

Kink Bingo! All the Kinks you can Kink up if only you try. I've already got a fair sized list of stories going. I'm fairly sure one of my OCs is using it as a checklist. At least one. This should be fun! Even if the first one I started writing with my teammate ended up answering a whole other prompt. Oops. Oh well.

I see Anderson Cooper came out of his very, very transparent closet. Seriously, people were walking into that thing, dude. It's a safety hazard. My first reaction was "Oh. Yeah? And? We knew that." But there is value in the act of standing up and being counted, as he points out. Especially when he's a pretty damn good role model. Being someone people can identify with is a good thing. So, Go go Anderson Cooper! Get on with your fabulous hilariously giggling self. Seriously, people should make him giggle on camera more often. It's hysterical.

So, a day or two ago I was saying that we hadn't gotten any of the storm systems kicking around, which was sad because we could use the rain. And what happens last night? We get a storm squatting right on our heads shitting out lightning bolts at a rate of two or three a minute. Thanks, weather. I love you too. Now can you please do something about the giant windstorm over Mom's way? I refuse to call it a derecho, that just fucks with my head. We're in that "I say fuck a lot" mode today. I still need to change my header to that.

Grimm DJing tonight. I am so, so ready for it. Preferably with violence and the ultra heavy beat.

( Русский язык )

Slightly more awake this morning, and I did manage to gather enough coherent thoughts to check in yesterday. Taking NyQuil did get me to sleep through the night at least, and I was able to get some rest. I'm not sure if it's because I was taking actual brand NyQuil or because they shifted the formula back, but this time it worked pretty much like the original knock-me-out-for-X-time-in-20-minutes, wake up feeling fine. Of course now I'm tired again, I think because usually NyQuil takes 8 hours and I only gave it 6. Ah well.

Still no word from the plumber. Which isn't entirely surprising but isn't helping my nerves. for one thing, I'm not the people they technically report to, although they know the situation and I suspect they'd call just to let me know it's been done regardless, unless there's a legal reason not to. For another, repiping an entire fairly large house. They got started yesterday, it might conceivably take a couple days. Or at least I think it would, especially if they're being careful to leave things as intact as they can. Still nervous, though. And then if I'm not going to hear anything back until the selling bank says so, this could take a while.

Ah well. Still sort of working on my litanies against fear in many languages, less so yesterday on account of brain no worky. Still incredibly sleepy. This is going to make work interesting, there's no incoming today, I have no idea how much outgoing there is. Maybe I should tidy up the box room.

I'm sure I should say something deep or meaningful about the recent political developments. Mostly what I want to say is "Oh fuck you, people." My country is one of the few that went against the amendment, for what it's worth, and with all the redistricting I wasn't sure which way we were going to go, now that we've been dragged under a Republican representative. Traditionally, Asheville is very progressive, laid-back and groovy, and full of hippies. It's probably one of the safest places in the state for two men (or two women, but people get less weird about that) to walk down the street holding hands. And I know this because I've seen it for myself. >.> And there are already rallies to repeal the amendment, but, let's face it, folks. The conservative Stop Having Fun Guys element is strong in the Dark Side. A lot of the people who voted for the amendment didn't even realize how sweeping it was, they were too caught up in the panic of oh noes, two men might get married. As if that was such a tragedy. On the plus side, go Obama for finally coming out and saying it. I also liked his arguments in the expanded version.

Did finally see Castle the other night. There was much rejoicing. (Yaay!) Spoilery gabble aside, I liked that the end shot of a particular scene was a focus on the holding hands. It seems like a really good metaphor/image with which to seal that particular Thing.

In conclusion, god I need more sleep. Even after getting a decent night's sleep. Meh.

( Deutsch )

This is all connecting in my head, no, I don't know why. Apparently transgendered people aren't interesting. Because their lives must by definition be all about the struggle of the transgendered, and no broad range of people are interested in that. Therefore, they should not be main characters/protagonists. However, it's perfectly fine for them to be villains, because everyone I can't even finish this paragraph, never mind.

So, yeah. That's the latest author!fail from one of my childhood favorite authors. Admittedly, I haven't gone back and read any of Mercedes Lackey's books lately and I stopped after... um. The Owl trilogy had just started coming out when I got tired of feathers and talking horses and magical Native Americans and everything being made better by the power of LUUUUVVV. (Seriously, have you ever noticed?) But I did used to like her. Now I just feel kind of irritated and depressed. See here (and yes, it gets pretty frank as far as I can tell, the author requested warning for spoilers and triggering) and here, which is a pretty concise and as far as I can tell it no too triggery summation of things.

And what got me all thinking about this was checking in the shipment of carving tools from our supplier and we got in some left handed blades. Because there are left handed people out there! Imagine that. And I was thinking, oh, that's good, they've got equal carving and slipping and slicing the fuck outta your hand opportunities. Because you never know who might have a key in a stick they might want to get out. Which got me thinking, equal opportunities. Oh, okay, yeah, I'm blogging this now.

I'm working on a noirish series of short stories right now. I have no idea what the hell's going on. I'm actually kind of fond of them, I started it a while back and then stopped for about a year and recently started it up again, and I got through about five thousand words and a story and a half before I realized that, since it was written in first person, I'd somehow managed to avoid the protagonist revealing both their name and their gender. I have no idea what this person's name or gender is, and this person is stubbornly refusing to give me either. I don't think the story suffers for it. First person is easier to avoid gendered pronouns. And they've got a vivid point of view, they're just stubborn about those two points. I'll probably try to throttle a name or at least a nickname out of them at some point. Because at some point the protagonist is going to get introduced to someone new and I'm going to need something. I think. But the rest, eh. It's not hurting the story any, and I think the story stands fine enough on its own. This protagonist could be cis male, cis female, trans male, trans female, both, neither, or something else entirely. It's an urban fantasy world so we're not limited by human biology, thought processes, and ingenuity. Who the hell knows? Who the hell cares? Well, I'm sure some people do, but since the story's coming out fine, not me.

To sum that up, Misty, you are way too hung up on gender politics. Not EVERYTHING is about what clothes you were, what bits you have and if they've been altered, where you go to the bathroom, or what pronouns you use. Unless you really want me to refer to you as a uterus and a set of boobs.

Dizzies still gone, dentist is now down to nitpicky details. I can live with no cavities, no problems, and down to nitpicky details. Not too much has piled up in my absence, but enough, so I'm going to get to that and leave you all to debate gender politics and why some people are closed-minded annoying little shits who don't think before they talk on the internet.

(Heh. Friend of mine just commented that she's creepily obsessed with who has sex and how and with what genitals, and put like that? I'm looking at you, Laurell K, and your characters with harems of highly sexed men who NEVER TOUCH EACH OTHER EVER. COME ON. It has to be a serious feat of acrobatics for three men to have sex with one woman at one time and never, ever brush a hand, or a hip, or anything against a delicate area. Idiot.)

(Hm, I don't have a genderqueer icon. But I do have some generic stompy icons. This'll do.)

( Deutsch )

Mmm, wall o deutsch.

Proposition 8 was overturned, doo dah, doo dah! Of course, now there's going to be a couple years' worth of appeals, further motions, etc, and God knows what's going to happen in the end. But it's a step. It's a damn big step, from what I'm given to understand. The points on which he overturned it as I understand how this goes makes it easier to overturn his decision, but if his decision stands the phrasing he used sets a precedent to overturn a shitton of other legislation banning gay marriage. Which would also be awesome.

Really, the more I hear about this case and the case that the defendants mounted, the more I wonder just what the bloody hell they were thinking. Two witnesses? One of whom doesn't even really count as the "expert" witness they called him? Who essentially backtalked the judge, albeit with a thin veil of politeness? Who offered no studies that I can tell, no science or even pseudo-science, just "gay is wrong and you should know this" type testimony? Yeah. How in sweet and sour sesame topped hell could they even imagine that would stand? Did they not even try to mount a token defense? Really?

I'm not sure how sanguine I am about the odds that this ruling will stand. I wasn't actually all that sure it would be overturned. But damn. This really is kind of awesome.

I got a physical therapy appointment and made an appointment for my yearly physical with the doctor I saw the other day. Actually I have two PT appointments, one for next Monday and one for a follow-up on Wednesday, which she said she would pencil in for me just in case. I have a bunch of new patient paperwork to fill out now, and another "pain" sheet, I think she said, because it's a result of an injury. That'll probably happen tomorrow night in between watching Burn Notice and Royal Pains. It's the same PT place my aunt goes to, and she says they're quite good, so this ought to be productive of some considerable good and hopefully I won't do anything horrible to myself in my morning exercises.