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a whole lot of unexpected words about politics and other business

22 October 2020
5:52 am

The general election is less than two weeks away. It's strange to want something so badly for four years, have it be so close, and to be so nerve-wracked and terrified about it.

I still need to vote, which is a funny thing to say. If we can't have election day as a federal holiday, at least early voting/by mail is an option. Dan mailed his in weeks ago. Being lazy and disinclined to cooperate with time, I missed all the deadlines on that. Plus I don't feel too bad spreading our votes across different methods this time. You know, because paranoia. Though I shouldn't worry, my district is pretty much guaranteed to go the way I want.

Not the way I dream it would, but the way it should. For all their flaws, Biden/Harris would be far better than another four years of this joker. Like, that's an understatement. I might be fearful of the consequences of some individuals if the jokerman doesn't succeed, but the consequences of another four years with this guy are far greater. People said Hilary this and that, and I wasn't thrilled about it either, but there are plenty of things that simply would not have happened if she had been elected, and they're all a big fucking deal.

I woke up crying on election day in 2016. My sudden faith that everything would be fine was shaken, but more so, I was going to go vote for a woman for the first time, and I couldn't feel the way I wanted to about that. I cried at the ballot for both reasons. I remember the physical feeling of the look on my face when the last of my faith was gone and I left the study to re-enter the party in the living room. It hadn't been officially called yet, but the stream I was listening to wasn't sugarcoating it. I remember the responses to that face. I don't know why my face was the one affecting people, why I was the rock or decider. (I know why, I know who I am.) The sadness and fear on Dan's sister's face. Dan's stoic stress, still analyzing. The beginning of drunk panic on Stevie and Missy's face. And I went from grim and hardlined acceptance to crisis management mania. "Yes, but it's going to be okay. We will get through this. It will not be good. We will survive." (Of course we will, we are all mostly of protected characteristics, and where we're not, we're pretty well covered.) I went from that to total mania. My mania is calm, but plays war. It takes care of everyone around her. It says, "fuck, download Signal. Get a VPN. Build a "clique." Go to resistance meetings." And then, soon after, it crashes. Briefly it reads books and rolls its eyes at pink hats, but mostly it does very little, and tortures itself about that.

I don't remember if I crashed before or after Vanessa killed herself. That was still in November. I'd already scheduled an appointment with a psych office, and my first meeting with them was the day after I found out she died. So, happy almost four year anniversary to me of being on more than an SSRI. After that I basically skipped 2017, what with the consequences of antipsychotic trials, continued confusion about what I was doing in this relationship and in this house, self-inflicted friend loss, and the increasing disorientation we were experiencing nationwide.

I have refused for a year to try another antipsychotic. I am thoroughly bummed out we will probably not have anyone over on election night - though it is safer to assume no definitive results will be laid out that day.

I was getting at something, I think. Yeah, I felt glee when Obama was elected. I lived on a college street, and people came out onto their porches. Horns were honked. I also protested during his administration, for the first time, and of course, to a manic degree. I'm probably not going to feel glee if Biden is elected, but I'm likely to feel some measure of relief once he's sworn in. Sure, the jokerman does not shield his intentions, but he cannot be swayed by anyone who isn't directly eating his ass, and that's not swaying really, that's just holding the line. The alternative is better.

I can think of only one, maybe two people on my list here who would disagree with me. I don't want to hear it. I mean, normally I'm willing to tolerate a fair amount of conversation in the name of pulling even the tiniest thread, but unless you're willing to consider that we will be absolutely worse off if he continues, and the interests of others supersedes your own jaded opinions, I really can't. We're too close. I'm too stressed. All paths to victory - it matters who is president.

It wasn't the only reason I got off fb, but it was part of it. I was getting too reactive with people, on a lot of subjects, but specifically this. And I wish I could continue trying to sway and eat ass (I never use this phrase. I don't know why it's so funny this early in the morning), especially when we're less than two weeks out, but it was getting too difficult to watch. I am mostly in an echo chamber, but there are still those who aren't going to participate, those who want to punish the DNC, and those who have, heavensbee help me, slipped into q a**n territory. My brother is maybe one of them? One guy I know, a transman no less, is heavy on that shit. He's always been in conspiracy territory, but.. I don't get it.

That's a lie, I do get it. We want ways to explain the things we can't cope with. We perceive that something sure the fuck isn't right and we want to uncover the truth of why it is that way, even if it means constructing a totally bonkers narrative. Q a**n. Flat earth. (I've been watching leftist youtube, can you tell?) But I still can't understand falling headfirst into these things or voting in a way that is against your own interests. beep

But that is something I'm trying to learn. I can't assume someone's position based on their characteristics or identity, and I think I need to stop... not judging people for it, exactly... I think it's still fair to throw up my hands ala Patrick Stewart meme and say, "Why in the pluperfect hell would you..." but there's something about the assumption or expectation that doesn't seem right. All people are individuals, and some people, whether they be felons or trans or whoever, will do things that don't make sense to me. My people and the general internet teach me this, but really I learned this quite a bit while I was working at the gas station. Some of the conversations I overheard about people's perceptions and positions were... baffling. And I can squeeze my feet in a lot of shoes.

I did just read a statistic that, where they shift, men seem to be moving to the right and women to the left. That... makes an unfortunate amount of sense.

I'm really glad I don't have to explain any of this shit to Dan. Among the other interpersonal issues, getting exhausted by a "I get gay people but I just don't get trans people" conversation with Kevin was one of the last reasonable moments of realizing we were not on the same page. It wasn't that he was at where he was at, it was that he was refusing to listen to anything I said, as he often did. I'm sure his position has changed now that it is more of a mainstream issue.

When I met up with Dan for the first time, I didn't think we would date for various reasons, but I wanted to be friends with him. But there was a definitely a deep sigh of "oh, thank fucking american baby jesus" when he made a joke that was something about colonialism. Not that I'm fucking perfect or college-educated, but I've been on a journey of learning for awhile, and it was a relief to know that I wasn't going to have to educate someone else during the process. There are still occasionally behaviors I have to point out or conversations to have, but those are less about a man/woman dynamic and more about him as a self-described abrasive robot. And sometimes he's the one correcting my own false logics and assumptions.

ANYWAY. Whole lot of words I didn't expect to type. I thought I'd do like two lines. I've been playing on a gamified writing website and trying to prepare for Nanowrimo, so word counts are up. We'll see if that happens.

Yesterday was 90 days of freedom from cigarettes. Thanks, I hate it. Just kidding. "I love being a non-smoker!" I mean, I do, but as expected, I have hit a fresh wave of desire. It came with the weather change and the pursuit of creative activities. It comes with the stress of upcoming... shit. And at three months I begin to forget what was so stark at the beginning - I know I can't do just one. Or a few. Or twenty. That will be another run of smoking, and I'll have to go through the process of quitting all over again. I suppose I'm treating it like AA chips in some ways, I don't want to start the count over. And I don't want to start spending that money again. And I don't want to make my lungs hurt again or have any more trouble breathing. I don't want the smell or the taste. So it looks like I barely want anything about it, other than the act and the drug and the perception I have of it, all of which is compounded by, not just the addiction bequeathed unto me, but the forced addiction by those tobacco devilmen. Those are two of the reminders I have set up in my app. It occasionally sends me a message. "Phillips Morrissey is a penis and ruins everything." "Divesting myself of these toxins is a revolution." I am both poetic and ridiculous.

Speaking of weather, here in Minneapolis, our autumn was betrayed on Tuesday by a dump of several inches of snow. Much like people who forget how to drive every year, I forgot that shoveling the sidewalk is a necessary evil, so I spent most of my energy doing that yesterday. The forecast doesn't look promising, but I hope the snow melts by halloween. We've been planning on having a small gathering in the cold yard because not having a party this year is a great disappointment to the darling man. And while I am resistant toward doing... well, most things involving breathing people... I want him to have it. He's had to deal with me all year, in addition to his own stress or other persons he manages, like his mom, who yesterday was informed by a doctor that she has some extra things in her organs that will have to be biopsied, and he's going to have to deal with me through the upcoming winter, which will no doubt be an increased version of dealing with me throughout the year. So, I want him to have it. I've even planned to construct a relatively easy costume of a cute owl from Animal Crossing (because I am nerd), and if that mask doesn't turn out, I will just cover myself in a blanket to which I will affix fake flowers, and I will be the lady from Midsommar. Which, by coincidence, would be our first (albeit disturbing) couples costume since he has already decided to be a bear.

But, we were already concerned about the temperature, so if there's snow in the yard... that plan goes to shit. I guess we'll see what happens in the next week and figure it out from there. I didn't want to bring it up yesterday since he was dealing with the immediate stress of mom stuff.

In other nerd news, I DM'd my first d&d game for him. I don't think I mentioned. It was silly, but fun. And silly to be notable, but it is, since it's something that requires a level of confidence and management, both of which I executed pretty well. In other creative news, I did a few of the inktober prompts at the start of the month, and wouldn't you know it, at some point I learned how to draw. Not sure when that happened since I don't really do it. I've done some doodles over the last few years and each time I noticed some kind of improvement, but they were mostly just scribbles. These are still cartoonish in a way, but they're refined and... not bad. Is it osmosis? Is it magic? Who can say. Mostly I think it is patience and a willingness to try and erase and try again and repeat until satisfied enough. Now I want to draw some more.

There's so much to do and be done.

So I think I'm done here for now.