Butterfly Cauldron

I doubt anyone actually reads this thing anymore, but anyway....the following post will be rantish, whiny and totally self-centered. You've been warned.

First, I have PMS and (maybe) the flu. I do not feel good in any way. I'm tired, I have a fever, I have a headache and I just want to cry. My mother and SiL will be arriving tomorrow evening to spend the night and go shopping Saturday. I have zero money for this and I'm going to ask them for gas money. I don't usually do that, but if I don't, we'll be shopping from the busy isle of my couch. So. I also am going to insist we go to one of the four resturants I have a gift certificate from, otherwise I can't eat. I really wish they would come next weekend, but alas, it is not to be.

I'm really, really cranky. This has to pass, because I have a job interview next week and I need to be sharp. If I get this job, I won't have to move and will be making at least $500 extra a month. That's the base pay and I intend to ask for more than that. I've got a masters degree and eight years of relevant experience. Dammit, I wanna get paid.

I'm feeling very down on my romantic prospects again. Brought on by general blahness and a thread on a mailing list I'm on. I am not a conventionally attractive woman. That's fine, really, but now I'm starting to think I may very well end up spending all my time alone. Now, normally that doesn't disturb me too much, so may this is just the hormones and flu talking, but it all makes me want to curl up in my bed and hide forever.

(FYI -- when you have a fever and you cry, your tears feel like they've been boiled. Did you know that?)

I feel tragically boring. Like there isn't a single thing about me that's interesting or unique. I'm just kinda....blah. I don't have any stores of knowledge I can break out to impress people. I don't have any outstanding talent. I'm not musical or dramatic or....I don't know. I'm not even particularly domestic. I'm just....boring.

I'm 33 years old, I have four cats, no real relationships and a chronic illness. Please god, don't let this be the flu. I don't have a rheumatologist in town and it takes about two months to get an appointment with one as a new patient.

Labels: depression, Lupus, sadness

(This may ramble, sorry 'bout that. It's not my most thought-out post and I'm kinda flu-ish at the moment.)

I cannot imagine being anything other than female. I have always known that I am a woman, even though there have been times in my life when I wasn't very 'girly'. Actually, lack of 'girliness' has pretty much been my constant state. But I have always known that I am a woman. No one had to tell me that, I always knew. Luckily, I got corresponding woman parts, but even if I hadn't, it wouldn't change the fact that I, me, whatever it is that makes me Zan, would be female.

If I have always known I was a woman, why would I doubt anyone else if they told me they were too? Don't they know themselves the same way I know myself? If they were born with a body that does not match what they know about themselves to be true, should they deny that self-knowledge? Should they force themselves to conform to socially expected ideals? Who benefits from that? And do we want to support those that do benefit?

The fact is, trans people do me no harm. They don't take anything away from me. Their existence does not endanger me in any way. The world is big enough and wide enough and wonderful enough for us all to share and have what we need. If I care about the abuse transpeople suffer, that doesn't mean I care less about the abuse cisgendered women suffer. It doesn't mean I care less about the abuse PoC suffer. It doesn't mean I care less about genocide in other countries, about the effect our pre-emptive war in Iraq is having on that country and our own, about global warming, about widespread drought, about medical research. My heart is big enough to care passionately about all of those things -- with room left over for more.

In the end, I don't see how it matters that a woman was born in a male body or a man was born in a female body. That person is as deserving of respect and rights and a decent, safe life as I am. To distill their entire existence down to one aspect, while neglecting all the other things that make them who they are, is an insult to their humanity. And it is an insult to my humanity and to your own humanity. None of us can be understood or truely known by any one single aspect of ourselves. If I tell you I have green eyes -- what do you know about me know? That I have green eyes. And nothing else. If I tell you that I didn't have my first kiss until I was 18, what does that tell you about me? Or that my parents are still married after 35 years? Or that I'm allergic to grass? That I majored in rhetoric and composition? Put enough of those little details together and yes, you'll get a picture of who I am. But each of them on their own? Doesn't tell you who I am. I tell you I'm a woman, that I'm tall, that I have a chronic illness. All true, but not the whole picture. So, if I don't want myself reduced to any one aspect, why would I support doing that to anyone else?

I left the Southern Baptist Church and organized Christianity in general a very long time ago, but some things made sense, so I kept them. That bit about treating other people the way you want to be treated? That I kept. So don't try to tell me I should be threatened by transwomen. I'm just not, okay?

Labels: body acceptance, gender, transgender, women

I waste entirely too much time doing, literally, nothing.

This bothers me, because there are sooo many things I could be doing. It makes me a boring person, I think. How interesting is it that what I can talk the most about are my cats? *sigh*

I have to remind myself that I have to be easy on myself. It's not my fault that I'm so tired. It's not my fault that when I get home from work all I can do, literally, is curl on the couch and watch tv. Or lay in bed and watch tv. This is what happens when you're dealing with a chronic illness. It steals all your energy. It's not my fault, but I just feel horrible about it.

I don't feel bad, physically. I've got some pain, but not so much it's unbearable. I'm just....so fucking tired. I just got out of bed, after trying to nap, and I feel....I went to WalMart today. Got my oil changed. Picked up some groceries. And I came home, ate lunch and collapsed. I've got all day to do any damn thing I want and what do I do? I lay down. I watch tv. I flip channels. I cuddle kittens. I do nothing. At all.

I'd like to go finish my dishes or my laundry or I don't know, write some fabulous paper about compariative religions, but I can't. Because I"m so very tired. I hate this. I hate it so much I just want to scream, but I'm too tired to scream. I'm too tired to do anything. I need to wash my dishes and clean out my fridge. It won't take even an hour and yet....I'm not. I can't.

I feel the aching tiredness down into my bones. My fingers hurt, my toes hurt, everything hurts in an aching, persistant way. I don't want to go take any more medication, even though I know I should.

I'm not depressed, I'm just fucking tired. *sigh*

Labels: bad mood, Lupus, pain

I've been updating my blogroll as best I can. If you read here and you're not linked, let me know. I want to add you. I do, I do, I do! Or if you've got suggestions about good blogs? Let me have 'em. I like links, what can I say. Although, I drool in envy of Belle's amazing linkage. *sigh*

Now, I go back to NaNoing...and trying to make Rain stop chewing my toothbrush!!

Posting has been rather slow here, but it's not because I don't love you all! I do, I really, really do, it's just.....I've been NaNoing and it's taking up my time.



It's not my fault! I've been swallowed whole by my story......helphelp, I'm being creative! Or something.