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Mar. 9th, 2030

dyke

My Journal

sun-midnight

This journal used to be called The Theory of Everything.

Within lies several years of navel-gazing goodness. At some point, I impetuously locked the four years worth of posts before Spring 2009 because I was weirded out over having been a so different than I am now, so you will have to add/be added to see them.

I moved the journal to Dreamwidth because livejournal got on my nerves with the wannabe Facebookness, but it crossposts here. Most of the time.

The beautiful artwork you see above is my creation.

Sep. 18th, 2019

females first

My hemp protein is nasty

I was checking out the area around one of the train stations last weekend when I stepped on something, a piece of fruit. Turns out there are pomegranate bushes at the edge of the station. I picked the ripest looking ones. Not sure whether that’s legal since the station is government property, but whatever.

Still haven’t gotten an appointment for my GI consultation, which I need before I can get a colonoscopy. Today I found out that community care (which is what the VA referred me to so that I could get an appointment sooner) has both my old and new names and thinks there are different people who somehow got listed with the same social security number. And I forgot to update them when I changed my phone number (thanks mom). If I had taken the appointment the VA had offered me, I’d be getting the consultation in ten days.

Rather than try to sort out the name issue with an organization that apparently knows nothing about my name change (and that would likely require proof of that change, which I don’t want to bother providing), I tried again to get a VA appointment. Referring me to community care cancelled the VA referral my primary care provider had initially sent, so she has to send another. More time, more bureaucracy.

Got some delicious fruit and a huge bag of pistachios at the food bank yesterday! That made my day.

My daily menu is still not settled; I got no sleep last night due to waking up with night sweats two or three times. Lack of protein is the issue. The hemp protein does not taste good and I need to figure out how I’m going to eat my second daily dose of it (the first goes into my oat bran at breakfast).

I seem to have long and involved dreams every night now. Last night I dreamt that I was part of some sort of womyn's group that owned some land or something. I was very happy about that. Then I mentioned something about radical feminism and some of them were like ewww and left. And the rest of us were trying to organize something together and having a hard time.

Finally got the reset code for my online social security account yesterday. Noticed that a decision on my SSI case had been made. Hesitated to look at it. Finally clicked and found that my case had been denied.
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Sep. 16th, 2019

females first

(no subject)

I got my numbing cream in the mail last Friday or Saturday. The nurse also apparently sent me an entire box of latex gloves. I suppose just taking out a few pairs of gloves would not have been hygienic, but the delivery through me for a loop for a few moments.

I don’t have enough money for the deposit for an apartment, and I can’t continue freelancing to earn any money because I don’t have access to a Windows computer I can install time tracking software on. It’s very frustrating. I’m going to see some specialist at the VA tomorrow who is apparently knowledgeable about possible income sources. I’m having to use the few hundred dollars I got from my ex-landlord as spending money.

I was supposed to have a decision on my SSI case by now. The automated phone system can never find my case information. I can’t check the status online because I changed my phone number, which I was using to get security codes, which I need every time I log in to SSA’s website. I couldn’t get a reset code sent to me because I’ve recently changed my address. I had to go in to a social security office, and somehow the person I spoke to was able to send me a reset code by mail. It hasn’t arrived yet.

It suddenly started raining this morning while I was at the gym; it has been quite hot the whole time I’ve been here. Speaking of the gym, I think there may be something to this “fat burning zone” for heart rate. It seems that when I work out harder (when I get my heart rate higher), cardio makes me hungry. But following the various cardio machines’ fat burning programs (basically low intensity cardio) did not leave me hungry at all even though I worked out for an hour.

I’ve finally started getting a decent amount of sleep. Hallelujah. I realized this past weekend that I’ve been feeling like crap because I’ve been exhausting myself by being out nearly all day. I need to get my shit done and come home early enough to recharge. This need is why I can’t hold down a regular job. And I can’t really explain why I am this way, and doctors don’t know, and this is why I have trouble getting disability payments.

I’ve once again mismanaged my monthly allotment of food stamps. Part of the problem was the lack of a fridge (which I finally got in my room last Friday). Another part was my brain fog. Another part was the sudden disruption in nutritional needs I experienced when I started lifting. Maybe I’m lifting too much…it’s difficult to tell because I’m not used to using weight machines.

I’m a bit surprised at how easily I’ve adapted to my new name. I haven’t accidentally given out my old name out of habit, not once. I think I almost did, once, on a form when I first arrived here.

My ASL studies are coming along quite well. Arabic is presenting a problem however; it’s the same old issue with trying to find untranslated materials.

I got impatient with how slowly my facial peel results were progressing and did another peel that I kept on for quite a long time last week (maybe a couple of minutes). My skin has been looking bad and I thought I'd given myself a chemical burn, but the burnt-looking skin is peeling off and my face looks fine underneath. Maybe all the hype I read about the supposed danger of this TCA peel applied to higher concentrations (I have a 20% percent concentration product).

Sep. 11th, 2019

females first

I nearly walked in front of a train this morning

It was less than thirty feet away from me and I was less than five feet from the tracks when I heard its horn. At first I thought that lack of sleep had made me oblivious. After replaying the episode in my mind, however, I noticed that I hadn’t heard the train approaching despite its nearness. The sound, I suppose, just blended in with the other noises around me (including, perhaps, the train that was departing in the other direction); or rather, I didn’t distinguish the sound of it. Just another interesting thing I noticed about my auditory processing. These are light rail trains, so they aren’t very loud anyhow.

I have called a million mobile home parks. Given the source of the contact information (some governmental agency), far too many numbers turn out to be disconnected. Often, no one answers the phone and there is no answering machine. When there is an answering service, the recorded messages tend to make it seem as if I’ve reached someone’s private phone line: the voice introduces someone personally, by name, instead of mentioning the name of the MHP.

I cannot simultaneously eat sufficient protein to support my weightlifting and maintain a sufficiently low caloric intake to reach my body goals, so I’m trying a protein supplement. Hemp protein that I found at the discount grocery store (which, I’ve found, often has prices similar to regular grocery stores and higher than dollar store prices). Legumes don’t satisfy me, aren’t particularly appetizing to me, and have too many calories.

After last night’s lifting session (my second since I started lifting again and joined the gym), I was unusually hungry and no amount of food would satisfy me. I recognized this state as protein deficiency. I experienced something similar (albeit much more intensely) when I started lifting free weights back in 2016 while on a high carb diet.

My primary care provider had someone contact me yesterday. She wants to do a pelvic exam. Uggghhhhh. I don’t see why I need a pelvic exam; the MRI has already told us what’s wrong with me. She had prescribed me some sort of numbing cream (presumably because she remembered that I could not tolerate a transvaginal ultrasound); the VA pharmacy keeps prescriptions for only 24 hours before having them mailed out. It’s irritating because I live a block away from the place and can easily pick up prescriptions and have them much sooner than the postal system can get them to me.

I really hoped to avoid having medical instruments in my vagina ever again. I am upset about the pelvic exam although I don’t know what exactly to be upset about. I don’t know what kinds of things cause or exacerbate vaginal cysts (I’m assuming that’s what the exam is for because my uterus is too far up to examine manual), but I doubt that they occur naturally. One never knows what toxic garbage in modern society makes people ill, and one has little or no power of it anyways. Maybe my problems have something to do with radiation from my laptop, which I often sat on my lap.

I asked for the pediatric speculum.

Sep. 10th, 2019

females first

Significant Abnormality

Took a look at my MRI results today. They put the results out in 3 calendar days! That’s hella fast.

Lots of unfamiliar terminology about my fibroids (I don’t know whether they are better or worse), something about “free fluid” in my pelvis, and now I have vaginal cysts too (or did I have those before?). The note at the bottom of the report sums it up nicely: “significant abnormality. Attention required.”

I’m sleeping hardly at all. Exhausted but can’t fall asleep at night or even early morning, going about in a daze during the day. Last night I had blood sugar trouble again (from which I could not recover and fall back to sleep), so now I know that half a can of split pea soup does not provide sufficient protein for a day.

I’m waiting to hear from the VA’s neuropsych and audiology departments so I can get proof of my unemployability, which I need to extend my county financial assistance benefits beyond the standard three months that employable individuals get. I’d previously added my (outside) audiology diagnosis to my VA health records, but my primary care provider can’t find them. Dammit VA. Fortunately, I have a copy on my laptop, so I will be taking that in today or tomorrow.

My primary care provider has also added the department’s social worker to my consultation. Apparently this person may be able to help me find employment. I doubt it. And I’m planning on moving rather far away from here soon anyhow, so what’s the point of getting a job here?
Well, at least things in my life are less of a mess than usual.
Tags:

Sep. 9th, 2019

females first

Thanks, mom

My mom kept contacting me (no surprise there), so I finally changed my phone number about a week ago. It’s something I’d considered before but hadn’t wanted to bother with because I knew that I’d have to update a zillion organizations with the new phone number, that I might forget one and thus miss out on a crucial phone call. But one morning my mom texted me that she loved me and, in particular, that she “wouldn’t give up on me,” which means that she’d continue to disrespect my desire to be left alone. So I took the plunge. It was a small pain in the ass, but it’s done.

Given her behavior, I don’t think that my mom really cares that much about me. Before, I thought maybe that she did in her own subjective way, but now I strongly suspect that she’s just doing whatever she wants to do (use me for attention) and trying to brand it as motherly concern. I doubt she knows how self-centered her true motives are.

My skin is doing so well! I’m pleased. I got my TCA (trichloroacetic acid) out of my storage unit, but I didn’t use it for a while because I wanted to research some sort of proper procedure to avoid damaging my face (it is a “medium” strength facial peel; I’d used only mild strength peels before). I finally got tired of waiting/searching and just tried it out, applying it to one tiny spot on my face for a very short time period (15 seconds). Well, nothing seemed to happen over the next day or two, so I got bolder, and applied it more liberally the next time. Given all the hype about how dangerous it is, I’m surprised at how mild the results are; however, my face is peeling in all the right spots and my skin is looking much better.

I’m surprised at how easy it’s been to get rid of the hyperpigmentation; I’d assumed that I’d have to wait years for the spots to fade, and I hadn’t expected that a mere bar of soap (a vitamin C-infused konjac facial bar I got off Etsy) could help so much. I’m glad that I stopped wasting my time with that esthetician and the expensive products she sold. A couple of five-dollar bars of soap and eight-dollar jars of acid off of Etsy were all I needed! The old, discolored skin just flakes off.

Working out at the gym feels SO good. I tried a treadmill yesterday (a machine I’ve tended to avoid because I always seem to have balance problems with it), and it wasn’t as bad as I’d remembered. The treadmill is a good way to get in some low-intensity cardio (which I need for fat loss) without spending all my time on an exercise bike (both types of bike at the gym are uncomfortable and I can’t wait to get back to my spinning bike).

Last Friday (today is Monday), I had my pelvic MRI. Before the appointment, I’d been told that I needed to remove my earring (I have one small steel hoop in the cartilage of my upper left ear). The hoop had been in my ear for over a decade, ever since I’d gotten it pierced, and I didn’t know how to get it out. I tried unscrewing the ball, but it spun and spun and nothing happened. I had to do some online research. I was surprised to find that I had to simply pull the ball out of the indentations in the hoop. Extremely easy, especially in comparison to getting the thing back in. I hope I never have to take it out again.

The MRI was loud, so the technicians gave me both ear plugs and headphones before sliding me into it (I was also offered music). I couldn’t wear any street clothing, not even my underwear (apparently manufacturers put weird materials in clothing nowadays). I got some hospital pants and a shirt that were too big for me. The socks fit, and I kept those. In addition to the contrast that was supposed to make my uterus “light up,” I got two injections of some type of sugar substance to keep my bowels from moving (and thus moving my uterus and creating blurry images). The procedure took thirty minutes. I was bored.

I got the expiration date for my housing voucher extended, so I’m a bit more at ease now. I’m still having a bad time finding housing, however. None of the places I’ve wanted to live in accept housing vouchers. I’m so afraid of what my previous landlord will say about me. Right now I have a huge list of mobile home parks to go through, a million phone calls ahead of me. Stress.

I am having trouble properly managing my food stamps because I have no fridge. My…counselor, I think he’s called…said that one was supposed to have been brought up to my room, but I haven’t received it yet. Some of my food goes bad, wasting food stamps. I’ve stopped eating in the dining hall. Too much oil and margarine in the food there. Margarine is gross and these extra calories are no good for my diet. I’ve found hair in the food and water on several occasions, I hate the noise in the dining hall, and I got tired of not knowing what’s in the food and the kitchen staff asking me whether I eat dairy.

Fruit is amazingly satisfying. An apricot and a couple handfuls of blueberries for breakfast this morning was all I needed.

I would like to post more but it's time I go out and accomplish something for the day.

Sep. 7th, 2019

females first

meh havent been keeping my offline journal either

I don't want to post because I don't want to think. Too many awful things to think about; not much good or interesting stuff to post about.

My chest has been hurting worse and worse, and I got another loan from the state (which totally surprised me, given that I haven't paid off the first one, $11,000), so I finally went and joined the cheap chain gym today (went yesterday but couldn't sign up cuz they needed my debit card and my checking account number, the latter of which I didn't have with me...after carrying it around for weeks).

I cannot LIVE without a gym. I NEED to bench press.

I tried not to work out too hard on my first day back, but my upper body is gonna be hurting tomorrow or, more likely, the day after. Oh well.

I was surprised to find that they have so little in the way of free weights. After I finished signing up at the counter, I went over the weights section and had a look around. I spent a good minute circling some large weight machine and trying to figure out what it was. I finally noticed someone using another one and saw that it was for lifting a barbell, but the barbell sat on the machine, on guides. Ugh. I'm used to free weights; to lifting and stabilizing all the weight myself, without the assistance of such contraptions. Can't wait to get back to my home gym.

I have a problem with a lack of clothes for working out. I have only two pairs of shorts, two T-shirts, and the two sleeveless shirts I used to cycle in, which are stretched out and show rather a lot of my breasts. Let me just take this opportunity to say once again that I hate men for making visible breasts a sexual thing. I can pin the shirt up with safety pins but...I shouldn't have to. And the shirt doesn't fit right in the first place because it seems to be a men's fit despite being unisex—tight in the waist and loose in the chest and arms.

I re-enabled my OkC account. Since I'm in a metro area, I was looking forward to some dates, but I have very few matches even here. Sexing/dating random people seems to only seem nice in theory. I want to date a butch vegan and there aren't any. I've got 84 Likes and no dates. Dammit.

The fruit-based diet is going quite well.

Aug. 25th, 2019

dark Mulder

I belong in a barn

Haven't been sleeping and feel like garbage. I live around a bunch of men and a dislike it.

Overwhelmed by the need to find housing without having any money. Got back just under half my rental deposit. Not enough to cover the deposit for another apartment, especially since I've had to spend some of it. The landlord said that I left the apartment "filthy." Some of the letter he included with my check is misspelled, so I'm not sure what I was charged for. Don't feel that I have the emotional energy to correspond with him about it. I so want to be done with this whole situation. I have a horrible feeling of having let someone down mixed with anger and frustration that I "had to" rent that apartment anyhow.

I should never have been in this situation. I didn't want an apartment anyhow. I don't ever want an apartment or any similar living situation again, but I'm forced to live indoors. I would like to live in a barn and just go indoors for showering and using this computer.

I used the check to pay for bus fare so that I could get my laptop and other stuff out of my storage unit. Managed to force everything into one 5-by-5 foot unit. I had to take away a huge suitcase full of clothing that belonged to my sister, and even then I barely got the unit door shut.

Then I got stranded there. At a storage unit on a country road in a small town twenty miles from any other town. Finding my stuff and re-arranging the rest of the stuff took longer than I'd anticipated. Then the taxi dispatcher took forever to send me a taxi then forgot to leave a message about me for the next dispatcher when he went off shift.

I was there waiting with no food or water for hours. The office eventually closed and I was alone there except for the few people who came to access what they had in storage. After the taxi trip, I ended up having to spend fourteen dollars for a train ticket plus ten dollars for a taxi to get back "home." This instead of the $2.50 bus fare I paid to get out there.

I'll feel better once I get some sleep.

Aug. 21st, 2019

females first

Waiting, waiting, waiting

Waiting for money so that I can make a move, so that I can afford the application fee for an apartment rental, while the expiration date of my voucher gets closer and closer. I guess I hate dealing with my ex-landlord so much that I've been subconsciously rejecting the idea of contacting him about my rental deposit check. Then again, it's been less than ten days since I put in the change of address, so maybe I was half just waiting for it to arrive. Well, I finally decided to stop torturing myself with waiting today and also got the idea of looking up the rental office phone number (at which I might be able to speak to someone other than the landlord). On the website, I also found an email, so I used that instead. It's apparently the email of a staff member (i.e., not the landlord).

In the meantime, I've been occupying myself with reading and trying to improve my Spanish vocabulary. The nearest public library does not have a great selection of Spanish fiction. First, I checked out this book of short stories, but they were literary works, and literature, both in Spanish and English it seems, is pretentious and dull and more about flowery language than telling a story, than entertaining. And I'm not in a good place for decoding metaphors in a foreign language.

So then I went back and checked out a more mainstream Spanish novel. Or so I thought. This turned out to be some sort of...avant-garde? experimental? literature. I got up to page thirty-four and called it quits. Nothing ever happened in the story; it was nothing but oblique dialog, a couple of people on the run from goddess-knows-what kind of shady past, discussion about their nightmares and their fears of being caught and what not. I got a lot of solid vocabulary out of it, but I lost my motivation to continue because there was no story.

So I went back to the library again yesterday and checked out a couple of books from the youth section. I guess it's pretty awesome that we have a youth section for Spanish books (as well as for Korean, Vietnamese, Russian, and, I think, Chinese books), but that's just California. Maybe. Or maybe it's a metropolitan area thing. The main book is a fictionalized account of the life of a child of migrant workers. I also got a shorter book that is for younger kids, about a princess being rescued from an arranged marriage. How depressing.

I was happy and surprised to find an English sci-fi novel of the kind I like (mostly narration rather than dialog). It's called Finches of Mars, and the author is Brian Aldiss. The story was weird and disjointed, a rather uneventful set of scenes set in the near future as Earth succumbs to large-scale violence and an international group of universities comes together to fund a Martian colony. And then the Martian colonists find themselves unable to reproduce living children, a fact that presages the end of the whole experiment because they'd all agreed to never return to Earth.

Then the Martian colonists lose contact with Earth, which had been supplying all their food and other supplies. Then their descendants show up (from the future), and give the colonists the means to survive and produce living offspring, which makes no sense because the present-day colonists would have eventually figured that out themselves (otherwise, their descendants couldn't have had the technology). The book was short.

I've also been reading a lot of feminist works. I have a whole list of works I intend to read once I'm done with the current ones. I'm currently struggling through (and considering giving up on) Catherine MacKinnon's "A Feminist Theory of The State." The author did a poor job of clearly articulating her ideas, and the vagueness is getting on my nerves. It gives a disjointed feel to the reading experience.

I've read Aida (gorgeous first name) Hurtado's "Voicing Chicana Feminisms." There was very little feminism in it; just a bunch of "Chicanas" (the author's term; not a chosen identity for all 101 research subjects) who are super attached to their culture. Several unsubstantiated references to "white feminism." What is "white feminism"? Given some of the subjects views on "white" people, it may well be just another racial stereotype.

I tried reading Marx' "Capital." What dull, pointless blather! Why would anyone read this? It seems like nothing more than one person's unnecessary and idiosyncratic systematization of one aspect of economics. I'd thought that there were sociopolitical insights in this work. There may be so, scattered among the vague definitions, but I'll just have to miss out on them.

My blood test results showed that, once again, my vitamin D3 levels were low. Unbelievable. I thought I was taking a huge dose. Well, now I've doubled that huge dose. The VA is now looking into my fibroids as well as my stomach problems, which my primary care provider told me is likely a case of Irritable Bowel Syndrome. So I'm scheduled for an MRI of my reproductive organs. She asked me whether an intravaginal ultrasound were ok with me, and I said "no" because that didn't work the last time I tried it: the tool wouldn't fit into my vagina at all. So that's why I'll be getting an MRI instead of another ultrasound.

Oh great. Just got a response from the rental office. My email is being forwarded to the landlord. I wouldn't be surprised if that asshole ignored or forgot about my email.

I'm so tired of people who don't read or seem to not read. I don't know how anyone gets anything done with the verbal sloppiness. There's an employment program here that pay's for equipment for work; I asked the administrator whether I could get a laptop to "continue my self-employment." She responded that the program doesn't pay for equipment necessary for setting up a business. But my business is already set up, so I don't know whether that applies to me or not.

I don't know whether I should make another appointment for a free haircut or wait a bit longer so that I'll have money to visit a real barber, nearby. The free haircuts are way the hell across town, and, now that I've been there once and no longer have enough foodstamps to afford a nice lunch away from the dorms, going won't seem like an adventure anymore.

Aug. 14th, 2019

females first

Fake Lesbians and STDs

I hadn’t heard anything about the colonoscopy I was supposed to be scheduled for, so I called the VA’s gastro clinic. I was told that I’d have to attend a consultation before the procedure could be scheduled, but the soonest consultation appointment is over a month away. The VA apparently has long wait times often; it instituted a community care program several years back to handle the backlog of patients. Basically the VA sends vets to civilian doctors so we won’t have to wait so long to be treated. So I was referred to this program. I may as well just use my Obamacare health insurance (rather than being seen by an entirely new doctor). I’d have to go back down to the county I was living in, however. I don’t have the money for that right now.

The nurse I saw at my check-up last week prescribed me some just-in-case meds for migraines, so I’m thinking that I can take that if the 24-hour fasting required for the colonoscopy gives me a headache. I don’t know whether the meds will work, however. It’s a low dose of something I’ve taken before, Imitrex, but I took it to prevent migraines last time, not to treat them.

I found out that I qualify for something called General Assistance, which is a loan the county gives to indigent adults who don’t qualify for other financial benefits (basically, people who don’t have kids). I was surprised that I qualified; I expected to be rejected because I haven’t paid off the eleven thousand dollars I owe on the last GA loan I got, but no one even mentioned this to me. Great! So I’m waiting for my case to be finalized so that I’ll have some money for transportation and other stuff I need.

The housing specialist here sent me info about an acceptable apartment, but I didn’t apply because I don’t have the application fee right now. I still have not received my rental deposit back, but I think that’s because I put in a change of address for my old name only last weekend (I put in one for my new name two weeks ago, but the landlord doesn’t know my new name). My old post office was still holding my mail because I hadn’t come to pick it up. I was worried that my vacation hold had ended and that my mail was therefore being delivered again, to my old apartment. I was worried that my deposit check would be lost in the mail!

I’m almost done updating all my stuff with my new name. So many things I’ve had to update: my bank, the social services office (which administers my food stamps and health insurance), the colleges I’ve attended (crap. Just remembered that I’ve forgotten one), the DMV, the Social Security Administration, PayPal, my storage company, the department of rehabilitation, my county’s transit company (which administers my paratransit benefits), and probably more that I can’t think of right now. I still have not made it down to the housing authority for lack of money, and my old name is still on my housing voucher.

Eating in the dining hall here is not helping my stomach problems, so today I asked my counselor (the one associated with this vet housing program) for the mini-fridge that I was offered during the interview I had before being admitted to the program. I hate asking for stuff. Yesterday at dinner, the chef asked me whether I wanted sour cream with my baked potato. They make special meals for me (which makes me feel awkward), but they still don’t completely get what veganism is, it seems. I don’t trust them. Well, there’s one of them I trust to make me something that’s totally vegan. He’s usually the chef who prepares my dinner, but he wasn’t there last night.

I’m really into this raw vegan diet I’m sort of halfway doing. The last time I tried it, I could not get into having sweet foods for every meal, but I’m ok with it now. I think the ten days I spent camping helped prime my taste buds for this diet; I had nothing but fruit, pita, and nut butter while I was out there.

I’m way too horny lately. I’ve been thinking about seeking casual sex, which I’ve never really wanted before. I need to get out of here so that I can get a date. Actually, I can date while here, but I cannot have overnight guests. But guests don’t need to stay the night to give me what I want! The problem is that I want to have sex with lesbians only, but one never knows who is really a lesbian when it comes to strangers. One never knows what STDs people have. Can’t trust what people say. What a drag. I used to think that if I ever sought casual sex, I’d just require people to provide printouts of negative STD test results, but that doesn’t seem practical. Can people just go in to a clinic and ask to be tested for every STD there is? I don’t even know about every STD. What if they are infected, but the results just don’t show up yet? The kind of people who would respond to an ad for casual sex are probably the most likely to be infected, lol. Too many logistics involved in this shit. The prospect of STDs is a mood killer anyhow.

I'm in the job center, which is closing right now so peace out!

Aug. 10th, 2019

females first

Gender Ideology is not Radical Feminist Ideology

The student stylist messed up my hair just a tiny bit, started giving me a line-up even though I'd said I didn't want one. Few things in the world look as unnatural to me as stylist-generated hairlines. The hair must be cut back from the natural hairline, which exposes skin on the face and head that is a bit paler than surrounding skin...they look bizarre and I'm very uncomfortable with having one.

I've been reading a book called Feminism is Queer. It is about the relationship between queer theory and feminism, kinda just above a 101 level. I was disappointed to find that the author has (or had at the time of writing) the same misunderstanding about the radical feminist meaning of "woman" as the rank and file genderists do.

Genderists seem to think and in fact take for granted that womanhood is a gender, that is, that it's a mental phenomenon that anyone can claim. So when radical feminists say that males cannot be women, genderists apply this concept of womanhood to what we say and wrongly conclude that we are some sort of "essentialists."

Womanhood is not a gender to radical feminists. It is not some sort of state of mind. Anyone who knows the most basic shit about RF should know better than to assume that we use the concept of gender to categorize people, human experience. When we use the word "woman," we mean "adult human reproductive female person." Therefore, males cannot be women by definition, not because we think womanhood is some special essence that only females can have. Accusing us of essentialism in this case is like accusing us of essentialism for saying that humans can't be dogs: humans can't be dogs by virtues of the definition of doghood.

This definition represents the same thing most people (or English speakers, at least) mean when they use the word "woman." This is the definition in dictionaries. Nothing special, no surprises. But genderists tend to project their ideology onto people, so they come up with wildly incorrect bullshit.

Aug. 7th, 2019

dark Mulder

Worrying About My New Name

I will FINALLY get a haircut tomorrow. My hair looks a mess. Took me a week or so to find a place that provides free haircuts for homeless people. I wasn't able to find the place I went to the first time I was homeless. I brought my clippers, but none of the guides, and I don't have a mirror.

While I was camping, I panicked a bit, thinking I'd made a mistake in my choice of name (not that I shouldn't have changed it at all). Maybe it was sparked by the couple of people who told me the new name is "pretty" or it had something else to do with their attitude towards it. I thought about it a lot, wrote about it in the impromptu paper journal I kept during my ten days of camping, and I realized that I had a subconscious reason for choosing the potential names I considered: I hoped that a different sort of name would help change the way people treat me.

I dislike the way people treat me. I think a lot of the problems is run-of-the-mill gender socialization that is the culprit; they treat me a certain way because that is how people treat females in this society. A little bit of it seems to have something to do with protectiveness, something to do with my perceived age or immaturity, perhaps, but that bit doesn't bother me quite as much as the presumably gender-related stuff.

So part of the reason why I wanted a different name was to encourage people to stop looking at me in a certain light (and acting according to that light). I wanted a name that would not read "female gender expectations." And I became afraid that I'd failed at choosing an appropriate name. I was almost upset with myself for having rejected names that I'd feared would be read as appropriate for males (and inappropriate for females). Because my first name is made up, perhaps it comes across as too ambiguous, too androgynous, I thought, and perhaps other things about me make people lean to the female gendered expectations side of androgyny.

Plus I got tired of saying my new first name (it has three syllables). And it had stopped feeling special before it was even legal. I think I made myself a bit sick of it by thinking and writing it so many times, which I did to get used to it and to practice my new signature. And I wrote it a bunch times more during the camping to try to re-discover what I'd liked about it or to begin to re-like it.

According to the journal (which I have with me here now), I realized that I disliked the way people had been pronouncing the name up until that point (which hadn't happened often...or was I just hearing myself pronouncing it in my head?).

Just yesterday, in fact, I noticed that I didn't like the way that I have been pronouncing it, and I've decided to change that. I was pronouncing the first syllable with a short "u" sound; now I've changed to a long "o" sound (which I originally rejected for the short "u" sound, if I recall). No one ever knows how to pronounce my name anyhow; staff here at the vet housing program ask me again and again, so changing the pronunciation won't incur any extra work.

I was thinking that I'd have been better off with a shorter name, a butcher name. But the butcher names I considered didn't seem to fit me well. But was I thinking of how I see myself or how other people may see me when I decided what does and does not fit me?

I'd thought about using a shorter version of my first name and didn't like it (with the old pronunciation, it sounds exactly like a relatively common boy's name, though it is spelled differently). But a shortened version with the new pronunciation and an extra letter sounds cool and is unique...but I don't really need that anyhow because I like the full name with the new pronunciation.

I wondered whether I should have used my second middle name for my first name. I had to keep reminding myself that I wanted a unique first name. But then, I've come across only one person who has that second middle name as a first name...but that's still one too many...but the name is easier to pronounce, easier for people to remember, and I absolutely LOVE it...but it's not unique...and back and forth I went.

I figured I could just go by one of my middle names if I never came to re-like my first name. Then I decided that I'd eventually forget about it and not much care as this whole new name situation faded into the past.

I went through a few days of being unable to remember what I'd so liked about my third middle name and feeling silly about having so many middle names.

I wondered if the novelty of a new name had blinded me to the best choice and then worn off, leaving me disenchanted.

Then I came here and got bored with the name. It felt just like my old legal name felt: old. I'd somehow gotten used to it. It was weird.

Right now, I'm ok with it. From time to time, I think about legally changing my name again, but I REALLY don't and won't want to go through that again, even if money is not an issue.

More people have given me faggy (I can't think of the right adjective right now and I'm in a rush to finish this post) compliments about my name, and I've come to see that people will see whatever they will see and I won't necessarily have much of an effect on that. I should focus on finding the people who will treat me how I like to be treated. Which involves not having shit pertaining to me called "pretty." Yeah, it was no big deal once or twice, but it gets annoying after that. The expectation that I smile and that something is wrong with me if I don't. Load of bullshit.

I wish I had a computer in my room. I get impatient with writing because I can type so much faster, and I end up not keeping a paper journal at all, but I'm rushed and unable to think of everything I'd like to post here in the veteran's computer lab.

Maybe I will say more about this in some later post.

Aug. 6th, 2019

females first

Reproductive Sex Is Binary and Is Not Socially Constructed

I've finally agreed to a colonoscopy.

As part of my in-processing for this transitional housing program, I went to have a medical check-up today. The housing program is on the same old base as a VA medical facility, and it's sooo convenient to live right down the street from the hospital! The nurse who saw me had impressive knowledge of my medical history considering that I hadn't been to the VA in forever (I've been using my Obamacare benefits). I'm still have stomach problems, and I agreed to have a colonoscopy because colon issues have to be ruled out before she can diagnose me with IBS. Whatever, I'm tired of resisting a colonoscopy, and having an actual diagnosis might help with my SSDI application, which should be decided within a month.

I also got some pills just in case I get a migraine attack and some pills just in case I have nausea (which I hardly ever experience with migraines) and vomiting (which I've never experienced with migraines). I don't know why I got a stool softener; we discussed so many medications during the appointment that I don't even remember talking about that.

I'm getting desperate for money because I'm going to lose all my stuff if I can't pay my storage fee. I'm going to apply for general assistance at the county social services office tomorrow even though I'll probably be denied. GA is a loan, and I still owe over eleven thousand dollars from the last time I had it. But I'm running out of options for income.

Menstrual cramps are back this month, which surprised me. I'd been doing better for several months.

The first chapter of "The Biopolitics of Gender" discusses the origin of the modern use of the term "gender," which is the intersexed care guidelines established by, if I recall correctly, John Money. In the beginning of the chapter, there's mention of doctors in this line of work using a variety of biological traits to classify the sex of intersexed people--hormone levels, chromosomes, the appearance of genitals, etc. There was disagreement about proper classification and ambiguity in the categories. And as I was reading this, it occurred to me that this stuff is what genderists were talking about when they insisted that sex is socially constructed (particularly in response to what radical feminists have to say about sex and trans people being unable to transcend their sex).

And that idea was a bit exasperating, because, if it's true, they didn't do a very good job of making their point and they probably missed ours (but doesn't everyone). First of all, the more appropriate term would probably be "medically constructed"-it's not like any significant portion of society participated in this process of classification. Second of all, classifying sex by hormones and/or chromosomes is utterly irrelevant in all the situations in which this social construction stuff was brought up because that happens only in a medical context; the overwhelming majority of people never have any idea of what their chromosomal configuration is or how their hormone levels compare to those of other people.

The only concept of biological sex that is really relevant to radical feminism is reproductive sex, and this one is most definitely not socially constructed, not any more than human sexual reproduction is socially constructed. It is also indubitably binary--1. siring children and 2. carrying/birthing children exhausts the possible reproductive roles for human beings.

If people would just pay attention to context, we wouldn't have stupid misunderstandings like these, but genderists seem hellbent on interpreting feminism as another context for exploring their personal identities. Personal identity is absolutely not what radical feminism is about. Radical feminism is about addressing female oppression. Whether people "identify" as female or not is completely irrelevant. Female oppression is imposed (as is all oppression), the imposers don't give a shit about how anyone "identifies," and the imposition isn't based on how anyone "identifies." To adequately represent female oppression, we must describe it as it is: thus we describe it in terms of maleness and femaleness, which are the categories upon which female oppression operates.

Just looking at my avatar right now and wondering: were there ever any gender roles that were not patriarchal anywhere in the world? Hmm.

Aug. 4th, 2019

females first

Why I got kicked out of my apartment

The reason my most recent landlord got fed up with me and my neighbor (according to him) and kicked us out is our complaining and other shit. The asshole mentioned my having "threatened" him regarding his continual failure to fix the phone line in my unit, and he said he was particularly irritated about my having been wrong about the repair being his responsibility. Well, I went to city hall and the people I spoke to agreed with me that it was his responsibility, the telecom repairman (who is the person who sent me info about the law) believed it was his responsibility, and the text of the law seemed pretty unambiguous to me.

The landlord is just a slumlord. One of his own handymen told me that his tenants have issues with him, and when I told the business tenant downstairs from me that he was kicking my neighbor and I out, she said that she didn't much like his service and wished that he'd asked her to leave as well, lol. This is the nice lady who gave me free household stuff instead of selling it in her antique shop.

The other thing the landlord mentioned is my having vandalized my neighbor's washing machine (or machines? I don't know whether she told him that I vandalized two). Funny that my neighbor never called the police...well, the police never came to speak to me, at least.

Yeah, I got fed up with her running her washer and dryer at odd hours, and, after enduring this for over a year, after having complained to the landlord (who allegedly gave her a washing curfew that she seemed to follow for a while and later started ignoring), I went into the storage room one day while she was away and cut the power cord of her washer with a pair of scissors. I certainly hadn't wanted to do it. I'd tried and failed to find a nice place to move to. I was desperate for uninterrupted sleep, and I was tired of being disrespected. I figured that destroying the washer was enough to get my message across, and I didn't want to put too much of a burden on an oldish woman, so I didn't touch the dryer.

At some point, she brought another washer. And she started running it late at night. Again. So one day, I went back into the storage room with my scissors. The power cord of the new washer was thicker than that of the previous machine, so I went into my kitchen, got a knife, came back, and sawed clean through the power cord. I hadn't bothered to unplug it; sparks flew and there was a burning smell in the air.

I took precautions on both occasions. I covered my hands and feet in plastic to avoid leaving prints or fibers. I left the storage room door to the outside open to create the plausibility that a stranger had committed the crime. Even though I'm the most likely suspect, there is no way to prove that I did it. But she apparently never called the cops anyhow.
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Aug. 3rd, 2019

females first

Might lose my VA benefits

I got into the transitional housing program. They called me last Monday, the day after I posted about it, and I moved in the next morning. Just in time, too, because I'd been scheduled for the shelter's extremely annoying and pointless kitchen duty, and my first shift would have been lunch time on the day I moved out.

Now I have a studio on an old AF base. I'm living out in the middle of nowhere; the nearest grocery store is about three miles away. In contrast, the shelter is conveniently located a block from downtown. This is an ugly urban suburb of a large metro city. I dislike the area.

The liaison I had to see as part of the housing program convinced me to have someone see about whether I could claim VA disability (because I was discharged for being on anti-depressants). She ended up finding out info about the lack of time I spent on active duty, so I may now lose benefits that I was erroneously qualified for. I don't much care about losing VA healthcare because I have Obamacare, but I'm worried that I won't qualify for homeless services anymore, which is a big deal given my recurring episodes of homelessness. She said my participation on my current program wouldn't be affected, but I'm still worried.

I've been worried about this ever since I was found eligible for VA healthcare years ago, the first time I was homeless (as an adult). Given how little I'd done while enlisted, it didn't seem right that I'd qualified, and I've always thought that someone might notice a mistake in my records one day. While, perhaps that day has come, and it seems it's kinda my fault for agreeing to the disability claim thing. It's just that the liaison said she'd send anonymous information, so I didn't expect her to look up anything about me in the process of sending the email to the claim specialist.

The goddamned librarians have configured the library computers such that users can't execute or install extra programs, so I can't run my portable Colemak program. So I'm forced to type with the QWERTY layout, which is a huge pain in the ass. I haven't used it since that first time I was homeless; that's when I decided to learn Colemak.

We have a dining hall at the base. The staff seem to be having a rough time figuring out what veganism is. They keep asking me whether I eat cheese, and I was actually told that a cheesy dish was vegan my first day there. It tasted weird, so I started probing it, and, lo and behold, I found lurking under the tater tots the telltale stringiness of cheese. Someone asked me whether I eat fish. They started making special dishes for me a couple of days ago, and one of these included honey two whole roasted carrots. This situation is awkward for me.

Most foods are vegan. Creating a vegan dish isn't difficult. Except for people who are accustomed to animal-product-heavy diets. SAD includes animal products in so many dishes that coming up with vegan alternatives requires a lot of thinking. This is why I like to counsel would-be vegans who are transitioning from SAD to NOT try to re-create SAD dishes. SAD incorporates a mindset that animal flesh is central, fundamental to meals, and sides are planned around this central element. Having this mindset is a good way to fail a new vegan diet.

Due in part to my stomach issues, I'm pursuing a partially raw vegan diet. I've discovered a secret: although salad greens are bitter by themselves and fruit is often too sweet, they work well together. I'm eating lots of nuts, seeds, fruit (mostly dried), dark chocolate, and greens now. I won't be going to the dining hall for breakfast much anymore (it's served way too damn early anyhow). Maybe I'll just go for dinner and occasional lunches. The dining hall food is salty, oily, lacking in fresh fruit and veggies, and overall not very healthy, and the huge portions they serve are a bit exasperating. I will NOT be gaining weight here.

It took me like two hours to walk here, so I should be heading back soon to make it in time for dinner. Won't be a fun walk because this area is rather hot this time of year.
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Jul. 28th, 2019

females first

Homelessness: The Fourth Time

I was a kid the first time I was homeless. I vaguely remember being in the family car all the time before age 5, then spending months if not a year in a motel room with my family. A bunch of us had to hide every time the maid delivered new towels because that many people were not supposed to be sharing one room.

I spent 10 days homeless/camping in the Sonoma mountains earlier this month. Some asshole who'd bought all the surrounding parcels of land and the road needed to access the whole area (how it's legal for the county to sell a road other landowners need, I don't know) brought out a gun and threatened to shoot me but he was bluffing and I just kept hiking. Took some of the relaxation out of my trip. Men are garbage.

The elderly lady who let me camp on her land was an hour late picking me up because she stopped to see the sheriff about the guy. I was scared I'd be stranded on the mountain with no phone or money. I didn't even know the name of the place. She made it up to me by treating me to lunch at Whole Foods (whose cafeteria foods cost a small fortune). I had vegan donut holes! I'd been dreaming of vegan donuts on the mountain. I feel like I should have given her money instead because of all the gas she'd burned driving me to and from the mountain (which was in a different town from her studio). I'd missed my Amtrak train and gotten to her town at 9 PM instead of 3 PM, and she'd let me sleep on her floor! She did so much for me.

My cell phone died the second day I was there. I wrote a short lesbian story, read a 1950s pulp novel called "The Girls in 3-B" (which has brief but favorable lesbian representation, which is unusual for fiction of that period), and read a non-fiction book I'd bought a year or so ago called "The Bio-Politics of Gender." The latter explores the "genealogy" of gender, or the circumstances in which the concept emerged/was problematized, according to the power-interrogating approach Foucault used for his genealogy of sexuality, "The History of Sexuality" (the French version of which I hope to read once I'm housed again). Too much academic style writing, but I made it through the text and appreciated the information.

I didn't have enough to read or enough to eat on the mountain. The lack of stuff to do was worse than the lack of food. We'd stopped at Trader Joe's, where I'd bought 14 bananas, 4 six packs of whole wheat pitas, a bag of 9 small apples, 2 12-oz. jars of mixed nut butter, 2 servings of tabbouleh, an energy bar, a pack of 8 corn/wheat tortillas, and 8 1.5-liter bottles of spring water (that's the only water I drink). I didn't want to keep the lady waiting and didn't want too much to carry, so I stopped there (I ended up making two trips up the mountain to carry it all). I could have managed some more energy bars, kinda stupid, but I'd had pain with a Clif Bar a few days before I moved out of my apartment, and I figured I'd just continue my diet while camping. I'm sure I lost weight, too. No stomach pain while I was up there, no gas, good bowel movements (except maybe I had a bit too much fiber at one point), and my bloating went away.

Spent one night in an over-priced motel right next to the freeway on my way from Sonoma to my old town to pick up my new DL and social security card, then a couple nights sleeping outdoors on an old Air Force base before the VA finally got me into a shelter the day before yesterday (after a lot of phone tag with the National Coalition for Homeless Vets). The VA also got me a meal ticket and a couple bus passes, so it wasn't too bad in the end. I just had to physically get out here to get any material help.

I'd hoped to finally get into the transitional housing program (which is much better than a shelter; I get my own studio) I applied to a month ago, but I had to be interviewed first. The interview was Friday, day before yesterday. The interviewer said she sees no reason why they won't be able to get me in by the beginning of this upcoming week (which starts tomorrow, today being Sunday). Hallelujah. I hope it works out because the endless kitchen duties required by this shelter are a pain in the ass and because I just now started feeling a tickle in the back of my throat (I get sick only when I'm around other people, and getting sick from them pisses me off).

My only issue right now is lack of money/transportation. I don't have my bike with me, and it needs a new inner tube anyhow. My old slumlord hadn't sent my deposit check by the time I checked my mail 3 or 4 days ago. Thanks to my sister leaving her shit in the apartment, my failure to gt rid of the books I'd planned to get rid of, and my being in a rush on move-out day, I couldn't fit all my stuff into one unit and ended up renting two units! This costs me $100/month (including the $20 discount I got off the second unit). I have $240 as of today, and I just paid twenty bucks to settle my final Internet bill. I don't have my laptop with me, so continuing my self-employment is rough. The bike and laptop are in storage on a country road in my old town; not at all easy to access.

For now I'm looking for quick local gigs. I've applied for a couple of research studies I found on Craigslist. When I finally got a chance to check my email day before yesterday, I found that I'd been scheduled for an interview for the GED Examiner position with the school board I applied for months ago. They'd given me only two days' notice! The interview date, which was five days after I'd moved out, had already passed.

I'm not suited to the job, but I'm thinking I'll call and ask to reschedule anyhow. Along with the ID I picked up, I found a letter from the property management office of an affordable housing community I apparently applied to goddess knows how long ago. A unit will be available in September, and my name has come to the top of the waitlist. Great timing! I had only two more days to indicate my interest in the unit at the time I got the letter. This apartment is in a nice college town (albeit one that's a bit larger than I prefer).

The client I abandoned when I moved out just closed the contract without asking anything else of me, so that turned out all right, although my rating dropped one percentage point again. Things would have been bad had the client waited for some sort of response/further work from me because I was away from the Internet, up on the mountain. I was relieved; I didn't like the project, wasn't good at it, and knew I'd lack the means to continue once I was homeless. The client said I left too many questions blank. Whatever bro; somewhat unrealistic expectations. No one knows every little detail about every physics sub-discipline, and expecting people (with bachelor's degrees!) to know more than the doctoral students and physics professors you have us grading is ridiculous anyhow. The professors should be the ones grading the other employees. Wouldn't have taken the job if I hadn't been desperate for money.

Jul. 10th, 2019

females first

Super Excited

I looked through my other lesbian publication today and found that someone has land up in wine country and is willing to let womyn camp for free! I emailed her today and got a response a few hours later. At first she said the land was inaccessible due to "quite a hike," and that she'd ask some friends of hers for other accommodations. I asked how much of a hike was required, and she said 1 mile. That's nothing for me.

So we got down to setting a date. She says she's willing to drive me out to the beginning of the hike, which I very much appreciate. And she was willing to do this tomorrow! I won't be moving out until the day after tomorrow, so we need to coordinate that. I said I'd call her back about the time I'd arrive in town, but she didn't answer any of my three phone calls, so I sent her another email.

I really hope she answers soon so that I can book the train ticket! It's actually the commuter train, so reservations aren't necessary, but I like to have things taken care of ahead of time so that I don't have to rush. The train ticket will cost only twenty bucks! There's some good fortune.

She doesn't live on the land herself (she lives in a studio with two cats...that's interesting for someone who owns land), so it seems I'll be there all by myself. What an adventure! I'm imagining no facilities whatsoever.

I'm SO glad to have these lesbian and womyn's land resources available. I used a similar source to find womyn's land last time I was homeless. I'm thinking I'll camp for two weeks, and by then my new debit card, my new driver's license, and my rental deposit check (if the landlord doesn't give it to me the day I move out) will have arrived at the post office (where I will have requested a vacation hold for my mail).

I was going to take part of the check and book a ticket to NM to stay at a woman's retreat and possibly search for housing in the state (living in California is impossible and I'm tired of trying), but I can see that having a car is cheaper and all but indispensable for visiting and staying on womyn's land, and it's easier to be homeless with a vehicle to live in, so maybe I'll try to get myself a cheapish car until I can save up for something better.

If I move out of California, affording a better car will actually be a possibility due to the lower cost of living. Incredible to think of it. Can I get a car for $1200 that is good enough to travel out of state? I'll be up shit creek if I get a lemon and end up stranded somewhere in the desert with no more money.

Well I just looked at vehicles for sale on Craigslist...not that CL is the best place to look, but the car plan doesn't seem like it'll pan out. I don't need to visit a trillion places anyhow. But how are train tickets gonna cost me vs. how much would the vehicle + gas and maintenance cost me? Plus I hate the responsibility of vehicles. Oh, and I almost forgot about insurance costs. Yeah, that plan won't work, not at this point at least. I won't have any money coming in for a while, so insurance will be too expensive. Crap.

I used to think I was lucky to have been born in California. Not so much now, not at the time I was born anyhow. Maybe if I'd been born in the late sixties or seventies, back when this place wasn't for millionaires only and getting a job was easier, maybe that would have been a fortunate situation. Is disembroiled a word? I want to be disembroiled from the mainstream rental market. I don't feel comfortable getting another apartment because having an apartment is being vulnerable to losing said apartment.

Someone listed in the publication is called jewdyke. That is the best last name ever.

Six more bags of trash down tonight and eight to go.

Cleaning the apartment is going more slowly than anticipated. I was supposed to finish both the kitchen and the bathroom today, but I finished neither. I spent too much time daydreaming and planning for womyn's land in the morning, then I met with someone from the homeless resource center (who said her contact might be able to find someone to accept my housing voucher in the town I lived in before this town), then I got a stomachache from eating almonds, then I needed to go back to the grocery store for more food, then I needed to recycle all the glass containers from my fridge before the recycling center closed, then I went to the post office for a change of address form and the opportunity to unload some more trash in the lobby trashcan, then someone called me about the camping.

It's nine minutes to midnight. I was supposed to wash the last of my dirty laundry today because my power rack (which I also use as a drying rack) will be disassembled tomorrow. I've got a pair of jeans and a pair of yoga pants left in the hamper.

I did so much shit today that my hands were cramping up as I cleaned the bathroom.

Jul. 9th, 2019

females first

Can't Trust White-Privileged People's Reviews

Now that I've cleaned out my fridge and cabinets and can't even eat the food I just bought, the manageable amount of garbage I had to figure out how to get rid of has become rather less manageable.

Under the guise of my evening walk, I dumped two or three grocery bags worth of food in public garbage cans this evening. Some of it was in an advanced stage of decomposition and will greet the nose of whosoever comes near the garbage can. The food-based trash is now almost gone; all that's left is a small bag of frozen bananas (turns out unfrozen bananas are not at all similar to never-frozen bananas) and the small amount of food I bought this month. But I still have a few bags of (mostly paper-based) trash.

I figured out that I can't actually afford a maid (the money I earned this last week won't be available until a week from today), so cleaning the apartment will be up to me. I planned it out and now the task doesn't seem quite so daunting, but I still doubt the job I do will be good enough for the landlord, not because he's picky (I wouldn't know) but because I'm bad at cleaning and have no idea how to get rid of the rust-like stains on the porcelain surfaces.

The floor very badly needs to be vacuumed. I don't own a vacuum. The only thing I can do is sweep it like hell and hope the steam cleaning makes it look presentable enough. What's extra fun is that I spilled a couple pounds of buckwheat hulls on the carpet a couple of weeks ago. I'm going to have to pick those up one-by-one.

As expected, my sister has completely ignored my requests for her to come pick up her crap. I'm upset with her. She left bags of food sitting around the house. Shit! I haven't taken that out yet. So I'm not almost done taking out old food. So I have to move her suitcases and bags of clothes and other random items along with all my shit.

I still don't know where I'm going this Friday. I couldn't get any information about the transitional housing application I put in. I actually don't expect anyone to do anything about it at this point. Today I considered buying a train ticket and going up to wine country. It also has excellent cycling opportunities and nice weather (besides the heavy winter rains).

I was hoping against hope that my SS card would arrive today (it didn't, of course), and checked for the mail twice. When the mail finally came, I found nothing but a copy of a lesbian magazine. That reminded me to cancel my subscriptions. I first started to cancel my Lesbian Connection subscription because it has an easy-to-use form.

I think I dropped the magazine and saw something on one of the pages that reminded me of the Contact Dykes, who provide local information and sometimes temporary housing leads for their areas. I thought maybe I could find someone who would let me camp in their yard for a while. Some cheap temp housing. So I emailed a query and the response is one more small but actually large thing to look forward to.

Up beyond wine country is the scary and mysterious true Northern California, which I've never been to. The Wikipedia pages for these counties indicate that the residents tend to be Republican, I know that these places are not ethnically diverse, and, although they are rural and probably outside of the housing crises we're having in this part of the state, I'm afraid to go to these places. There needs to be a non-white-privileged housing network so people can find out how racist an area is.

It makes my blood boil a little bit when I come across a review of an area because chances are the reviewer doesn't touch on this crucial information and never thinks to do so. Really can't trust white-privileged people's reviews of how "nice" the people in a given area are.

Jul. 8th, 2019

females first

Archspire

Another not-very-productive day spent in mind-dulling pain today. I had to go to the grocery store yet again. My food stamps frugality plan has gone a bit awry. I'm down to eating saltines, tater tots, and fig newtons. Even the banana and almonds I had for breakfast hurt.

I FINALLY found a metal band that I like! I mean that I like more than one of their songs. The band is called Archspire. They play fast and their music is groovable. I was surprised at how much I liked it after all those disappointing albums I've been trying.

I'm worried that I won't be able to get a maid here before I move out. Two outfits I called today couldn't get me an appointment until after my move-out date. Another potential business turned out to be a wrong number. Merry Maids was supposed to call me back with a quote, but no one ever called me back, which seems strange given that I said I'd like an appointment for this week.

My housing tech has increased my stress by telling me at the last minute that we need to meet before I move out so that I can be issued a new voucher. On Saturday I received a letter indicating that an appointment had been set for this Thursday, the day before I move and and probably the busiest day of the week.

Turns out she emailed me a copy of this letter four or five days before it arrived, but I didn't really read the email carefully and thought the attachment was something else. That's my fault, but she still waited too long. I spent the whole morning trying to figure out how to fit that appointment into my day.

Shit. The oven alarm probably went off while I was still listening to Archspire. I missed it and now my tater tots are damn near burnt. These are the expensive tater tots too.

Jul. 7th, 2019

females first

Change It Again

I half want to change my third middle name, and I one-quarter want to change my first middle name. I came up with a way to fit in that middle name I liked so much but left out. I'm not 100% sure I like this new configuration of names. Maybe it's just the excitement of a new name that I like.

Everything hurts my stomach now. I don't know why; I'm more relaxed than I've been in a long time (assuming the discomfort is caused by stress). It has to be stress. The doctor hasn't found anything and the foods that upset my stomach are random and alternately increase and decrease in number. Today Clif Energy bars, which have never bothered me before, made my stomach hurt worse and longer than many other foods have.

Due to the pain, I didn't get much work done today. I did lots of laundry and some more packing instead. I skipped my workouts again, even my evening walk. The evening walk is my opportunity to dispose of my trash, which I have a lot of because the landlord does not provide garbage service and because I couldn't afford to pay for the service myself. I don't really have a lot; I have less than one large garbage bag worth of stuff. It's just a lot relative to how I dispose of it; small bags at a time, in public trash cans.

I've earned enough money to afford a maid service, so cleaning the apartment is one less thing I'll have to worry about. Technically I'll be spending the money before I actually get it, but I don't expect that my client will ask for a refund or that anything else will go wrong.
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