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Friday, May 6, 2022

Randomosity

Today is Day 18 of my protonization. After this morning’s session I’ll have seven slim days left.

YIPPEE!!!
~~~
Tonight is the one week anniversary of my
precious Coco’s end. I’m in broken little pieces. Someone asked if I’d thought about adopting a new cat. Sure BUT it’s too soon. I need to grieve before I can begin again. Coco was with me for 13 years and she was THE BEST. At this point I’d be constantly, certainly not intentionally, comparing any new angel to my ultra dearly departed. Wouldn’t be fair to either of us.
~~~
The down side of wearing high tops—it takes me so damn long to slide/shove my wonk-ass feet in and lace them up. Takes the edge off the thrill of wearing such fun, sparkly kicks. Also, I’m thinking the turquoise glitter shoelaces might look better with these white/silvery disco chucks. I’ll have to check that out. Fashion…beep, beep!
~~~
In 1980 I paid ~$275 a month for a small studio apartment in the Cleveland Circle neighborhood of Boston. Today, 42 years later, the rent on that very same 275 square foot closet is $1675. KEE-RIST almighty!
~~~
Dream. I was working in a large pressroom. One minute I was the production manager, the next, a pre-press operator (one who takes customer files, making them ready for the printing press), then I was a graphic designer. The situation—my work position, the particular print-job I was engaged with, the client, everything—was shifting so fast. I was standing, spinning around, lost in giant metal stacks of paper, wondering who I was and what the hell I was doing.

Metaphor much, Donna?
~~~
Did you know?

In the 1970s, doctors in the United States sterilized an estimated 25 to 42 percent of Native American women of childbearing age, some as young as 15.

Even the lower estimate—one quarter of Native women—is a whopping statistic. The sterilizations, subsidized by the federal government and often undertaken without consent or under great duress, marked the culmination of a long history of efforts by federal and local authorities to manage the reproductive lives of Native families…
~ Brianna Theobald, Reproduction on the Reservation

So then, the powers that be either want to force us Vagina Americans to give birth no matter what OR these same shitheelian wonders want to take away our ability to have babies at all.

Yeah, it’s all about power, subjugation. This has fuck all to do with some Jesus-y fantasy about the sanctity of life.
~~~
My father despises cats. He believes them to be Democrats. He considers them to be little mean Hillary Clintons covered all over with feminist legfur. Cats would have abortions, if given half a chance. Cats would have abortions for fun. Consequently our own soft sinner, a soulful snowshoe named Alice, will stay shut in the bedroom upstairs, padding back and forth on cashmere paws, campaigning for equal pay, educating me about my reproductive system, and generally plotting the downfall of all men.
~ Patricia Lockwood, Priestdaddy 

Cats rule.
~~~

You’re not really mad that I’m not having children.

In fact, I would probably love to one day.

You’re mad that I’m expressing autonomy of choice.

You’re mad that I’m considering other options.

You’re mad that I don’t view that as my ultimate potential.

You’re mad that I dare be selfish enough to make choices based on my best interest, something women are not supposed to do.

You’re mad that I consider it a choice, and that I, a woman, am exercising choice.

You’re not mad that I’m not having babies.

You’re mad because I’m acting like a man.

~ Alice Minium

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