I’m Whitey

So, I got my genetic testing back. No surprise that I’m 100% European. Not even a hint of elsewhere. Mostly German, Polish, Irish, British, Swiss, Scandinavian, and probably polar bear. But this also means I have a low propensity for any diseases and I’m not a carrier of any malignant genes, so... maybe I shoulda had kids. At 38 years old though, I’m thinking hell to the nah. I’ve raised boys who are teenagers now and that’s always been enough for me.

Also, fun stuff, I have the genetic makeup to build muscle like a titan, higher than average in the power athlete category. But I noticed this last time I worked out and tried losing weight. I dropped weight at a snail’s pace and built up muscle like nobody’s business. That... kind of inspires me to do it again. 

Possible lactose and gluten intolerances could be the culprit for my chronic stomach issues so that’s something to check out. Nothing a more conscious diet wouldn’t fix if that is the case!

All around, I’m really enjoying the results. The traits had me laughing a bit though. Very low chance of having a widow’s peak. Whoops. I’d say that I definitely beat those odds there. But it did nail my hair and eye color down. Dark/light brown and blue/green eyes. 

I’m pleasantly surprised that my health markers are so favorable, with definite areas I can fix, not just genetically cursed. Diet definitely seems to be the culprit, something I can explore with a doctor and will do.

Unfortunately, I don’t have a lot else to share. I’ve been too low in moods to work on any projects. Mostly been playing games and just trying to ride it out. It happens, it sucks, but it does go away. Sometimes I have to push a little but that can make it worse if I’m not careful. In any case, self care and awareness and now some genetic testing help to move on. 

Tomorrow could be a better day but I’m making the most of today by continuing to explore my genes. I’d highly recommend 23andme to anyone.

Just Being Lazy

There’s quite a bit going on in the world right now and, while, I try to keep up with it, I’m mainly just confused by how easily people are being sucked into heated narratives. Words are quite frankly being picked apart before people can even elaborate their meaning. Tribal warfare, I call it. Historically, it’s about color, gender, religion, pick your poison, but I think people forget that white people aren't exactly this united front. In the advent of America, especially, there was always strife against the Irish and Italians and so on and so forth... quite frankly, I’m kind of exhausted about much people warn about history then cherry-pick to mark themselves as victim or victor. There needs to be a lot more of focusing on the present, but there’s a circle-jerk going on when it comes to oppressions of the past. Who’s more oppressed? Better get out your privilege cards and... then what? Guilt, arrogance, tiptoeing on egg shells, anger, depression... I don’t know, but I fail to see reform anywhere in the picture.

I’m in the loop of it as much as my sanity can handle, but I’ve been embracing some escapism. Although it’s totally shit on my creativity, I’m playing games and poking at my tablets, watching TV and YouTube, trying not to worry about things escalating for the worse. Yes, we need change, but daaaamn, I’m exhausted. I just wanna spit that old 80s mantra ‘can’t we all just get along?’. 

Reform is necessary. Cops need more screening and training. Women need bodily autonomy (and men too need a say on whether or not they will support a child a woman decides to have)—yes, these problems exist. What’s hard is to focus on that while remembering that assholes will try to divert the real issues with extreme social requirements.

It happens. But I hope you’re all staying centered and focused and enjoying your lives too. Remember to follow up questions and curiosity with in depth research, not just ego stroking shit that confirms your bias.

Genes, Genes, and Jeans

On a quest for better health and curiosity, I spit in a tube and shipped it off to the folks at 23andme today.

There are some aspects of pursuing my own health that have always bothered me and, like most modern people, I’ve begun to wonder what genetic factors might be playing against me. I can gain muscle like nobody’s business but, as an adult female, I’ve always had immense trouble with losing any fat. If there’s a dietary sensitivity or disease behind it, I want to know. I want to know all the scary stuff too like whether I’m at a higher risk for the big ones or the rare ones.

I think the ancestry or heritage part of it might be fun, but it’s not a primary concern, to be honest. I’m fairly certain I’m mostly, if not all, European and I don’t expect any big surprises there. Not a big thang since I’m not going to go freakish into other cultures or anything of the sort. I’m American, and that’s plenty of headache, thank you very much.

Really, I’d like to max out my health potential and maybe fit into some old clothes again. Not a big stretch since I was still a size 5/7 at my smallest, with plenty of butt and hips that would never make me a size 0. But losing inches is incredibly difficult for me. Even losing 60 lbs, I only dropped a single pant size. Another 30-40 lbs, I might’ve dropped one more.

As for what else, well, I got my latest doll today, a Soom Dia with white skin. I don’t mean that figuratively; he’s snow white like my 1/4 male elf but he’s 1/3 scale instead. He also came with a vampire style head that I can have fun painting as well. I don’t have plans to get any more dolls. I have more than enough of these quarantine projects! And no more room, at that.

So that’s that. I’ll be starting a new workout challenge next week. The 90 day challenge You Are Your Own Gym by Mark Lauren. One of those Beachbody affairs, this one dealing with using your own body weight. No extra equipment needed, even though I do have resistance bands and hand weights to play with if I want to mix things up.

Leaving you with a pic of the new doll. Peace!

Shhhh, It’s Time to Think...

Silence is not consent.

I say this as a woman who has been sexually assaulted more than once in my life. But I also say this as an anti-racist white person.

I don’t consent to racist acts just because I stay silent. I stay silent about many things in life before jumping into action and the same went when I was terrorized by my abusers. It’s not because I haven’t learned to speak my mind or say no. It’s because now I’ve learned to avoid putting myself into danger as much as possible. A crowd full of possible white-hating people is not where I’m going to plant my feet and pretend anyone can or will protect me. I don’t run naked through a room full of rapists or tie steaks to my body and hang out in a lion’s den.

I need that fear because I am a person that often trusts too easily and puts others ahead of myself when I do start to care about them. Abusers can smell prey like me and I can’t give them any opportunity to get close. So crowds are absolutely out of the question for me.

And I am afraid. Because I have been hated for the color of my skin, even in danger because of it. Black people aren’t my enemy but there are always wolves among any crowd of people. 

And internet opinions? Forget about it. If I don’t simply echo the popular opinion or someone misinterprets my words, then the shit show begins. Rather than address real issues, I might be called Karen or told to die or worse. Some people these days go so far as tracking you down, trying to get you fired or finding out where you live, and so on. 

Long ago, I even stopped confronting strangers on the street because people have pulled guns and shot total strangers on a whim. Is my anger, no matter how righteous, worth losing my life for? No. Not even a little.

Want more excuses for why people choose wisdom and laying low? I’m not the picture of perfect health, mentally or physically. I can’t outrun someone and it’s easy to hurt my feelings and cut too deep. I’m not tough and my convictions have never been worth dying for. I’m an atheist but I’ve pretended to believe in god for zealots that have really scared the shit out of me.

My point is that there is no amount of pride that will make me speak before I think. There is nothing I treasure about my impulses that will make me speak when people can be hurt by my words. But then I suppose I’ve been privileged with a child-molesting uncle and a psychopathic brother to teach me how to tip-toe through the minefields in life.

Yeah, don’t get me started about privilege. I just don’t meet the squeaky little white bread criteria that white people supposedly carry. Is it because I’m a woman? Mentally ill? Socially awkward? Some mix of all of them? Either way, I’ve been fucked over by the system, by men, by POCs, by people in general.

It’s not anyone’s fault but the ones that hurt me. I stayed silent about them for a long time because no one believed me. Still, there are times where no one wants to believe me. And so I have learned to save my words, to find an effective way to use them, effective places to say them.

Again, silence is not consent. Silence is contemplation, revenge, justice to the weight of what comes next. I choose the battles to fight, whether I have the weapons to fight with.

Then I speak. 

With any luck, my words will carry clarity and truth. But I can’t speak for everyone when I am not inclined to speak even for myself. 

But I guess you can bet your ass I’d raze cities for the people I love. Because I’m damnably human and flawed nonetheless. So don’t think I don’t get it but ultimately think it’s foolish and pointless. It’s only satisfying selfishness. Don’t kid yourself otherwise.

I’m not going to say that all lives matter because it’s a sentiment that’s been bastardized to include telling women what to do with their bodies. When people say black lives matter, all they are saying is that they matter TOO. Feminism is also, very unfortunately, ruined by extremism. Where women have real systemic issues, there is also misplaced hatred for men. But there will always be assholes that come along to use movements for fame, greed, and destruction, there to attempt to destroy any real progress because the money is made in the struggle, not the solution.

I’ll say it again, I avoid labels whenever possible. They are inhibiting to growth and often stop people from thinking out of the box. What I wish for people is true equality, autonomy, visibility and empathy. We’ve strayed, people. We cling too much to pasts we were never responsible for in our lifetimes. We create guilt and strife where struggles are already hard enough.

I wish I could tell you to always love thy neighbor. In reality, sometimes your neighbor is a serial killer, a rapist, a pedophile. So be careful, especially with your convictions. Take time to untangle the great depth of grief and emotion, to insert some sanity and logic to those fears and doubts. Nothing taught me that more than losing my mother.

My opinion though. I’m not going to paint everything I’ve said here as fact. I’ve just thought about it a lot and this is what I can make some sense of. Staying at home gives me ample time for contemplation. I may not have the courage to stand in protest, but I attempt to use the system, vote and petition. Play a part. Somehow. Try not to consider bitching on social media as effective. That’s just screaming into the void. If you want to make an impact, actively fight the system, play the system, learn the system so you can understand how to change what doesn’t work.

Don’t give up on yourself or your ability to do some good in this world. Aim for that balance of selfish and selfless to make the most of it. Get really uncomfortable with silence because that is where you’ll find yourself. Then listen to some music, unwind, fight more battles, rinse, repeat. Just stay safe, if you can. Being a hero is usually tragic, the stuff usually glorified in the telling but cold in the reality. Sometimes, being resourceful is far more effective.

Why I List Myself as Self-Employed on Social Media

I guess I’m a typical millennial. Or Gen X’er. Or Xennial. Wherever they’re going to keep juggling my odd generation to, anyway. The longest job I’ve ever held was for 20 months. At 38, almost 39 now, I’ve had over 20 jobs. Pizza cook, bookseller, sandwich artist, retail service, floral manager, jewelry counter gal, and so on. Very social jobs that, for some reason, I was able to do, at least temporarily.

Because the list keeps growing, there’s really never a point in changing my social media accounts to fully reflect my employment wanderlust. I’ve been fired, I’ve quit both immediately and put in notices. Some of them I wouldn’t use as references simply because they cycle out the managers who knew me just as often as I make the rounds myself.

For all intents and purposes, my pride simply comes from completing hobby and design work and possibly selling them, sometimes just giving them as gifts. I’m not technically registered as self-employed and I certainly don’t make enough to call any of them careers. I work small part-time jobs mostly, enough to buy what I need and even save for things I just want. While it’s not technically self-employment in any traditional sense, my real livelihood in working comes from these much less lucrative pursuits.

I crochet and make t-shirts and customize dolls and design many things, all of them bringing me a true sense of productivity and pride. My ‘day jobs’ always pay for bills and things, but the fulfillment is very different from when I’m being challenged to really explore my talents and skills.

Of course, it doesn’t take away from the fact that ANY job I do is one I take pride in. I loved working as both a server and in carry out at Sports Page. In fact, I can say that being a florist and working with animals and animal parents at Petco were favorites of mine too, simply for the work. The management at Kroger and Petco, however, were largely the reason I refused to stick around.

Long story short, Kroger promised a promotion then changed the terms and harassed me when I couldn’t comply and Petco... fucking Tori, the warrior vegan, stiffed me out of vacation pay when I had to miss one day of work because of a flash snowstorm. Never mind that I covered every shift I was called in to do when I wasn’t scheduled... despite that, the work itself was satisfying and I would’ve stayed for that alone, but...

Yeah, I’m the typical millennial, I guess. Can’t keep a job. Absolutely won’t stick around when I’m being treated poorly by management, especially when the pay is mediocre or unreliable. So, for all intents and purposes, I just call myself self-employed. I make my way through life by employing myself in situations that don’t defeat my goals and potential for moments of happiness.

I don’t expect to be perfectly happy. However, I will employ myself according to what I hope to accomplish. Seniority in a job has never been worth the abuse to my soul and aspirations.

I do pretty damn well for myself, and I’m ever grateful to the people who make my lifestyle possible. It’s worthwhile to choose a job or career title that reflects my productivity and pride rather than change it up to reflect where I pay the most taxes.

Not a Bad Day Though

Looks like we’ve got a chance of rain for a couple days but Saturday and Sunday both are looking ripe for some outdoor photography sessions with my crafts. Mellow 70° weather instead of the hot as piss weather we’ve been having. Today? Actually not too bad. There’s a lot of breeziness so I went for a walk around 2 PM to enjoy it, get a little Vitamin D from the sun.

My BP has been hanging too high so some definite lifestyle changes are in progress. Starting off by drinking more water and ordered some supplements. Going for lipozene for appetite reduction, Goli for digestive and BP health, and a couple flavors of recovery drinks for after some intensive workouts. Those aren’t coming right away, but I figured water and diet are ones I can correct now. The worst part is that, with weight on, my fibromyalgia issues are a bit more frequent and pronounced so I do need to ease into any routine and increase activity slowly. When you’re already hurting everywhere, it can be difficult to discern pain as a warning sign from the typical nerve pain.

I haven’t been writing the past couple of days, but the muse is a pain in the ass as usual. Comes and goes at the drop of a hat. Today, I’m hoping my yarn and foam order shows up so I can get started on another cat couch. Of course, any excuse to use my new Clover Amour hooks!

But mail is turtling along as usual so it’s anyone’s guess when things will just show up. Even Informed Delivery has everything marked as unknown until about 2 days before it’s going to arrive. Sometimes I’m lucky it updates that early; sometimes it’s the same day. Again, mail impatience is real, with my stay at home mentality going on. I really just want to sit in the AC. I’m not a summer person. As my friend Joe says, I’m already fat, I don’t need to look sweaty too. Buncha pale ass piglets baking in the sun... okay, fat people aren’t pigs y’all, but I gotta have a sense of humor about it. Depression and low self confidence and being overly self conscious don’t get us the motivation to work out. We have to love our bodies WHILE we’re improving them, not after the goal is obtained. In fact, it’s very hard to appreciate a big change if you’re still convinced you haven’t done enough.

So even if the next couple days are relatively lazy ones, Saturday or Sunday I’m definitely planning to go sweat like a pig and contort for some picture taking. Hopefully, the weather cooperates. Cincinnati weather, well, trying to track it more than two days ahead isn’t always reliable. We get a bunch of freak fronts and changes last minute so it’s a tentative plan. Hoping it becomes the reality.

Dots Everywhere!

It simply wasn’t enough to have an Echo Dot for myself. So I had to get each of the boys their own too. Marcus had a blast playing DJ and asking Alexa ridiculous math questions, so I knew this would be a hit for them. They can control their Rokus with voice commands too.

Yay, spread the love!

It doesn’t stop there! My cats happen to love chewing on silvervine sticks (which are like a combo of crack and toothbrushes for cats) so I thought it was about time to introduce them to catnip today (which is just plain cat crack; that happens to be the brand name too). So fun will ensue once that order shows up too...

I did a template for the clay breastplate for Maxim this morning but I’m thinking tomorrow is a better day to cut the foam and start the clay work. I like to start clay early since the afternoons get hot. I’ll be working with air dry clay too, so I only have about a half hour window where it’s highly moldable before I just have to let it go and leave the rest to sanding.

Ah, I also have the clay hole punches coming. A cheap little set that I can use to get the right size holes in the clay. I want them to line up so I can tie or otherwise link the chest pieces together. It’s a new idea to try but should be fun to learn the results. I wonder if I could gently press some grommets in, for decoration, but I think I might try that on a sample mold so I don’t break or crack the actual piece. Not that I couldn’t glue and fix it, but I’d rather do some prep than damage control.

It’s still kinda early in the day so I may be motivated to do something. Another 87° day though so, even with the AC on, movement equals stiffness and sweat. Activities requiring bed sound pretty divine... I did stay up late and wake up early so I’m not exactly energized.

I guess that’s it. Gimme a cooler day for some photo taking and typing outside and I’ll be a happy girl. Otherwise, I’m just kinda winging it.