Personal stories about insight, wisdom, consciousness, and responses to the conditions of life.
Welcome to The Breakfast Club! We're a disorganized group of rebel lefties who hang out and chat if and when we're not too hungover we've been bailed out we're not too exhausted from last night's (CENSORED) the caffeine kicks in. Join us every weekday morning at 9am (ET) and weekend morning at 10:30am (ET) to talk about current news and our boring lives and to make fun of LaEscapee! If we are ever running late, it's PhilJD's fault.
On Tuesday I was taking a break from the copious amount of grading I should have been doing and decided to Deja Me myself. If you are not familiar with the term, it refers to doing an Internet search on yourself. Back in the day, we considered it a sign of insecurity to some extent, although I admit to occasionally doing it in order to discover items which have been lost to the past…dropped along the way of the journey to now.
Part of the reason for doing so was that Friday I did an interview with my colleague Hank Smith who is also retiring from teaching in about 75 day…me after 38 years and Hank after 42. It was to involve memories of how we got to herenow and thoughts about what we may do in the future.
And this Internet search was no different. Items were found. And I choose to share them today, what with Winter Storm Titan bearing down on us.
There were acknowledgments that I had reviewed certain mathematical texts. I shall ignore those. I shall also ignore most of the links to comments I have made in various places. And apparently one can purchase a copy of my entry in the Marquis Who's Who i(Women in Science volume, as I recall).
When partisans start in with the "most important election of our lifetime" nonsense, it shows how little they really care about your lifeline. The 2000 election qualifies, but it was stolen, and not by Ralph Nader. It was stolen by the Kangaroo SCOTUS, Katherine Harris, and the entire Bush family. What does that tell you?
Democrats disgust me now more than Republicans or the tea party with very few exceptions. Republicans and the tea party (barring some agreements on civil liberties and ending the wars) stand for something truly awful, but it is something. You have to respect that.
I am an activist for my people. As I have grown older, I have more likely performed my activism with my words, which is the tool I have had at hand.
Sometimes I am repetitive. I am a teacher. Some lessons are hard. That's a clue to the fact that they are important. Important lessons need to be taught more than once, again and again, time and again, using different words, approaching the issue from different points of view. That's what I do. Some of you claim that I do it "ad nauseam." It's your nausea, not mine.
Many of you know me as the transsexual woman (or whatever you call me...I'm sure that it is not favorable in many instances). Some of you know me as an artist or a poet. Some of you see the teacher in me. Or the glbt activist and PFLAG parent. I am all of these. I am a human being.
I was born in a place and time. I have absorbed the life lessons presented to me since then. I am still learning.
I've tried to pass on what I have learned. I continue to make that effort, in whatever new venues are available, wherever I can find an opened eye or ear.
This is not a rant because I haven't got enough energy for that. I'm working from a state of exhaustion, which is the genesis of the title.
Over Thanksgiving Debbie and I drove over 1000 miles to North Carolina and back to visit my daughter and her husband and their two children (Rachel (to the left), who is 2 and mighty large for her age, and Zack (to the right, with his father), who just turned two months old). I'll sprinkle some photos taken during the visit in during my screed...which was generated by commentary left in a recent diary posted at Voices on the Square and Tuesday evening's diary at Daily Kos.
Upon arriving back home, I was faced with the last week of classes before Finals Week. So on Wednesday I gave exams in all of my classes, which I spent all day Wednesday and Thursday grading so that I could return them today. It turned out that I was able to avoid the all-nighter that was a distinct possibility, but the stress generated still made for less than restful sleep.
That's a major reason why I do not have something different prepared for this evening.
Let's just face it. I hate cell phones because I hate the concept that I'm instantly available to any one.
If you don't get me, you don't. Call again. I hate answering machines too, they give you the impression you've communicated when you really haven't.
So why be optimistic? This theme came up in a previous diary, and I'd like to revisit it, because I rather doubt that my previous answer satisfied my reading audience.
Why would anyone want to be an optimist in this era? One can easily pick from news items to find a good number of reasons why one shouldn't be optimistic, and so for instance from vice.com we have this:
Every once in awhile an occasion arises that I feel requires me to re-introduce myself to some people, so that I can introduce myself to a few new readers.
In this case, I sense that introducing myself to my FISA reader is warranted. I'm going to refer to you as Paul. I know that is unlikely to be your name, but I like the name Paul, and it was the name of one of my more subversive friends back in my hippie days. I think that it was likely also not his real name, times being what they were.
This diary can also be viewed as me taking a break from reporting on news stories from the transgender community and being a lot more personal.
So what you will find on the inside was compiled 17 years ago...and contains writings from before that. It also may be viewed as the introduction to the book I may write after I retire. But then, by now I've probably written a good half dozen introductions to that non-existent book, so who knows? We'll have to see if I ever really finish writing my life.
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