AnasAbdin
I'd rather be in outer space 🛸
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shark vs the universe
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her
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Acquired Stardust
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izzy's playlists!
styofa doing anything
@theartofmadeline
YOU ARE THE REASON
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
Kaledo Art
cherry valley forever
Love Begins
todays bird
oozey mess
hello vonnie
Misplaced Lens Cap
seen from Argentina
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@useyourwordsasher
Thursday, January 2
We took me out to an art supply store, tonight—my first expedition anywhere not our hotel, really! I didn’t last long before I was exhausted (we chose a small one), but it did help with the general dislocation. I’m hoping to manage a *daylight* expedition, tomorrow.
New Year’s Eve: unwinding the Ace bandage was terrifying, and felt like my chest was going to fall apart. It didn’t, but I did not shower—instead I had a moderate vasovagal response, strapped it all back up, and made a New Year’s banner. Once I felt less like dying, I LEFT THE HOTEL, which was also kind of scary.
I’m being more intentional about my body and health than I’ve maybe ever been in my life. It feels like MY body—like me—in a way that has caught me significantly off-guard, and since I first remember being conscious, again. So I went outside, so I could take my pre-planned number of steps for the day, and cross those off my chart.
But the animal parts of me are VERY SURE I should be lying quite still, in a cave where no predators can spot me, and the speed at which I get exhausted concurs, so the walk was just to the stop-sign, half a block from our hotel, and back.
We drank fizzy apple juice, which made it a party 😂🎉
Wednesday, January 1st, 2020:
This was pretty much my day, today. I can tell a lot about the resources demanded by my body and recovery, from how much input my brain needs to feel very satisfied. I can’t generally color for long stretches; I get bored, but today? Well... as you can see. I feel like I’d be perfectly happy to just sit here in my bathrobe, sipping apple juice and drinkable soup, for the rest of my life. Oh, but, content note that I’m about to have a FEW things to say about opioid pain meds, addiction, and medical hysteria, because:
We did have to call the doctor about pain meds, today—they’re working fine; they don’t do weird digestive or cognitive things to me; all is well. But I learned from Aaron that I had a prescription for FIVE days’ worth? And like... I know every medical provider, ever, is a little panicky about opioids, but, A, y’all just cut off whole-ass body parts of mine. B, I am a therapist; I have lots of close contact with both; and if I had to choose—which the actual data STRONGLY confirms I don’t—I’d choose opioid dependency, well before I’d choose a pain disorder. C, I have real good ADHD, and a long-standing bipolar diagnosis; if I had a chemical dependency... I PROMISE it would not be on a CNS depressant.
But these are not things we say aloud, when we want the doctor’s office to write a script that will actually last *through* the weekend, instead of running out the Friday night before our first follow-up appointment, Tuesday (...SERIOUSLY, though; did anyone even bother to count on their fingers?).
...So I let Aaron call, and once the Very Concerned nurse had ascertained that we were just trying to call, you know, BEFORE THE WEEKEND; and that I hadn’t taken 5 days’ worth of meds in 2 and a half; AND had made a comment about “needing to taper me off of” the prescribed medication I’ve been taking for a grand total of 60 hours... oh, and then tried to say they just hAD nO wAy to write the script, since she saw our address was out of town... she finally talked to my actual surgeon (*not*, fascinatingly, the author of the original script); and about 30 seconds later, we got to have enough meds to last through the weekend.
Fortunate, since my discharge instructions repeatedly emphasize the importance of TAKING PAIN MEDS ON TIME and NOT WAITING UNTIL YOU’RE IN PAIN and CONTINUING TO TAKE PRESCRIPTION PAIN MEDICATION CONSISTENTLY UNTIL YOUR FOLLOW-UP APPOINTMENT. You know, the one four days after I wouldn’t have had any left.
So that was the biggest adventure, today, but it worked out fine, and I mostly just colored and rolled my eyes at scare-mongering that has no basis in research on how opioid addiction most often originates, and which actively harms patients.
Tfw you plan a whole-ass blog thing, to process and share, and... then you’re high on pain meds, forget you ever did it, and a month later think, “wouldn’t it be nice if my tumblr were more active, and I could do some of this processing there...?” Good thing I can back-date things, and delayed-post this one 😂
Pre-op/post-gabapentin—>post-op/post-nap/post-oxycodone. With thanks to my squid for the diorama components (the post-op LEGO self-portrait, I built, myself).
Monday, 12/30
The thing that struck me most was the astonishing speed of it.
That’s a strange thing to say about a process that took between 11 months and 25 years to complete, depending on how one counts, but you spend that long chipping away at a thing like that, and you expect something to happen, to slow it down. I’ve spent longer waiting to have a tooth filled. I spent longer, in fact, circling in the hospital parking garage, where a solid 2/3 of the spaces were—surprise!—closed for construction, than I spent actually waiting my turn to take my clothes off and pee all over my hands in a cup. I checked in at the front desk; and then at the surgical desk, where even a quick gender update took all of thirty seconds; and then upstairs, in the surgical waiting area—and then had about five minutes to make a post about the color-coding on the patient-name monitors, on the wall, before my name clicked over to blue.
Nothing about hormones happened this quickly. Hell, even a name change or passport update comes with half a dozen waiting periods, after you’ve done as much thing as you can do.
The thing I was the most anxious about, in the end, was my own anxiety; but I had hardly any time for it to percolate. We’d packed based on the timeline of my partner’s recent, minor surgery, so I brought a journal and crochet project and iPad and a couple of battery packs for my phone... but once the surgeon sketched out the shape of my new chest in purple Sharpie, and the nurse-anesthetist ordered me some gabapentin and pre-emptive pain meds (she was the only person I asked a question, and it was, “Will I wake up in pain?”), I had maybe five minutes before they wheeled me away.
The “something to relax me” in the IV hit me before we reached the hallway, and I got about 3 seconds of awareness in the OR—long enough for my nurse-anesthetist friend to tuck a cap over my hair—before I was waking up to graham crackers and Sprite, and a recovery nurse who was visibly impressed and maybe a little concerned by my capacity for !!EATING!! right after surgery.
After I put away my second tumbler of Sprite without visible difficulty, she asked if I’d like to go home. I responded with a (probably moderately incoherent) narrative about the variety of snacks in our hotel room; was wheeled down to the car; and drank so many soups before falling asleep until my next dose of pain meds.
I was waiting for significant pain and overwhelming exhaustion, but it never showed up. Soreness like I’d done too many push-ups the day before; the best sleep I’ve had in years; and an appetite like high school cross-country always gave me—and an overwhelming sense of well-being, accomplishment, and smugfuckery, for however long I was awake.
I walked 1000 steps, napped a lot, and texted a few friends about how weirdly easy it all felt. It all felt weirdly easy.
Plus, my surgeon covered the sutures and bandages with the same kind of waterproof dressings my most recent tattoo artist used. This both meant that I had absolutely no wound-care requirements till my next-Tuesday follow-up appointment, and that I felt like I’d already been through this once before.
See? Weirdly easy.
So I had top surgery.
And it turns out that’s more of an experience than I anticipated.
I keep wanting to post more detail (and, frankly, more blood and guts) than is really Facebook appropriate—plus, the filters FB needs to keep most of my family out of the way are kind of a pain in the ass.
So who knows if anyone will see it on this account, after such a long stretch of radio silence. But I’m going to copy-paste some catching-up posts, from my notes to myself and photos OF myself from the last several days.
Will I have time for tumblr, once I’m back to work full-time? Who knows. But I’m back here, for now....
People need to realize that there’s a difference between straight people and Straight People™
Straight person: Hey, you got a new haircut. Looks really good.
Straight Person™: No homo, but your haircut looks good on you.
In case you were confused 👌
Just like how there are white people who are gay and then there are the White Gays
White people who are gay: “I’m gay.”
White Gays: “I can’t believe I got accused of racism after calling that person a racial slur! I mean, I know what racism looks like because I’ve been discriminated for my sexuality. How is me being racist even possible? I’M GAY!”
Lmao all the angry White and Straight people in the comments, keep reblogging
neurotypical: i don’t have any mental illnesses or disorders Neurotypical™: Happiness is a choice!! ✨✨Have you tried yoga? Drink more water and eat kale ✨✨
cis person: i identify completely as my assigned gender Cis Person™: It doesn’t matter what you identify as, cause you still have Female Genitals! I’m not being offensive!! Read a book on Human Biology! 🚹🚺
men: I identify as male.
Men™: feminazis ruin everything, get back in the kitchen and make me a sandwich bitch
atheists: I don’t believe in god or identify with a religion
Atheists™: Don’t fucking talk to me if you believe in God. Open your closed-fucking-minds!! (usually targeted towards Christians)
nice guys: hey I know when not to invade someone’s space and I totally respect boundaries
Nice Guys™: IVE BEEN YOUR FRIEND FOR A MONTH AND NOW YOURE TELLING ME YOU DONT WANT TO FUCK ME ???? WHAT IS THE POINT OF WOMEN IF YOURE NOT HAVING SEX WITH ME?
this post got all kinds of better since I last saw it
This post is perfection across the board.
christians: i believe in God
Christians™: GOD IS THE ONLY GOD OH GOD IS THAT STAR A PENTAGRAM?!?!?!?!?! READ YOUR BIBLE EVERYDAY IF YOU DONT YOUVE FAILED ALSO IF YOU DISAGREE WITH ME IN ANY WAY YOURE GONNA GO TO HELL CAUSE IM A CHRISTIAN AND IM EXEMPT FROM RULES CAUSE GOD SAID SO
This whole post is gold
white feminist: I am a white person who espouses feminism. White Feminist™️: As a white, middle-class cis woman, I am THE MOST OPPRESSED PERSON IN THE WORLD! Don’t @ me women of colour, disabled women, trans women and/or sex workers. But let me steal your work. Kthxbai.
Friendly reminder that this hell site is owned by Yahoo, a company who are now actively advocating for the death of Net Neutrality.
Friendly fucking reminder that the site is actively forcing users to unfollow the net neutrality tag after 20 or so minutes of following it.
Friendly reminder that this site is now actively trying to limit our ability to share information and spread awareness.
IF YOU CANT HANDLE ME AT MY WORST, JUST REMEMBER THAT I HANDLE ME AT MY WORST AND THAT MAKES ME STRONGER THAN YOU
Oh my goodness this makes me feel powerful I hadn’t even thought of it like this.
Sometimes you gotta remind your squid that’s he’s a squid and everything is gonna be ok
Even baby squids just feel like lying down sometimes.
very cute but is the little dude sick? last time i checked fish dont just… not move upside down
squids are not fish. they’re cephalopods.
the poster is a scientist who specifically studies squids, so i’m sure they know what they’re doing. apparently this guy was waking up from anesthesia .
When you recovering from that 2% alcohol :) Cephalopods are such lightweights ;)
@nowitsaaron
tfw u say smthn gay by mistake around The Hets and the kill bill alarm goes off in your head and you look like taxidermy fox until they brush off the suspicion and go back to talking about straight people things
that is… that is such a specific description… but it is somehow so ACCURATE?
When University Unitarian Church leaders asked their congregation for thoughts on its $17 million renovation of their almost 60-year-old church in Ravenna, the response was mostly typical of a liberal
When University Unitarian Church leaders asked their congregation for thoughts on its $17 million renovation of their almost 60-year-old church in Ravenna, the response was mostly typical of a liberal Seattle church.
Will it have all-gender bathrooms? Could it be solar-powered, with electric-car charging stations? Is the new sanctuary ceiling too high, contributing to a corporate, rather than spiritual, feeling?
Only one of the UUs – a casual term for Unitarian Universalists, whose roots began in Christianity but count many agnostic and atheist churchgoers among their numbers – asked about a cluster of three cottages on the property, which house 10 formerly homeless people. What would happen to them?
Preserving the houses and bringing them up to code would cost an additional million. Instead, the church will tear them down – and replace them with 17 parking spots.
…
The decision to demolish the homes is part of a larger cultural shift at the church.
After a “year of discernment,” church leaders decided that “the culture of social justice at UUC leans more towards advocacy than direct action,” such as housing formerly homeless people, leadership said in a church meeting in April 2016.
“It’s important to know what you can do, and what you can’t do, and where government needs to step up,” the Rev. John Luopa, pastor at the church, said.
You have.
Seventeen.
MILLION
Dollars.
To spend on your church.
And you can’t squeeze a million out of that to keep people housed?
I mean, sounds like fucking Seattle, but FUCK.
TFW you realize at bed-time that the pharmacy inadvertently doubled your dose, but also you live in Donald Trump’s America; you can snap a pill in half as well as the next guy; and you are perfectly aware that you’ve taken it home with you, and they can’t reshelve it, at this point... and you’re insured this month, but next month, WHO TF KNOWS LET’S PLAY YAHTZEE FOR HEALTHCARE, THE INTERNET, AND NUCLEAR WAR, WOOOOOOOOOO
“She told me today that I have flat affect!”
“...mmhmm.”
“But I know all the facial expressions, and I’ve practiced them!!”
Settled agriculture didn't spawn the first states. Two new books help expose the real drivers, the pressures on marginalised people – and what they can teach us
The emergence of state authority was a logical consequence of the move to settled agriculture, or so we thought. Until recently, we also assumed that ancient peoples welcomed the advantages of this way of life as well as the growth of state leadership, since it was key to the development of culture, crafts and civil order.
Over the past 50 years, though, more and more cracks have appeared in this picture. We now know settled agriculture existed for several thousand years before the emergence of the city states of the Near East and Asia. In the past few years, archaeologists have been stunned to find 11,000-year-old structures such as those at Göbekli Tepe, in what is now southern Turkey. These were built by peoples who foraged, and who also developed specialised skills, both artistic and artisanal.
This is a surprise, and leaves researchers busily trying to get the story straight – something that really matters for a number of reasons. Traditional definitions of the state and its authority hinged on the right to raise taxes, and on its legal monopoly on coercing its people, from punishing and imprisoning them to waging formal war.
But as James Scott points out, roughly between 8000 BC and 4000 BC we find settled agricultural communities with developing craft skills – yet no evidence of anything much by way of state authority.
This also poses a key question, one which resonates in the 21st century, about whether there is a necessary link between state power and community life.
