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The saddest part of these is when people have fallen for them.
Eventually we got ourselves ready for bed by bringing our dinner stuff out to the backstage area and washing up and using the dixie loos. It was so so so muddy back there and about a 10 minute walk and puddles everywhere, and of course I had not brought my wellies... Eventually I managed to climb into one of the tents we had set up which was unfortunately on an incline where someone was already sleeping and had a very uncomfortable nights sleep clinging onto a double air mattress with three people on it and the other workers on other projects playing techno super loud by listening to my audiobook of Lords and Ladies by Terry Pratchett.
Woke up around 8 because of the heat and the sun and the noise and felt panicky but spent 5 mins trying to meditate and calm down before it all flared up again. I started uncontrollably crying and vomiting and everyone was so bloody nice there! My performance people understood and told me to go home and some girl from The High Carpet place rubbed my back while I vomited and told me about the tree I was vomiting on in the pauses and how the leaf shape makes it wildly shake from side to side in the slightest breeze and that's why its her favourite tree. She also let me pet her dog while I waited for Laura to come back to drive me to the station. I bought a ticket and then we went and got a hot drink in the town centre while waiting for my next train to come. Panic attacks continued in the train but no more vomiting or crying, just muscle spasms. Got home, hugged my family and threw myself into the bath for three hours to soak and get clean and eat my chicken strips I had bought the day before. I felt much better after that and actually fell asleep in front of the TV later on. Because it's airy and cool and clean inside. Maybe it was the camping, maybe it was everything else. But I couldn't perform in that state. I'm so glad I went home. But I feel so shit that it didn't work out :(
It still has to be sorted out but I'm making Andrew do all that stuff because I don't actually understand how clearing works. But I had a phone call with a nice person from the department who seemed surprised when I was surprised she said she would like to offer me a place on the course, heh. I don't think I composed myself very well during that conversation, but she didn't change her mind anyway!
Holy shit, you guys, they're letting me do linguistics at Manchester University.
Starting in a month!
I've already enlisted the help of barakta who knows a lot about financing and disability stuff, which is awesome, but really I have no idea how to go to university in this country.
I was pretty sure this wasn't going to work. Not for impostor-syndrome kinds of reasons, real ones. They didn't hide how hesitant they were about me: because I didn't take AP classes (my poor rural school didn't offer any, though I spent all my high school life being told I should have been taking them and I think that'd have worked far better for me anyway), I didn't take the SAT because I'm from the Midwest and was looking at colleges in the Midwest, I didn't have the grades in college because I was so fucking mental but still years away from realizing it.
I was sure this wasn't going to work. Because that's what happens to me: I can do things but can't prove I can do the things. Same with job interviews all the time.
Everyone on Twitter is happy, bless them all, but it still hasn't sunk in for me.
Mom came through her surgery just fine and is back home. So far there are no complications.
I'm going back to practicing my contact juggling. I've retained a lot of the muscle memory, but some of my movements have gotten rough. I should also pick up tai chi again, that was really good for my balance. I'm still having trouble learning three ball juggling, but I'm also not sure how to fix the problem I have of tossing the balls towards me. Most people tend to want to toss the balls out and away from their body, so there are plenty of tutorials on how to fix that.
I picked up a new manga series - well, an old one but it's new to me - Goodnight Punpun. It's very weird and kind of dark, and I like it.
And I finished mostly setting my studio up and got to work on a new box. But the chair is awful and it kills my back, so I need to find something more acceptable to sit in.
Dwayne Johnson aka The Rock
Yes, yes please
Fast AND furious, hurr hurr
No thanks, fit bald men aren't my thing
I have a really short attention span. What was the question?
In reality I was only able to go for the long weekend. I spent an eye-watering amount of money on a trip that didn't quite work for me, between flights, accommodation, Worldcon membership (when I actually only ended up attending for half a day), and just general living expenses in a not very well planned trip to an expensive city. It feels churlish to complain about being in a position to spend a bit too much on a less than perfect trip, and in many ways it was good, just not quite what I'd hoped for.
( more details )
The article is about a High Court ruling saying that a "genuine couple can enter in a marriage of convenience." Even people who are in a real relationship, not seeking a "sham marriage," can apparently be told that they can't get married because by doing so one of them would attain an "immigration advantage."
Which, yeah. Is exactly what Andrew and I did. With no other avenue of study or work open to us in the mental/physical/financial state we were in at the time (or indeed at any time since), the only way for us to stay in the same country was to get married.
As I pointed out in a series of angry follow-up tweets, the only reason we needed an "immigration advantage" is because being poor and disabled have been declared immigration disadvantages. Marriage is the only route available to current non-EU citizens who don't make £35,000 a year. (Maybe one day that (or its successor at a no-doubt higher salary threshold) will apply to non-EU citizens too.) This is not the fault of any people getting married.
This is not the fault of people getting married.
You may start to see now why I hate the Home Office, why I am the unusual rat who jumped on to the sinking ship of Brexit Britain. Andrew and I both really don't want to but also can't move to the U.S., and there's no other country that will have us both. So if we're going to stay in the same country, it has to be the UK. So I want to feel as secure in that as possible.
When I started talking about this on Twitter, a lot of my friends pointed out that marriage is a legal status so of course people are going to enter into it for legal reasons: tax, inheritance, child guardianship, lots of things. In the UK, increasingly few people get married solely for religious reasons, so legal elements are going to be part of the decision for a lot of people. Yet it's a bad thing if any of those reasons are immigration-related?
Increasingly I'm realizing how much higher a standard immigrants are held to than the native citizens of not just the UK but certainly the U.S. too (where, y'know, immigrants and visitors actually have to say they're not Nazis!) and no doubt other countries as well. It's so frustrating to see this everywhere.
Was lately reading something about (male) travellers and those Amazingly Beautiful Women they saw somewhere a long way away after arduous journeying, which might be partly about Exoticising the Other, but also, I think, about there being some place (or time) which is not boring old Here, where things are amazing.
On the, Not Like The Women I Have To Deal With Here And Now In The Present, a friend of mine has a piece somewhere or other (actually I think it's in a volume in which I too am represented) about certain late C19th French (male) intellectuals complaining that women of their day were by no means comparable to the HOTT witty libertine ladies of the Ancien Regime in their salons.
And this led me to the thought that maybe if you are living in it no time is Perfect and Ideal: some may be better than others, for more people, maybe. Just as there were people who found, for them, good lives in times/places that are not usually thought of as utopian eras and most time-travellers would not put on their bucket lists.
Anything close-up and quotidien is, I depose, something the flaws in which you are going to apprehend fairly acutely. Though possibly the upside of that is, that they are the flaws and hindrances that one has developed work-arounds for (see Katharine Whitehorn on the little niggles about one's house that one hardly notices any more but has to warn visitors about).
I'm torn about whether I will sign up or not.
I made two works for the sshg_promptfest, and put them up on my Etsy store, thinking that at least somebody in the fest would give them a good home... and not a whisper. I think it was even more deeply discouraging because there were folks who commented on my fest entries (before the reveal) that they wanted them... but obviously didn't want them enough to buy them when I pointed out (after the reveal) that they could...
This is deeply frustrating, because I find it really fulfilling to make wearable art, but since I've run out of friends to give my SS/HG works to (they have said that they now have too much to wear...) then the only other way to give them a good home is to sell them; to sell them at a price that actually reflects what they are worth. But if nobody will buy them, then what is the point of making them, if they won't be worn by anybody?
Hence, I am torn.
I was waiting to see the Radiation Oncologist.
I kept working on it on Tuesday,
in a waiting room,
while waiting to see the ENT Surgeon.
And then I finished it on Wednesday,
in another hospital waiting room,
while waiting to see the base of skull Neurosurgeon.
All ballpoint pen.
It took me awhile to settle on which pony doing what for this prompt. Screw Loose's innate talent is to be barking mad, apparently. That and to keep the hospital ponies occupied. Work is made, complexity is added to Equestrian society, everypony is fulfilled. Weird wild web of commensuality. Road apples, gotta go back to bed, alarm goes off in an hour.
However, here is a list of 75 books for the next four years.
There's also Trump Syllabus 3.0.
Ferguson syllabus and another one
Lemonade syllabus and A Seat at the Table syllabus
Black Lives Matter syllabus and another one
Pulse Orlando syllabus
Standing Rock syllabus
Prison abolition syllabus
Welfare reform syllabus
Puerto Rico syllabus
Rape culture syllabus
Look out, Kindergarten... here comes Guppy.
I got to have brunch with my husband after dropping her off and then went shopping ALL BY MYSELF, and bought tubs of ice cream and hot tamales to help me cope.
Kindergarten stress was the tip of my emotional iceberg today, as Norway is failing very fast, and I'm deeply frustrated by what I'm not able to do, but I also know someone who got stung by 20 hornets today, so it could all be very much worse and I will be grateful for what I have and call the day an overall win.