Thoughts on War and the US in general

The reason I started this journal (not the LJ, but the journal I've been keeping since January 16, 1991 (the day Operation Desert Storm was declared to be started) was so my descendants would know what my thoughts and reactions were during the war.

I sort of missed out on doing much of that, but here...

If I were a good Wiccan, I would be utterly and completely opposed to the thought of war and violence as means to an end. I'm not a good Wiccan; I may not even be a Wiccan.

I was opposed to the idea of the US waging war on Iraq this time, initially because I really do believe in the idea of the UN. I believe in the ideal of a world committed to working together peacefully and talking things out at a boardroom table instead of making people die to work out problems. I believed that the US believed in peace, and cooperation, and I was appalled that the government was even thinking of defying the UN and going and blowing shit up anyway.

I was listening to NPR while walking around, and a calm person was interviewing an expert, and I was ... boggled, I guess ... that the invasion of Iraq was being presented as something already determined, rather than something that was still yet to be decided on.

cryuntothemoon might want to offer violence to garnetdagger, who would return his thoughtful gift -- but I'm not used to being hated for who I am. I don't tend to spend time with assholes, anymore, not after Shawn -- I'm not used to being hated for who I'm with, anymore. (People who saw me with Shawn, actually, pitied me after they got to know me...)

I don't like being hated for the place I live. I heard from people, while I was still living back home in and before 2000, that if you're traveling abroad, you're not supposed to say that you're an American -- you say you're an Alaskan. American gets you the scorn and bad service and "all of you are rich arrogant assholes" treatment; Alaskan gets you questions about the weather, about the wildlife, about the daylight.

I resent being associated with an arrogant asshole superpower. I was raised gently, relatively simply. I would not object if MTV, microwave dinners, and Doritos vanished from the planet forever. I would not mourn the passing of McDonald's, though I might miss the occasional burger. I've never shopped at Old Navy or the Gap. I can't remember the last time I watched TV. My strongest connection to the US monoculture is that I'm on LJ and many of my friends are also US-based, and I reside there, I shop there, I attend school there.

I was raised with the core US values -- individual freedoms, honor for the historical heroes and observation of the holidays, freedom to worship as we will. I was also raised Liberal Quaker, and technophilic, with a stay-at-home mother. I believe that ignorance is the root of many conflicts, that hatred is learned rather than instinctive, and that people must be taken individually, not judged by my preconceptions of their culture. I believe that bullying is never right, and that with great power comes the potential to misuse it badly, and the responsibility to take care that this doesn't happen. I have learned that I am happy with things that are simple, and that simple does not equate to bad or ugly.

I like my pampered life, but I grew up without most of the things that my peers take for granted. No toilet. No running water. No TV. No garage. No grocery store within five miles. I also grew up with love and support and education and beauty that I take for granted, that other people did not have. My father never hit my mother. There was always enough money for books. If I was interested in something, I could study it. No matter what I decided, I knew my parents would still love me, though they might be fearfully upset.

Why I can't take insincere compliments

I was raised as the cherished child of a loving household, with an equally adored little sister. We were, for the most part, good kids, and while FatherSir lost his temper over stuff, it was always clear that we had screwed up in some way (had broken a rule, were fighting with each other or appeared to be so) if we got in trouble.

Lies were not a part of our household.

I can still remember the first time I knowingly lied.

I was in first grade, and I had been reading books a little above grade level over the summer. One of the books had been Encyclopedia Brown and the Exploding Plumbing. In that book, the toilet of one of Encyclopedia's friends shatters as boiling water shoots into the bowl. This is because a villain had wreaked havoc in the utility room, smashing stuff stored there, and incidentally squashing some plumbing and causing hot water to be released into the cold water pipes. Though my reading level was up there, my grasp on everything was not quite keeping pace with my reading, and I came away from the book with the conviction that toilets were dangerous, and plumbing errors could cause them to explode at any moment.

So, I refused to go to the bathroom at school, where the plumbing was out of my control. Refused.

Now, this was first grade, with class starting at 9:00 am, and school letting out at 3:30 pm. Far too long for a little kid to hold it.

So, I wet my pants at school. A lot. No one could really figure out why, and I was less-than-forthcoming on the subject.

Mrs. Stark asked me, before recess one day, if I had to go to the bathroom. I did. I really did. "No," I lied.

I remember this lie, because I had a firm grasp on what the truth was, and how it was important to tell the truth, if you said something. You could make up a story, but it had to be recognizable as something that wasn't literally true, and not taken as such. For example, stories about the life of the stuffed animal, or the fairies, were OK. Saying that there wasn't any snow when there was, or denying a physical fact, was not OK.

And I was taught that what you thought and felt were as solid as the trees. Mutable, liable to change with new information and so forth, but undeniably there. I am happy. I am sad. This is making me excited. That is making me sad.

It was inconceivable, to me, that anyone should declare that they felt or thought something when in fact they did not.

I was not really one of the popular kids. I was one of the acceptable, but odd ones. Thus, the Bad Boys found it irresistable to tease me, especially when I responded. I'm fairly sure that I learned how to deal with the simple teases, but the thing that undid me was when they started saying nice things to me in a taunting voice. At first I took them at literal value. This did not go well. I tried to ignore them. They escalated it.

By the time I was in 7th grade, the guys were getting so unbearable that when Mike Croteau started flirting with me in earnest, I automatically took him as taunting, and when he asked me to go out with him, and didn't take me seriously when I told him to get lost, I whacked him over the head with a library book.

I learned that the only people who could ever call me sexy were the obnoxious boys who I wanted to punch. I learned that only the assholes called me beautiful, and they were doing it to mock me. I learned that when I got a crush on a guy, he'd think I was a weird freak and shun me. Even if he was another one of the smart and not so popular ones.

It took me until digitalambience to begin to wrap my mind around the idea that a man in his right mind could consider me beautiful.

To write...

...That piece on why 'fame' isn't so much a thing for me, and How I Stopped Being Such a ******* Fangirl and Still Haven't Met Lois.

Any requests or possible entries for the FAQ from the audience?

Dreams on Crack

Dreamed that someone who we allowed into the house made off with my jewelry. Told his friend, who'd been the reason we'd allowed him in (the friend was Rob; Rho from GOA) (he's been showing up in my dreams a lot lately, actually... he looks 'cross between Mr. President and Darkside) who made the dude return the items (amidst much sulkiness).

It was a bus-universe dream, with street crossing. That universe is hotter, as it's based in/on AZ.

Woke to find that Tommy and then Angelica were showing up, and marxdarx was busy; first Tommy was told to go away, then Angelica had to be told. I hate dealing with little kids who are too young to understand when they're allowed to roam around by themselves.

Evidently votania found cockroaches in the kitchen. Not my idea of a good time. Marx and Little Fayoumis will be doing some heavy cleaning.

For once, my room is not the Disaster Area and Pit of All Evil. If I clean off that bookshelf, toss some papers, sort some more papers, assemble my dresser, and rearrange the closet a little so I may store the vacuum cleaner and my laundry baskets in there as well (there's the cubage, but not the room right now, if you follow) then my room will be not only presentable, but tidy. Never mind the Highly Symbolic mess on the altar.

Primative and wild

We got the notice on the 1st that today they would be removing the wooden shingles from the buildings and replacing them with tile. The removing's happening today; there will probably be other days for the replacement.

I'm one of those odd people who considers a limited, steady amount of obviously human-sourced banging all right, even pleasant. I think it dates back to my past, where FatherSir was building our house. When it's Real People working by hand on something, I don't tend to find it distracting, though loud metallic clanging when stuff is dropped is... unnerving, if I'm trying to sleep.

Right now I'm drinking the lethal cocktail that results when you ice slim-fast and add a shot of almond syrup, and a teaspoon of dried iced tea powder stuff. Not half bad.

Assorted health update

The Lunatic is slowly getting better and regaining energy. Quite a bit of that lost energy is from a wonky sleep schedule; the coughing has retreated majorly, and these last lingering bits of stuff are mostly my sinuses having occasional fun at my expense should I neglect to clear stuff out of them on a regular basis.

All going well, I should be able to resume donating plasma fairly soon.

My posture still sucks.

Plans for the Rest of Today

• Stop at the place, mail the thing


• Go to library, return books. Get more books.


• Run face-first into bookstore. Find Paladin of Souls. You know I want it.


• Stop by TJ's, see if there is anything interesting.


• Go to the dollar store, get additional waste pail, as well as screw anchors. Also, replace laundry baskets. They're due it.


• Hit Wally's, find pants. Drool over shower curtains in the pattern I want. Refrain from getting. Price no-burn cookie sheets. Look at sheets. Hopefully, find sheet for 78/80" x 50/52" mattress. We can't have too much air freshener.


• Go grocery shopping, and get something for Me the Omnivore with Carnivorous Leanings.


• Visit DDoS DSOS and schedule classes for next tri.

Happily, I have the October bus pass, so all of this is possible.

Other tasks...

Polish nails.
Vacuum living room.
Assemble dresser.
Do laundry.
Do dishes.
Clip cat nails.
Assemble black nightgowns.
Ponder the problem of black homemade pants.
Do mending.
Bead shirt.
Ponder the Raven cape.
Crochet on Earth-scrap afghan (recipient determined).
Rearrange bed?
Get wire from dollar store, assemble shiny curtain.
Watch anime.
Work out.
Did I mention DSOS, bitch?
Read.
Work on English essay...

Things Done

Stopped by the place to mail the thing.

Went to the library, dropped off books. Got Elizabeth Peters books, and a L*ck*y in return. Library has new checkout machines, automated.

Hit Waldenbooks for Paladin of Souls, and wound up getting Sunshine as well. The guy there was flirting with me, mildly. I recommended Bujold to him. I may well have seduced him to the Lois Side...

Went to TJ's, and got more of the chocolate-covered caramels. I was looking wistfully at the roses...

On the bus, got chatted up by a Christian guy who was an Irish mage in his past life. PoS was the conversation-starter. Saw Mark Jr. (the gamerguy who's friends with Mr. President who's built like Lord VK the Younger) on the bus as well.

Hit the dollar store. Got a duster, some drywall anchors, wire, wire cutters, a new handled scrubby thing, little Boxes of Holding, a dust pan for the bathroom, and two studded shinies.


Home. Food, regrouping, new spells, a little rest. Next -- onwards!

Technopagan fun...

Y'know those ritual battles?

Traditionally, they're conducted barehanded, or with staves, or with swords.

Somehow, I have the feeling that if there's going to be a ritual battle in this household, since there's no real place to swing staves or swords... that it's going to be on the PS2.