Thoughtbytes
* The longer things go on, the more I suspect it's not really feasible to have a sane, productive conversation about racism, religion, or politics anywhere but face to face. There are just some things you should have to look someone in the face to say, and some things that, when you hear them said, you should be able to double check references of facial expression and vocal tone against the myriad interpretations possible to the words. When people are heavily, and personally invested in a topic, and try to discuss it through the screen of the computer, emotionality, fear, and rage seem to get in the way of any real accord or understanding. If you have to look someone in the face while you're talking about it, I think there's simply more humanity that exerts itself. The Internet Asshole factor is removed, and you have no choice but to acknowledge that the person to whom you're speaking is a person, whether they look like you do or not. That every person's story is unique, and different, no matter their priviledge or burdens, and that generalities, by their very nature, do not stand up to scrutiny. The internet makes it too easy for people to forget that. Especially the part about there being a person behind the icon.
* I have really horrible dental habits. This is going to bite me in the arse later on, I just know it. This is only relevant to today because I have finally run out of manouvring room on finding a local dentist. I must see one within the month, and of course, the dental coverage of Dominus' insurance is simply pathetic. *Sigh* Another money pit, my teeth. THIS is why I don't go to the dentist; there's always ten or twelve things I feel more justified in spending that money on. I guess I feel kind of like that about most doctors.
* My Grandfather's cancer is back. Given that I was prepared to lose him two years ago, I don't know how to respond to this. He and I are not close, though he still stands in my mind as the best human being my family has to offer, despite his flaws. The world will be the poorer for his loss, no matter when it comes, but honestly his presence in my own life is kind of apocryphal more than anything else. He's an example, an icon, and I keep him at that reach because to him, I am a three year old kid, and that's the only way he knows how to react to me. He's got too many grandchildren and great-grandchildren to make a special effort for me, and knowing that his flaws are deep and awful, I am more comfortable keeping him at the distance where his racism and mysogeny can fade from view. I know they're there, but I also know I can't change them in him, and that my trying would do nothing but create anguish and anger in a family that rarely needs an excuse to hurt each other. Karmically, there's no benefit to it. But beyond those flaws, he is kind, he is loyal, he is diligent to a fault, and within his own spectrum of what is right and what is wrong, he is absolute. He is true to himself in a way I rarely see anymore, and I can't help valuing that in this wishy washy world of convenience morality. I love the idea of his good parts, I regret the wasted potential of his failures, and I despair of what the family will do to itself when he's finally done carrying them all around. Whenever that may be; tomorrow, next year, a decade on. He's always been a strong tank of a man... but even tanks can just sometimes stop.
* There is a difference, I'm beginning to think, between the kind of person who can make things well, and the kind of person who can sell things well. Or maybe that's just to comfort myself over my own lamentable business skills. I really am dreadful at it. Easily distractable, prone to mathematical screw-ups, absolutely unrooted in time and calendar, tending toward fluster and fuck up when I get nervous, and so, so vulnerable to negative criticism. I am positively the WORST person to be in charge of schedules, accounts, deliveries, or bookings. And yet, as the Stuff I Make piles up around here, I keep tripping over the fact that it's got to go SOMEWHERE. I'm not making most of this stuff to HAVE it, after all, I'm making it to MAKE it, and there's money involved there, that must factor into the endgame in such an economy as this. I need a manager. Or maybe just a secretary who's willing and able to kick my arse over timing and production. *Sigh* Now, how to pay for that...
* Am listening to Vienna Teng's Island Territory. As usual, it's really quite brilliant. I'm so thrilled to see these beautiful Pianistas breaking out of Tori Amos' shadow, and into their own. The world is richer for the likes of Amanda Palmer, Vienna Teng, Fiona Apple, and Eva Cassidy, it surely is. I hope we get more of their like as time goes along. I'll take them over twenty million Pop-Tarts each and every day, thanks.
* Have finally heard back from Allstate's Personal Property division. They're giving us just about half of the actual value of our loss. The rest will be down to that pesky 'recoverable depreciation' clause, and so if we replace it, we must do so out of our own pocket, and apply the reciepts to them for reimbursement -- or, if their track record holds true, being ignored until I have to start calling agents at home and being all Debutante Granny on them. I really hate having to lean on people that way. Almost as much as I hate the fact that I know how to do it. And that I can. It's never a skill I wanted, let alone enjoyed the practice.
* I have a relationship of vague disappointment with Irish soda bread. The few times I've eaten it, it's tasted like sour, dry, crumbly biscuit to me. More like a famine staple than any kind of an indulgence. Now admittedly, having not enjoyed my first or second taste, I've not been inclined to keep ordering it from other cooks and bakers, therefore I have no real idea whether the nastiness was the fault of that first couple cooks, or if it's just REALLY not my thing. So I put it to you; what is soda bread supposed to be like? I mean I keep hearing people going on about it in raptures, seeing it listed proudly on menus, and even whole stands devoted to it at Celtic music fests, so what's the deal? Is it just a cultural thing that people are proud of here? Our forefathers ate this stuff, and we know how to make it too, so we're honouring them with the practice? Or does it actually taste good when made by someone who'se never made it for me?
* Boston this weekend, for![[info]](http://www.insanejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif)
shadesong's birthday party. Might be crashing, might be driving home. Hard to know for sure until we get there. I'm loath to leave the Faithful alone for yet another weekend while things are all higgly piggldy around here. Godric's spraying has really gotten out of control, and having us gone overnight is just the kind of stressor that makes him really act out. But... well, after this past month, I could really REALLY use at least a day or two away from this place. It's getting kind of too tight around here, and anyone who's seen my house knows how laughable that is.
* I ordered a bunch of patterns from Past Times. I am weak, I know this. But they're soooo preeetyyyy! And besides; they're all stuff I can make by commission. Ach, and we're back to the problem of me selling things again. Nevermind. I got them for my hoard. These patterns are mine, they are mine, they are beautiful, and they are mine. So there. At least I'm supporting independent costumers with the purchase, since I bought directly from the Past Times website. I shall have a lovely polonaise out of it too, just you wait and see!
* Albany really needs a Steampunk association. Seriously, we do.
* I think I've decided to paint today.
See ya!
* I have really horrible dental habits. This is going to bite me in the arse later on, I just know it. This is only relevant to today because I have finally run out of manouvring room on finding a local dentist. I must see one within the month, and of course, the dental coverage of Dominus' insurance is simply pathetic. *Sigh* Another money pit, my teeth. THIS is why I don't go to the dentist; there's always ten or twelve things I feel more justified in spending that money on. I guess I feel kind of like that about most doctors.
* My Grandfather's cancer is back. Given that I was prepared to lose him two years ago, I don't know how to respond to this. He and I are not close, though he still stands in my mind as the best human being my family has to offer, despite his flaws. The world will be the poorer for his loss, no matter when it comes, but honestly his presence in my own life is kind of apocryphal more than anything else. He's an example, an icon, and I keep him at that reach because to him, I am a three year old kid, and that's the only way he knows how to react to me. He's got too many grandchildren and great-grandchildren to make a special effort for me, and knowing that his flaws are deep and awful, I am more comfortable keeping him at the distance where his racism and mysogeny can fade from view. I know they're there, but I also know I can't change them in him, and that my trying would do nothing but create anguish and anger in a family that rarely needs an excuse to hurt each other. Karmically, there's no benefit to it. But beyond those flaws, he is kind, he is loyal, he is diligent to a fault, and within his own spectrum of what is right and what is wrong, he is absolute. He is true to himself in a way I rarely see anymore, and I can't help valuing that in this wishy washy world of convenience morality. I love the idea of his good parts, I regret the wasted potential of his failures, and I despair of what the family will do to itself when he's finally done carrying them all around. Whenever that may be; tomorrow, next year, a decade on. He's always been a strong tank of a man... but even tanks can just sometimes stop.
* There is a difference, I'm beginning to think, between the kind of person who can make things well, and the kind of person who can sell things well. Or maybe that's just to comfort myself over my own lamentable business skills. I really am dreadful at it. Easily distractable, prone to mathematical screw-ups, absolutely unrooted in time and calendar, tending toward fluster and fuck up when I get nervous, and so, so vulnerable to negative criticism. I am positively the WORST person to be in charge of schedules, accounts, deliveries, or bookings. And yet, as the Stuff I Make piles up around here, I keep tripping over the fact that it's got to go SOMEWHERE. I'm not making most of this stuff to HAVE it, after all, I'm making it to MAKE it, and there's money involved there, that must factor into the endgame in such an economy as this. I need a manager. Or maybe just a secretary who's willing and able to kick my arse over timing and production. *Sigh* Now, how to pay for that...
* Am listening to Vienna Teng's Island Territory. As usual, it's really quite brilliant. I'm so thrilled to see these beautiful Pianistas breaking out of Tori Amos' shadow, and into their own. The world is richer for the likes of Amanda Palmer, Vienna Teng, Fiona Apple, and Eva Cassidy, it surely is. I hope we get more of their like as time goes along. I'll take them over twenty million Pop-Tarts each and every day, thanks.
* Have finally heard back from Allstate's Personal Property division. They're giving us just about half of the actual value of our loss. The rest will be down to that pesky 'recoverable depreciation' clause, and so if we replace it, we must do so out of our own pocket, and apply the reciepts to them for reimbursement -- or, if their track record holds true, being ignored until I have to start calling agents at home and being all Debutante Granny on them. I really hate having to lean on people that way. Almost as much as I hate the fact that I know how to do it. And that I can. It's never a skill I wanted, let alone enjoyed the practice.
* I have a relationship of vague disappointment with Irish soda bread. The few times I've eaten it, it's tasted like sour, dry, crumbly biscuit to me. More like a famine staple than any kind of an indulgence. Now admittedly, having not enjoyed my first or second taste, I've not been inclined to keep ordering it from other cooks and bakers, therefore I have no real idea whether the nastiness was the fault of that first couple cooks, or if it's just REALLY not my thing. So I put it to you; what is soda bread supposed to be like? I mean I keep hearing people going on about it in raptures, seeing it listed proudly on menus, and even whole stands devoted to it at Celtic music fests, so what's the deal? Is it just a cultural thing that people are proud of here? Our forefathers ate this stuff, and we know how to make it too, so we're honouring them with the practice? Or does it actually taste good when made by someone who'se never made it for me?
* Boston this weekend, for
shadesong's birthday party. Might be crashing, might be driving home. Hard to know for sure until we get there. I'm loath to leave the Faithful alone for yet another weekend while things are all higgly piggldy around here. Godric's spraying has really gotten out of control, and having us gone overnight is just the kind of stressor that makes him really act out. But... well, after this past month, I could really REALLY use at least a day or two away from this place. It's getting kind of too tight around here, and anyone who's seen my house knows how laughable that is.* I ordered a bunch of patterns from Past Times. I am weak, I know this. But they're soooo preeetyyyy! And besides; they're all stuff I can make by commission. Ach, and we're back to the problem of me selling things again. Nevermind. I got them for my hoard. These patterns are mine, they are mine, they are beautiful, and they are mine. So there. At least I'm supporting independent costumers with the purchase, since I bought directly from the Past Times website. I shall have a lovely polonaise out of it too, just you wait and see!
* Albany really needs a Steampunk association. Seriously, we do.
* I think I've decided to paint today.
See ya!