When your doctor says "take this medicine with a full meal. Not just a yogurt or a bagel. A full meal." you should probably listen.
Did I?
For the most part, until the last pill today. I've been taking antibiotics for my sinus infection. When I took it when I wasn't particularly hungry but wouldn't be eating anything for a few hours.
A couple hours later, and I could barely stand through my last hour of work. The cramps were unbelievably painful. It was almost as bad as a bad menstrual cramp day. You know, the kind where you just want to lay on the floor, cry and try to fart just in case this time it will help? Really really really uncomfortable.
Moral of the story, listen to your doctor.
Monday, March 22, 2010
Thursday, March 11, 2010
The Vagina Monologues
Tonight was the first performance of the Vagina Monologues at St. Olaf this year. I went to see them for the first time last year, and loved it.
Again, this time, I loved it! It was uplifting and moving and fantastic. I have never known how to answer the question: What would your vagina wear? This year, maybe because of the weather, I think I finally know what my vagina would wear. A snuggie. While drinking a mug of chai latte during a thunderstorm. Of course, it could also wear sweatpants if it wanted.
In any case, this year the Vagina Monologues is bringing attention to the DRC, the Democratic Republic of Congo, where thousands of women and girls are victims of sexual violence and rape, a very effective and dehumanizing weapon to use against an ethnic group. It's been used in hundreds of wars and conflicts, but most people today don't realize it still exists in the world. The Congolese monologue was incredibly moving, and listed rules that a 17 year old Congolese girl made after being held as a sex slave for 2 years, being raped three times a day, and giving birth to her captors child, and finally escaping.
The Vagina Monologues make me proud to have a vagina and to be a feminist. While my transgenderism makes me reluctant to identify myself as having a vagina and being a feminist, those are two things I cannot part with. Having a vagina and being a feminist does not make one a woman, it seems.
Again, this time, I loved it! It was uplifting and moving and fantastic. I have never known how to answer the question: What would your vagina wear? This year, maybe because of the weather, I think I finally know what my vagina would wear. A snuggie. While drinking a mug of chai latte during a thunderstorm. Of course, it could also wear sweatpants if it wanted.
In any case, this year the Vagina Monologues is bringing attention to the DRC, the Democratic Republic of Congo, where thousands of women and girls are victims of sexual violence and rape, a very effective and dehumanizing weapon to use against an ethnic group. It's been used in hundreds of wars and conflicts, but most people today don't realize it still exists in the world. The Congolese monologue was incredibly moving, and listed rules that a 17 year old Congolese girl made after being held as a sex slave for 2 years, being raped three times a day, and giving birth to her captors child, and finally escaping.
The Vagina Monologues make me proud to have a vagina and to be a feminist. While my transgenderism makes me reluctant to identify myself as having a vagina and being a feminist, those are two things I cannot part with. Having a vagina and being a feminist does not make one a woman, it seems.
Foggy Walks
Walking down a foggy, well-lit street is a dream. I walk and walk but I feel like I'm floating. I can see dim shapes but can never tell what they are. I just know they're there. I see disembodied lights zoom past, and they sound like they should be cars, but I cannot see the cars and the sound is a mile away.
There are people. Or, I assume they're people. I can't tell if they're walking towards me or away from me. I cannot tell who they are, or what they look like until we are on top of each other. Then I see the white glint of eye contact and a toothy smile. Then they're gone, and I can't even make out what the button on their backpack reads. Then it is just me, and one person walking away.
I jump as a streetlight turns off. It's the streetlight that always turns off, or on, as I walk past it. Every day, like Dumbledore with his Put Outer, the light turns off, or on. Even in a foggy dreamland, the light goes off, suddenly and surprisingly.
The person ahead of me is gone. I can't tell where they went, or could have gone in the few seconds I was glaring at the streetlight. Everything is gone. All I can see of Hogwarts is the foggy outline of a giant H, which I assume is a goalpost from the rugby field. I cannot even see the familiar lights of the library or the smokestack from the power plant. All I can see is streetlights and the lights of Mary Titus' living room, where I imagine she is curled up in a chair with a mug of tea, reading southern feminist literature, listening to her cockatoo squawk because that's what Mary Titus does.
More carless lights drive by. One pair of lights are playing My Sharona loudly. Dogs bark, worlds away. I cough, and even that sounds like it is a million miles from my throat. I am floating. The splashing from my boots in the puddles are a distant lakeshore.
I do not feel anything, or hear anything, or see anything but distance.
And that is why I love fog.
There are people. Or, I assume they're people. I can't tell if they're walking towards me or away from me. I cannot tell who they are, or what they look like until we are on top of each other. Then I see the white glint of eye contact and a toothy smile. Then they're gone, and I can't even make out what the button on their backpack reads. Then it is just me, and one person walking away.
I jump as a streetlight turns off. It's the streetlight that always turns off, or on, as I walk past it. Every day, like Dumbledore with his Put Outer, the light turns off, or on. Even in a foggy dreamland, the light goes off, suddenly and surprisingly.
The person ahead of me is gone. I can't tell where they went, or could have gone in the few seconds I was glaring at the streetlight. Everything is gone. All I can see of Hogwarts is the foggy outline of a giant H, which I assume is a goalpost from the rugby field. I cannot even see the familiar lights of the library or the smokestack from the power plant. All I can see is streetlights and the lights of Mary Titus' living room, where I imagine she is curled up in a chair with a mug of tea, reading southern feminist literature, listening to her cockatoo squawk because that's what Mary Titus does.
More carless lights drive by. One pair of lights are playing My Sharona loudly. Dogs bark, worlds away. I cough, and even that sounds like it is a million miles from my throat. I am floating. The splashing from my boots in the puddles are a distant lakeshore.
I do not feel anything, or hear anything, or see anything but distance.
And that is why I love fog.
Sunday, March 7, 2010
A Goody Two Shoes Weekend
I guess my weekend wasn't too goody goody, but I was trying to get rid of the cold I've had all week, so not much happened. Friday, I went out to eat at Mandarin Garden in downtown Northfield with Meichen and LaVana from my interim trip. It was good times!
After, I watched 10,000 BC and ate half a box of Thin Mints. The cookies were good! The movie, not so much. It was fun to watch, I guess, as long as you don't mind historical anomalies and a bad plot.
In any case, I fell back into a couple bad habits this weekend: first, eating a ton of girl scout cookies. Yeah, I ate two boxes in 3 days. Awesome. Second, staying up late for no good reason. I stayed up til 2 even though I was just dicking around. Ergo, I slept til noon on Saturday. I guess it did no harm, as I just spent most of Saturday dicking around too.
I also watched Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull, while eating Thank You Berry Munch cookies. Cookies, mediocre and the movie, worse. Not worse than 10000 BC, but worse than the cookies. The movies were equally bad. Both fun, but bad plots and writing and pretty much everything but the adventure. Although, after the movie, I watched a History Channel "documentary" about aliens teaching ancient cultures stuff, and they mentioned a few of the things in the movie.
Anyway, back to the goody goody ness of the weekend. I went to a church today. Not the service, just the building after the service. The UU church in Northfield held a fundraiser for a local GLBT organization, and that organization ended up being GLOW! So a few of us coordinators went there to pick up the check and take a picture with the people giving it to us to go in the Northfield News.
After, I went to the coop for local, responsibly produced, organic groceries, and cooked not only one meal, but my lunches for the next week. How responsible of me... also, I walked. lol. I am so green.
After, I watched 10,000 BC and ate half a box of Thin Mints. The cookies were good! The movie, not so much. It was fun to watch, I guess, as long as you don't mind historical anomalies and a bad plot.
In any case, I fell back into a couple bad habits this weekend: first, eating a ton of girl scout cookies. Yeah, I ate two boxes in 3 days. Awesome. Second, staying up late for no good reason. I stayed up til 2 even though I was just dicking around. Ergo, I slept til noon on Saturday. I guess it did no harm, as I just spent most of Saturday dicking around too.
I also watched Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull, while eating Thank You Berry Munch cookies. Cookies, mediocre and the movie, worse. Not worse than 10000 BC, but worse than the cookies. The movies were equally bad. Both fun, but bad plots and writing and pretty much everything but the adventure. Although, after the movie, I watched a History Channel "documentary" about aliens teaching ancient cultures stuff, and they mentioned a few of the things in the movie.
Anyway, back to the goody goody ness of the weekend. I went to a church today. Not the service, just the building after the service. The UU church in Northfield held a fundraiser for a local GLBT organization, and that organization ended up being GLOW! So a few of us coordinators went there to pick up the check and take a picture with the people giving it to us to go in the Northfield News.
After, I went to the coop for local, responsibly produced, organic groceries, and cooked not only one meal, but my lunches for the next week. How responsible of me... also, I walked. lol. I am so green.
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