kiya

Just snipping out what I said of it but it's a thing.

Kiya's brain says, "Yeah, some people are just acorns." I snort at my brain.
Kiya says "(Acorns are edible but it takes a whole lot of work to cause that to be the case.)"
Kiya says "And some people are nightshade vegetables, you need to pay attention to which parts you interact with or you will get a hella bellyache."
Kiya does not have sufficient brain to keep going with the analogy but there are many many sorts of vegetables in the world to compare humans to.

So, a bunch of people on rasfc were discussing, in the usual newsgroup-disorganised way, the whole "Can God make a rock so large He can't lift it" notion. As it happens, arawen and I touched on that in a conversation about two weeks ago (I think we got there from 'tired of dealing with people who think that one's faith can be refuted by reference to a god that is completely irrelevant to it'), and he made a comment I found amusing about the physics of the question.

So, in fairly normal way, I posted a comment to that effect into the thread, identifying arawen as my boyfriend because, inane as that word is, it adequately contexts who I was talking with, within social norms of identification, for purposes of continuing conversation.

Though apparently, the matter was quite notable to someone, who has proceeded to interrogate me at length about why I referred to my boyfriend, whether this meant there was some sort of weird philosophical disputation involved with teinedreugan, why I felt the need to not anonymise my relationship into functional nonexistence, or some other such stuff. It's gotten increasingly bizarre. (The latest bizarrity is about whether using such a specific identifier is too much information and who's to judge such a thing -- which leaves me with a sort of wicked, trollish impulse to use accurate words that properly describe the relationship, the ones that I don't use because people find them alarming. I have not responded to this, as he has indicated that he does not want to talk with me about it, or for that matter brooksmoses, he just wants to make little snide pot shots in the hope that someone will agree with him somewhere, I guess.)

And this is all because the fellow knows I'm married and not monogamous, and thus there must be some Profound Deep Reason for me to mention my boyfriend, other than, y'know, it being normal to refer to one's partners in conversation as such, at least on my home planet. It was apparently this mention that led the fellow to claim my bafflement at the question of why I had not consulted teinedreugan (about his opinions of snarky dismissals of asinine philosophical masturbation attempting to refute a god none of us has any personal interest in) was disingenuous. (That was a godawful sentence. Oh well. I'll parentheticalise a chunk for clarity.)

Apparently, just treating a partner as a partner is remarkable, bizarre, a marked case worthy of comment, to at least some people -- it seems that most of the rest of the thread thinks he's the person who's making no damn sense, which is reassuring for a change. It was suggested that it would be superior to refer to him as a friend, to avoid raising the possibility of some sort of profound philosophical war about the nature of irrelevant deities, but even if I didn't find that to be an offensive suggestion, I am really not comfortable with the notion that I'm responsible for controlling someone else's deranged imagination. Herd your own invisible pink unicorns, please.


Also, in the context of this the synchronisity of this post amuses the hell out of me.

The Dope has thrown up another polygamy-legalisation thread, which has some reasonably productive conversation in it, aside from what I shall term the golddigging whore problem.

Specifically: a couple of people expressed that if polygamy were legal, the wealthy, powerful men would collect sufficiently all of the women that the poorer people would be deprived of spouses.

I just responded to one of the bits of sexism -- the standard presumption that it's only men who are interested in multiple relationships.

I'm finding myself completely boggled by the impending golddigging whore shortage that these people are worried about. I mean, setting aside the fact that the actors, politicians, and other denizens of the supermarket tabloid world don't seem to have any problems collecting as many MOTAS as strike their fancy right now, and this doesn't seem to deprive the rest of the world of a reasonably adequate dating pool.

But there's the whole ... okay, you're upset that someone who's primarily interested in being an adjunct to power and money may be going somewhere far, far away from you? Leaving behind all the normal people who are interested in finding partners that they love and care about, or at least can shag satisfactorily?

It's one of those things that leaves me wondering what the hell alternate dimension people are writing from. There was the guy who posted that he expected that most women were in the golddigging whore category, and I just wonder which one of us is the space alien. I've met maybe one person in my life who might qualify, and since we were in school at the time and thus nobody we associated with had significant money in the first place it's hard to tell whether or not she grew into one. I can't imagine my sample size is all that damn weird.

[ Must change the music to what's playing now, hah. ]

It's one of those places where -- if it wasn't so fucking bizarre -- would leave me wondering, again, how I wound up on this planet. Here I'm pretty sure those other people are the ones who recently stepped through the transdimensional portal without noticing the transition.

It was nonetheless nice to see queenofhalves link bitchphd, who mentioned Crittenden's book, which is, alas, about the universe I grew up in, more's the pity, but it at least reminds me that I'm not alone.

( Dealing with mild folkishness and other stupid recon tricks. )

( Weirded out by 'the BDSM community' again )

Also, for the amusement of all and sundry, not only am I the sort of person who would say "Your egotism is charming, but slightly confusing" to a partner, I just did.

And I'm out of rice vinegar. So sad.

To study: Lost Tribes of the Stop & Shop.

While leaving the grocery today, teinedreugan and I were followed by several members of this lost and mysterious tribe. The first words spoken by these mysterious people, out of touch with humankind for so long, were, "It's snowing! When did that start?"

We must study them, learn about them and from them, determine if they know why essentially all the packages of eggs in the grocery store had at least one broken. As humanx said, "We can learn much from their ways."

[ Note: if you think you know all of what's going into this, you're probably wrong. If you think you know some of what's going into this, you're probably right. ]

[ Note #2: This may not make much sense; part of the writing it is trying to work things out. I did some working-out talking to teinedreugan and later brooksmoses last night, but a lot of it's still under my tongue. ]

[ Note #3: I should add a wolf silhouette to my hawk icon. ]

( All these damned monkeys frustrate me. )

But we do not notice them even when they throw nuts and filth on our heads.

[ The Jungle Book, Rudyard Kipling ]

teinedreugan and I went to the grocery store. Yay food. (We needed food for dinner for tonight and also for tomorrow; autumnesquirrel and sstaten over for dinner tomorrow, and thus must be fed.) So I made a beef stir-fry with a really terrific marinade on the beef. Didn't put it in for long enough, because we only got to the grocery at seven, and even with a late dinner that doesn't provide enough time for a really really good marinating.

But the marinade was a decent-sized splash of rice vinegar, a lot of soy sauce, a moderate amount of sesame oil, a heaping spoonful of shredded ginger (I came to the conclusion that for some reason I can't keep ginger root around like my parents did, so I broke down and bought a jar of shredded ginger), and two heaping spoonfuls of cornstarch. Good stuff.

Mostly I'm writing 'cause there was something in the checkout line I felt a need to share with the world. This being a National Enquirer headline. (For those people who aren't familiar with this notable entity, the Enquirer is one of the gossip rags which occasionally wanders into UFO sightings and the like. Okay, teinedreugan insists it's not occasionally.)

Gist of the headline I never expected to see in the Enquirer: Shocking News: Clone Baby a Fake!.

So the net's still being fuggheaded. Which irritates me tremendously when I'm trying to get a message to brooksmoses before he goes to bed, and I can see the sequences 'cause I'm logged into another machine at the moment -- I send the mail, I check usenet, I check the logs on the machine, I see that he's checking mail . . . and that the mail I sent a usenet cycle and catchup ago hasn't reached there. It shows up twenty-six seconds later, which isn't that much in the grand scheme of things, but in terms of catching the last mailcheck is a big fucking deal, especially when one's trying to get a clarification on a glitch.

And I've got a couple of delightful little language-use glitches running around in circles at the moment. ( Onwards into rantland. )

Oh, hello, a rather belated reply from brooksmoses. Nice to know that that message got through after all, and I can stop being wiggy in the head about it.

(By "this" I mean "argue with Tal".)

Though at least this time I did not respond to his "Don't you agree that my conclusion drawn from my personal biases is the case?" with anything other than "No."

( Ramblings about possessiveness )

But enough Martian anthropology.

I've been dealing with depression again. And I'm actually dealing at the moment; my personal goal is to do one significant and useful thing per day, and also to remember to eat each day. Two days ago, I got about two thirds of the way through cleaning the cruft off the living room rug so I could vacuum it. Yesterday, I cleaned out Kunda's favorite lurking log, which had accumulated lots of skin and such and thus needed to be blasted clean with the hose. Today I have done laundry (not sure how many useful things that counts as; it was put in the wash, and transferred to the dryer, and I may remember to take it out and bring it upstairs when it's done). I have unloaded and loaded the dishwasher, though I haven't started it, because I have not the brains to either work out how to get the hose attached to the faucet or figure out why the door won't close.

This is useful inasmuch as it keeps me from feeling like a complete waste of oxygen.

I also finally beat the scenario in Kohan that was aggravating me. And the next one, for good measure. But those don't count as useful, even if they were personal goals.