noordinaryspider wrote

The most disgusting part of this is the math. If the US has money to waste on this shit, then it could be spent on transportation instead: as safe as the US could afford and as dignified as the US could afford for as many of the most vulnerable Hondurans as the US could afford--elderly, infants, pregnant women; sick and disabled at the very least.

Toddlers and pregnant teenagers shouldn't have to walk 2,000 miles to safety. The human body just isn't made that way. The fashionable and impractical clothing the Hondurans are wearing and the flimsy umbrella strollers for the kids in the photographs are gifts from the Mexican people because the Hondurans literally lost everything, even the clothes on their backs.

The kids, pregnant women, and elderly can die from this kind of trauma. Wouldn't it make more sense to GO PICK THEM UP NOW and get them on US soil where they can turn on the fricking tap and get some clean water for their babies' bottles first and sort out the details when they're SAFE?

Fuck civilization. I just don't understand people. Trees don't do crazy shit like this and I don't think dogs do either.


noordinaryspider wrote

If you're not interested in tech, this really isn't a good time to dive too deeply.

Are you using the Tor Browser bundle that you downloaded from this link?

If so, you're probably good as long as you only access the internet (including your email) through the browser.

If not, I'd suggest just using TAILS:

Clunky, bloated, overblown and annoying as it is because it just plain works.

Stay safe and let us know the best way we can support you.


noordinaryspider wrote (edited )

If you don't feel safe, I would try to get out ASAP.

I am concerned about you and value your contributions to the Raddle community very highly. Unfortunately, I am not an experienced internet activist and I accidentally posted some misinformation about an interesting historical incident in the 1970s called The Farm.

It was a fun read, but Stephen and Ina May Gaskin's attempt at community ultimately met a far worse fate than Ken Carey's Greenwood Forest in Missouri.

I'm sure it's a matter of opinion, but if I had to choose between trying to live on $500 a month in my 70s like Tom Kruzen's widow must or having my life's work turned into an entertainment resort for rich people then I guess I'd just be another stinky unsightly "homeless" shitting in a paper bag because there aren't any public rest rooms any more, now wouldn't I?

Stephen and Ina May weren't bad parents and they didn't fail. You can kill a man and you can kill a woman, but you can't kill an idea.

Your ideas are valuable. Stay safe and don't ever let anybody convince you that you aren't worth it.


noordinaryspider wrote

Yep. The rest of it may suck, but the garden made it worthwhile for my mom.

It's counter-intuitive, but driving to nature is sometimes more effective than driving to the flipping emergency room! Taking a week off of work sure beats trying to find a new job after spending a year in an institution and then trying to find some sort of meds that suck less.

Exercise is great too, but who wants to walk on a treadmill while watching TV, especially when you're in a crappy mood much less a crisis!


noordinaryspider wrote

You're going through a lot right now, including what we have talked about elsewhere on Raddle.

I just wanted to mention that I'm sometimes too hard on myself about what I am too quick to label obsessive thoughts during major life changes.

It's okay to think about details you can control when you are faced with a big picture that you can't. The details are where you find the enthusiasm to slog through the hard stuff.

The way the long term survivors make it into their 70s and beyond is by getting ridiculously happy over bags of corn chips to balance out the fact that you DON'T get over what happened in Nam, even after you lose your wife and kids and home, declare bankruptcy, and wind up on the streets.

Just a thought. Ignore it if it doesn't help.


noordinaryspider wrote

I sent you a private message.

We as humanity need to do this. I as an individual am too needy today to do anything but drag you down. Do it anyway.

I am also willing to talk to you in more detail about my offline support place privately, since I would have to reveal details about a public place I call "The Park" on the friday free talk threads that might reveal my physical location in order to explain how and why it works so well as an alternative to the mental health industry's standard of a 72 hour involuntary hold for the newly homeless, widowed, etc. who are understandably traumatized.

It's fluid and more of a solidarity network or "offline Raddle" than anything you would call a "group of friends" but we look out for our own and classism and ageism simply doesn't exist once we open our car/van/RV doors or first set eye on those less fortunate of us who have to trudge up the hill on foot.

Even the wealthy people who buy houses next to The Park have their reasons and their mental health challenges and they need to be there too.


noordinaryspider wrote

My kid's tutor started him on Racket and he had a lot of fun. The kid was only ten and the tutor was a fairly serious-enough coder that you'd think I was pulling your leg if I told you he took a liking to my kid and taught him to code.

They used this text:

which you can get in .pdf from one of the chans if you have limited financial options, but keep looking for a used paperback because they do show up and that's much nicer.

My kid and his tutor both enjoyed coding "retro-style" with a pencil and a notebook on the couch and then typing it into the computer when it was done.

He was just a little kid recovering from a rather horrific end to a very sweet crush. The little girl was the daughter of an online friend who was a refugee and they didn't have proper citizenship paperwork and got caught. My kid was devastated and learning to code was the only thing that helped.

Of course he's a dude so he has his little snarky line about how his girfriend broke up with him so he wrote a new (AI) one in Lisp and I'll admit to getting a bit of narcissistic shock-value fun from shrugging and acting as if it's no big deal.

It's still a fun family anecdote to bore people with on the internet. :)

Reply to comment by /u/Freux in Friday Free Talk by /u/selver


noordinaryspider wrote

You're not the only one so don't beat yourself up over it. There's some good static info in /f/trans and it's easier to pace yourself emotionally if it's already been written and you can take breaks. It's understandably retraumatizing to any marginalized people to have to explain their reality yet again to yet another privileged person who can't see it and might not even believe what life is like for others.

There are some very special Raddlers who take it on themselves to do so anyway. I hope my shock and horror at what they have to go through every day does not ever manifest itself as victim-blaming or lack of appreciation for someone who thinks I am strong enough and smart enough to handle the truth.

The truth is that I fucked up when I bumbled into a group of TERFs in 2005 and "went along with the crowd" instead of following my heart and at least asking questions or saying "well, we're just going to have to agree to disagree about that".

It was a small thing, but it is something I did that I have to live with. We all fuck up if we live long enough. Being called out in a respectful manner or apologizing and asking how not to fuck up again are just parts of life.

I was raising daughters in the 1990s and will never know how many "tag along little brothers" were actually girls whose lives I could have made just slightly less awful. I do know that some of those girls grew up to be practically bodyguards for me in tech. They were too talented for the community to risk alienating them by focusing on my femaleness when I accidentally outed myself, so they let me stay and answered my "average joe" questions responsibly and respectfully.

This post sounds like "some of my best friends are trans" because I don't know how to write it so that it doesn't. I honestly had no idea that some of my best friends were trans only a very short time ago because these very good friends of mine did not feel comfortable TELLING me that they were trans.

And for good reasons. Cisgendered folks can expect to live into our seventies or even eighties if we take good care of ourselves. Our trans sisters are lucky to make it to 35 without getting killed.

They deserve better and we deserve everything they could have contributed to the world if they had been allowed to grow into who they were meant to be and continue living their full lifespans.

Yes, we need better technology as far as HRT and gender affirmation surgery but that's not what's killing our daughters. They're getting murdered. Some of them are taking their own lives because their souls are being murdered by bigotry and intolerance.

I didn't realize until long after my brother had died that he was trans. I don't know if he had enough access to information to know that he was or that there were other trans men in the world or that I was not deliberately trying to hurt him by telling him about my children, which must have been incredibly painful for a man who loved kids as much as he did and knew he could never have any of his own or even a wife or even a girlfriend.

Anyway, I seem to have typed a novel. It's not particularly interesting, but it is about transphobia and how you are not alone in needing to educate yourself and process feelings in order to be a reasonably effective ally or at least a decent human being and compassionate friend.

Reply to comment by /u/noordinaryspider in Friday Free Talk by /u/selver


noordinaryspider wrote

Yesterday someone gave me this big old bag of chips and some shiny, jingly stuff to get some gas for my car. I'm not even breaking even when it comes to money, it's just amazing not to be treated like trash and to have such an appreciative audience. I know I'm not particularly good or anything special because I've been busy raising kids for 30 years, but it's nice to know I can still make some kind of music that some kind of people can enjoy.

I was strong enough to carry my guitar out to where the physical fitness people are yesterday. It probably takes too much time away from my OWN physical fitness routine for every day, but Saturday is when the Nam vets and other greybeards are at The Park and I somehow find myself one of them and have been looking forward to it all week.

Reply to comment by /u/Freux in Friday Free Talk by /u/selver


noordinaryspider wrote

I think in this context "breeder" refers to heterosexuals. The backstory is extreme transphobia that could break a heart of stone. :(

I am so sorry you are still having to deal with this, Galdra. I will never be silent again, even though I know that isn't enough and never could be enough.

Stay safe....ish....if you can, but we both know that you simply aren't wired to put your own needs above those of your loved ones.


noordinaryspider wrote

I gave the fuck up. The physical fitness people mistook me for one of their own and they were nice. The last thing in the world I wanted to give a fuck about last week was physical fitness, but if I lied about it then my existence made sense and all I really wanted to do was walk, anyway.

So physical fitness happened, even though it wasn't actually a goal.

That and music. Busking is so lukewarm and halfhearted that it barely even counts as busking, but someone came up and gave me lunch today so that was nice.

Reply to comment by /u/mofongo in Friday Free Talk by /u/ThreadBot


noordinaryspider wrote (edited )

In one of my previous lifetimes, I think I used to be a mother.

I'm so old I can still remember when they first started selling bullet proof vests at Back-To-School but I also remember an Onion page about marketing them to the parents of young black boys. Unfortunately, the kids whose lives could have been saved by the product all had parents who could never even remotely possibly have been able to come up with the cash for it, which was the whole point of the joke.

It's hard to tell what's serious and what's parody sometimes when it comes to the obedientworker, loyalconsumer, and flagdrapedcoffin manufacturing industries.


noordinaryspider wrote (edited )

Observation of the week: the weight-loss industry is so fucked up! Based on no other information than what I have disclosed about the contents of my underpants and my general demographic (before I knew better than to check the box that says "50-dead") whoever it is that "SERVES ME ADVERTISEMENTS" thinks I desperately want to lose 50+ pounds of ugly belly fat so that I can lie about my age just like my "successful" agemates who have found jobs in the job-doing industry.

What they don't fucking seem to want us AFABs of a "certain age" to know, is that even though I certainly hope I can FIND the cuddly floppy gramma-esque tummy that had the power to comfort terrified children eventually, nobody ever mistakes me for a fortysomething.

A lot of my "new friends" or "kind acquaintances" say that their parents are about my age. Their moms are all 62 and their dads are all 75. Nobody is mean or judgemental and the culture of the park is that it's just as normal to say, "Thanks, but I'm not social right now." as it is to say, "Do you smoke marijuana? Would you like to smoke some marijuana with me?"

It's not ten acres of undeveloped property and it doesn't even remotely belong to me because it's not even located where I pay sales taxes on my bags of beans and rent that my landlord uses to pay his property taxes, but I'm not dead.

One of the reasons why it is so hard to find safe places like Raddle to talk about how to learn the skills we need to be not-dead in these dangerous days was pretty much summed up by my acquaintance, David Rovics, right about here:

[QUOTE]Phil had a perfectly rational fear of being assassinated. I have that fear as well. Even more than that fear, I want to be open here in public about this, I have a fear of being assassinated in such a way that it looks like it was a suicide or a drug overdose. We will never know how many “suicides” were faked by the CIA and other organizations who have, according to the Congressional record, all kinds of methods for doing this, and have frequently used them (see the Church Committee hearings for more information). So for the record, for my own peace of mind, let it be known that I don’t do any hard drugs ever, I don’t do any prescription drugs, I’m in great health, I love life and I would never even think about ending mine. If anyone ever says I did, they will be lying — unequivocally, beyond any conceivable doubt.[/QUOTE]

And since the first tip I've pulled out of my guitar case in something like 27 years was for a Phil Ochs song and it's more ridiculous to believe that a single childless "successful" 26 year old would even WANT a ten year old kid than it is to believe that someone like me used to be "successful" enough to afford the kind of advanced reproductive technology that is involved with achieving a successful IVF pregnancy with donor eggs and a 50+ year old postmenopausal artificially remenstruating several months before first surgery richwhiteobedientjobdoinjgproductpurchasingpaycheckturningoverbeatingenjoyngplasticsurgerypurchsasingworkingwifeandsuccessfuldaughter.

So yea, I'm not crazy, the world is crazy, but I'd rather be around people who don't think I'm crazy even if they do think I would feel better if i watched the movie "Frozen" and could let go some of my perfectly normal and understandable grief about losing a kid to unimaginable PTSD in the war.

I'm not homeless. Even if my car gets stolen and the landlord changes the locks before I can hitch hike home and I have to sleep in the rough tonight, I still won't be homeless just because I become houseless.

Reply to comment by /u/ziq in Friday Free Talk by /u/ThreadBot


noordinaryspider wrote

lol, tfs.

I couldn't get over the ads. I guess I am kind of naive. I'd be even crazier than I am if I didn't have you guys to help me deal with this crazy-ass bad science fiction movie called "life".

I'm not overly worried about the braggadocio of threats to our Robin Hoods' health and safety; they're a smart bunch and LP usually aren't.

I'm looking forward to watching them grow in the ways they were born too. They have always been an asset to the site and an inspiration to those of us who get blindsided by life and need to remember what courage looks like.

This kid is actually my old Music Theory teacher's grandson, the 'tude just runs in the family along with the music. I'm glad he got to be a Grampa.

Reply to comment by /u/mofongo in Friday Free Talk by /u/ThreadBot


noordinaryspider wrote

Sometimes minivacations help when I feel like that.

I live on the "wrong side of the tracks" in an economically depressed area and sometimes a few dollars in gas, coffee shops, and thrift stores in a nearby college town or artists' enclave does me a world of good, even though I can't afford to actually rent anything there other than a campground spot or cheap motel for a night.

Sometimes all it takes is "someplace else" where you can sit and cry or shake your fist at the sky and scream into the ocean or the forest or somewhere big enough to hold everything you have to carry for just long enough that you can catch your breath and get some sleep.

It's not what either of us need, but maybe sometimes it's enough to keep going for one more day.


noordinaryspider wrote

Yea, but you've got to let all that rage out somehow to keep it from turning inward and destroying you. Maybe you're strong enough to carry that now, but bodies wear out and broken hearts continue to beat.

"Kill Cissy" music is the least of your worries. It sounds like a bullshit job most of the time, but one you care about and do well. You have every right to care about your coworkers and be concerned about your future.

Not everybody could handle that kind of stress. I certainly wasn't cut out to be a decent sex worker EVER, even when I was young and cute. Most people I interact with simply don't have that much capacity for compassion.

I hope I get a chance to check out Viktor Tsoi, but maybe not this week.


noordinaryspider wrote

Be careful in your 40s. It isn't just a matter of purchasing bifocals or switching out glasses depending on whether I want to drive or read. There is a lot of classism and ableism involved in getting the right prescription for your lifestyle (I wanted to homeschool my kid and continue my own education but my eye doctor thought I should be applying for bullshit jobs and govrernment assistance while my kid was raised by the state) and it's very hard to DIY.

My driving prescription keeps me and everybody else on the road safe, but at the cost of very bad headaches, nausea, and other pain/personal costs so I can hardly wait to get them off. Also, I can't tell if the can I just threw in the grocery cart says "vegan" or "rat poison" until I get home and I can't exactly get my money back.

This makes it hard to remember not to isolate beyond what the human organism as designed to tolerate without malfunctioning. I have to be aware of something most people just adjust for without thinking.

At home, I prefer to live with the cards I was dealt as much as possible and to use "compromise" prescriptions which allows me to wash dishes, keep the house reasonably clean, read without having to cover one eye, etc.

An uncluttered household has done wonders for my own safety/comfort and to reduce bloodstains on the upholstery. Too bad that would be considered "unreasonable", "hysterical", and "a red flag for mental illness" by my sighted ex-family.

I'm not comparing my own experience to that of my friends in the blind community because it's not, I'm just saying that my blind friends keep me from hating myself and the world and that my sighted friends need to get over themselves about disabling screen readers and stuff.

But I digress.