Welcome to your last year of binary dates

Yes, I'm totally embracing my nerdhood in this post. Not exactly "New Year's Resolution" worthy as I've been embracing my nerdhood in various ways for a while (years, if not decades - depending on your perspective and what parts of me you've come to know). One "New Year's Resolution" I'm making is to try to post here more often (this is being posted on my blog, which cross-posts to my Facebook profile, for those of you confused since I am very active on Facebook).

Last Veteran's Day (November 11, for you ingrates who don't bother to spare a thought about those brave folks who defend your liberties on one of the few days set aside for them in our American calendar) it occurred to me that Veteran's Day 2011 will be a very cool date to write out (11/11/11)... it then occurred to me that this past Vet's Day (11/11/10) was the last binary day of 2010 (when all days in the short form of the date are either 1s or 0s). Then the thoughts just totally did a pile-on and I realized that 2011 is likely the last year I'll be able to write dates in a binary format a few times for the rest of my life as I don't really expect to see the year 2100 (possible, but living to be 123 seems rather unlikely. I would turn 124 at the end of 2100).

So all this pondering made me feel like I should do something to more than just say "huh, that's somewhat cool and interesting" every time I notice that the date is binary this year. I've decided that I will take a moment to send wishes of pure contentment to those who see things in a more binary way than I typically do (you could say I'm a bit more hexadecimal than binary I guess... see, the nerdiness just keeps on coming aren't you glad you continued reading???). Not just people I disagree with or don't particularly like (yes, I'm giving YOU a hairy eyeball, Speaker Boehner), but also friends of mine with mental health conditions that can seem rather binary at times (bipolar comes to mind immediately, and there are some aspects of OCD that can be kinda binary too). So if that happens to fit you, if there's something binary about a label applied to you (even if you don't feel at all binary yourself!), I hope you'll feel a little psychic hug from me whenever you write the date and it's all 1s and 0s.... and also if you look at a digital clock on one of those days and notice that IT is only displaying 1s and/or 0s ("or" being appropriate in this case since some folks have digital military clocks that actually display 00:00 once every 24 hours) - maybe consider noticing that the clock is displaying that way on a binary day could feel like a friendly little psychic kiss on the forehead AND hug from me since it's an extra special little quirk of a moment.

So why am I wishing contentment instead of happiness? There is reason for this distinction. I think our society is actually a bit messed up in its seeing the "pursuit of happiness" as a be-all-end-all thing... Happiness is nebulous, undefinable, and fleeting. As a species, anything that seems for a a moment to make us "happy" we seem all too quick to habituate to and be taking for granted in the blink of an eye. Happiness has become a commodity to be sold, almost as much as in the episode of Doctor Who during David Tennant's tenure when he took Martha Jones to New(to the Nth) New York and street vendors were trying to sell him "Happy Happy". Happiness has become linked to that which is disposable in our society - we are a culture of Happy Meals and the associated Made in China plastic crap. I wouldn't consider it a blessing to wish happiness like that on someone, particularly someone who already has an abundance of everything that SHOULD, theoretically, bring happiness - wealth above 90% of other individuals in the world, alleged freedom and equality under the law, and at least one person who gives a crap about their continued existence (me).

For those who have so much, I wish contentment. I wish them, for moments on a regularly occurring basis, to see all that they've got going for them and be content with it instead of constantly trying to acquire more and better and living in a constant state of low-level fear of losing any of what they have. I wish for them to realize how even a small portion of what they have could sustain those less fortunate - here in the U.S. and abroad - for a significant amount of time. I wish for them to take a moment to calculate what percentage of the necessary monthly expenses their pleasure discretionary expense of the moment might cover for a family less fortunate (for reference, the average monthly rent around my home is about $600 for a 2 bedroom unit with bathroom, kitchen, living, and dining rooms. Heating bills in the winter can run between $50 and $200 per month to keep such a home at 68 degrees while occupied, depending on how often someone is home and how well insulated the place is and how old its windows are, so someone who finds themselves confined to the house due to poor health in a poorly insulated place with old windows is really financially screwed unless they can qualify and obtain financial assistance... guess what? That's kinda us, only we don't qualify because my husband makes "too much" money while I'm home with the kids - "too much" in this case being a few hundred dollars a month above our recurring expenses [mortgage, payment for the family van & vehicle insurance, utilities, student loans, food, etc - not luxuries]).

Even with all this, I am content. Even with my physical disabilities that make that van a necessity not a luxury (without it, I would barely be able to leave the house, I can't physically get in and out of the 1991 Honda Civic my husband uses as a commuter car). Yes, there are other things and adventures I'd to have, pleasurable activities I'd like to do that I am prevented from doing because of lack of resources (financial, health, stamina, etc), but my ability to experience the pristine moments real happiness that flit through my life on a regular basis as I hobble from one splashy puddle to another of contentment is not in any way inhibited. Even when I do it in a mobility scooter on days (too frequent recently) when my legs aren't being cooperative.

That recognition, of how good we all really have it, is what I wish for everyone else.

May you be so blessed... and pass it on. Happy New Year.

Parental Censorship

Fairness. It's a concept near and dear to the hearts of children everywhere, particularly those with politically progressive parents I suspect. So of course my 6yr old gets on his 'NO FAIR!' Binge days quite often.

How's a progressive parent to resond?

'Life's not fair' - nah, that's a bit undermining and depressing, politically speaking. Let's not go there.

'I'm sorry you feel that way' - while it may be how the book-writing-pop-psychologist experts would like me to respond.... Meh.

'Shh! Don't let the overlords hear you say that! If you manage to get to the age of 18 complaining about unfairness everytime you don't get exactly what you *want* when you have everything you *need*, I will be deemed a failure as a momster and have no choice but to eat you for dinner. I'm trying to watch my weight and you'l totally throw that off and THAT is not fair!'

Heh... Little bugger ran off before I could finish my evil monologue. Foo.

f my grad program, not my life

Having an absolutely craptastic day. Woke with my system so out of wack every little bad smell had me wretching & actually vomiting a couple times. Hubby hadn't managed to get 3yr old dressed before he left the house (he's about as sleep deprived as I am, maybe moreso, so not really surprising even though the extra to-do item on my morning list couldn't have been on a much worse day it turns out). Eldest kept returning to our part of the house for various and sundry last minute items before his grandfather was walking him to school, in rain that was setting off more of my symptoms so no way I could drive him & have any hope of making it to class on time (and hubby and I have had talks about 1st grader staying w grandpa in mornings & not coming into the part of the house where little brothers are still trying to sleep- days when I have a morning class I really need to delegate as much as I can if I have any hope of actually making it out the door before totally exhausting myself). He came back to me a total of five times this morning, more than any other day previously (grandpa has been walking him to school since last school year, not new proceedure). I called my care provider (who comes to my home to help me with getting kids in van then goes to campus with me, caring for my 3yr old at a kid-friendly space while I *try* to attend class with the baby), she made effort to get to my place a bit early in case my eldest actually needed a ride to school on top of everything else, luckily spotting him walking with grandpa as she was enroute to me.

I still hadn't managed to dress myself by the time the care provider arrived, still waiting for the pain med to fully kick in before trying to make those contortions. She helped get the 3yr old dressed & baby diapered & such but we were still clearly cutting time close by the time we were all seatbelted in the van. Sent a message to the prof's email from my phone via MMS telling her I was running late as the care provider buckled kids in the van. I hadn't managed to feed myself or the 3yr old so tried to swing thru BK for breakfast sandwiches, sat in the drive thru line behind just 4 cars for more than 10min before being handed food. Finally on the way, we made good time and I actually managed to drop off the care provider and 3yr old and get to the door of the parking garage for my class just before the class actually started.

Once again my ID card did NOT let me into the garage, a problem I had notified the Access Services office of 2 weeks prior. I called them on my cell while sitting there and they kept telling me the card should work. A building staff member happened to be outside and see what was happening (I *think* he was coincidentally the person who authorized me via email to have access to the elevator from the parking garage a few weeks ago, interaction with him resulting in my hitting my head against my desk repeatedly when he suggested I should take my scooter out thru the garage entrance into oncoming traffic that can't are me thru the door using a finicky sensor my scooter might not be large/heavy enough to trigger anyway, to then go halfway around the building to get up the ramp at the front, down the hallway to the elevator whose shaft is about 10ft from where my van is parked a floor below, to get to the 3rd floor where my classroom is about 20ft from the elevator. Instead of just giving me access to entering the elevator from the basement and locomoting no more than 50 ft instead of well over 500 in possibly inclimate weather that might damage my scooter and was the reason I paid EXTRA for an indoor space to begin with. Yeah, my opinion of his mental facilities is great and the self control to not lit into him exhausting my already low reserves. I only kept it in check by reminding myself mentally repeatedly that I'm not 100% sure it's the same guy).

So I was already pretty flustered and not at my mental best when I pulled into the handicapped parking space. I then proceeded to apparently use the power LOCK instead of unlock, locking keys, cell phone, scooter, and most importantly 16 week old BABY in the damn van. I immediately went to the campus emegency phone mounted on the wall by the elevator (10ft from the van) and called campus police for help. Then I sat on the ground next to the van, trying to keep my physical pain and anxiety in check while waiting for the officer to arrive. Luckily the baby had fallen asleep just before we got off the freeway and slept thru the whole thing, he hates his carseat and frequently screams the entire time he's forced to be in it. Well, he slept thru the more than 20min it took the officers (a second arrived, who turned out to be one I knew well and liked from undergrad time 10yrs ago) when they succeeded in getting the door unlocked finally, it set off the car alarm and that woke him (verifying he's at least not totally deaf - been having a few concerns lately that I intend to bring up at his well-baby appointment on Monday). By this point, I had been standing (on concrete no less) for at least twice as long as I can generally handle on a GOOD day so my pain level was at least double what it had been when I left the house AND I could feel a panic attack looming from having had to keep it together while my baby was trapped (I am good in a crisis but as soon as the danger is passed I lose it pretty quickly when I let go of the self control). I sent a message from my phone to instructor and the dean of the program letting them know what happened and why even tho I had made it to the building I wouldn't be making it to the floor my class is on, then called my care provider to tell her I was on my way to her location and in no shape to drive.

I got to the parking lot of the building where she and my 3yr old were, barely holding back tears. As soon as I shifted the van into park, I lost the last bit of my control, and fell forward onto the steering wheel shaking and sobbing from the physical pain & stress. A stranger saw me and came up to make sure I was all right & safe, she gave me a bottle of water she had (which I used to take more pain meds, being JUST with it enough to realize taking them with the coffee I had with me would NOT help fend off the anxiety attack/nervous breakdown), and she stayed with me until my care provider and son came out. I managed to get a grip on my control again before they came out (it took a bit to pull him away from his activity) so I wasn't sobbing like that in front of my toddler at least (not that that does much to offset the shame I feel at having been that out of control in front of a stranger! She really was a lovely human being, people like her happening to be there when need hits makes me believe in guardian spirits or angels or whatever you want to call them. She was black and had a non-native-English-speaker accent, her demeanor reminded me strongly of my German grandmother who passed away when I was 16 though she looked nothing like Granma obviously). When my care provider arrived, I had moved to the back seat and was holding the baby. I had calmed down enough to realize that trying to feed him before the pain meds got more digested & into my blood/milk would be a good plan, so I fed him in the van before heading out.

Essentially, my productive day (at least as far as my grad program goes) ended as a possibility within 30min of the time the 2hr class I was scheduled to be in started, abrupt aborted dispite my best efforts to attend. Yet I'm facing an automatic failing grade because my inability to attend dispite my best efforts is held in equal regard with 'oops I overslept' or 'too hung over to attend class' or 'I screwed up and double-booked myself for an appointment at the same time as class' repeat absences, absences that would indicate a student who places much lower priority on *being there* than I have demonstrated.

They might give me a F for this oppressive Oppression class, but I'm starting to not really give a flying F... What the F do they know about daily, hourly, inescapable even when surrounded by 'my kind and kin' oppression - oppression from one's own body rebelling against one's aspirations? That they use my baby's need of me as the focal point just pours salt in this wound - the irony that the ONE thing my body does properly and naturallly without fuss or real difficulty- gestate, birth, and nourish babies - that's what is the focal point for acts of oppression upon a physically disabled student. That F-ing burns.

This post has taken nearly 12 hours of constantly interrupted time to compose on my cell phone (haven't had the energy to pull my laptop out of my backpack where I put it this morning to take to my non-class for lack of instruction). Sorry if it's a bit of a jumble in parts and phone may have auto-corrected oddly in spots that I missed fixing. Thankful for Blogger's post by email tool filtering out extra stuff since I don't have a data plan, this was sent via MMS