I ended up catching a ride to DC with the friends coming from the Barony of Cynnabar. I'm glad I went. I'm also glad I didn't go by myself; it wasn't scary or anything but having other specific people to keep an eye on helped with scale.
(Also, wow is Michigan angry. Most people didn't bother IDing themselves by home state, but I think nearly every Michigander there had Michigan on their sign somewhere.)
Also, nobody told me I was supposed to make a pink hat, why did nobody tell me (the website specifically said there were no matching clothes or colors proposed!) I was really heartened by the number of My First Knitting Project hats people were wearing, though - someday I really do need to finally write that essay on knitting and social resistance.
My sister marched in Reykjavik; I haven't seen that one in any of the round-up photoposts so here's the best set of Reykjavik photos I've seen.
( *You may have heard contradictory things about whether we ever actually marched in DC. )
So yeah, I'm glad I had that experience. I always feel like you should take part in political action like that not because you think you being there will achieve the goal, but just because you want to be there, and it was worth being there Saturday.
( that said, goal-wise: )
4. Illegitimi non carborundum.
And if all else fails, outlive the bastards. And live well. They may run our country but they can't run our lives if we don't let them in.
On that note, this will probably go back to being a mostly non-specific-politics journal (until the next time I need to desperately beg for a ride, at least) because maintaining a free cultural space is also a very important means of resistance, especially over a long grind.
I have spent days trying to get Verizon Wireless to transfer seven telephone numbers from the seller's account to ours, so we can keep using them when we take over the radio stations next month. Verizon is contorting itself in spectacularly perverted ways in order not to cooperate. I have spent hours on the phone with them to no avail. Their latest suggestion is that I go personally to one of their stores. I will try that later today, after stopping by the post office to submit another passport application after the State Department summarily denied my last one on Saturday.
The Trump-loving curmudgeons on the mailing list were ranting the other day against DAB, the digital radio system that Norway has deployed to replace FM radio in that country, calling it "socialist" because it forces all radio stations in a local area to use the same transmitter, insuring they all have precisely the same coverage. This is, of course, "un-American", unlike, say, cable television, where all the TV stations have the same coverage because they all go where Comcast's cable goes, and not an inch farther. But while Comcast may be the most hated company in America, the Norwegian government is the GOVERNMENT. That's socialism!
Ironically, transferring the seller's Comcast accounts to our company has been quite painless so far.
Therefore, you may wish to e-mail/phone your MP to ask if they'll be attending/encourage them to attend.
Popsicles are easier to swallow than water. Chloe's Soft Serve Fruit are very good.
I've been taking an ACE inhibitor + diuretic for 17 years. Every time my doctor didn't like my blood pressure, she'd up the dosage. When she got to the maximum dosage on both components, she decided that I should take that twice a day.
Now, when swallowing was really difficult, I wasn't taking my blood pressure medicine. This was probably part of the problem.
I've always known that in a Lord of the Flies type situation I would be Piggy. Fukken bodies!
I also take potassium, to compensate for the diuretic. This is what the potassium tablet looks like: http://ic.pics.livejournal.com/boxofdel
I thought Gatorade was supposed to have potassium. Isn't that the whole point of Gatorade?
When I can't sleep but my eyes are too tired to read, I start ruminating. Fifty years of failures and resentments, everything I don't want to think about, all seem to tangle together, like pulling hair out of a shower drain. They might turn into a shame spiral around YOU'RE AN ASSHOLE. YOU DON'T DESERVE LOVE. or one that ends in YOU'RE A VICTIM. YOU DESERVE ALL THE LOVE BUT YOU WILL NEVER GET ANY BECAUSE THE WORLD IS CRUEL. or those might twin together around YOU'RE A LOSER. YOU WILL DIE ALONE. IF YOU'RE LUCKY SOMEONE WILL NOTICE IN TIME TO RESCUE YOUR DOGS.
This is why I hate going to bed if I'm not feeling sleepy.
2. I needed some cash for something and I didn't have any cash, and then I had to go to Home Depot and buy $70 worth of sandbag supplies, for which I then reimbursed myself from petty cash, so now I have plenty of cash! That worked out well.
3. Look at this sweetiepie!
I should start getting the rejection letters soon. I've got a binder I'm gonna keep them in. They help me remember I'm sending in my work, which makes me feel like a real writer.
I have been energized by my work on the Resistance Manual this week. I'm learning a lot about both editing wikis and the impact of the impending Obamacare repeal, which is the issue I'm currently helping with, in addition to helping add contact information for everyone's elected officials. If you have any interest in helping out, I've been really happy with the helpful/welcoming/collaborative environment over there so far. Those of you who have been doing this sort of thing for a long time will probably have an even easier time of it than I'm having. And even though it's a very small task in the grand scheme, my little contribution makes me feel like I'm doing something concrete to help the Movement, and that's important to me.
MacIsaac said the attention caught her by surprise partly because, per the order, the Trump cake was intended to be more of a prop: All but a three-inch slice at the bottom was inedible.
“It’s just a Stryofoam cake. It’s not for eating,” she said. “I wasn’t expecting it to be seen on TV.”
This is about procedurally generating maps, with code. It's clever, and I want to look at it in detail some day.
The other one is a little more family-friendly in principle, though maybe not in wording: generating maps with macaroni.
The point is that you can use small solids as a random outline generator. Hm. I wonder how *that* would work as a computer tool?
Sometimes the world sucks, but sometimes there's stuff like this.
alan turing invented the COLOSSOS, machine for understanding ger., lat., fr., ect which won the war for BRITTAN cheers cheers cheers. even tho he was a grate pionear of computer sience, the goverment did not respekt him, becos he did not hav a beard.
all mr turing’s discovereys are v popular at st. custards, eg the HALTING PROBLEM, which shos that you canot tell whether or not hedmaster’s pi-jaw will go on for ever.
mr turing also invented the turing test. this demonstrates that a computer is intelegent if a human canot tell whether it is another human. hence super wizard wheez to see whether sigismund the mad maths master wil notice if i send the MOLESWORTH-O-TRON 9000 to maths klass while i stay in bed.
SIGISMUND: molesworth, why hav you not done your prep
MOLESWORTH-O-TRON: is it becos I hav not done my prep that you speke to me
SIGISMUND: what is the square on the hipotnus?
MOLESWORTH-O_TRON: some of the squares on the other sides
PEASON: sir sir i have a question sir
SIGISMUND: what is it peason
PEASON: ; drop table mathematiks; –
(with a grate CRASH the molesworth-o-tron fall to the floor)
SIGISMUND: well i never, molesworth is a computer
the bells of hell - Hilary pursues her medical career during WWII - 13k posted, another 2k written, 75% done. This is my longest-standing WIP and I do very much intend to finish it! Just... not yet. I do know exactly what's going to happen.
marginal gains - In which Victor is doping, and Yuuri is about to start - 1.5k posted, another 3k written, 50% done. This one got derailed a bit by the number of people who considered it totally OOC, but I have a fair amount of writing sunk into it already, so I think I need to get it done once I recover my enthusiasm. There's also a bit of a struggle with tone, since I want to take it seriously, but there's also part of me that finds the whole concept of doping a little funny.
the rider - The cycling AU about Ralph and his Sublieutenant - 1.5k written, 75% done. I can polish this off really quickly once the mood strikes me, I just need to be willing to write the tragic bit. It's Brisk young sailor all over again, why do I get myself into these situations?
the triumph of the continental style - E.F. Benson finds himself at a skating competition in 2018 - 600 words written, 50% done. Just need a solid hour or so to press onwards!
three kings - Yuri goes to Victor and Yuuri in Hasetsu, ten years later - 2k written, 50% done? Need to remind myself here that I'm writing something happy (ish) for a change and that the proposed scope is not epic. This will probably be my next posted work, unless Benson intervenes.
the Master and Margarita (working title) - The one about Yakov and Lilia - 600 words of notes and scattered dialogue. Not likely to be the next thing I work on, but it's on the horizon somewhere.
shivers down my spine (working title) - The epic tale of the epic Nikiforov/Plisetsky rivalry in the run-up to the 2018 Games - 700 words of mainly notes and timeline. I will need to psych myself up for this, as well as decide exactly how irredeemably messed up I want to allow the relationship between Victor and Yuri to become, but honestly the story (ripped in full from the headlines) is too good not to use. If I could but write it.
2. I hired a new person at work today, someone to help with some of the office stuff that isn't getting done, and maybe do some other random stuff around the store. Hopefully she works out!
3. I got another chapter of manga finished up this evening. I have Monday off and no big plans, so I'm hoping to get the last of this month's chapters done then.
4. This afternoon Carla texted me a picture...Molly and Jasper curled up on the sofa together! They weren't quite touching, but were happily curled up right next to each other. What sweeties!
I think the RSVPs on the Facebook site (which I didn't do) were 50K. The population of Seattle as of 2015 is 684,451. I knew by the time we were waiting at the bus stop at about 9:40 AM that it was going to be yuge as they say because there were already about twenty people, on a Saturday morning in Cap Hill. Not everyone was dressed up (we were wearing just plain black) but a lot of people were and carrying signs. Then ten more people showed up. Ten more. Everyone started to get nervous, wondering aloud if there was going to be room. Some people got dispirited at the wait or the crowd and went down the hill to try other stops, but more people always showed up to replace them.
(One person reminded me of cupcake_goth and minim_calibre because they were so chic -- one black stocking, one bright pink stocking, short black leather skirt, pink leather jacket, black-and-pink shirt, very lightly pink hair I think, and black fur cat ears with pink insides. I kept staring in admiration and really wanted a photo, but they were wearing a bandana facemask and I think didn't want to be possibly ID'd in a photo. AND, there were black-and-pink airbrushed? -- the colours blended beautifully -- short boots to match.)
Transit was absolutely fucked. If I didn't know better I would think it was some kind of conspiracy, because Seattle absolutely provides extra buses for football, soccer, baseball, &c &c games, and even does reroutes. The first bus was fifteen minutes late and jam-packed (you could see all the pink hats inside) and went whizzing by us all as people waved signs and whistled. The second bus was even later, and looked even more full, and whizzed by yet again, not even slowing down. Everyone groaned in frustration, and people started just walking up to Broadway, signs and all. It didn't help that some dude had taken advantage of the captive audience and started to go on and on about how corrupt Hillary was and that if she had been properly prosecuted she would've been in jail for a hundred years. People in cars were pulling up to the curb and saying they were going somewhere else but they'd take whoever could fit in as far as they could, no need to pay for gas. (Later I heard the "ride services" were charging $100 to get there.)
THANK GOD FOR THE PUSSYHATS. Even though I was meh on them because I don't like pink, or hats. BLESS THE HATMAKERS. Without them we would have been fucking lost, because we (stupidly) didn't look up the feeder sites, although I don't know if they were on the web, so we had no idea where we could join in if we were late. I had also gotten the macho idea I wanted to do the march from start to finish. "Follow the hats," T kept saying, and many jokes were heard about follow the pussies, pussy knows best, pussy got game, &c &c. There were a couple of cabs and they were immediately and spontaneously jammed, and I heard people saying the Uber and Lyft prices were already high. (Bear in mind the march started at ELEVEN, and it still wasn't 10 AM yet. It wasn't even the march, it was the "Getting To Know You, Getting To Know All About You" rally, which I was kind of dreading.) (ETA: Altho apparently there were so many people there already they kind of had to scrap a lot of the program.) There was a stream of pussyhats up to Broadway and as a last result people were trying light rail. I got my first ORCA card and, with everyone saying reassuringly aloud that it had to be better than the bus, down we went.
....it was not better. The platform was absolutely filled with people, pussyhats and people wearing pink or black cat ears or regular pink hats or in some cases lovely pink scarves. Pink shirts, some nice all-pink outfits, signs with pink and purple glitter. What the hell stop were we going to get off at? "Follow the hats," T said. The hats all said we could get up to the ID (International District) and walk up to Judkins Park, which was where the march started for some fucking reason (it did for the inaugural protest too), which would be about a mile? A little over? More groans, but it was still just ten o'clock, so it seemed we could get there in time.
I haven't even gone through all our photos (and a whole lot of those are out of focus) but this was going down into the light rail station on Broadway at I think about 10:20.
The light rail was so absolutely cram jammed one person said it almost reminded them a little of Tokyo. But this is Seattle so everyone was apologizing for being shoved together -- "Oh, sorry," as someone went flailing for a fourth or fifth grip on a handrail, "No no, my fault!" as someone else dodged an elbow. I have never been so packed in to something in my entire life. Threatening panic attack city. Deeeeeeep breaths. People kept saying they thought it was going to be more than fifty thousand. I wouldn't say the air was exuberant, people weren't all smiley, but there was a sense of....yeah, solidarity. I started feeling connected to people again, people I didn't know, in a way I hadn't really since the election. The light rail was also super slow. This apologetic little voice would come on at intervals, saying that the train had stopped because of surface traffic, but nobody could hear it (we had to read it off the display). The light rail also goes underground, which for some reason I had forgotten, probably because I used to have anxiety attacks as a tiny little kid when BART went under the Bay. People started counting down aloud -- "Two more stops," probably to keep everyone from freaking out. "One more stop." When we got to the ID everyone cheered and streamed out and we all took in big gulps of cold fresh air. Now we were running late, in the ID, with no map and still no idea where the joining-place was. Where the fuck were we going again?
"Follow the hats," T said. It was Follow the Pink Wool Road.
Then it was uphill (the sun kept going in and out) for about a mile? The sidewalks were full, although you could walk at a pretty regular pace, and I think we got close at about 11 AM -- "Maybe they'll wait for us?" (I don't think this was possible because of times on the permit, or whatever.) Lots of parents brought little kids, there were some dogs, a couple of two- or even three-generation protesters: mother, daughter, grandmother. Up and up and up Jackson. (I think it was Jackson.) More people gathering all the way, filling the sidewalks and spilling over, starting to walk in the road. Then filling up the road -- traffic had been blocked off. Then we saw one of those motorcycle cops, and everyone cheered (he looked bemused). More motorcycle cops, and finally someone telling us that the parade had already started, so we had to push back to the edge of the road when it got there but we'd be able to join in once it was going past. I think we were a couple of blocks past Jackson and Boren at this point. More cops. There were people walking in front as far as I could see -- huge masses of people way up at the front -- and walking on the sidewalks all around, and if you turned and looked behind, still more people, streaming up. Biggest crowd I've ever been in in my life. People were talking and laughing with each other, but the mood was still pretty somber -- no chanting, no loud yelling, everyone was very determined. Some people had left out bottles of juice or water in a patch of shade, on a chair, with a hand-drawn sign saying "You March for Us -- Thank you!" People were cheering more now, intermittently.
We climbed up the hill some more and the road was just a mass of people on the sidewalks, on the sides of the road, in the middle, and more people up ahead as far as you could see, and the same behind. Finally we saw some banners far off in the distance and EVERYONE freaked out and started shouting and clapping. The cops came through first for crowd control and kept telling everyone to back up, although they were very nice about it (one cop got laughs by saying "Just back behind this invisible line here, folks"). It looked like this. The banners got closer and closer, and everyone started cheering wildly. Finally we could see the start of the march -- if you look at the first video here, it looked like that. There were Native American women first, which was very moving, and everyone quieted to hear the chanting and drums, then applauded. The march went past, silent for the most part, and got one block, two block, three blocks further....people were still a little confused, almost shy. Do we wait until they all go by to join in? (HAHA.) Can we just join in? Would that be rude? It looked like the older couple next to us was jumping in, so I jumped in too, but then they fell back but we were in the march, so that was that. We were walking, other people were walking around us, we were part of it.
-- But this is already wayyy too long and I crashed when we got home and slept like the dead for hours and I think I'm just going to go to bed early tonight, so I'll write up the marching itself tomorrow. (Spoiler: when you are marching in a crowd of what was estimated later to be 120,000 people, you go really slowly. This was good for my knees, but it also increased the length of time we were all on our feet.)