Bloggity Blog Blog Blog…

February 9, 2009

Filed under: Uncategorized — thirdxlucky @ 3:09 pm

Well that wasn’t too bad. They were a lot more accessible this time.

Man, I love driving a forklift. Our is a little green J. I. Case M4K. All the other M4Ks in town, known colloquially among Antarcticans as “Pickles,” have names that play off ‘Case’: Justin Case, Kombat Case, Que Sera Sera, etc. but our fork is named Elvis. Last Winter, someone stenciled a yellow “HAIL TO THE KING” onto his crossbar.

When I first came to Antarctica, and especially when I started working in the Heavy Shop, everything I did made me feel tough and badass. I’m mostly over it, especially since I’ve spent a lot more time this season doing data entry than muscling oil drums around. But the fact that I drive a freakin’ forklift – even a baby forklift, even inexpertly, and occasionally knocking into things that shouldn’t be knocked into by 9700lbs of heavy equipment – makes me feel, well, butch.

And I like that version of me a lot. Possibly best of all. I wish I could express that part of myself better back home.


Filed under: Uncategorized — thirdxlucky @ 12:57 pm

It’s windy and miserable out tonight. And, of course, walking up the hill to work, I doomed myself by thinking, “Man, it’s good I got all that outside work done yesterday so I can just hide out in the Shop this shift!”

Now I have to go pull a set of D6D Dozer links which are buried probably three stacks deep in the Outside Storage flats. Last time I did this, it took two hours. Whee!

However: Only six more workdays before I’m outta here. Plus my bag drag day, a transition day and a comp day, that makes… Nine days and a wakeup!


I think we might go to Tasmania.

February 8, 2009

Check it.

Filed under: Uncategorized — thirdxlucky @ 11:27 pm

I was just skimming back over the results of my massive sudden posting spree and I noticed something. Other than the fact that I have major verbal-diarrhea…

I use the word “crazy” a lot. “Insane” is pretty common too. And in very few of these instances am I actually discussing mental health, disability, or pleas made by defendents in a court of law. Almost exclusively, I use “crazy” to mean “bad” or “screwed up” or to refer to something I don’t understand and/or can’t countenance…

brownfemipower and others have been writing some things lately about recognizing and respecting psychological disability in a similar way to physical disability. This isn’t an idea that’s new to me, and largely it’s one that I accept, but it’s apparently not one I’ve fully internalized as evidenced by my inconsiderate choice of language.

This sucks because a lot of people I care about, including some people in my family (not to mention possibly myself…) are people for whom “being crazy” is a real thing which significantly impacts their lives, or the lives of their loved ones, or probably will do in the future. And all of those people have access to the Internet.

At some point, I’d like to be able to write some things here about mental health and disability and privilege and my relationship with my mother. For the sake of my own psychological well-being, I think “craziness” and my deep-seeded fear around it is something I need to excavate and process more fully…

But for the time being, I just need to be a little more conscious and cut that shit out. To anyone who might be reading this who I’ve hurt or pissed off by being insensitive, I apologize.

Linkbucket Etc.

Filed under: Uncategorized — thirdxlucky @ 9:40 pm

The Politics of Wizards and Vampires – comparative analysis of the politics implicit in Harry Potter vs. Twilight on Racialicious.

going around in (Venn-diagram) circles – at Taking Steps. I want to follow this conversation.

When I have some time and energy to write:

* I want to drawn an extended analogy between a) contemporary beliefs about the relationship between fat, health, and moral virtue and b) early Puritan/Protestant beliefs about the relationship between wealth, sinfulness and being saved.

* I want to write about why the Argument from Darwinian Authority fails to compel me in the same way that the Argument from Biblical Authority fails to do so. (Specifically related to (OMGKILL) conversations about whether rape is a biological imperative.) I might actually write on this for Jay’s blog. But somebody else needs to freakin’ write something first, because I was the last person to post there and the last thing I posted was stupid long.

Hm. I wonder why all my good ephiphanies of the past couple of days have to do with Christian theology. Brain heuristics are weird…

Well, I guess not all of them. I’ve had a couple related to bisexuality’s location within the kyriarchy. Those are still formulating though…

Sometimes I think I write more about what I’m going to write, am writing, wish I were writing, haven’t written etc. than I do ‘actual’ (aka non-meta?) writing. BLAH.

Tck Toc

Filed under: Uncategorized — thirdxlucky @ 7:50 pm

Wikipedia: Third Culture Kids


February 6, 2009


Filed under: Uncategorized — thirdxlucky @ 3:01 pm

Thoughts on Men and RapeJim Hines.
I collect links like these – men talking to other men about feminism. Some interesting (interesting as in god I hate people) description here of his going around to male dorms and fraternities to talk about rape.

Don’t be that guy.Synecdochic.
One woman’s answer to “What do you want from me!?” Long with long comment thread, to read more of later.

Margaret and Helen – “Best Friends for Sixty Years and Counting.”
Currently reviewing Ann Coulter’s book Guilty. (I’m a little nervous about this – I’m always a little nervous when Ann Coulter comes up – due to this not-exactly-shocking phenomenon where some Liberals attack Conservative female political figures (especially Ann Coulter and Sarah Palin) by throwing a lot of misogynist bullshit around and other Liberals – including many people who get up in arms about similar sexism toward Hillary Clinton – turn a blind eye to it. Still, my intial skimming indicates not too much of this and I have heard their review is hilarious.)

5 Pound Fat Belt -“Let everyone in your group feel what five extra pounds of fat feels like.”
What the fuck, over? Is this some kind of fetish thing? Because, if it were, this would at least make sense on some level – but I’m pretty sure it’s not. God I hate people.

February 5, 2009

scribby draft about genealogy and loss

Filed under: Uncategorized — thirdxlucky @ 9:13 am

i’m 1/4 jewish, but i wasn’t raised with that as part of my identity – it’s one of the things our family Doesn’t Talk About. well, to be fair, my understanding is that my grandfather, who grew up jewish in manhattan in the 30s, Doesn’t Like to Talk About It – i heard this from my mother – and i’ve never had the nerve to broach the subject with him because, despite being his namesake and his oldest grandchild, despite knowing he adores me and that i admire him and am totally fascinated by him, he is still this severe and imposing (from my mom’s stories) and taciturn, saturnine, quiet force in the background, army general and i can’t imagine prying into his personal life. it makes me sad because i’d like to know him better, lost that part of our history in the space of two generations, blah blah blah.

regardless, all i remember about this is that we were going to visit my great-grandma (my grandad’s mother) once, she owned this apartment building on the upper east side and i was probably all of four years old, so i had no idea what any of that meant, i just remember going in and being awestruck by this person – i have a single memory of my great grandmother ruth (i have lots of really jolly memories of my great grandma alice), but meeting granny ruth is sort of like having met queen victoria (which one of my great grandfathers did once, and that story has been passed down for generations because she subsequently subscribed to his newspaper :P).

remember my mother telling me before we went that she had a maid or a butler or someone who had lived with her there for decades, and that i shouldn’t talk about jesus around granny because she was jewish. i don’t know if i had a particular penchant for talking about jesus when i was a kid – i don’t remember much about my youthful experiences with religion except that it involved animal crackers and apple juice and that going to church, especially after my dad left, always made mom mad.

i do know that when, years later, i told this ‘don’t talk about jesus’ story as kind of a “hoho, kids say the darnedest things” tale in a family setting, my mom got all shocked and offended and said, “i never said anything like that!!” i can’t imagine why though – and i’m sure she did because there’s no way i would have come up with that on my own. i had no idea what a ‘jew’ was when i was a kid, except that they were apparently people who didn’t like you to talk about jesus around them. (by that definition, almost everyone i now know is a jew. :P)

my mom was terrified of her grandmother. i think my mom was terrified of my dad’s mom, and of her own dad and, well, honestly, my mom is scared of a lot of people. and you know what? actually, that sucks. it’s not fair that my mom had to grow up in fear within her own family. i don’t understand what caused it, but i don’t doubt its reality. like i said (lower down), my mom’s about as black a sheep as you can get in our family – and i don’t think that’s a recent thing. and i think part of it is that, she was trying to do the same thing i’m trying to do, which was to get outside that sheltered privileged bubble and connect with the rest of the world. i think my mom’s like me in that, despite all the fear instilled in her by her family life, she’s inherently xenophilic. she’s excited by and drawn to diversity, creativity and difference. i don’t think she has any articulated politics around it, i think it’s just this deep emotional gut level reaction that she doesn’t know how to explain to herself, much less her parents.

this is what a lot of the class-related tension of my childhood was related to. when i was growing up, my mom had a lot of working class friends and dated working class men and…i don’t know, sometimes i feel like it was almost a fetish thing for her, some kind of act of desperation, a fuck you to her parents…but i also do think she was just genuinely more drawn to them, or that some aspect of her was, than she was to “successful” middle-class corporate men like my dad and her second husband chuck – and the one thing i *did* learn from hanging out with mom’s working class friends and the people i’ve met subsequently is that, yeah, the working class people i’ve met have generally been less uptight and have better senses of humor about themselves and everything else than the rich people i know. but maybe that’s a prejudice on my part…i dunno.

and she didn’t really seem to understand what she was doing, because she’d be so excited to date these guys who weren’t like the men she was ‘supposed’ to be with, but then she’d get all upset that they didn’t want to invest in stocks and buy houses with her and felt like they were using her for money and couldn’t commit and blah blah…but we were definitely raised with this weird conflicted view of like…working class people are morally superior to rich people but also you can’t actually trust them…

but anyway i guess my point is that my mom was trying to do this thing unconsciously but couldn’t really manage it and so it just kinda fucked her up a lot…but that from that what may have come is that, at great personal sacrifice, she managed to get *enough* distance from the family that keenan and i have had the opportunity to do what she wasn’t able to – and maybe the best thing i can do for myself and for my mom is to do that thing, whatever that thing is, she was trying to achieve – and have the strength not just to pull away from the family, but to come back to them and say, “Look, this is how things are going to be now and THAT’S OKAY.”

that said, i shouldn’t let my mother’s fear of her family and all the stories she’s told me about how scary they are infect me. it’s given me the distance to feel disdainful of them rather than afraid, but that’s not cool either. i think i’m gonna write my grandfather a letter.

and sometimes i think i don’t have to worry because, honestly, my family knows me really well. part of it is love and part of it is scrutiny – as the oldest child, grandchild, and great-grandchild in three generations of a large and comparatively matriarchal clan, my family has paid a lot of attention to me for my whole life… and they’ve sort of always known that i am…how i am. an iconoclast, or an artist, or crazy or whatever. this isn’t out of character for me. i am my mother’s daughter. and my mother is as black a sheep as you could possibly be in our ‘we pretty much embrace you in a big and boisterous way no matter what – we’ll just refuse to acknowledge or talk about whatever parts of you we don’t want to embrace’ family.

on the one hand, i want to run away from this privileged thing, move to the west coast and immerse myself in radical community.
on the other hand, i feel like maybe the best thing i can do is stick around my family and love them but be noisy about rejecting their oppressive shit, because part of my privilege is that i have access to these very powerful people and that could have a really huge impact.

it’s scary though because i’m afraid of both being rejected by them and of turning into them.

there’s a way in which this sort of means i have to have kids.
i don’t know about that. pregnancy scares the living hell out of me.

sometimes i feel like i’m trying to singlehandedly excavate my family history as if this will tell me who i am. it all seems to be about my mom’s side though…so much glamor. don’t know much about my dad’s, and don’t know many people on my dad’s, and i wonder if part of it is simply that my crazy mother and brash maternal grandmother just make better stories than my quiet, steady, stoic dad – but wonder also if the stories about my dad’s family have been silenced because they just weren’t as glamorous (aka wealthy) as my mom’s side.

i’ve never really thought about class-related tension between my parents. it seems obvious now, on some subconscious level, although i don’t understand enough about their backgrounds to articulate it…but it seems relevant especially considering my relationships with eric and august, where there’s some similar tensions.

February 4, 2009

Filed under: Uncategorized — thirdxlucky @ 10:52 pm


I feel like this blog suddenly got really personal really fast.

And that makes me nervous because, even though I don’t really think anyone is reading this they, y’know, could be. In the future. Or whatever. Meep.

And I think it’s funnyweird that talking about fatness here makes me feel way more vulnerable than talking about sexual violence did.

(Although I guess all I said about sexual violence was, “I’m not going to talk about sexual violence right now.”)

(And even that made me feel way more vulnerable than talking about classism…)

(Which, incidentally, had made me feel more vulnerable than probably anything else I’d ever posted on the Internet before that, ever…)

(So who knows what I’ll say next!?)

Bed. Really. Seriously. Bed.

I’m posting a lot today, I guess.

Filed under: Uncategorized — thirdxlucky @ 10:34 pm

More stuff to read more of later… AKA
Here Is A Bucket. I Am Throwing Links Into It.


FAQ: What’s wrong with saying that things happen to men, too? – “also known as a “Patriarchy Hurts Men, Too” or PHMT argument, or a “What About The Mens?” or WATM argument.”

(Of all the rhetorical tactics people use to derail conversations about oppression, probably nothing makes me personally more aggravated than this one and its corrollaries. And by “aggravated” I mean that responding to/interrupting, “I’ve been raped and-” with “Yeah, but MEN get raped too! All the time!” is one of very few things in the world that can make me feel like my eyes are turning red, steam is about to shoot out my ears, and I must bite my tongue to keep from simply shouting, “FUCK YOU! SHUT UP!! WHY CAN’T YOU LISTEN!?” before breaking down in tears and giving up completely.

It’s nice to have an articulated explanation of why this argument is so frustrating! (Far more articulate than “fuck you, shut up, i hate your stupid head!” for sure.) Both for my own clarity and as something to link folks to when I don’t have the energy to explain why the thing they just said makes my head feel like exploding.)

On Thin Privilege – by guestblogger Volcanista at Shapely Prose.

I want to read, or at least skim, the (HUGE) comment thread on this post because…it’s fluffy and loving and I think it would be good brain-medicine. Lately, I’ve sort of stopped keeping track of Shapely Prose – which I used to read religiously; in fact, I think it might be the very first radical political blog I read religiously because, well, it was such good brain-medicine. But – despite a few small efforts to change this, or at least a few discussions about how they’d like to change this – it also feels like a very white*, “Feminist,” class-privileged space and…although I still think what Kate & Co. are doing for some fat folks, especially some fat women, in that space is amazing, and I consider it a great resource when talking to people about FA, and I’m super appreciative of the way they revolutionized my psyche around body-image, it’s…just not where I’m at right now. (I kinda think it’s not where they’re at either, hence the drop-off in posting.)

Still, I have clearly not sorted out this particular mess in my head (quelle shock) and – regardless of whether my larger sense of social justice believes that it’s a privileged self-indulgence to get wrapped up to the point of distraction in my angsty white cis-girl body-image issues – on days when some triggering bullshit makes me get all self-destructo-wacky, I’m really grateful that there’s this safe place I can go for a minute where people will say, it’s okay baby, hey, it’s going to be okay.

(*I still haven’t been able to put my finger on it exactly, but something about Kate’s fairly patronizing Letter to Oprah and the subsequent comment thread especially wigged me out.)

The Thinking Man’s Circle Jerk – This is pretty funny (patheticfunny) and there are some good links off this that I want to pursue when I am…


No, seriously.

Filed under: Uncategorized — thirdxlucky @ 9:22 pm

I weighed myself.

I’m not sure what possessed me to do it.

I am not freaking out too bad. But I am freaking out a little bit.

I’ve been gaining weight steadily since…well, probably for my whole life, actually…but basically without a break since last February. (In other words, the last time I lost weight was when I did the crazy lemonade fast thing.) I’ve gained about 30 lbs in the past year – roughly fifteen before I came to the Ice and another fifteenish since I’ve been here. In the past year I’ve also gained a much deeper acceptance of my body, a familiarity with fat politics, and less insane relationship with food. The Fantasy of Being Thin still haunts me, but not nearly as bad as before – and now, at least, what’s left of it is merely The Fantasy of Being Thinner.

I know that I’m unhealthy right now because I live in fucking Antarctica and the institutional environment here is meat-grinderesque. I wasn’t healthy over the summer because I was working/commuting 12 – 15 hour days of mostly sitting at a desk or on a bus. I’ve got plenty of non-weight related signals, both physical and psychological, telling me that I’m in less than tip-top shape. Meanwhile, I do believe that at least some of my weight gain in the past year must have been healthy, because it came after I cut down on my insane disordered eating behaviors.

Still. I’m kinda freaking out. 30 lbs in one year seems like a lot. Putting aside my remaining internalized fat-hate as much as I can…I’m nervous because I know that significant, rapid weight gain is a symptom of thyroid problems, which run stongly in my family. I know weight gain can also indicate a number of other medical problems. I want to believe that if this (or a larger size than this) is my body’s natural, healthy set point, that I’ll be able to accept, own and love that about myself. But I also don’t want to let a real medical problem – especially one so highly correlated with depression – go undiagnosed because my feelings about my body are a tangled mess…

But it sucks because finding reliable medical information about ANYTHING related to weight gain/loss is such a daunting process. It seems impossible to do it on the Internet. If I need to know why I’m having muscle spasms in my calves or my poop is a funny color, it’s not too hard to find a number of relevant, informative websites to peruse – but if there are relevant, informative medical websites qua weight-fluctuation that aren’t bogged down with underlying “Teh Fats iz Bad For U!!” bias, I certainly haven’t been able to filter them out of the mass of weight-loss drug ads and diet-tip blogs.

So that’s out. The medical staff here is out because, I don’t know, I have to eat meals with them, and see them drunk shouting “Woo!” at parties, and I know an uncomfortable number of illicit details about their personal lives and…it’s just too weird. Also, if it IS a thyroid problem, that could possibly NPQ me out of future contracts, so I don’t want that information in my permanent record. Meanwhile, back in the States, I don’t have a medical professional who I trust (re: my fatness among other things). Or a medical professional, period. Not to mention medical insurance. I suppose I could ask my Mom… (That was a joke.)

Secretly though, I think this is my fear: I’m afraid to get checked out because I’m afraid I’ll find out I have NO thyroid issues or hormonal imbalances or anything else “wrong” with me (other than being ohsnos!Fat!)… That I will start practicing intuitive eating in earnest, cooking myself healthy, delicious meals and exercising often in ways that I enjoy…and that I will, regardless, keep gaining weight. That it will turn out what’s natural and healthy for my body is to gain continously as I age…and that I will never be able to accept or love that. That I will just get bigger and bigger and bigger and gain and gain and never stop, and never be able to love myself, and will pass some kind of limit past which nobody else will be able to love me either, and I will end up alone, reviled and hating myself, “300 lbs with a toilet seat embedded in my ass.”

Which I just realized references an offhand “joke” someone made earlier today…

Which is probably what possessed me to weigh myself.

And kicked off this whole spiral again.



Blah blah blah. Blog blog blog.
I am so sick of doing this shit to myself.

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