My mind is full of projects and new things

My mind is full of projects and new things I want to do, do, do!

People tell me: SC, if you're feeling stressed out, cut out all the extraneous projects you take on.

Don't they understand, it's the extraneous projects -- the bug bios and home-crafted spinosaurus costume and lava mountain dinosaur cake (for my favorite dinosaur lover) and socio-economic policy Facebook posts and upcycled furniture and small business craft fairs and Art Deco photoshopping and (way) deep(er than necessary)-dive research into corporate tax policy and home-designed and -sewn mommy-daughter matching swimsuits and homemade Christmas stockings and psychology reading and elaborate, realistic Halloween decorations and... -- that I enjoy?

It's the inescapably necessary things like hair-washing and house-keeping and bread-winning that stress me out. It's the things that can't be cut out, and are never ever finished no matter how hard I work, but just repeat over and over again... like sitting in the same Whip meeting week after week listening to the same cast of characters talk about the same messaging around the same bills or cleaning up the same crusty cottage cheese-and-chips and Cheerios-and-milk spills on the same counters, washing the same socks ... that I hate.

So which is better? Overstretched and stressed or bored and stressed?

Sometimes I think about stress like molecules of oxygen in a room. There's a finite upper limit to how many molecules you can squeeze in before the windows blow out and a finite lower limit beyond which the oxygen is undetectable. But within those two extremes, they'll still expand to fill the whole room.

Comments

When a known liar is accused of attempted rape, should he serve on the Supreme Court?

Kavanaugh categorically denies the allegations. His conservative backers think he probably did it anyway. They just don't care. Or care that he could be lying about it now. On Sunday, the Washington Post reported that California psychology professor Dr. Christine Blasey Ford had credibly accused Donald Trump's Supreme Court nominee Brett Kavanaugh of sexual assault and attempted rape when they were both in high school. As reported in the Post, significant circumstantial evidence supports Dr. Blasey Ford, who described the attack to therapists in 2012 and 2013, long before Kavanaugh’s nomination, and who passed a lie detector test in August. The Senate Judiciary Committee had been scheduled to vote on the nomination today, with a vote in the full Senate planned for next week. At first, Republicans attempted to muscle their way through. When that became untenable, they hastily announced a hearing for this coming Monday, September 24, allowing little time to investigate

Yesterday we saw the Brett Kavanaugh that his victims saw

tl,dr; Yesterday was a lot. An angry, spittle-flecked, partisan hack cried, screamed, pouted, spouted conspiracy theories, and most importantly lied under oath, looking every bit like the aggressive mean drunk that his victims told us he was. And Republican men apologized to him—to him!—without saying a single word to the woman he attacked, even as she earnestly, painfully relived one of the worst moments of her life. My write-up: After a harrowing hearing on Thursday, Republicans on the Senate Judiciary Committee look set to advance the Supreme Court nomination of Brett Kavanaugh. The vote could come less than 24 hours after Dr. Christine Blasey Ford testified under oath that Kavanaugh had sexually assaulted her when they were both teenagers. Even though two more women—Deborah Ramirez and Julie Swetnick—have accused Kavanaugh of sexual assault on the record and have called for an FBI investigation into their allegations, only Dr. Blasey Ford was allowed to testify. Afraid of

Personal Observations on Brett Kavanaugh and Misogyny

—September 26, 2018 — Reliving my own stories of disempowerment and hearing those of so many other women, I wanted to relay a story about one time with a happier ending. When I was a freshman in college, I lived in a dorm with a handful of girls I’m still friends with today. At some point early in the year, the boys who lived on the first floor right by the entrance put up a soft-core porn poster on the outside of their door depicting a college-age girl in a demeaning pose. Every girl who entered the dorm had to walk by that poster just to get to her own bedroom. It was degrading, threatening, disgusting. It communicated: we can do whatever we want and you just have to put up with it. I don’t remember who had the idea but I remember that I was the one who found the replacement poster: a male stripper in a provocative pose completely naked but for a well-placed cowboy hat covering his genitalia. Early one morning, my partner in crime and I crept down to the first floor an

A Mile Wide, An Inch Deep

Search This Blog