Thursday, March 23
I had a good long look at myself in the mirror today and came to a distressing conclusion. I've lost weight.
A lot of you now hate me. And, yes, there are definite benefits to having the kind of metabolism that means you never have to think twice about taking a second helping of ice cream -- second helpings of ice cream, for one. But there are also disadvantages. Like being crabby and starving whenever I get cold, which is frequently, since there is essentially nothing between my innards and the wind but that wimpy "skin" thing. Like the scar I still carry on my chin from forgetting to eat for a day and a half and fainting because of it. (I would have made a really bad Victorian lady. I hit all kinds of furniture on the way down.)
And when combined with a stress reaction which shuts down my appetite, well, my metabolism is downright lethal.
When I spent a year studying in New Zealand -- a stressful time for various reasons -- I lost about 15 pounds. I didn't really notice at the time. I was tired a lot, but I could ignore that; I was sick more frequently than usual, but I put it down to living on campus. When one of my friends started taking me out to eat all the time and insisting that I wanted "feeding up", I thought she was taking the piss, carrying on with the various jokes she'd made about our difference in weights. It wasn't until I got home and my mother took one look at me, went white, and started shoving food down my throat at an accelerated rate that I realized this "weight loss" thing might actually be something I should worry about.
I've been more careful since then, and my weight has more or less stayed at the suggested healthy weight for my frame. But the past two months have been very, very high-stress for me, and looking at myself in the mirror, I realized that I was falling back into old patterns. When I'm not too depressed to cook, I'm too stressed to eat, with my stomach in knots and everything I put in my mouth tasting of ashes. I'm getting one solid meal a day, maximum, and all too frequently it's been a meal every other day with a few snacks to tide me over. It's not New Zealand yet, but it's edging in that general direction.
And, of course, I never seem to recognize at the time that having extreme mood swings and overreactions might possibly have something to do with the fact that I'm fucking malnourished. And downward we spiral into the feedback loop....
*pounds head on keyboard*
Why can't anything be simple?
Right. Last of the self-pitying posting, I promise, but I needed to get this one off my chest. And now to the kitchen I go. Because even though I'm not hungry, dammit, I need to eat.
A lot of you now hate me. And, yes, there are definite benefits to having the kind of metabolism that means you never have to think twice about taking a second helping of ice cream -- second helpings of ice cream, for one. But there are also disadvantages. Like being crabby and starving whenever I get cold, which is frequently, since there is essentially nothing between my innards and the wind but that wimpy "skin" thing. Like the scar I still carry on my chin from forgetting to eat for a day and a half and fainting because of it. (I would have made a really bad Victorian lady. I hit all kinds of furniture on the way down.)
And when combined with a stress reaction which shuts down my appetite, well, my metabolism is downright lethal.
When I spent a year studying in New Zealand -- a stressful time for various reasons -- I lost about 15 pounds. I didn't really notice at the time. I was tired a lot, but I could ignore that; I was sick more frequently than usual, but I put it down to living on campus. When one of my friends started taking me out to eat all the time and insisting that I wanted "feeding up", I thought she was taking the piss, carrying on with the various jokes she'd made about our difference in weights. It wasn't until I got home and my mother took one look at me, went white, and started shoving food down my throat at an accelerated rate that I realized this "weight loss" thing might actually be something I should worry about.
I've been more careful since then, and my weight has more or less stayed at the suggested healthy weight for my frame. But the past two months have been very, very high-stress for me, and looking at myself in the mirror, I realized that I was falling back into old patterns. When I'm not too depressed to cook, I'm too stressed to eat, with my stomach in knots and everything I put in my mouth tasting of ashes. I'm getting one solid meal a day, maximum, and all too frequently it's been a meal every other day with a few snacks to tide me over. It's not New Zealand yet, but it's edging in that general direction.
And, of course, I never seem to recognize at the time that having extreme mood swings and overreactions might possibly have something to do with the fact that I'm fucking malnourished. And downward we spiral into the feedback loop....
*pounds head on keyboard*
Why can't anything be simple?
Right. Last of the self-pitying posting, I promise, but I needed to get this one off my chest. And now to the kitchen I go. Because even though I'm not hungry, dammit, I need to eat.
Monday, March 20
Memage, yanked from quite a few people on the f-list:
Owner's Manual for a Kat
How can I tell if you are angry?
Well... there are two potential states here. One, you've irritated me, probably by acting in a way I consider unfair, unfeeling, or rude to me. If you're someone I'm not hugely close to (99% of the people I know) I may make a sarcastic comment or two, but most likely you'll never know; I'll simply stay away from you until the irritation wears off. If you irritate me repeatedly, I'll avoid you entirely. If you're someone close to me, I'll either snap at you or whine at you, but again it may be hard for you to tell. Since the number of people currently in this category I can count on the fingers of one hand, it's not something most of you should worry about.
Two, you have made me angry. This is rare. I don't like getting angry, it makes me shake and does evil things to my heart rate, so in general this will mean that you've said or done something that injures someone I love (or something; at least half of the incidents I can think of in this category have been over mistreatment of animals.) I rarely get angry on my own account. You will know because I will be in your face, speaking in an icy voice, and literally shaking with rage.
How should I behave around you if you're angry?
In the case of irritation:
1) Notice. This isn't fair, because as I've said my signs of irritation are so subtle that even those close to me don't usually know, but if by some chance you do notice it's the fastest way of cooling me down. A simple, "I've upset you," or "...but I guess you don't agree," tells me that you're actually paying close attention to me, and that's a rare enough event that it immediately inclines me to forgiveness.
2) Listen. If you notice that I'm irritated -- or if you don't and I for some reason tell you, which probably puts you in that 1% of people I'm actually close to -- then I will probably proffer some kind of explanation for my behavior. It will probably be severely apologetic even if I'm still irritated, because I am not a confrontational person and I was raised in the South, land of terminal politeness. Do not laugh off, dismiss, or ignore what I say; take it seriously and respond to me in kind. Again, this almost never happens to me, and so it's likely that I will forgive you on the spot no matter what you've done.
If you've actually made me angry... well, my best advice is "don't". My second-best is to cower; I don't hit people when they're down. And then leave me alone for a little while, because it will take time for me to get down from the anger high and get control of my reactions.
In neither case should you meet anger with anger. It will only make me withdraw from you, either physically or emotionally. If you're in the 1%, "emotionally" probably means "into tears". Don't mistake any kind of withdrawal for victory. I haven't changed my opinion; I've just acted to keep myself from getting more upset by pushing you away.
How do you want me to behave when you are hurting emotionally?
Make sympathetic noises, and, if you're not in that 1%, give me room to fall apart in private. I am deeply shamed by showing pain in front of all but a very few people. Reassure me that I'm not stupid for feeling what I feel, since I am almost always convinced that the hurting is my own fault and if I was just stronger/smarter/better I wouldn't be upset at all. Don't touch me unless I invite you to (or you're part of the 1%). I am not good with most people invading my personal space, especially when I'm already upset.
When I've collected myself again, act like nothing ever happened. This will make me feel less ashamed and less like I've permanently damaged your impression of me.
Are there things we should not discuss?
Not really. If I don't want to talk about something, or if you're pushing my boundaries, I'll either change the subject or let you know in some other way.
The exception is... hrm. How to say this? I don't know how to flirt. I can't handle people flirting with me, it scares the hell out of me. There's lots of reasons for this, but most I can't articulate. I'm also bad at accepting compliments and, as previously mentioned, I'm not good with people invading my personal space. I'm generally more comfortable with all of the above when Dan is there -- the closer the better -- so if I suddenly drag Dan into a conversation we're having it's probably a sign that I'm feeling uncomfortable and need him to make me feel okay again. It is nothing you are doing wrong; I'm like this with everyone.
How should I treat you if you are physically ill?
Look sympathetic. I really don't care; I'm not ill often and don't have much emotional baggage attached to being so.
What makes you happy that's in my power to grant as a friend?
Smile, listen to me, act like I'm cool to be around and you respect my opinion. I really don't ask much from friends, but I am extremely not-confident in company and pretty much assume that people are only putting up with me to be kind. Tell me otherwise, and you'll make me blush and stammer, but it'll be in a good way. Honest. ;)
How would you like me to recognize your birthday?
"Happy birthday"?
Are there any standing categories of presents that would be appropriate or unwelcome?
I don't think anyone who reads this, save one person, would ever be in a position to buy me a present. But... *shrug* Books are always good.
Are there times of the year that are difficult for you?
I have mild SAD and may be draggy in the winter. Other than that, no.
Are there important anniversaries that I should recognize in your life?
Geez, I rarely remember what day it is to start with, much less attach specific import to 'em.
Who are the most important people in your life to whom I should defer when making plans on your behalf?
Why on Earth would anyone make plans on my behalf?
But in the interests of science: Dan, first, foremost, and always. Following that, my family. I am still deeply close to my parents, which seems to be... unusual... in the circles in which I move, and I value deeply their opinion of me. And, since they're currently employing me, they've an obvious claim on my time above others.
Any other questions?
Owner's Manual for a Kat
How can I tell if you are angry?
Well... there are two potential states here. One, you've irritated me, probably by acting in a way I consider unfair, unfeeling, or rude to me. If you're someone I'm not hugely close to (99% of the people I know) I may make a sarcastic comment or two, but most likely you'll never know; I'll simply stay away from you until the irritation wears off. If you irritate me repeatedly, I'll avoid you entirely. If you're someone close to me, I'll either snap at you or whine at you, but again it may be hard for you to tell. Since the number of people currently in this category I can count on the fingers of one hand, it's not something most of you should worry about.
Two, you have made me angry. This is rare. I don't like getting angry, it makes me shake and does evil things to my heart rate, so in general this will mean that you've said or done something that injures someone I love (or something; at least half of the incidents I can think of in this category have been over mistreatment of animals.) I rarely get angry on my own account. You will know because I will be in your face, speaking in an icy voice, and literally shaking with rage.
How should I behave around you if you're angry?
In the case of irritation:
1) Notice. This isn't fair, because as I've said my signs of irritation are so subtle that even those close to me don't usually know, but if by some chance you do notice it's the fastest way of cooling me down. A simple, "I've upset you," or "...but I guess you don't agree," tells me that you're actually paying close attention to me, and that's a rare enough event that it immediately inclines me to forgiveness.
2) Listen. If you notice that I'm irritated -- or if you don't and I for some reason tell you, which probably puts you in that 1% of people I'm actually close to -- then I will probably proffer some kind of explanation for my behavior. It will probably be severely apologetic even if I'm still irritated, because I am not a confrontational person and I was raised in the South, land of terminal politeness. Do not laugh off, dismiss, or ignore what I say; take it seriously and respond to me in kind. Again, this almost never happens to me, and so it's likely that I will forgive you on the spot no matter what you've done.
If you've actually made me angry... well, my best advice is "don't". My second-best is to cower; I don't hit people when they're down. And then leave me alone for a little while, because it will take time for me to get down from the anger high and get control of my reactions.
In neither case should you meet anger with anger. It will only make me withdraw from you, either physically or emotionally. If you're in the 1%, "emotionally" probably means "into tears". Don't mistake any kind of withdrawal for victory. I haven't changed my opinion; I've just acted to keep myself from getting more upset by pushing you away.
How do you want me to behave when you are hurting emotionally?
Make sympathetic noises, and, if you're not in that 1%, give me room to fall apart in private. I am deeply shamed by showing pain in front of all but a very few people. Reassure me that I'm not stupid for feeling what I feel, since I am almost always convinced that the hurting is my own fault and if I was just stronger/smarter/better I wouldn't be upset at all. Don't touch me unless I invite you to (or you're part of the 1%). I am not good with most people invading my personal space, especially when I'm already upset.
When I've collected myself again, act like nothing ever happened. This will make me feel less ashamed and less like I've permanently damaged your impression of me.
Are there things we should not discuss?
Not really. If I don't want to talk about something, or if you're pushing my boundaries, I'll either change the subject or let you know in some other way.
The exception is... hrm. How to say this? I don't know how to flirt. I can't handle people flirting with me, it scares the hell out of me. There's lots of reasons for this, but most I can't articulate. I'm also bad at accepting compliments and, as previously mentioned, I'm not good with people invading my personal space. I'm generally more comfortable with all of the above when Dan is there -- the closer the better -- so if I suddenly drag Dan into a conversation we're having it's probably a sign that I'm feeling uncomfortable and need him to make me feel okay again. It is nothing you are doing wrong; I'm like this with everyone.
How should I treat you if you are physically ill?
Look sympathetic. I really don't care; I'm not ill often and don't have much emotional baggage attached to being so.
What makes you happy that's in my power to grant as a friend?
Smile, listen to me, act like I'm cool to be around and you respect my opinion. I really don't ask much from friends, but I am extremely not-confident in company and pretty much assume that people are only putting up with me to be kind. Tell me otherwise, and you'll make me blush and stammer, but it'll be in a good way. Honest. ;)
How would you like me to recognize your birthday?
"Happy birthday"?
Are there any standing categories of presents that would be appropriate or unwelcome?
I don't think anyone who reads this, save one person, would ever be in a position to buy me a present. But... *shrug* Books are always good.
Are there times of the year that are difficult for you?
I have mild SAD and may be draggy in the winter. Other than that, no.
Are there important anniversaries that I should recognize in your life?
Geez, I rarely remember what day it is to start with, much less attach specific import to 'em.
Who are the most important people in your life to whom I should defer when making plans on your behalf?
Why on Earth would anyone make plans on my behalf?
But in the interests of science: Dan, first, foremost, and always. Following that, my family. I am still deeply close to my parents, which seems to be... unusual... in the circles in which I move, and I value deeply their opinion of me. And, since they're currently employing me, they've an obvious claim on my time above others.
Any other questions?
Saturday, March 18
Seems like I've been promising a State of the Life post for a while now. So, in no particular order....
State of the Dan
Still in Canada, and likely to return here no sooner than the middle of April. We do think we've found a way to get him back in the country; however, it's going to take time, money, and patience, and is still uncertain in the details.
So I'm sitting in Galax in my big empty house with a big empty bed, doing both our jobs at the farm, and trying to remind myself that no matter how bad things are I need to eat (or, on the really bad stress days, that I need to eat and keep it down) and this has had a lot to do with why I'm not around or posting much. I do not handle stress well, and so far everything that's happened with Dan has only added to the load. Not all of it has been bad stress, but still, no reason to clog the blog with posts from the Stress Monkey.
But I will at least get to see him at Ad Astra. This is pretty much all that's preserving my sanity right now.
State of the Farm
Calving. We're up to seven babies; cute still, but rapidly moving into that piranha-like state which will characterize them for the next month. We also have seventeen overdue. They're doing it just to see us sweat, I swear to God.
All the same, I have to keep reminding myself how lucky I am to be working with Jerseys instead of Holsteins. Jerseys ("the brown ones", to those of you with a less than agricultural background) differ from the more common Holstein breed ("the black and white ones") in several important respects. First, they're smaller. This is important. The difference between an animal averaging 700 pounds and an animal averaging 1100 may seem small but, when you're actually wrestling said animal, it becomes a lot more important.
Second, they're Gandhi cows. A Jersey, in any given situation where you're doing something she doesn't like, will roll her eyes back in her head, go limp, and fall over. Now, this is pretty annoying, because when 700 pounds of cow goes limp there's not a hell of a lot you can do. But a Holstein in the same situation will break everything in reach. Including herself. Fighting spirit, very impressive, but I vividly recall the herdsman I worked with in Wales reciting his list of broken bones, and I think I prefer the annoying pacifists.
Third, they're smarter, the reason cited by most dairymen for not keeping Jerseys. This is because Jersey "smarts" consist of a blend of fearlessness, insatiable curiosity, and Noticing Things. The typical Jersey train of thought goes something like "Well, I suppose this was put here to startle me, but that just makes me REALLY WONDER what's behind it. Let's just wriggle through this gap and... oh! Look! An open gate! I wonder where this strange stone road with the yellow stripes might go, and why that thing is making honking noises at me?"
It's at times like these (usually about three in the morning, incidentally), or when you're trying to figure out how the cow got in the pit, much less how you're getting her out, or when the vet is saying incredulously "Inter-nasal beestings?", that you have to wonder whether intelligence is all it's cracked up to be.
But again, take the typical Holstein. Now, it's true that the Holstein is not on the road at three am because she noticed the gap in the fence. The Holstein is on the road at three am because a plane went over, or a dog barked, or you did something to startle her, and her pea-sized little brain went into overload and left her with the one, the only, Holstein Train of Logic:
"Want gate! This not gate, this fence! WHY FENCE NOT GATE? MAKE FENCE GATE!"
... and she's gonna be a hell of a lot harder to catch, too.
And, finally, Jerseys are prettier. I work with these animals every day. It's a lot easier when they're not ugly as sin.
State of the Car
Surprisingly, it turned out to "just" need a new transmission. With labor, this came out to, uh, roughly the car's Blue Book value, but I don't have to sink multiple thousands of dollars into a new car. If this one can be nursed along for another year, it'll have been worth it.
State of the Writing
Mixed. When the US government got between me and Dan it sorta dropped my Muse in a deep, dark well, and every time over the past month and a half that she's tried to crawl out the Stress Monkey has pushed her back in. I feel like I'm only just crawling out of the well myself, to be frank. Journey in Twilight is officially on hold; it is a lovely and ambitious project, but I don't have it in me to tackle the beauty and weirdness of it right now.
Instead, I'm doing what I swore I wouldn't do until Harmony Station sold: writing a sequel. *sigh* It's very bad of me... but it's also frightening how fast I can fall back into Joey's voice, and how quickly my brain, so sluggish with Journey, can whip up a story to fit the voice. Not quite out of thin air, I've been scribbling notes on this idea for a year or more, but still, a near-working outline in two days is ridiculous.
I am bad. But it's better than writing nothing, and I'll do my best to make it a standalone.
As for Harmony, it's been trekking about the agentsphere and so far collected five rejections and two partial requests. Not bad when I'm trying to sell science fiction (reliably known to be on the downswing) and have no publication credits whatsoever. I have cautious hope.
State of the Finances
Don't ask.
Conclusion
I want to start blogging regularly again. About all I can hope for at this point is best two out of three with the Stress Monkey, but it's at least a real hope right now. My typical reaction to this kind of stress has been to retreat, like the turtle, into the hard shell that is my fantasy life. It's one of the benefits of being an extreme introvert: you've always got somewhere to hide. But while this may leave you with fewer scars than others, you don't get much of anywhere with your legs all hidden away like that, and you can't do a hell of a lot about the Bad Stuff happening outside besides hope it goes away. I'm going to try, however cautiously, to poke my nose out and start creeping forwards again.
(Now watch me get all seventeen overdue calves tomorrow and be up to my elbows in work and unable to post. That Murphy, eh? Damned Irish jokers.)
State of the Dan
Still in Canada, and likely to return here no sooner than the middle of April. We do think we've found a way to get him back in the country; however, it's going to take time, money, and patience, and is still uncertain in the details.
So I'm sitting in Galax in my big empty house with a big empty bed, doing both our jobs at the farm, and trying to remind myself that no matter how bad things are I need to eat (or, on the really bad stress days, that I need to eat and keep it down) and this has had a lot to do with why I'm not around or posting much. I do not handle stress well, and so far everything that's happened with Dan has only added to the load. Not all of it has been bad stress, but still, no reason to clog the blog with posts from the Stress Monkey.
But I will at least get to see him at Ad Astra. This is pretty much all that's preserving my sanity right now.
State of the Farm
Calving. We're up to seven babies; cute still, but rapidly moving into that piranha-like state which will characterize them for the next month. We also have seventeen overdue. They're doing it just to see us sweat, I swear to God.
All the same, I have to keep reminding myself how lucky I am to be working with Jerseys instead of Holsteins. Jerseys ("the brown ones", to those of you with a less than agricultural background) differ from the more common Holstein breed ("the black and white ones") in several important respects. First, they're smaller. This is important. The difference between an animal averaging 700 pounds and an animal averaging 1100 may seem small but, when you're actually wrestling said animal, it becomes a lot more important.
Second, they're Gandhi cows. A Jersey, in any given situation where you're doing something she doesn't like, will roll her eyes back in her head, go limp, and fall over. Now, this is pretty annoying, because when 700 pounds of cow goes limp there's not a hell of a lot you can do. But a Holstein in the same situation will break everything in reach. Including herself. Fighting spirit, very impressive, but I vividly recall the herdsman I worked with in Wales reciting his list of broken bones, and I think I prefer the annoying pacifists.
Third, they're smarter, the reason cited by most dairymen for not keeping Jerseys. This is because Jersey "smarts" consist of a blend of fearlessness, insatiable curiosity, and Noticing Things. The typical Jersey train of thought goes something like "Well, I suppose this was put here to startle me, but that just makes me REALLY WONDER what's behind it. Let's just wriggle through this gap and... oh! Look! An open gate! I wonder where this strange stone road with the yellow stripes might go, and why that thing is making honking noises at me?"
It's at times like these (usually about three in the morning, incidentally), or when you're trying to figure out how the cow got in the pit, much less how you're getting her out, or when the vet is saying incredulously "Inter-nasal beestings?", that you have to wonder whether intelligence is all it's cracked up to be.
But again, take the typical Holstein. Now, it's true that the Holstein is not on the road at three am because she noticed the gap in the fence. The Holstein is on the road at three am because a plane went over, or a dog barked, or you did something to startle her, and her pea-sized little brain went into overload and left her with the one, the only, Holstein Train of Logic:
"Want gate! This not gate, this fence! WHY FENCE NOT GATE? MAKE FENCE GATE!"
... and she's gonna be a hell of a lot harder to catch, too.
And, finally, Jerseys are prettier. I work with these animals every day. It's a lot easier when they're not ugly as sin.
State of the Car
Surprisingly, it turned out to "just" need a new transmission. With labor, this came out to, uh, roughly the car's Blue Book value, but I don't have to sink multiple thousands of dollars into a new car. If this one can be nursed along for another year, it'll have been worth it.
State of the Writing
Mixed. When the US government got between me and Dan it sorta dropped my Muse in a deep, dark well, and every time over the past month and a half that she's tried to crawl out the Stress Monkey has pushed her back in. I feel like I'm only just crawling out of the well myself, to be frank. Journey in Twilight is officially on hold; it is a lovely and ambitious project, but I don't have it in me to tackle the beauty and weirdness of it right now.
Instead, I'm doing what I swore I wouldn't do until Harmony Station sold: writing a sequel. *sigh* It's very bad of me... but it's also frightening how fast I can fall back into Joey's voice, and how quickly my brain, so sluggish with Journey, can whip up a story to fit the voice. Not quite out of thin air, I've been scribbling notes on this idea for a year or more, but still, a near-working outline in two days is ridiculous.
I am bad. But it's better than writing nothing, and I'll do my best to make it a standalone.
As for Harmony, it's been trekking about the agentsphere and so far collected five rejections and two partial requests. Not bad when I'm trying to sell science fiction (reliably known to be on the downswing) and have no publication credits whatsoever. I have cautious hope.
State of the Finances
Don't ask.
Conclusion
I want to start blogging regularly again. About all I can hope for at this point is best two out of three with the Stress Monkey, but it's at least a real hope right now. My typical reaction to this kind of stress has been to retreat, like the turtle, into the hard shell that is my fantasy life. It's one of the benefits of being an extreme introvert: you've always got somewhere to hide. But while this may leave you with fewer scars than others, you don't get much of anywhere with your legs all hidden away like that, and you can't do a hell of a lot about the Bad Stuff happening outside besides hope it goes away. I'm going to try, however cautiously, to poke my nose out and start creeping forwards again.
(Now watch me get all seventeen overdue calves tomorrow and be up to my elbows in work and unable to post. That Murphy, eh? Damned Irish jokers.)
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