Archive for April, 2013

Build Up, Put Down

Posted April 22, 2013 By kmarrs

Calling the weather “Bi-polar” is akin to calling a situation gay or retarded.

No, hear me.

Weather is not a sentient being.  It does not have feelings or moods.  So saying its behavior is “bi-polar” and meaning it as a put down or a sign of craziness, is demeaning to those who have bi-polar, or really, any personality disorder.  If you say it to be demeaning, then it is demeaning across the board.

Just as calling a situation you find to be stupid “gay” is in-effect, calling gay people stupid.  It is the same.  These sentient beings with feelings, thoughts and love may well be stupid, some of them, but it has naught to do with their sexuality.  Maybe they turned their nose up at education, or aren’t wise.  But that is intelligence and lack of intelligence can mean stupidity.  But not sexuality.  Sexuality is something you are born with.  Sexuality is who you love.  And love is never stupid.  It may make you do stupid or foolish things, but love is not stupid.

And the word “retarded” has been fought over all over the internet.  I’ve tried to avoid that can of worms, but it’s time.  There was a time that those who were born with a certain lack of intellectual qualities, were declared “retarded”.  But let’s be clear on something:  Your friend goofing off and doing stupid shit isn’t retarded.  He is dumb or unwise or unintelligent or just blowing off steam and actually the valedictorian of your class.  Who am I to know his story.  That kid with downs (as one of many examples)?  S/he has had to fight harder than you could ever possibly understand to get where s/he is in life.  And maybe that life won’t lead him or her to being a CEO or “successful” by societies standards, but the fight they have had to get to where they are is a success that far surpasses access to dreary board meetings.  And having what it takes to fight hard for that and still wake up every goddamn morning loving life and all it has to offer, is a sheer brilliant you can’t possibly seem to come to terms with.  Not if you are calling your jackass of a friend “retarded”.  Honestly, your friend isn’t worthy of that label.

For what it’s worth, I despise that label because of the ass-backwards connotations it holds.  It should be a label akin to “mood disorder” or “personality disorder” or “heart trouble”.  Something that covers many actual diagnoses, this one happens to deal with learning set-backs.  But no, people have turned it into a dirty word, so a dirty word it seems to be.

Not so very different from the connotations in calling the weather bipolar.

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Slang Wang Boom Clang Bang

Posted April 19, 2013 By kmarrs

First, I found this online and couldn’t resist because they are both adorable and I love British slang.

Second, I made you this out of bits of Older English:

Third, the following was WAY too long to add to the bottom of the post I gave Dawnie to post over at her place.

 

The Verbing of America

The verbing of America
Is getting out of hand,
Yet many nouns are also verbs,
Like toast and rake and land.
When I first heard hospitalize,
I thought it was a crime;
Why don’t we apartmentalize?
We will — just give us time!
If when we change a noun to verb
To come up with our `verbing,’
Why can’t I, when I’m using herbs,
Refer to it as herbing?
For if I call myself a cook
, The verbal form is cooking;
And if I give someone a look,
It’s also known as looking.
I give a gift
But I’m not gifting.
You get my drift,
Or am I drifting?
I get a bill
Because of billing,
But taking pills
Is never pilling.
I place a pin,
And I am pinning.
Play a violin —
Is it violining?
But play a fiddle,
And you’re fiddling;
Or is this getting
Much too piddling?
Planting some seeds
Is always seeding,
And pulling weeds
Is surely weeding;
If drawing blood
Is always bleeding,
Why does a flood
Not lead to fleeding?
I’m wined and dined
But never beered.
I’ve eyed someone,
But never eared!
Turn on a light,
And I am lighting.
Turn on a lamp,
And it’s not lamping.
If I can verbalize
A needle,
And egging on
Can mean to wheedle,
And I am doodling
With a doodle,
When I cook pasta,
Can’t I noodle?
With all these punctuation marks,
I’m doing quite a lot of dotting;
But if I were to use a dash —
Don’t you agree that I am dashing?
But comma-ing and period-ing?
And yet I can italicize
And sometimes must capitalize.
I Anglicize — but Germanicize?
Or Swedicize, or Gaelicize?
With this I could go on and on,
Really ad infinitum;
Whether I lick these word problems,
I sure cannot beat ’em.
Our language is an enigma
In how its words are used;
And that is why, in verbing nouns,
We ought to be excused.

Thanks to Jessica Kestner, who found this in St. Paul Pioneer Press

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Fie Fi Fo Fum

Posted April 17, 2013 By kmarrs

I wrote a guest post over at Dawnie’s place yesterday. It is not my usual work. I didn’t mention BPD even once. But I did provide the proper use of the word fie in a sentence. And other word fun. I’m told it’s actually funny and amusing. Which may be. Go and see?  Then come back to me on Friday for some fun and games.  No, really, It’s really quite fun!

My post at Dawnie’s can be found here.

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The Good Outnumber You

Posted April 16, 2013 By kmarrs

I wasn’t going to post today.  But sometimes life just needs commenting on.  So here, with only this as comment, is something I can stand behind.  Regular programming tomorrow.

 

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Watch Your Face

Posted April 15, 2013 By kmarrs

I’ve talked Pat into getting a dog.  Alright, so he’s making me wait until we get back from vacation in July, but still, that’s not so very far off.  At this point, I think he just wants me to stop begging for a baby.  What with me having been sterilized, it was buy me a dog or steal me a baby.  And the pregnant girl at work is already eying me funny enough as it is.

We even know what kind we want.  Alright, maybe not the breed.  I mean, we both have a personal dog we want that is breed specific, but this first dog will be the family dog and for that we are looking at personality traits, not pedigree.

This dog will be a rescue, but young enough to grow up with my babies.  This dog will be big.  Big enough that my babies can climb over it without hurting it, and it will have the mushy personality to take it and love it, please sir can I have some more.  But this dog will also be big enough that should someone force entry into my home and threaten my babies, that someone will be without a face.  That if someone messes with my oldest when he walks the dog (3 times a day so he says) they will have to mess with the dog in the process.

This dog will love to eat Cheerios off the floor.  And crusts.  And bits of chicken.

This dog will love to play fetch with the baby.  And fetch the baby.

Chase monsters away for my Lucas.  And then sleep at his feet to keep them away.

Teach responsibility to my Thomas, and companionship that only a dog can offer as well.

My current love is named Lady.  She can boast manners, leash training, house breaking, and a Great Dane in her lineage.  I’m in love, but I can’t imagine she will be there in July.  Hopefully, at least, she has an equally ladylike friend.

And in July, we will go seek this friend out.  Pat and I will spend hours looking and playing with the dogs.  And when we think we have found our long-lost family member, we’ll introduce first Thomas, then the rest of my babies.  The children will get a good hour testing the temperament of any dog we might bring home.  And if the dog can withstand all 3 at once, and still beg for more, they will find a forever home and with it endless love and adoration.  And that’s just from me.

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I Couldn’t Have Said It Better Myself

Posted April 12, 2013 By kmarrs

The recovery I want to achieve means attaining the level of control and stability I felt when I was last well. It means simply getting on with my life. And at the moment I can’t do that, because the side effects of the meds are almost as disabling as the original symptoms were. Obviously I am happy that I have very few bipolar symptoms now. And so I understand why people keep telling me that I should be proud of how far I have come since this time last year. But here’s the thing: compared with where I was, yes, remission is great. Fantastic. But that’s not my goal. I just want to feel normal, instead of participating in this this ceaseless “choose your own adventure” life of trying to work out the potential consequences of every decision. And so I find it difficult to be positive about where I am right now. True, I’ve managed to get off the rollercoaster, but I’m still hoping to leave the theme park. Or, to put it another way, I may have walked 500 miles. But to get back to what feels like the “real me”, I have yet to walk 500 more. Step by effortful step.

This is only the final glimpse of a realization those with a disability like bipolar or BPD fight each day.  I must stress that you go read the full story so that you may understand where this realization comes from.  You’ll find it over on Miss Charlotte’s blog: Purple Persuasion.

Her words to me on writing this post, stresses why it is so important for it to be shared:

Some people use the terms interchangeable but I think they are different. I wanted to show how when you have a disability it carries on affecting your life even when you are relatively “well”.

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