Bullshit of the day

(actually last week)

I’m sure this would be old news to me if I spent more time talking to people, men especially, but:

Dear Guy at the Party Last Week, why are you and other fat men so willing to call fat women gross and ugly?

He was talking about how he took massage classes when he was younger, hoping to get to massage attractive women, and how he was grossed out by having to touch women who were fat.  He put it like this: *mime poking finger into something soft and make “squoosh” sound effects*

Lots of anti-fat stuff harms men too. Men can have body image problems and eating disorders too. But sometimes, stuff that focuses on attractiveness seems to just go straight past men without touching them. I’m not sure how that happens. This guy didn’t seem to have any concern that I might not want to sit squished up against him on the couch while he was telling this story. (And I really didn’t mind, until he started telling this story, and mentioned his cock at every opportunity, and responded to CJ saying she hadn’t been on a date in a while by apparently-seriously offering to date her.)

If I have one education-related regret, it’s this:

When I took foreign language classes in college, I didn’t know auditory processing disorder existed.

I chose to take a (300-level) class that focused on speaking and listening. To challenge myself. I knew it would be hard for me and I wanted to shore up that area of my skills.

One of the class participation requirements was that you spend a certain number of meals (I think it was twelve?) sitting at a table in the cafeteria staffed by a student employee and chatting exclusively in the language you were studying.

I think I went three or four times, and then I accepted that I couldn’t handle it and I wasn’t going to get those points.

Because I didn’t know, I didn’t understand, I didn’t have the concept that I legitimately have more trouble with background noise than most people. I didn’t have the words to say “I understand Spanish, I just can’t hear you.” I didn’t have the words to say “I can hear, but not with a hundred other people talking in the same room.”

I almost had the words to say “I speak just as little in the cafeteria when everyone’s speaking English,” but I didn’t believe it was an actual problem. I just thought I had to try harder to do as well as everyone else.

Theoretically, though, it is an actual disability. I should have been able to get actual disability accomodations, for it. I shouldn’t have had things my brain doesn’t do well counted against me as failure to study or slacking off. (No, I’m not exaggerating. When I went to the Spanish-practice table and didn’t talk enough, by whatever the student worker’s standard was, I got dirty looks and passive-aggressive complaints about how they had to give me credit for attending even though I wasn’t doing anything.)
I don’t know if my college or my professors would have actually taken it seriously, even if I’d had a diagnosis and all the boilerplate I ought to have, but. That shouldn’t have happened.

——

Prompted by people on Tumblr talking about “modified language learning” programs for people with disabilities.

New pet peeve:

People who assume that my quietness is of the scared self-effacing over-apologizing type, and jump all over themselves to assure me I don’t need to apologize for things.

Let me handle my failures of hearing the way I choose to, please. I’m going to say things like “I’m sorry, could you repeat that?” and “Sorry, I couldn’t hear.” I think they’re reasonable. Please understand them the way they’re meant, as just a small social politeness.

Incoherent rambling

Maybe don’t read this, Sparkly, becaues I’m really not trying to make it coherent.

From Rose Under Fire by Elizabeth Wein:

[During the first day] all I’d seen in the guards were bad tempers and meanness. But not evil. Not horror. Not really. Only… you know, they were always so random about dealing out their meanness. I think the randomness should have tipped me off. It was dark when they beat me up and cut off Elodie’s hair that night. They didn’t even have the benefit of much of an audience. It wasn’t humiliating; it was just vicious.

The randomness has left its mark. I am scared of anything arbitrary now— of anything that happens suddenly. I am scared of the telephone ringing. It rang this morning, when the embassy called to see if I was okay. I am scared of loud noises in the street. I am scared of dogs, and of talking to people for the first time. It is not a normal kind of being scared— the telephone made me burst into tears. A horse-drawn cart clattering by made me crouch behind the vanity table. It took me about an hour to get the courage to go into the embassy the other day— I just stood there against the wall outside the gate watching everybody else go in and out.

And much later, more of the same thing:

Except that I feel like I have never lived anywhere else but this big room and its gorgeous bathroom, this could have happened yesterday. I think it is partly the reason I haven’t even ventured out to find a dining room. The terror of that first day in the open, with the treacherous future yawning in front of us like the Grand Canyon– on foot with no food and no money and no papers in the middle of Germany, eternally at war, probably with people hunting for us– although I’m pretty sure now that if they had been, they’d have already found us for sure. But you don’t think everything through logically when you have no real future except to plummet over the edge of the Grand Canyon.

———-

Continue reading

MFMM- tangential thoughts

I’m re-watching Death by Miss Adveture.

most people would want to lock her up just for that

“She did unnatural things with Daisy. Most people would want to lock her up just for that.”

How hard do you have to be, to deliberately call down the same bigotry that harms you on someone else’s head?

(Okay, so the answer is she’s trying to avoid a murder charge. But no one actually suspects her yet.)

I feel like this isn’t supposed to be a big thing– it’s supposed to be straightforward deflecting of suspicion and damaging someone else’s reputation, something anyone might do on any topic. But to me, something like this has to be a Thing. It has to be a capital-D Decision. You can’t not feel morally squirmy about trying to profit off of bigotry against people like you– or even if you don’t feel like it’s wrong, you have to feel like you’re playing with a loaded gun, teasing a tiger, making a deal with the Devil. It could be someone else in that interview room saying literally word-for-word the same thing about her instead. That can’t not give you a chill.

——

“I didn’t kill him.”

“How long have we known each other?”

“Too bloody long.”

“Then you know there are some things that don’t need to be said.”

Mac is under a lot of stress, but apparetly she thought that Phryne actually suspected her.

—–

The letter Dot finds, as read by the voiceover:

Hetty, my dear, I don’t know how to begin this. I know you don’t want to hear this, but I can’t see you ever again. What happened was wrong and I could never feel like you do. Please leave me alone. I’m very sorry that I hurt you. Your friend, Daisy.

The letter as visible on screen:

Screen Shot 2014-09-16 at 9.54.47 PM Screen Shot 2014-09-16 at 9.55.04 PM

Hetty my dear, I don’t know how to begin this. I know you don’t want to hear me or see me ever again, but I am hoping you can read these words from me. You didn’t deserve what I did. Please find it in your heart, with time, to understand and forgive my rotten soul and don’t lose faith of all things. I’m very sorry that I hurt you. Your friend, Daisy.

Shall we say the voiceover is the canonical version? The letter seems to imply that things were the other way around from what the voiceover says– that Daisy came on too strong, and Hetty had moral qualms. I don’t know.

—-

Stuff I wasn’t clear on before, for future reference. Hetty says that Daisy falling into the machine was an accident. But she poisoned Gaskin in a deliberate attempt to frame Dr. Mac, for taking Daisy away.