Sauna Newbiedom

My best friend has had a Y membership for months and months now and not used it. And I got a free membership with my Medicare Advantage plan because, yes, I'm only 38, but I've spent most of that time walking around carrying a few kilotons' worth of guilt, sadness, self-loathing, hopelessness, anger, usw. in a package called Major Depressive Disorder.

Now we both have memberships and I want to go sit in the steamroom or sauna once a week. Problem? The fucking Y website is only meant for people who have always had a Y membership. There's no map of the facility, no gallery, no description of what the hell the Rec Center is. It's like they don't want new members. What the fuck.

I've never been in a steamroom. I haven't been to the Kish Y--not beyond the front desk--since my teens. I don't fucking know where anything is, I don't know what I wear, what I need to bring besides my Silver Sneakers card, if I need to talk to someone--I know jack shit.

So I hit the website. I love information. I want to know things ahead of time. There's nothing to help me. I have to do a search to find any indication that there is a goddamn sauna and that it has normal hours. And you could ask, reasonably, why I don't call?

I don't call because the shitwits who sit at the desk and answer the phone are the county's most snobbish, ignorant, unwelcoming, unhelpful plague rats of reception. Is that a blog? "Plague Rats of Reception." Should be, amirite?

"Hi, um, my doctor sent me over. I think I get a free memb--"

I hear a small, disgruntled huff. "You. Need. To. Fill out. This! Form."

"Um. Um. But this is--"

"Fill. Out. That. Form. Andbringitin."

"Er. O....Kay. See you soon!"

*snort*

No. Not calling. I hate phone calls anyway.

The plan is to find someplace with a sauna that has a handy "Welcome new members! Here's what to do:..." on its website and follow it as appropriate. Then we, the unwashed masses, all two of us, are invading goddamn YMCA-istan. Not Istanbul, fucking phone! Bacon-wrapped and crispy Christ on a stick.

Wish us luck. We're actually really sweet in person.

Post-Non-Indictment Confusion

I am, sometimes, well-informed about current events, because I have phases in which I read newspapers (online) and listen to the World Service and NPR. I also have phases in which I first learn about most things because I hear or read people's responses to it. Sometimes that sends me looking for what's generating all the talk. Sometimes, as in the case of Kim Kardashian's Paper cover, that's never necessary and the parodies are much more fun, anyway. Like this one: 

I haven't seen the Eric Garner video. I don't remember hearing about the incident at the time it happened. I've seen headlines about the police officer involved not being indicted, and I think I heard a piece about potential reactions either way on NPR before the news was announced. But most of what I've read in the last couple of days is people saying "How can this happen?" and "Everything is broken and needs to be fixed!" and "Oh, now white folks get it."

Which is... [shrugs]. Tiring. It's so weird that it's tiring. I can be so fucking passionate and opinionated about issues of injustice, especially systematic injustice, and at least once a month I deeply, deeply wish that I had the money and health to get through law school and work in public interest law or human rights law or something similar. 

I suppose it's tiring because I don't have the energy to be passionate and angry right now, and even if I did, I wouldn't know what to do with that. I feel like there's a lot of talk and not a lot of communication, and as much as I like to vent—long gaps between posts here to the contrary—I don't feel like it right now. I want to do something.

Which is the problem. And why I'm writing this post. There've been several articles in the local newspaper about one of the local housing communities, University Village. It's overwhelmingly poor and majority (I think) black, with a higher proportion of 911 calls than it ought to have, and the local police, who are there often, meet with more skepticism and nervousness, if not outright fear, than trust. I have absolutely no idea what I, as someone who is slowly beginning to feel that I have a duty to my community whether or not this is the place above all others I would choose to live, even in northern Illinois—I have no idea what I can do to change... Anything! Bullying in the local high schools and middle schools. Hazing at NIU. Broad local indifference or opposition to gay rights. Employment of unauthorized residents. The mildly uncomfortable race relations in the area. Lots and lots and lots of people want change of one kind or another and many of them do talk about the need for change, but how the fuck do we actually make changes and how can I contribute? I have no idea.

I hate admitting that. I'm sure it's a failure of creativity and resourcefulness and intelligence on my part. At heart, I'm sure there's something I can do, if only I were able to figure out what. Maybe that makes me more of an optimist than I think I am; I have dear friends who I'm sure would look at me with mixed amusement and compassion if they read this or I said these things to them, because, in the grand scheme of things, humans mean nothing. We aren't even a blip on the universe's radar. I get that, in a sense. Sometimes it's comforting; no human evil will put out the stars and no human goodness will prolong the life of our Sun. I'm unable to abide with that, though. I can accept meaninglessness on a macro scale, but I've learned through the years and years and years of profound depression that I cannot function with meaningless on a micro scale. I can't bear to feel powerless or helpless. [Sighs.]

Well. Perhaps I'll come up with something. Or at least finish redoing the downstairs bathroom. Il faut cultiver notre jardin and all that.

Ew. Seriously. Ew.

My best friend works at a local hospital as a CNA. I was thoroughly appalled when I learned last night that the standard for rinsing/cleaning bedpans and commodes at said hospital is for the CNAs to use a high-pressure faucet. Unbelievable. Not only is your CNA asked to spray your shit and water all over her arms and uniform, but they're caring for you after being sprayed with other people's shit. Wash your hands every three minutes, wear gloves, et cetera, but just carry around molecules of half a dozen folks' poo on your uniform. Why not?

Oh my god.

Even more mystifying is that I know this hospital is visited every so often by the state and by the Joint Commission. Does nobody have a standard for this? Is there seriously no best-practice recommendation in place? Why the fuck isn't the hospital using liners?

(This all came up because my best friend and I like to try to come with a brilliant invention that will make us enough money for her to pay for her parents' retirement in the Southwest and for me to open a cat café. Last night, she was like, "We should make liners for bedpans and commodes at the hospital." And I was all, "Uh. You guys don't have those?" And she said, "No! Are you kidding? We clean those like Neanderthals!" Sadly, a search this morning tells me that several such things are on the market. Now if only we can get them into my friend's workplace.)

Being The Liberal My Relatives Hate

I haven't felt much like venting for a bit, which is somewhat surprising, considering things like the Supreme Court's decision in the Hobby Lobby case and one announcement after another from rescue groups that kittens have been found abandoned in a box near a dumpster or in the woods, or thrown from a moving car, or... Yeah. Perhaps I've been too sad or too depressed to feel I need a nice rant.

(This would be a good place to link to the piece about online outrage in the New York Times that I read a few minutes ago, but I closed that tab and can't find the damn thing on the NYT site, so... Sorry about that.)

And... I'm not truly going to rant today, either. There are a couple of things that've been on my mind recently. I'm not sure I'm prepared to write about the one—I wanted to talk about excuses and reasons and how much I hate hearing, "That's just an excuse" or "Don't make excuses" or similar things. But I missed a dose of my antidepressant because I kept putting off picking up the refill and then plain forgot to do it the day I really ought to have.

But I'm up to writing a bit about the other thing, probably because it's more related to emotions. And the other thing is, yes, being the liberal my relatives hate.

That's nice and misleading. While it's true that the vast majority of my extended family is conservative both religiously (evangelical Christians) and politically, there are a few black sheep like me and a few who seem to be tolerant and pleasant people who I don't expect to hear (or read) saying unkind things about any group. There are a few extremely vocal conservative cousins, though. And there are the people like my best friend's mom, a woman I've known for something like 15 years now and like, but who gets so worked up about socialist, evil Obama and the kind of people who voted for him that I mentally shit my pants when I think about trying to have anything remotely approaching a conversation about politics or current events with her. There are the gamefriends on Facebook, and the articles, and the blogs, and, and, and.

Same message: Liberals all want X. Liberals lie about wanting X. Liberals are idiots. Liberals are scum. Liberals are dupes. Liberals want the government (federal government) to take over everything. Liberals want to take my gun. Liberals want to tell me what to eat. Liberals want to destroy America.

[Sighs.]

I'm a liberal. I grew up in a conservative household and for some years, the word "liberal" made me very nearly as nervous as the word "demon." It was with some reluctance that I realized later on that, like it or not, I'm a liberal. I'm very liberal. I probably am a socialist. I think my immediate family has gathered this, based on a few extremely heated arguments we've had as a group, but I'm not really all that close to any of my extended family. We know each other's names, and I've gotten to know a little about a few of them through Facebook, but I haven't seen any of my cousins in years, some in decades. I'm reasonably sure not many of them are aware of much about me other than I've suffered from very long-term major depression; I don't think they're aware that I'm not a Christian or that I'm not a Republican. (Well, after a few testy comments I made, I think a couple of them might have suspicions, but they may also just be confused.) 

So, when they post a liberal-bashing meme on Facebook or link to a liberal-bashing "article", there's no reason I ought to take it personally. But I do. I can't help it. I'm genuinely hurt that someone I'm related to and care about at least enough to be interested in their life has so little respect for me, for my intelligence, for my capacity to reason, for my good intentions, for my honest struggle with so many ethical and moral and practical questions. When there's endorsement of the idea that liberals can't be trusted, that we're all insincere, merely covering up nefarious plans with "feel-good" talk, I find myself feeling... Well, it's a bit of panicked and angry reaction. I've spent a little bit of time at a couple of points in my life having to try to convince people that I was in pain and depressed and angry and not possessed by or under the influence of a demon. One of the most terrifying and helpless feelings in the world is the feeling that the person you are trying to communicate with has decided not only that you're a thorough liar, but that you're not even a human being. You aren't ignorant. You aren't misguided. You're so thoroughly bad and wicked that not word out of your mouth is sincere, not one word is worth listening to. It's a hideous, sickening feeling.

Though it's the liberal-bashing that has me writing this today, I've felt the same when reading certain things about "women" or "the mentally ill" or a number of other categories. I've also read enough links posted by other liberals to know that conservatives are often lumped into a group and demonized in a similar manner. I don't have the same personal, visceral reaction to it, but I find it just as distasteful, lazy, unreasonable, and ungenerous of spirit.

I guess the expected closing for something like this is a bit of advice, a suggestion for ameliorating the problem. I don't have one. I'm more concerned with changing my own response and with my own struggle to be understanding, to see complexities, to be patient and kind. Perhaps it's working. After the Hobby Lobby decision came out, I read this (paraphrasing): "haha. what women want vs religion freedom. which was this country founded on?" and... decided not to be a complete bitch to my cousin. Heh.

Mormons. Yay.

Some of the local Mormons have been coming by doing the missionary thing. I talked with them a bit today. I have no idea why. I have no interest in becoming a Christian again and less in becoming a Mormon.

What's even worse is that I'm quite terrible at explaining that to people. I'm willing to be honest about my current beliefs and how I came to them, but it was a long, long... I was going to say "process", but it wasn't that organized. At any rate, I feel incredibly inarticulate and addled whenever I'm trying to talk about that with a religious person. Perhaps it's because I feel as if I don't have great answers. Perhaps it's because confrontation makes me shaky and anxious and turns my brain to mush.

So! For whatever reason, I talked to a couple of Mormons and accepted one of their brochures describing how I can "know" that their faith is a true one. Since the gentlemen on my porch kept things on the grand and vague level—with the exception of a reference to the Israelites who're supposed to have journeyed to North America whenever ago—I decided to flip through the booklet and see what it actually said.

Well, there was nothing unexpected, though I didn't think the sexism would be so apparent. What really made an impression on me, though, and makes me surprisingly frustrated, is that the illustrations uniformly depict Jesus and his disciples as pale European types. I know! Like, how can I possibly find this so irritating? Have I ever in my life seen a painting of a Middle Eastern Jesus? [Snorts.]

Ugh. And, unfortunately, my objections to their depictions of first-century Jews are not going to help me when those guys show up again.

Today I read this Politifact piece discussing one of Marco Rubio's latest assertions about climate change. My blathering tonight isn't precisely a response to this piece; I love Politifact and appreciate the work they do and the background provided even when I quibble with the exact rating they give. Nevertheless, the piece reminded me of something that bothers me in the climate change discussions: Even if you believe that much of the increase in global average surface temperatures and increase in greenhouse gases over the last century-plus is due more to natural variation than to human activity, you have to be willing to admit that human activity produces greenhouse gases, particularly carbon dioxide, and acknowledge that, even if other processes are leading to the current period of climate change, it probably isn't a good idea for humans to do anything to exacerbate the effects.

Doesn't that make sense? Does it really matter how much of an effect human activity has had in the past when we know, beyond any reasonable doubt, that human activity can and will have an effect, and when we know beyond a reasonable doubt that the climate has been changing and will be changing? Shouldn't we be working our asses off to do what we can both to lessen our impact and to prepare for what's coming, no matter which is the case?

And, yes, I am rather naïve. I have a lot of trouble trying to sort out people's possible motivations for saying something other than what they believe, or sorting out what they might really believe, so I tend to assume that people are speaking more or less sincerely, even if they're politicians or pundits. I realize there's a very good chance that the people who say they don't believe human activity is the primary or a great contributor to climate change in the last century are saying that because, at least in the States, it doesn't sound as nuts as it ought to and it's a good cover for not giving a shit.

This is the first of what could be many venting posts. I'll consider myself to have accomplished something if I reach "several" in the next couple of months, though. I've always tended to papillonne if allowed to, and that tendency is particularly bad lately. Me getting frustrated and angry at things I see online and wanting to say something does seem to be a fairly constantly thing, though, so perhaps this will work. I may even get back to being able to be angry and funny at the same time at some point. What a droll idea. ("Droll"--must use that word more often.)

So, today's source of steam is a video entitled "Surrendered" which I've seen posted two or three different places on Facebook today.

You'd be forgiven for thinking that the video has me mad about the people who behave in the way portrayed, the people who surrender pets for no very good reason. I do feel for the shelter and rescue workers who work day in and day out with people who want to surrender an animal. I know they encounter a lot of assholes; I know they hear a lot of bullshit. 

But what upsets me about this video is that all it does is say, "Hey, you. You're an asshole." It expresses some perhaps much earned bitterness and completely understandable frustration, but it contributes nothing to a bigger discussion or solution. Do you want that asshole coming into your facility to surrender an animal they no longer want or are able to care for, or do you want them to leave the animal on the street or at a farm or in an empty home or apartment? Do you want the asshole bringing the pet to a shelter or to a veterinary office for euthanization?

People who surrender animals for what many of us consider stupid reasons aren't going to watch a video like this and feel shitty about themselves. They think they're already making a big effort by taking the animal to an actual organization where it has a chance of finding a home. Convince them that the workers at that organization are going to be judgmental, impatient, and sullen, and, yeah, they'll probably stop showing up to surrender their animals. If you think that will prevent the animals from being abandoned, you're far more optimistic about human beings and human nature than I am.