Rough Day

I am my own person. I have a personality that is unique, and is no more influenced by others than anyone else's except in the fact that I am more open minded than many.

Why is this so hard to believe?

First, tonight, I was informed that I am gullible. Impressionable. Easily swayed by the will of others. I have no personality of my own, and I simply absorb the personalities of those around me. This will, inevitably, wind up with me becoming an apprentice to a serial killer, joining a cult, or killing myself when a man breaks up with me.

This was informed to me by my parents.

And then, when I sought validation that this was not the case from my significant other, I was informed that it was a "reasonable concern" on their part. In fact, said significant other in the past has expressed concerns about my lack of my own personality and the fact that I seem to simply become whatever those around me are.

I AM NOT GULLIBLE.

No, I don't have a unique fashion sense, so yes, I wear whatever people around me who I care about the opinion of tell me looks good. Want to know why? Because I DON'T CARE WHAT I LOOK LIKE, as long as I am not revealing too much for my personal comfort, I feel comfortable, and those around me consider me attractive. You know what else? I don't have a favorite color, really. I wear red because people tell me red looks good on me. So I say it's my favorite color because I wear it all the time. In truth, I don't give a shit what color I am wearing unless it is purple. I don't like purple.

So I'm not a fashion horse. I don't care if I express myself through my clothes. So what? I still want to look attractive, naturally, so I wear clothes that other people tell me look good. When I valued my mother's opinion on my appearance the most (read: no friends), I dressed as she wanted me to. When I valued my peers' opinion the most, I dressed as Vivacia wanted me to. Currently, the only person who I want to find me attractive is Ryter. So SURPRISE, I wear what Ryter says looks good. Do I have to have a fashion sense to be my own person?

And yeah, I listen to metal a lot now that I am dating him. I also still listen to country, and pop, and emo. Around him, I listen to metal most of the time because I don't want to subject him to music he doesn't like. I also listen to it on my own. Because he introduced me to metal. The truth is, I like music that has an effect on me. Metal has an effect on me emotionally. The music is emotional. For country and pop, the lyrics make me think, especially with story songs. For emo and some pop, I can't understand the lyrics anyway so I use it as background noise because it's not distracting. Different music serves different functions for me, just because I was introduced by someone in particular doesn't mean I am influenced by them, it means I share their taste in music.

My politics have always been my own. No influence there, at least not recently. Ryter and I disagree on McCain vs. Obama. He doesn't share the importance I put on sex education, science education, available and safe birth control and a reformed healthcare system. When it comes to politics, we have different priorities. I have different priorities from most people in my life.

And yes, I changed my career goal from "doctor" to "ecologist." Part of that was admittedly Ryter, in that I chose to become a doctor when I was convinced that no one would ever love me so it wouldn't matter that I wasn't going to be financially stable enough to have children until my eggs started to churn out clunkers. I have since realized that medicine is probably not the ideal career for me because I actually will be able to have children with a guy I love some day, and I'd like to do it before I am 30. In addition, it was pointed out to me that I don't handle stress well and I don't function well on very little sleep, and I'd like a career where stress on the job means a few weeks of studies get derailed instead of a person dies and then I lose my license because of malpractice.

Also, I hate willfully ignorant people. I'm not talking about people who have no access to education, that's not their fault and I can't hate them for that. I'm talking about people who are presented with evidence and ignore it or disparage it to fit their preconceived notions. I hate Creationists, and anti-vaccinationists, and HIV denialists. I hate anarchists and communists and fascists, and freegans and vegans (well, religious/moral vegans who don't try to pretend it's healthier or more natural are okay). I hate people who believe telling kids about birth control will make them have sex and people who believe kids who don't have sex education don't have sex. I hate people who think America has the best healthcare system in the world when that only applies to people who have good health insurance coverage, and everyone else gets screwed, resulting in our average life expectancy being lower than most developed nations (I will concede that for those with good insurance, it's probably the best you can get). I hate people who refuse to see reason under any circumstances because it contradicts what they want to believe.

This would not work well in medicine. I think I would stab a scapel into the heart of the first person I met who insisted vaccines were wrong while their toddler was in agony with pertussis. Not good for business.

This does not mean Ryter is controlling me. It means that I am learning who I am. Ryter doesn't care if a mother he doesn't know doesn't vaccinate their child. I do. It just happens that much of my self-discovery is coinciding with when I met Ryter.

I have a personality. I am both compassionate and passionate about causes I believe in. I am fiercely loyal to those who are loyal to me and I want to help everyone who cannot help themselves, and some who will not help themselves. I care intensely about the world around me and want to make a difference, and yet I know I am powerless in many ways, which disturbs me. I am silly and goofy at times, and angry at others. I am slow to warm up to people but will share anything once I am warmed up.

I like music that isn't rap, I like clothes that make me look beautiful to the man I love. I like dancing and singing, which I don't indulge in much for others' sake because I am not very good at either. I love to cook and love to see people appreciating food I have prepared for them. I love to learn about the medical world and read about the environment I would not do well in and yet can appreciate on an intellectual level. I like biological sciences and puzzles of biology and learning how the mind works. I like dark humor but not embarrassment humor, and I like good wordplay. I like technology and imagining the world of the future, I like anthropology and the history of human evolution, I like weird, rare languages and uncontacted peoples.

I like the outdoors. I like hiking and swimming and camping and skiing an riding horses on trail rides, but not in a ring. I like animals and plants and interesting fungi and stargazing and the process of forest decomposition and regrowth and encouraging life to grow on a petri dish, in a cage, in a garden, whatever. I like obscure and ugly animals and anything that lives it's life in the dark. I love viruses, as long as I don't have them.

I like to track diseases and find the patient zero and where they got it from, I like to rant about the way things should be versus the way they are versus the way they will be. I like drawing and sculpting and writing and attempting to recreate the images I see in my head for those around me, and for my own future reference. I like learning about religion and myth and why it exists and what it teaches us, and considering what my own beliefs are. And yes, I am a raunchy person and have my own likes and dislikes there too.

I don't like being around people that much, and I need a lot of down time to process everything around me. I don't like when people criticize my beliefs or try to correct me when I am not right or wrong, simply in disagreement. I don't like crowds or mosquitoes or taking pills every day, or unapplied math or sleeping in the heat or any time the air does not move. I don't like being interrupted, cut off, not allowed to finish a thought, not allowed to take a breath in conversation for fear of that being the case, or when people misinterpret my words, which happens often because I have a tendency to use words in a manner which is slightly unlike their normal use and not even realize it. I don't like roller coasters, horror movies, sudden movement in a quiet area or being touched by anyone I am not very comfortable with.

Not one of the above is influenced by Ryter, or anyone else for that matter.

I'm sorry, world, but I don't understand what the problem is. I don't see where I lack personality. I often change what ASPECTS of my personality I present to people, which is something I am actively attempting to change and which action I believe is what is leading people to believe I myself am changing. Well, no, I am not. I am simply showing you the real me instead of the custom-made-for-you me.

I can recognize when a person is attempting to control me and I will cut them out of my life as needed. I usually recognize it when they start to resent positive changes in my life and when they resent efforts on my part to reveal my true self to them. I can't really cut my parents out of my life yet. But I can still limit their exposure to me because they are a negative influence on my life. I know my parents want to control me, consciously or not, for a simple reason: They are resenting the changes in how much of me they see.

So please. Stop telling me that I have no personality of my own. I have one. I have likes and dislikes and values and priorities and they are all mine. I can recognize attempts to control me and circumvent them, except as regards my parents. No one's gonna talk me into smoking a joint, joining a cult, or eating human flesh and the fact that I have almost no friends outside Ryter has nothing to do with Ryter and everything to do with the fact that I am too shy to make friends or maintain a large social circle. I have almost always had one friend and built all other friendships off that, and right now, it's Ryter. Is it ideal? No. But it will not change any faster if I am living on or off campus, if I spend more or less time with him, or anything else. The only way that will change is if I can convince myself I care enough to change it. I don't care enough about it right now, I'm more concerned with school and my health and doing things I enjoy to change something which, while annoying, is not impacting my life except as a nagging "probably should get around to that" thought in the back of my head.

And if I am talking and talking and don't make sense, please, for the love of all that is good in this world, BE PATIENT. I have a point. But I don't think in words and phrases and I am trying to make connections between my brain and my mouth and convey how I am thinking, but if you interrupt me, you break my train of thought and then I can't finish it. I do have a point, I will get to it, but I do not have the communication skills needed to do so quickly. Please, just... be understanding.

Gah, I need to consider normal bedtimes again...

I'm at home, and the summer has OFFICIALLY begun. Well, almost. I start doing summer stuff on Monday, when I begin.... job hunting. Oh, fun. Until then I'm booked almost solid; Sunday and Saturday are devoted to graduations, I'm going to a honors Colloquium thingy for Ryter on Friday and tomorrow, I bake PIE.

(For the graduation party. I'm not just randomly baking pie. I do that, sometimes, particularly when I'm stressed-- I use baking as stress relief-- but this time, I have a real reason.)

So yes, summer begins. And yes, I am soooo glad that month from hell is over. Tests done, projects over, everything taken care of. I doubt that the Chem test gave me much of an advantage; it might give me like two points higher of a grade but I doubt it will make a big difference. That was a lot of information to process in only a week or so. We'll see.

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Today, after my exam, I ran around like a nut loading up my car with a year's worth of shit minus the three boxes and the assorted appliances and clothes that already went home. Meanwhile it was raining. Luckily I employed the method of stuff-moving that my dad always suggests: recruit a strong young gentleman to assist. Luckily I had one on hand, though I did have to bring him back before I was done packing as he was preparing for his last meeting with Inconcinnus, his awkward friend, who is moving back to Georgia. However, Inconcinnus may be getting married, in which case I will bet money that Ryter goes to Georgia, and hopefully gets roped into wearing a suit or some fascsimile thereof. In which case, I WILL obtain pictures, even if it requires stalker-like movements.

Anyway, with the car packed up to the brim with crap and Menelaus secure in the front seat, packed in with pillows, I set off for home in the rain, remembered that I had some Tupperware of Ryter's, left it ninja-like in his door frame, then headed home, calling my mom as I went. "Hey, Mummy, I'm headed home now."

"Oh, really? I thought you weren't coming home until Wednesday!"

"..."

"It... is Wednesday..."

Is it any wonder this woman forgot her own daughter's birthday (Shrewd's, not mine)? Actually, she says, she didn't forget the birthday-- she forgot the month. Because that is so much better.

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My grandmother is here, so I'm on the fold-out on the couch. I like how I spend a year away from home, I come back, and I'M the one on the couch, instead of just putting her into Shrewd's room, which is empty. Oh, wait, that's right, I actually cleaned my room. Damn, I hate being a dutiful daughter.

Okay, so I admit it. Most of my dutifulness lately has been an unspoken bribe for NOT having the "So... you're spending Friday night at a guy's house..." conversation. It's not that my mom would care, but she would tease me for it; my dad would look at me disapprovingly and also tease, but his would have an element of "I don't think this is really appropriate for you to be doing" to it.

But I am TAKING A STAND! I am Making My Own Choices to not have to drive to Durham reaaaally early on Saturday morning. Actually, I believe what I am doing is called "hiding and hoping that it doesn't come up." I mentioned it once, in the context of "I need the car." But... I'm going to be on the couch, so they can't complain. Except they can't KNOW I'm on the couch... Bah. Parents.

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Okay, I really feel I need to share something I find very, very odd and mildly disturbing. My dad so old-fashioned he holds firm to his belief that people should be allowed to take "defective" or unwanted newborns out to the rain barrel and hold them under until they drown.

Yeah, I assumed he was being extreme to make a point about freedoms too. I figured he was be hyperbolic. But I mentioned that right to die vs. abortion debate to him, and he reiterated that point, so I asked him. And he confirmed that if such practices were not illegal, he would have been willing to do that to his own progeny had we been obviously deformed. Has to be done within a few hours of birth, though, he said, as if that makes it better... I'm pro-choice. But that's infanticide, not abortion. I wonder if he would have been pro-exposure if he lived in Rome?

Honestly, I don't care if the kid has two heads and only half a brain between them, if you let it actually get out of the birth canal, there is NO EXCUSE, it is a human being and that's murder. What I like is that my dad's a Christian, too. Congregationalist, you know, that faith that descended from the Puritans.

Actually, wait, that means nothing. According to the Bible:

"If men strive, and hurt a woman with child, so that her fruit depart from her, and yet no mischief follow: he shall be surely punished, according as the woman's husband will lay upon him; and he shall pay as the judges determine. And if any mischief follow, then thou shalt give life for life." -- Exodus 21:22-23
and
"And if it be from a month old even unto five years old, then thy estimation shall be of the male five shekels of silver, and for the female thy estimation shall be three shekels of silver." -- Leviticus 27:6

Basically, a fetus or infant becomes a person when it's a month old, according to the Bible. Wow. Hmm.

Last day of classes, and I am lulled to sleep by the partiers outside my window...

Today was nice. My first class was at 6:00 PM, as Chem and Latin are both over for the semester. So I rolled out of bed at 9:30 (okay, not THAT late, but still) and did my phylum paper, which I basically finished on my own because it was easier than trying to get together with my project partner. It was just a bunch of hard-to-spell classification names, anyway. That said, Zelinkaderidae sounds very, very cool and I want to use it in conversation more often.

Anyway, other than that... I went and met with the Honors program people like they asked me to, despite the fact that I'm not taking an Honors class next semester. They wanted to check in with me, so I wandered over to hear her tell me I was doing fine and ahead of the curve and all that good stuff that I already knew because I took four honors classes this year for a reason, namely, I wanted to not be worried about honors classes while taking Organic and Calculus.

It wasn't a total waste of time, though; for starters, got me out of the room for a while and out in the glorious weather, and she did let me know that there was a 444 class that I would have to take at some point, a specific kind of class that you take instead of one of your gen eds. They're pretty cool, though, I'm not too worried about it. I'll probably take it instead of a sociology credit, I want to do something hands-on for my Fine Arts requirement.

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I also finally replaced the sunglasses that I lost after two days. My new pair are almost identical. I was going to get a cheaper pair at Zyla's, like Vivacia recommended yesterday, but they only had the tiny, not-fashionable ones, and every time I find a fashion that actually flatters my face (or body) I feel the need to jump on the bandwagon and ride it out, because it doesn't happen nearly enough.

I wound up getting a pair at Brooks. They are very Paris Hilton but cost me way more than I would have liked to spend ($12, clearly a sign that I am che-e-e-eap).

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My only class today, and my last class for the semester, was the health care seminar. No speakers today, just an open discussion about the right to die (assisted suicide) and abortion. Basically he was saying that it is strange that we live in a country where assisted suicide is only legal in one state-- Oregon-- but abortion is legal in all states, partial birth abortions notwithstanding.

His point was pretty straightforward-- we're letting people decide to terminate other life (assuming you consider it such-- he clearly did, and told us to assume it was "for argument's sake"-- aka I don't want to hear other points of view) but not allowing them to terminate their own. The reason for this is that we have a prevailing idea in this country that anyone who wants to terminate their own life is mentally ill, because we fear our own deaths. Thus, the person who fears their continued life more than their death must be insane.

You will notice that the question of abortion always centers around when a fetus is considered a human life. That's because at that point it's murder. Once the fetus is considered human, the only way you can justify aborting it is if it's going to die anyway, like if it's missing major organs. If a baby has no brain or no kidneys or something, it's going to die, there's no saving it.

Personally, while I might abort a fetus with Potter's Syndrome (that's a lack of kidneys) in the most humane way possible on the grounds that it would feel pain before it's death, if I had an anencephalic child (that's no brain, or not enough brain to survive) that was otherwise healthy and I myself was healthy, I hope I would have the courage to carry it to term to provide it's organs to other newborns who might die otherwise. Anencephalic infants cannot feel pain.

But the question is always "When does life begin?" not "Is life going to be worthwhile?" People shy away from that question, on the grounds that "any life is better than no life." Anencephaly or Potter's Syndrome are extremes, and most people who don't have religious reasons saying otherwise will abort or accept that someone else would abort such a child. But what about things that are more gray areas?

Let's say a fetus has a mental defect that means they are physically normal and healthy but are incapable of development, and will always be at the mental level of an infant. Many women would abort. Now let's say someone got into an accident that destroyed part of their brain, leaving them at that same developmental state. It would be unheard of to provide euthanasia for such a person because it's murder. The reason? The fetus could be considered "not yet alive."

But I'm not trying to talk about abortion today; I'll just clarify that I personally would only undergo an abortion if the fetus had severe enough birth defects that it could never be adopted, and I was unable to care for it myself. As a healthy, intelligent young white American woman with minimal genetic illness in my family I'm betting that any offspring I'd ever accidentally produce would be adopted instantly, depending on the state of the father. Not, mind you, that I ever expect this to be an issue.

The issue is that euthanasia is illegal. Say a man is dying from cancer. He is in a great deal of pain, enough that morphine barely helps. He says that he wants to die, he wants to kill himself. What happens? They have him talk to a counselor. Because he's suicidal. Some hospitals would even put him on a suicide watch.

I more than anyone know that suicide is a serious problem and should not be ignored. If someone is healthy and young but depressed, though, that's curable. If the cause of their pain is terminal illness, it's not. Euthanasia is legal in Oregon and in Belgium, Switzerland, and the Netherlands. The Netherlands only allow it in the case of terminal illness.

The thing is, we find it much easier to believe that a person could, in sound mind, objectively choose to end the life of another who was suffering than that a person would choose to end their own. Because anyone who wants to die must be suicidal and depressed. It couldn't possibly be that they are dying anyway, are in pain, and have rationally decided that they no longer fear death as much as they fear pain.

I don't fear death. I don't want to die, but I'm not afraid of death. The funny thing is I don't even know for sure what kind of afterlife there is, and for all I know I could be going to the Christian Hell to burn with the idolaters or something, but I figure, if it comes it comes. I'm not going to hasten my own death and I will fight violently to protect it as long as I am healthy and whole, but when my time comes, it comes. When my brain is incapable of even a facsimile of my current mental processes, I am dead. If I have a personality but it is just radically different and the memories are gone, I am dead; that's not me. If I am brain dead or in a persistent vegetative state, I am dead. And if I'm incapable of living outside of a hospital and I will never get better, and I am in pain, I'm not dead, but I might as well be. I want people to see that acceptance of death is not depression, but is merely... acceptance.

You know, of all the things that one can gripe about over and over again, this issue is the most valuable. I'm hoping that if I'm ever brain dead there will be no long discussion or court battle, but merely a discussion of my prognosis with the doctors, a medical consensus, and a quick trip to the judge, because all of the interwebs knows that I don't want to be the next Terry Schiavo.

Caution: Opinions Ahead

It's the last day of the Megalesia today.

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Mistake blogged today about the same thing I was going to blog about, and since I'm crazy-busy, rather than explain, I'm gonna redirect you to her excellent entry on the subject of the protests on T-Hall lawn [Link has been removed because the blog was].

Quick summary: Students For Life put up very graphic posters on T-Hall lawn comparing abortion to genocide. Students For Choice protested the comparison and the fact that the posters were so very graphic and in a public forum. What few warnings they had posted were ultimately useless. Big fuss.

I saw the protesters surrounding the display as I left Ham-Smith after English, but I didn't go nearer-- in fact, I averted my eyes. I was tempted to go when I first heard about it, because I don't think it's a legitimate or fair comparison at all and I don't think they should be forcing their views in such a graphic manner on everyone who walks by T-hall. But then it occurred to me that I couldn't go, because seeing pictures of genocide means I have trouble eating for weeks. Because the last thing I think about when I see images of the Cambodian killing fields is abortion (actually it's bubbles, but you get the point). No, I think of slaughterhouses.

I don't eat meat. I also don't stop other people from eating it. It's their choice. I hate it, I think it's immoral, but I know that they don't consider it immoral so I let it pass, because I don't know for certain that all mammals have as much of a soul as humans do. I believe it fervently, but I can't prove it. So I can't prove that it's immoral to kill and consume them. Thus I don't protest or even comment when people eat meat around me.

Actually, that's kind of the same way I feel about abortion. I can't prove if fetuses do or do not have as much of a soul as newborns do. I can't prove when they get that soul-- no one can. Thus I don't feel I have the right to protest or even comment when a woman gets an abortion. I mean, if it's so late that the baby could have survived outside the womb and been fine, that's different, I'd disagree with that. But 64% of abortions happen in the first three months. Brain waves have been detected on 13-week fetuses, but is that higher thought? And before then-- no brain function-- does it have a soul?

I know what I believe, I just can't, in good faith, foist it on other people without concrete proof. So until I can I let them make their own decisions, about abortions or about meat consumption. And I try not to let it get to me if people around me are doing things I disagree with. But every time I see a picture of genocide victims the first thing that pops into my head is images of factory farms and slaughterhouses. Then it won't leave my head for about a week, so every time I eat with someone who is eating beef or worse, pork (pigs are incredibly intelligent), I get nauseous because I remember the slaughterhouses and then I remember the genocide and then the next thing you know I'm thinking of cannibalism and I'm about ready to puke.

So I didn't go to the protest.

And now I feel queasy.