I am typing this with my own actual hands right now, which is so fucking stupid, because they still hurt like hell, but the voice recognition software sucks, and I can't stand not writing. Talking's not the same; then I have to hear the words as they're coming out, and I have time to judge them before they even hit the page. With writing they have at least a shot of making it out there before I take them back.
So, quickly, so much:
1. Oil spill! I posted on Facebook three days after the event, "I am sick to my stomach over this oil spill." TWO AND A HALF MONTHS LATER! So sick! I swore to myself that I was going to keep the horror and outrage foremost in my mind, and to never forget my complicity in the destruction being wrought, and to be in a constant state of mourning until the thing was capped. And yet, here I am, burning oil to tell you all about my feeeeeeelings!
So here's what I have done/am doing/will do:
Stop eating fish. Ovo-lacto pescetarianism is no longer good enough, and I've known this for a while.
Completely cut out bottled water. I've gotten in the habit of carrying my own tap water with me, but sometimes I'm caught without, and will buy bottled. No more. NB: I've noticed that take-out places are getting a lot better about giving you tap water if you ask for it with your meal.
Looked at the mutual funds in my IRA, saw what they were comprised of, and divested in everything related to oil.
Uh, pledged to stop wasting shit and consuming as much as I do. So instead of sitting here burning fuel while I think of more stuff, I'll jump ahead to:
2. My hands still hurt. I'm seeing doctors and getting advice, so I hope this will end soon. One thing I've had to do is stop sleeping with my face on my hands, which I've done all my life. Even waking, I am almost always resting my face in at least one hand, if not both. It's a relic of my thumbsucking years, the way even now I pause while writing and press one knuckle against my upper lip. I quit that fifteen years ago, now I have to quit face fondling. As long as I don't have to quit writing. That's my biggest fear, that I'll never type or write longhand without pain again, which seems like a self-fulfilling prophecy, doesn't it? I'm half convinced this is psychosomatic anyway, that it came from writing a really painful book about my mother for which I feel profoundly guilty. Maybe my hands are trying to save me some other kind of pain. I don't know. It's hard to sleep on my back, not curled up with my hands against my cheek, the soothing press of my own flesh saying I'm here, I'm still here. It's hard, not being able to write or to type, I'm here, I'm still here.
3. New website coming soon! Girlbomb is becoming a group blog, featuring the voices of people like you, if you're reading this -- you can email us at janice dot erlbaum at gmail for more information. And by "us" I mean me and the junior editor who'll be helping me run things around here, America's Next Top Girlbomb, Melissa Saunders. Welcome, Meeblez!
That's not nearly it, but I was an idiot for typing this long, and I'm going to pay for it. But it felt so gooooood...