I would like to say something. Because this is a constant source of annoyance for me.
Cyclists do not belong:
• On the sidewalk
• Riding against traffic
• In a crosswalk
Have we got this clear?
I keep seeing ways that motorists can watch for bicycles. And I think that’s important, I really do. But it’s not just up to motorists to be aware.
As a cyclist/motorist/pedestrian I feel very strongly that equal road rights means equal road rules. You’re on a bike and no one is coming at a stop sign or red light? Great! Go on through. I do it too. But at least have the decency to make sure no one is there first. You, as a cyclist, do not have the right of way at a stop sign. Especially if it is a 4 way stop. You run a stop sign and get hit by oncoming traffic, I have no sympathy for you. When I pull up to a stop sign, I stop. And then I go if it’s my turn. I don’t watch for some cyclist to come zipping out of no where and I shouldn’t have to. Because there shouldn’t be a separate set of rules that motorists need to learn for a population that claims they want to be treated equally on the road.
I guess a good rule of thumb is don’t act like an entitled dick on the road. Cyclists aren’t better than me, as a motorist, just because I don’t always have the luxury of not needing the convenience and speed of an automobile.
And that works both ways.
When I’m on my bike, in the street, I am visible. I have lights and reflectors and everything (don’t get me started on those opinions). I follow road rules and I do not deserve to be honked at or yelled at. Or spit on you mother fucker. It won’t kill you to give me space. Or slow down until you can safely go around me. Watch out for bikes before opening your car door. Don’t be a dick. This isn’t rocket science; it’s common courtesy.
Which I guess is asking a lot, based on how many blog posts are already out there.
But really. Cyclist safety is not just motorist responsibility. You want to use the road, follow the road rules. Like everybody else. You’re not special because you have 2 wheels. I don’t expect special treatment on my bike and I sure as hell am not going to give it while I’m driving. It’s hard enough watching for other motorists without worrying that some asshole on a fixie with a superiority complex wants to risk his life betting that I can see him coming at me at 5am with no lights on. Equal road rights does not mean better treatment and special considerations. That’s what bike paths are for.
And motorcycles and vespas and scooters. If you don’t fucking stop using the bike lane to pass traffic I might accidentally lose control of my vehicle. It happens. Accidents happen. All the time.
Everyone stop being an asshole, and maybe we can all use the road in peace and happiness.
“Do not confuse “duty” with what other people expect of you; they are utterly different. Duty is a debt you owe to yourself to fulfill obligations you have assumed voluntarily. Paying that debt can entail anything from years of patient work to instant willingness to die. Difficult it may be, but the reward is self-respect.”—Robert A. Heinlein, Time Enough for Love
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"If you had to rate your anxiety on a scale of 0-10, what would you give it?" "It really kind of depends on the day, and what time it is, and what’s been going on." "Kind of just an overall average…" "I don’t know. Maybe like a 6?" "That’s… kind of high." "Well, I mean. I don’t know. Stuff just kind of builds up." "How would you feel about trying an SSRI just to kind of take the edge off of things?" "Mmmmm… I don’t know. I just put my headphones on and deal with it." "Does that work?" "Sometimes." "You could try out something for a month. Just see if it helps." "I could do that."
So I’ve been taking Sertraline (Zoloft) about a week now. Combined with the Ritalin. I kind of feel like every time I walk in that office I just get crazier, even though I know the concentration issues and the “adjustment disorder with mixed anxiety and depressed mood” and the mood swings are all part of the same thing.
Because one of my biggest obstacles is over-focusing, including over-focusing on some negative thoughts, a combination of a stimulant (Ritalin) and an anti-anxiety medication (Zoloft) is probably what I’m going to respond best to.
And I mean, the headphones don’t really do much good when you’re still thinking about all the sounds and stupid comments you’re trying to drown out and maybe you shouldn’t be trying to drown out the stupid comments because she’s going to majorly screw something up if I don’t know to fix it and maybe if I just leave one ear bud out… I guess sometimes you don’t realize how thick the mental fog is until it clears out a bit. I’m not perfect; maybe I never will be. But at least things are getting a little clearer. For now. Still learning as I go.
Someone ate an apple in my presence yesterday, and people still click pens around me, and my initial reaction isn’t to stab them while crying, so I guess something’s working, right?
I wish more people knew how far down the rabbit hole Adult ADD (Combined Inattentive and Hyperactive-Impulsive Subtypes) goes.
I think they’ve done a fantastic job with the HBO series so far. There are tiny, probably insignificant details I noticed were different from the book, mostly surrounding Daenerys, but it didn’t take away from the main story.
The book chapters are all a point of view from different characters, and that’s not really something that can carry over to a TV show. So, while in the books you see everything from each person’s eyes, and you don’t really know who to cheer for, the TV show does give more of a sense of good guy v. bad guy. At the same time, I guess that can change as well, since people who appeared to be villains in the first book didn’t get their own point of view chapter until the second book, and you end up changing your mind entirely about them. I’m really looking forward to seeing where they take the second season.
I’m becoming very aware of why George R. R. Martin took six years to write this book, and although the wait was hard, I’m glad he didn’t rush to complete it.
I’m on page 382 out of 959, and I’ve been reading it for what seems like forever. So many characters and plot twists and oh my God, I have to keep trying to remember everything that happened in the previous four books. I should take a vacation day from work or something just to finish the book, or I might never reach that last page, but I’m having fun following along for now.
Or trying to follow along, anyway. How does GRRM keep it all straight? Because he’s a goddamn genius that made up an entire world and time period in his head, and then added to it. And then wrote about it. He’s still writing about it. I have to wait for two more books once I finally finish this one.
This series really is epic. In the correct, Lord of the Rings, sense of the word, and not talking about your dinner selection on Twitter sense of the word.
Seriously. Read them. I recommend starting with A Game of Thrones, since it’s the first book.
Once upon a time, a band called Pyramids sent 4 different audio clips out to 52 (possible more) different artists.
"Each artist participating in this collection received original Pyramids music with no instructions other than to make a new work from any or all of the sounds provided along with anything else they wanted to add to the mix. All forms of manipulation were encouraged and utilized. ‘Wvndrkmmer’ contains fifty-two pure interpretations of the same music, which was not so much a song, but four separate, cooperating textures."
The resulting collaberation was titled WVNDRKMMER and sold as a limited release cassette collection.
I made some bacon today for future omelet use and usually I just use the bacon grease to cook some chicken or vegetables or more bacon or cupcakes or something but today I had a flash of brilliance.
2 cups of chickpeas All of the bacon grease Maybe some olive oil
Blend it in a food processor. Add some olive oil if the consistency isn’t right. I mean, we gotta keep this healthy, right? I probably used about like 1 or 2 tablespoons of olive oil. If you read any of that in Rachael Ray’s voice saying “EVOO!!” please punch yourself in the face.
That’s it. That is bacon hummus. It’s delicious and ridiculously offensive to vegans, probably. But don’t worry about them. You just eat your bacon.
Eat your bacon. There are starving Vegans in America.
A few fun tips!
I buy dried chickpeas in bulk and cook them myself in heavily salted water. The water also has garlic in it. I make a bunch at once and then freeze them in 1 cup portions. They freeze and unthaw well. They’re great to snack on. Or put into salads. Or make hummus with. Like Bacon Hummus. My chickpeas taste better than chickpeas from a can. Also, they aren’t from a can. Gross.
I buy high quality bacon. I have no problem dropping my hard earned cash on some good quality pork fat. This ain’t no Oscar Meyer shit in my fridge.
"How are you tonight?" "Oh I was fantastic until you blinded me with your fucking police car lights on the fucking bike trail in your fucking police car. What the hell, Officer?"*
"Was that a sheriff’s car?" "No it was one of their ‘not quite an undercover’ blue cars." "Yeah. I think Milwaukee Police have bike cops, but state patrol have those blue cars. Which makes me wonder why state patrol is on the bike tr—" "I think a better question is ‘Why is there a fucking car on the bike trail at 8:45 at night blinding me with their fucking high beams and search light and then asking me how I’m doing tonight?’." "Well, yeah. That too."
I am an Air Force brat. I grew up everywhere. No, really. Everywhere. K-12 took me through 11 different schools. I didn’t get that experience of growing up with the same people my entire life, and knowing that the friends I had then are still with me now.
So while some people might get irritated with Facebook’s ability to let people you barely talked to in junior high or high school find you, and attempt to force themselves into your life, I get a little bit excited that someone actually remembers who I am (I mean if I don’t have to think too hard to remember who this person is). I guess it just feels like the first 18 years of my life were more than just a series of passing, forgettable moments.
Am I going to talk to that person regularly? Are we suddenly going to become the best friends we might have once had the potential to be? Am I going to accept their Mafia Wars request? Am I finally going to care enough go to some stupid high school reunion? No. Absolutely not. I finally have my own life and I just want to live it.
But I will accept a friend request (if I remember who the person is, anyway) and spend a few minutes browsing a profile, and seeing what that person has done with their life. And, for a few minutes, I’ll feel like I have some kind of connection with the people I never got to grow up with.
Right before I move on to the people in my life right now. Including a small handful of people I managed to keep in contact with from high school.
The First Rule of #DontDie Club is Don't Die. It's the Only Rule.
I want to believe #DontDie club started last year. When Annie almost ran me over with her car. And then tweeted about it. Which is how I found out that horrible screeching near death noise behind me was her. #that’senoughitalicssawa
I repaid the favor about a week later while we were biking together and we went opposite directions and, while we magically avoided crashing into each other, that involved Annie falling over on her bike.
We love each other, really.
As one of the self-proclaimed founders of the #DontDie Club, you’d think I’d use a certain level of caution when riding.
You’d be wrong.
This morning I went biking in the dark. With no helmet. To Danger Cliff. I live dangerously. But not quite as dangerously as when I went for a ride this evening, in the dark. With a helmet. With Sara. At some point of the Hank Aaron State Trail, we realized we forgot to cross the street. Sara started turning her bike around to go back the 8 feet to the crossing we passed. I was having none of that nonsense. I just hopped the curb into the street.
Into an oncoming car.
Did I even look before crossing? Of course I did. But something told me that getting across the street took priority over there is a fucking car coming at you. Some people should not trust their instincts.
And while I’m staring at this car coming right at me like a fucking deer in headlights, about to die, I think to myself—no, not SHIT I AM GOING TO DIE!—no. I am thinking “Huh. That was dumb.” No really. I might have said it out loud. It’s a completely normal and appropriate reaction to near death, I promise. I’ve had some experience.
Of course, all of this was happening in slow motion, so I was able to hop the next curb into safety. I’m sure it wasn’t all in slow motion for the car driver.
Car driver, wherever you are, I’m sorry. I’m sorry I’m an impulsive asshole.
Myth #1 – Introverts don’t like to talk. This is not true. Introverts just don’t talk unless they have something to say. They hate small talk. Get an introvert talking about something they are interested in, and they won’t shut up for days.
Myth #2 – Introverts are shy. Shyness has nothing to…
So there I was drifting off to sleep when this song pops into my head. It’s “Will Do” by TV on the Radio. I love this song and this band. So as I drift off, I get excited about seeing them in September. And then I’m jolted awake and out of bed.
I open my laptop and check my calendar. Lo and behold, the show is on September 1. I will be in Wichita on September 1. Where TV on the Radio will not be. Nor will any other decent band. Ever.
So I feel like a dick for having to break plans. I hate breaking plans. Especially plans that I was looking forward to. And now I can’t sleep because I feel like a dick.
Not to make poor Aimee feel worse, but I have an extra ticket to this show, and this really is a fantastic song.
It’s a great band to see, if you’re into an electro, post-punk, jazzy kind of music.
Talking with a friend last night about why we hate people.
Growing up, being a nerd was not ok. We got picked on, bullied, ostracized. Kids were mean. And they didn’t stop being mean. All through high school, it didn’t end. Nobody liked you if you were a nerd. Except the other nerds, but I mean, we’re all too socially awkward to hang out with each other. Maybe in high school it got a little bit better and you “kind of got along with everyone” but did you hang out with those people outside of school? Or did you stay at home, reading Heinlein to procrastinate problems 1-4, 7, and 12 in chapter 5 of your AP Calculus book, waiting for the new episode of SG-1 to come on? Real friends were rare, and treasured, and usually pretty understanding.
All of the sudden there’s twitter. And somehow the nerds all gravitated into this tiny corner of the internet and found a community and they laughed and joked and it was awesome.
And everyone figured out that it was awesome, and suddenly everyone wants to be a nerd too. And they try and they try and they fucking get away with it and some of us can see right through you. You can’t fool everyone, and you don’t.
My friend and I see right through half our followers claiming to be experts in things they know nothing about. Clogging our stream with humble references to themselves. We see through the people forcing references into tweets to get the stars that come with a Star Wars quote. We see everything. And we see you get away with it because no one calls anyone out on bullshit. Not even us. We just see our small community become overrun with poseurs.
The people who used to make fun of us for being who we were, still are, are now making a desperate attempt to be exactly like us, and then to one up that in some pathetic effort to increase Klout and popularity.
Poseurs make up about 97% of the population. It’s on the CDC website. Look it up.
I tried out Ambien and didn’t take too well to it. Maybe sleep will be less of a hassle with Trazadone.
Had my mom look for some school records. I’ve got 4th and 6th grade report cards filled with comments about missing assignments and needing to apply myself more.
And, I’m sorry, did I even tell you all what I just finished reading? Driven to Distractionby Edward M. Hallowell and John J. Ratey. It’s definitely worth a read if you are at all interested in ADD. Or ADHD. Or whatever. The more I read the more little things from my childhood I remembered. I even sat down and threw together a timeline of pre-K through college with the things I remembered. It was pretty helpful.
It also gave me the words I needed to let the Nurse Practitioner know how the Ritalin is working out for me. “Less time lost in distraction.” Exact words. Truth. I may not notice that I’m focusing better, but I sure notice that I add up my billing and don’t wonder where 2 hours went and stress about making it up. I notice that my mood swings are… less frequent. Sort of. I definitely notice when it starts wearing off.
Unfortunately, I also notice my blood pressure going up a lot. So, that’s cool. I’m trying out the low dose for another month to see how it goes. It works pretty well, but I don’t really want to have a stroke. I mean, I’d be willing to switch meds over it.
So this must be the part I read about where the initial feelings of relief and excitement wear off and it gets frustrating again.