The Other Shop

I forget how I found Skreened.com. Something I read on Twitter, I think. The FU, BP design was something I came up with while looking for components for a design Rhiannon had come up with and as soon as I thought of it, I had to try to sell it. So far, I've sold two, which considered my limited marketing, I think is pretty good.

Apparently, the guy on Twitter who started BPGlobalPR is donating the profits from his BP Cares shirt to clean up efforts (this is what I've heard, I don't want to put words in his mouth). You'd think that the world in general would be making more noise about the BP SNAFU, but it seems like an angry (albeit hillarious and informative) Twitter account and a few BP-hating tee shirts are about it for the Anti-BP movement.

That's all I have about that for right now. In a couple of days, my big brother and Clayton will be taking off for parts unknown (well, unknown to some people. I know where they're going). They're hitch hiking there, which makes me nervous, but they're going to be together which makes me considerably less nervous. Also in a couple of days, my little sister and her boyfriend get their first apartment (FINALLY). Also, my older sister is the maid of honour in an upcoming wedding and my youngest brother's elementary school graduation is in 8 days, so it seems like everyone has crazy fun stuff going on for the next little while. I'm tired from the activity going on around me and wishing I had fun stuff like this to look forward to at the moment.

On the other hand, Spoy and I have plans that end with us in Vancouver for a chunk of the fall, so I guess I shouldn't complain too much... of course, our plans are contingent on getting in to some medical studies (hooray for human guinea pigs!), but what can you do?

Ok, I think that's really it. Funny how most of this post has nothing to do with the other shop.

So,

For the first time in a while, I'm not posting something about BP's giant cock up. Actually, I don't think I can write the post I was planning to write. I guess that's the problem with blogs: anyone could be reading.

I shall write instead about the nature of forgiveness and my growing mistrust of men. Forgiveness is easy. I think this has to do with my (ever-dwindling) intelligence. When I was a kid, I was smarter than almost everyone I knew. That didn't last, but the unfortunate habit of assuming that all people are idiots never really left me. So I guess I really don't forgive people for their slights against me, so much as assume that they're too stupid to have helped themselves. This all sounds very arrogant, but I'm being very general here. And, honestly, a lot of people are idiots. I like to pretend that when I let something go, it's because I'm being the bigger person, but really, I think I just stop caring. I can't be bothered with people any more.

I wasn't always a misanthrope, but I am now. I was thinking about that today while I ate dinner, alone at my kitchen table. There was no reason not to have a sit-down meal with everyone else, but I didn't even tell them dinner was ready. I cooked enough for everyone then ate alone. I prefer it that way. I love my family, but I have trouble being around anyone for too long, and that includes them.

As for my mistrust of men... I get where it stems from, but I'm having a little trouble figuring out why it manifests the way it does. I used to be a free-thinking modern woman, the kind who was driven nuts by all the stupid stereotypes applied to both genders, the kind who saw people as people and wasn't terribly worried what pair of chromosomes they sported. Now, I find myself on the verge of full-on feminism, suddenly understanding those dumb broads who say things like all men are dogs. Any more, he only men I really feel 100% comfortable around (aside from close friends and family) are the ones I know I could physically overpower if I needed to. I like to know I could take a guy in a fight. How's that for messed up?

So, there we go, some unsolicited introspection from me, while I wait for my SVU episode to finish loading. I'm going to watch the rest of it, then head for bed, I think. Got to get going on those morning work outs again if I wanna be tattoo-ready by the end of the summer.

Not Out of the Woods Yet

It might seem like I have a bit of a one-track mind lately - and you know what? I do. Normally, I don't like to know what's going on in the world. I'm kind of known for how rarely I pick up a newspaper, for my total refusal to watch the news on TV. That's because everything that is deemed newsworthy by the media is awful and not something I want to spend my time thinking about. If this makes me intentionally ignorant, then I guess I'll have to own to that and move on, because nothing, not even this mess in the Gulf of Mexico, is likely to change my mind about the rock I live under.

I first heard about the oil leak a few weeks ago, when it had been going on for a while. My brother and our friend Clayton were talking about it as we headed down to the river, and to be honest, I thought they were exaggerating. The more I heard about it, the more I realised that they weren't, that the situation was every bit as bad as they said it was. Right before the whole thing with the beach and the dead fish, I did some research and was totally horrified by the crap BP was dishing out. I was also more than a little freaked about the debates going on online - and the fact that most of them seem to surround the question of whether BP will end the year in the red or in the black. The more I read, the more I became convinced that we're screwed. By we, I mean the whole planet. I don't think that any giant boats in China are likely to save us this time, with Chiwetel Ejiofor's help or not.

What's weird is that even though I really believed this was the end (and I don't think we're anywhere close to out of the woods yet), I couldn't bring myself to do anything. I haven't been writing, because all I could think about is that there wasn't any point, that I might not even live to see another book published. I've spent the past couple of weeks on autopilot, not wanting to put any effort into anything. That makes no sense, though, because I should have been running around, working my ass off to complete everything on the semi-formed bucket list I've had in my head for my whole life, instead of just going numb and crazy, not wanting to work toward anything and at the same time, making plans for a future I didn't believe in.

I found out about half an hour ago that the top kill thing (basically pouring mud into the oil well) has kind of worked, ish, that they've significantly slowed the amount of oil flowing into the ocean. Now, I have no idea if this is true or if it's just another big load of shit from BP, but when I read that news, I literally burst into tears.

Now I just feel inspired to do stuff. All stuff. I want to work out, get a good body so I can get a tattoo or 80. I've always wanted one, and the only thing holding me back has been my fear, not of the pain so much as that my future self won't like it. Well screw it... my present self is more important; my future self might not even exist. I want to get a job and be able to afford to live the way I want, I want to reconnect with old friends, and get rid of the unhealthy influences in my life. I want to climb Burges and go on multiple-day hikes. I want to find true love, which means I want to believe in true love. Right now, I want to do everything.

A Day at the Beach

I was really, really excited to go to the beach today. I'd only been swimming once this year, on a day when it was really too cold to be swimming, so I was looking forward to spending some time in the water, if for no other reason than to spend some time not thinking about the problems we're having in other bodies of water around the world *cough*gulf*cough*. We drove to Turkey Point, stopping at a nice little cafe for cheeseburgers along the way (I shouldn't eat cheese, I know, but I love it too much) and arrived happy, if a little confused by the relative lack of activity on the beach. We parked the car and by the time we reached the actual sand, the calm of the beach was starting to make sense; it smelled absolutely foul. At first, we thought it was just where we were, gasses from a nearby stormdrain or something, so we moved. We moved twice before we decided that no, it really was the water. No matter, we thought, we would just sit on the beach and enjoy ourselves and try to ignore the overpowering stench blowing in off the water.

There were these neat little birds by the water, all black with white eyes, and I decided that I was going to sneak up on one and get a picture, so off I went. The smell from the water was awful, but I figured I would brave it. The bird flew away before I could even get it in focus, but the closer I got to the water, the more I realized that the little bits of drifwood and garbage floating on the waves were neither driftwood nor garbage. They were fish. A lot of fish.

Combine that with the thick, purplish haze hanging in the otherwise clear blue sky and you have what I consider to be a fairly horrifying situation. Add the fact that thousands of barrels worth of oil are spewing into the gulf of Mexico per day, that given their history, the situation on any given day is likely to be 1,000 times worse than BP is willing to admit, and I'm pretty sure we have the first sign of Armageddon. Lucky us.

What's really awful is that I've had a horrible feeling about this whole oil leak business for days, horrible, as in: time to pack up and head for the mountains - and I've been telling myself that I'm being paranoid or overreacting or something. Then I get to the beach and see this. We really are all going to die.

I think I'm going to be sick.

My family has been talking a lot about the oil leak the past couple of days. It's almost funny to think that the world really could end in 2012. If they don't do something to stop this, we'll all suffocate.

They is kind of ambiguous term. They are the people who have some sort of grasp of science, some idea of how you would even try to stop something like this... and for some reason, the they that are in charge of - if we're being realistic - the fate of the world are the same dumb bastards who caused this in the first place.

BP. I don't care how much overtime they were offering, what incentives they were giving, if I worked for them, I'd have jumped ship as soon as I found out about this. As if it's not bad enough that they've pretty well doomed the planet, BP's spokespeople seem content to lie repeatedly about the scope of the damages they have caused and the liklihood that they'll be able to fix them.

BP's publicised* estimates are that the leak is pumping five thousand barrels of oil into the water per day. Every non-BP estimate ranges from twenty to over approximately one hundred thousand barrels of oil leaking per day. BP has managed to recover a huge amount of oil. 5,000 barrels a day, as a matter of fact. So how is it that the oil is still leaking? Hmm, let us ponder. Could it be because their 5,000 barrel per day leak estimate is a big load of horse shit? Yes, I think it could be because of that.

Oh, another fun fact. BP won't let any independent scientists collect data from the spill itself, because apparently, how much oil is actually spilling into the gulf is irrelevant - in fact, knowing might detract from the effort to stop the leak. Now, it could just be me being dumb and blonde and uneducated and female, but I would think that actually having facts about the problem might help them figure out the best way to stop it.

I can just imagine the heads of BP discussing this:

Sir, maybe we should let some independents look at this, so they'll know what we're dealing with and be able to help. Are you crazy? Then they'll know what a colossal cock up we've made of this. What else have you got? Um... we could see if we could drill that relief well we've been planning since last month. No, wait. Better idea. We'll drop a big dome on it. Wait, that didn't work? Let's drop a smaller dome on top of the big one. Wait, the exact same thing happened as what happened with the first dome? No problem, we'll fill leak with mud. No, better: pressurised garbage. Sounds good to me. Let me know if nothing works and the species is about to die. No, better just call me if you stop it.

So there we go. I'm pretty sure we're all at least mostly doomed. Time to eat drink and be merry, everyone; tomorrow you might be dead.

*there's a lot to suggest that their internal estimates are much higher.