Entry 97: Day In The Neighborhood in Much Ado About Nothing
- April 3, 2025, 1:52 a.m.
- |
- Public
Today has been a work work work day. Woke up, came to work, sat in my chair. Work work work work.
Got a call. I was needed upstairs to sedate an irate person who showed up for a trial that was scheduled for Thursday. Stomping around, throwing a fit that he drove all this way for trial (and, he was right to be irritated. The trial HAD previously been set for today but we don’t have trials on Wednesdays; so 2 weeks ago, it was moved by Court’s Own Motion.) That said, it’s his own damned fault that he didn’t check his mail for 2 weeks or he would have known about it. I resolved things, though I am CERTAIN the officer involved would disagree with my resolution, and then back to work work work.
There has been a bit more texting with Laura today, at least. She sent a Corgi video late last night, so I responded this morning and.. little messages back and forth. So that’s positive.
The newspaper published the Sentencing of our recent Dog Rapist and… I don’t know. I guess I do still expect QUITE A BIT MORE from people who know me than I should. Because the Paper leading that he is not going to prison has stirred a lot of people online to lose their shit. And when it is people who KNOW ME going on a furious tirade about how the cops don’t do fucking shit!! or these motherfucking prosecutors cutting sweetheart deals should be ashamed!!!! it’s… it’s not just disappointing, it is disappointing, but it also frustrates me in a way that confuses me. Because technically speaking, ALL of those people have direct access to someone who could answer their questions. Give them information about what happened. TEACH THEM how our fucking system works! But none of them reached out and just decided to post on the internet ALL sorts of shit about how this is absolute proof the cops and prosecutors don’t give a fuck about their jobs! Now, some of that might be that they don’t want to put me in an awkward position? But that’s the kindest interpretation. The other.... the more this community and this moment in history response is… people are just gobbling up the rage-bate and don’t want to have someone explain anything to them because then it won’t be as fun to be FURIOUS and try to blame “Powerful People in Government”. Because… yeaAaAaAaAaAh. That’s the goal. It isn’t to shift or change or address.... it is to be furious and vent online to get attention for being a GOOD PERSON who is FURIOUS. Because truthfully, if any of them DID reach out? They would know that the cops and the “motherfucking prosecutors” are also FURIOUS about this issue!! But it wasn’t any of our faults! We argued for prison. WE DID. That was the whole issue. Dude plead, we argue sentencing. He was found GUILTY of the crime, and we argued that he have SOME FUCKING CONSEQUENCES for his actions. The Judge, using a Pretrial Investigation Report as drafted by the Department of Corrections, decided against our argument. The Judge decided to put the person in the Residential Facility to have no real or lasting detention of any kind. BUT… sure. Take to the Internet and rage against The Cops and The Prosecutors who didn’t do “their fucking jobs!” Our civic intelligence is abysmal and I genuinely believe it is a large part of how we’ve gotten… here… as a country!
The rest of the workday barreled by! It was already 4:21 by the time I stopped actively doing things and looked up.
So then I went to the grocery store to pick up some food for the Food Bank who will be with our local April 5th Protests. Took the dog to the dog park. Emptied the dishwasher. Loaded the dishwasher. Made and ate a salad. I’m… really struggling with how depressing as fuck my gut is getting but I’m also not actively working out so I can’t really bitch. I just… it’s hard to have a 50 to 60 hour work week, try to keep any relationships alive, take care of Nala and a house, eat healthy, pour time and energy into my Positive Hobbies and then add “Oh yeah. You’re also a fat shit. And eating better doesn’t mean fuck all for you. So… figure something out.” Including some bad thoughts.... I don’t blame my parents for anything but it occurred to me recently how my brother’s body and my body have swapped places largely due to how our formative years tried to turn us into each other. My brother was obese as a child to the point where my father and kids at school were mean about it. So… his formative years were dedicated to physical fitness. Like… my brother was in an Elite Swimming Camp by the age of 8. He was brought up in “physical fitness is a habit, it is a reflex.” On the other hand, I was a failure to thrive consistently sick kid. Like… months in the hospital when born, and then again at age 2, and off and on for the rest of my childhood. So… my formative years were dedicated to staying sedentary so the doctors could study me or figure out what’s wrong or try to get the fever down. Like… I heard on a constant basis that I needed to put some meat on my bones and wasn’t put into Competitive Swimming until I was 14! So, while my brother got “Learn well, Learn Early. You need to be more physically fit to achieve your goals”.... I got “Read more, use your brain. You need to accept physical limitations to achieve your goals.” And then in college getting slammed with an actual diagnosis saying, “Oh. You’re sick all of the time because you’re in constant pain. You shouldn’t be in constant pain. You need to sit and figure this shit out.” SO… that’s.... the negative thought train. I’m… living the life that was built for me by Me, by my parents, by my doctors… and I’m fucking disgusted at this fucking gut.
Sorry, that was emotionally naked of me and off track. After eating the salad for dinner, I did more dishes; wrote the plan for the next five days, filmed a 10 minute tik tok and.... then it was 9. So… time to slow down and get ready for bed so I can be asleep by 10 or 11 or midnight.
Perpetually Plump ⋅ April 03, 2025
I appreciate your weight struggles. Like a lot. Because remember I've had bariatric surgery. And I've regained about 25 lb since starting my doctoral program, and I am desperate not to regain more weight. So I literally turned to injectables. So when I tell you I understand the struggle, I really really do. But I promise you that it's far past time to stop blaming your parents or being in the hospital age too for being fat at age 40. If I had followed the track that my parents had set up for me, I would be uneducated and have probably 10 kids. That was what I was taught my entire life was my purpose was to get married and have children. I was told from a young age that women get their worth by the number of children they have. But I broke that conditioning and I got over that shit when I was in my early twenties. And here I am, almost halfway through an anesthesia degree. When I was studying engineering in my mid-20s, I was frustrated because I had struggled on a test in calc 2 or calc 3, and I called my mom for consolation, and her response was "I knew you couldn't do this. I knew you wouldn't be able to handle this. You should just drop out of school now and move home." Yet, here I am, 4.0 in a highly competitive program that has a less than 15% acceptance rate. If it had been up to my mom, I would have never made it this far. Fortunately, I moved out and quit being dependent on them when I was about 17, and then it became my responsibility to shake their weird, destructive values and form my own. And here we are!
Oh, back to the sibling thing real quick. I have five brothers and three sisters. None of us have the same body shape, for the most part. But growing up, my two older brothers and my younger brother were rail thin and I was not. My mother also grew up rail thin. I remember how skinny she was after having seven children, but she would stand in the mirror and talk about how disgusting fat was and how disgusting fat people were. And then almost in the same breath she would turn around and tell me that I was built like a brick shit house and so I couldn't wear girly things for feminine things because those kind of things weren't designed for girls who were built like me. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go put on my 1950s style dress that has an extremely full skirt, a belt, a lovely green cardigan, and a pair of super cute leather oxfords so I can go see my friend who is in the hospital. Parents are ridiculous