The Cerebral Mum

I’ve been unwell. Well, not unwell, but in pain. I have an ovarian cyst that has been haemorrhaging which is just not pleasant. I even missed a day at university on Tuesday. I went to my Thursday classes but I was in tears by the time I got home.

I got my first ovarian cyst when I was 14 and by the time I got a diagnosis and treatment I had two, one in each ovary; a grapefruit and a golf ball, both extraordinarily painful while menstruating. Luckily, they cleared up with medication. My sister, who gets them as well, had to have her first one surgically removed.

The cyst isn’t a big drama but the treatment is The Pill. At 14, years and years before I was sexually active, I was put on Microgynon 50ED, a “high dose” oral contraceptive and I was told I had to stay on it for the rest of my fertile life. I prefer to let my body take care of itself. I can always tell when I have a cyst because the pain is quite distinct from normal menstrual pain but I only get a really bad one every 2 or 3 years. I have a rule that if the cyst hasn’t flushed itself away through 3 cycles, then I will resort to medical intervention. But 3 cycles is the most they ever last.

I don’t like being on The Pill and decided even before I became sexually active that I would use it for contraception when in a relationship only. I had side effects at a young age due to the dosage, the least of which was significant weight gain at the time when a young girl’s body image is probably at its most fragile. And if I had stayed on it as instructed, by now I would have taken about 7,500 tablets. By the time I reached menopause, if I had continued as instructed, I would have taken over 13,000. I find that idea untenable. While I love and respect science, that level of screwing around with the body’s natural functions should be avoided unless absolutely necessary, in my opinion.

But anyway, that’s where I have been. In bed and in pain. My computer was switched off while I laid curled up in a ball watching Smallville. I’m still not 100% but at least I don’t feel like I’m in labour anymore.

However, my usual posting schedule is not about to resume because, basically, the shit has hit the fan next door, where Big Sis’ boyfriend lives. The upshot is that he needs to move out, and soon. With me and Cas living here in big Sis’ place, there isn’t room for him (he has 3 children on the weekends) so we’re trying to orchestrate a somewhat dramatic shuffle to make sure we all have a bed somewhere.

It looks like he’ll move into my derelict house, temporarily at least, which is probably a good thing for me because the help I’ve needed will be given more urgent attention but there are a lot of logistics to sort out in the coming weeks so postings will (continue to) be a little sketchy.

In other news, my first assignment is due tomorrow and I haven’t started it yet. It’s only 500 words so it shouldn’t be a drama, but with all the financial, residential and health issues rearing their heads right now, well… You get the picture.

Love and kisses to all. And apologies for my inattention of late. That will continue for a little while longer.

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I’m trying to put my finger on it.

I was disappointed to find that both my subjects’ tutorials this semester are being led by female academics. What is that about? I’d love to be a female academic myself, so why do I think I’m somehow getting less out of them? To a certain extent, perhaps it has more to do with who I relate to rather than stereotypes. Then again, just saying “who I relate to” in such a way (ie; meaning males) is stereotyping. Isn’t it?

Can some of it be excused by personal experience? I prefer male doctors, for example. My experience with female doctors have been that they are either to emo or in-my-face or trying-to-connect when all I want is bald science, or too snarky or chip-on-their-shoulder or sour. Now those are some awfully destructive, endemic stereotypes. Perhaps they really were like that, but perhaps my perceptions were influenced by the culture I am surrounded by.

My current doctor, incidentally, is female and I really like her. She’s Chinese. Does her different background effect the way she relates, or do I relate to her differently? (That’s an even more concerning question!)

I have similar “experiences’ with females in wide range of roles. Even traditionally “female” roles. Like nurses. I loathe most nurses with a passion.

And even just generally, I prefer the company of men. With the exception of my blogging pals, I have few female friends. Occasionally, I love a “girly” get together - I’m a fairly girly girl and I have 7 pairs of pink shoes - but too much female company and I begin to dislike my own sex. I can only take so much.

In part, I think it is because I have a “masculine” mind and, statistically, more males than females think and interact the way I do. (Yes, I do think that there are statistically significant differences between the sexes, even though that tells us nothing about any single individual.) I have a sneaking suspicion, though, that I also like to be not so much one-of-the-boys, but the woman who runs with them. Because I “fit” very well, but I also have a point of difference and therefore get special treatment. That’s not a very admirable reason for what is essentially prejudice.

Or is it prejudice? Where is the line between prejudice and preference?

There is no self-loathing in play here. I share the “flaws” of my sex which irritate me in other women and I have no desire to be other than what I am. My “femaleness” informs everything I do and think. I experience the world through my female body. It generates meaning. I find it valuable.

Perhaps it is the complementary nature of “sex” differences which attracts me to the company of men. There are characteristics I admire which I find more frequently in males than I do in females and don’t think that is uncommon. (This applies in reverse as well: There are many men who prefer the company of women.) Still, I find it problematic.

Because I’m a feminist.

I’m not a “feminist, but…”: I’m 100% pure, unadulterated. So how does that compute with my “sexism”? How do I resolve those two leanings? My feminism is obviously not a female bias. It is a combination of broader principles and my female experience.

I think this post is opening a very large can of philosophical worms. I think I need to define my feminism again. It isn’t something I have intellectually considered for a long time. Is it a label that I have worn for so many years that it is no longer meaningful?

It’s time to make this area of my social conscience conscious once more.

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Ever had one of those days when you’ve slogged through some of the hardest things you have to do and then, when the sun goes down, you realise that you’ve gotten exactly nowhere? That’s today. Intellectually, I know things are step by step and today’s steps count but, to mix clichéd metaphors, it still feels like a house of cards and the road ahead is long.

Ever feel as though - if you’re the puppeteer of your own life - there are too many strings to manage and while one limb is dancing to your tune, the other is flailing? Somewhere along the line, things must get easier. I liked being young and irresponsible, able to just cut strings. Now, I have no choice but to arduously untangle them all, hoping nothing breaks in the process.

Ever feel like there is an evil Judy Garland in your head singing, It never ra-ains, but what it po-ours… in her chirpy little voice just to drive you insane? So what if all your troubles come in bunches, keep sticking to your silly little hunches…

And the sun will come shining through.

Yeah, right.

I’m a child of Nirvana. I need depressive music to cheer me up. So I’m turning up Lisa Germano and listening to Cancer of Everything.

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So, I’ve spent the last two days in bed unwell and miserable. Yesterday, (Shock! Horror!) I didn’t even turn my computer on. But I’m getting better and here I am again, thinking of all the things that I haven’t done. Is one ever able to catch up? Anyway…

On Saturday, Big Sis’ favourite cat (her baby) was hit by a car. Our neighbour came and knocked on the door. She’d seen him slam into the gutter and then dash off only to make it as far as the neighbour’s garden bed. So there he was, lying in the bark, Big Sis too upset to hear what the women were telling her about what had happened, while B and I organised blankets and a basket to take him to the vet. He spent the weekend in ‘emergency’ and was just transferred to the regular vet today but we’re still not sure how he is. It looks like one eye is gone and but the scans haven’t shown anything too frightening.

They are a little worried about brain damage but he seems to be responsive when Big Sis has visited so that’s promising. To be honest, I’m not sure what the vets can do at this point except wait and see how he improves so perhaps we’ll be able to bring him home tomorrow. He has peed, so his kidneys seem to be okay but he’s still being fed with a syringe. I just don’t know how Big Sis will be if he doesn’t make it.

But on to other, nicer news… I didn’t tell you about my first philosophy lecture last week.

I walked in to the “small” lecture hall which held only about 150 people and heard this booming “No way!” coming from the centre of the seating and looked up to see one of my ‘babies’ unfolding his 6′ frame from his chair and waving at me. I say ‘baby’ because when I was cocktail waitressing, I had my ‘baby boys’ (19-22 year old bartenders) whom I adored and who adored me in return.

This particular one was my favourite and when I changed jobs, I took him with me. But I’ve been out of the game for a while now and hadn’t seen him in ages. Even though I knew he’d attended the same university, I thought he graduated last year but apparently he had broken his wrist and then got a Staph infection so with his hospital stay and his inability to hold a camera (he’s a photography major) there he was…

Which means I have a friend at university!

Of course, he’s not entirely a baby any more, and I’m a little older and a little more faded and flabby, so his company isn’t the vanity-food it once was, but it’s nice to have someone to sit with in the sun between lectures and also to get a lift to the train station after class, removing 2 parts of my 4 part trip to home. (Tram, tram, train, bus. Grrr.)

And it’s even better to have someone to argue with about morality and and objectivism and relativism (the subject of today’s philosophy lecture) because that’s the kind of conversation philosophy and I are all about.

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[This post is part of Lightening’s Smiley Saturdays.]

My Favourite Suburb

On my way to university each day, I pass through my favourite suburb, the one I want to be living in again as soon as Ii can. It’s not the most beautiful, or the most stylish, or the most avant-garde or… Well, it’s not the most anything, but on my first day, walking through those streets, from the train station to the tram, I remembered what it felt like to be ‘home’, both in a place and in myself. It just lifted me up.

Reading

For a long time now I’ve been having trouble reading, depression making the kind of concentration necessary very difficult. But since I brought my textbooks and course materials home, I haven’t wanted to stop. Not only am I reading again, but my mind is alive with ideas again. And that means I feel alive.

The Weather

Yes, the sun has been shining and that makes me feel wonderful, even though my face is now horribly freckled brown, but this is Melbourne. The four seasons in one day we have also make me feel at home. Running around barefoot in floating cotton dresses, or jumping in puddles, or reading outside under the tree, or snuggling up under homemade blankets… They’ve all made me happy this week.

Watching Caspar climb into my bed (the mattress in the living room) and snuggle down into the pillow then pull the blankets up to tuck himself in made me smile too. He knows what contentment is.

This Conversation

I was working at the computer, Caspar climbs up onto my lap, and we have this conversation… (I’ve abbreviated it a little.)

Mummy: Would you like to go to the park?
Caspar: (shakes head)
Mummy: Would you like to ride your bike?
Caspar: (shakes head)
Mummy: Would you like to read a book?
Caspar: (shakes head)
Mummy: Would you like to do some drawing?
Caspar: (shakes head)
Mummy: Would you like to make music?
Caspar: (shakes head)
Mummy: Would you like to watch telly?
Caspar: (shakes head)
Mummy: Would you like to have a bath?
Caspar: (shakes head)
Mummy: Would you like to have a bottle?
Caspar: (shakes head)
Mummy: Would you like some chocolate?
Caspar: (shakes head)
Mummy: Would you like to sit on Mummy’s knee and have cuddles?
Caspar: (Nods emphatically and snuggles in.)

Yes, my love is better than chocolate, but I have saved the best for last.

A New Family Member

Caspar is no longer the youngest boy on my mother’s side of the family. On 1st of March at 8:58am, my cousin gave birth to a baby boy. He weighed 3565 grams and his big brothers think he is cool. I haven’t met him yet because he lives in Sydney, but I was so excited to hear the news. Congratulations to B and M, and J and J.

And welcome to the world, Archie.

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Eeek. Sorry for last night’s rant.

It has been a massive week of organising my life and despite the fact that a couple of trivial things (like bad software) have made me pretty hot under the collar, I’m having a wonderful time and I’m happier than I have been in… I don’t know how long.

I promise I’ll write a lovely Smiley Saturday post and tell you about all the the things that are making me joyful.

At the moment, the big job is getting myself 100% sorted for this semester so it’s focus focus focus in the best sort of way. With Cas, I don’t have the luxury of fluffing my way through study any more. Besides, there is nothing better for me than being super-productive and working towards something meaningful. I know that when I’ve got a handle on all my studies over the next couple of weeks, I’ll have heaps of energy built up to deal with the things which have been dragging me down.

However, I have had second thoughts about taking on a full time study load this semester and I think I will be withdrawing from that 3rd subject, only because I’ve been stuck in this living situation for too long. I want to be able to get out of here and into my own apartment by midyear break. That, of course, will depend on someone buying my house but at the very least I would like it ready to sell and on the market. Once I’m free of that albatross, I’ll be able to pick up extra subjects and do them justice. As much as I would like to do everything at once, only so much is possible.

I’m also in the process of trying to come to an arrangement with the bank so that I can consolidate my debts and reduce my monthly payments. I’ve had to ask a relative to be a guarantor which is horrid position to be in (both for me and them) but at the moment I’m hopeful that I can get it sorted. Not having things in the red, at the same time as reducing my total monthly payments is going to make a huge difference to my psyche.

Over at the Aussie Bloggers Forum today, Ben Barden (great blogger, nice guy) linked to an article by Neil Jenman, How To Save Your Home, and everyone agreed that it was worth reading. Right now, I almost fit into the “mortgage trauma” category, despite the fact that when I bought the house the mortgage repayments were less than 25% of my income. I wasn’t foolish (Who needs a McMansion, anyway?) but life circumstances change. I just have to get my income and my living arrangements compatible again.

On top of all that, I’ve also got a dozen blog posts in development for here, there and everywhere, so it seems like I will be getting my blogging life under control soon as well.

Let’s just hope that the bank doesn’t send me into a tailspin again.

Overall, the best thing about being at university is that I feel like myself. (Can you hear all the energy?) I feel purposeful; I feel like I’m involved; I feel like I’m moving.

I’m a busy person now. I mean business.

(Btw: First history lecture today. It was fantastic! Off to write up my notes now.)

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And it will be in 8 minutes. In fact it will be over before I finish this post. I feel a long, long rant coming on about University IT. University bureaucracy? Well, it is what it’s always been and that is fine. I know how to work my way around that and find out what I need to know, when I need to know it. But now they’re all high tech, it’s a monster.

It was bad enough that the other day in the computer lab on campus I had to enter my password at least 8 times within the space of half an hour, all to do the most simple things. Could they not have a system that, you know, functions? Nooooo. You have to sign in for the computer, for the library, for the timetables, for the online studies units, for your enrolments, for your email… And so on and so on.

It. is. totally. fucked.

In better news, I am actually able to do a full time study load this semester. (Did I tell you that already?) I didn’t think that I would be able to, because of time considerations and Cas, but I can do a unit wholly online and I think that rocks. In fact, it’s a course requirement that I complete at least one unit online before I graduate. Just so they know I can use a computer.

So I’m signed up for a 2nd year history subject (I guess IT doesn’t care that I’m a freshman), Great Debates: Unfinished Business of The Past. Woo-hoo! Except…

The software they are using would have to be the most obstructive, inefficient, unintelligent software I have ever seen: Blackboard

It. is. totally. fucked.

It has modules and reading materials and links to other reading materials and it has discussion forums to take the place of tutorials.

Let’s just take a look at the wonderful user interface it has for the “forums”.

To read a post/thread you click. That’s fine. But it then opens up in a fucking popup window. Um, why? Now, I think the popup is senseless enough to call it bad design (and no, you cannot centre or right click to force it to open in a tab instead) but just to make it even more ridiculous, once you have closed the tiny box you have laboriously scrolled though (and no, it does not “remember” that you have adjusted the popup size), the page you are returning to refreshes!

WTF? If you’re going to use a popup or lightbox, isn’t the whole point so that you can view the detail without navigating away from or reloading the main page?

Now, I understand that they want to keep the unread/read up to date. They have, of course, gone about that in an entirely stupid way but perhaps they had good intentions. However, there is a little green star in my sidebar menu (which, incidentally, doesn’t resize or scroll well enough for me to see the full tree-directory) that is supposed to tell me when there is something new to see. And it does. All the time. Even when there is nothing new to see.

Oh, this post could go on and on and on… You get the picture. Just envisage the most basic functions taking a least 4 extra processes to achieve and you’ve got Blackboard.

I’m going to stop, because that is just one microscopic portion of what is wrong with this program and I could write a thesis. But before I do… My favourite fucked function?

There’s a button that says “accessibility”. I thought I’d give that a try, hoping they had something more functional for users with disabilities. Wanna know where that took me? To the Blackboard site and a page that says how considerate they’ve been about colour contrast. In a teeny weeny font.

It. is. totally. Blackboard.

(Btw, I’m going to be managing all my study notes etc on WordPress so my subdomain is now running a separate blog for that, Plato’s Sandbox. If you’re bored…)

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