Sorry no SYTYCD this week

Last night was another pub quiz, and I usually don't go, but my partner's leaving for 3 weeks to do WASL alternative grading and then moving for a teaching job at a high school district 2 hours away maybe a week after he gets back (he'll be here the week I'll be in Denver too, though, but then again I won't be here). So I did that instead.

Next week will be back to regular as I'm on crutches and can't dance at the moment (X-Ray was clear even though the doc seems to be convinced I have a stress fracture and it just isn't showing yet. NOT ALL DANCERS GET STRESS FRACTURES, ARGH!) I'll definitely be craving dance. I'm craving dance as we speak. I spent the entire day at the ER thinking of ways I could dance without using my left foot or putting pressure on it in any way.

ARGH!!!!!

Do you know how excruciating it is to figure out the multiplicity of a large system without knowing how to use excel? (I can get everything but the f*&&ing combin function to work.) I've spent the past 3 hours working on that 1. stupid. function. I could have been at a cookout with my math geek and his band. Who, incidentally, just told me that he thinks he knows how to do it so I could have saved myself all the spitting and swearing and had some fun as well. &*^^$$#$$&^*(*)I)_()_%^%#@@!!#%^&^&*()*()()(_)_)*(&%^$$#$@@!$@#!


And I didn't get the REU. I know I should have applied for more, and I wanted to, I was just overwhelmed by evil Moore method class that unknowingly all the deadlines passed me by. That's what happens when you're drowning in anxiety. I fucking love this disability, let me tell you.

Speaking of which, without including the price of my daily dosage of Lamictal (300 mg) for the bipolar, my Xanax, and my inhaler my running total for monthly meds is $645.92. Thank god for medicaid. (And I know that people moan and scream that they don't want socialised health care b/c they don't want to pay for that, but trust me when I say it's a hell of a lot cheaper then my going to the ER for a shot for an anxiety attack (which I only go in for after being unable to sleep or calm down for at least 2 days.) And that was at least once a month. Morons.

EDIT:
To supplement my bad lernin' I've been visiting this site and taking quizzes including US Capitals, presidents and countries of Asia, Africa, etc, etc. I also hold the record time for naming all the Jane Austen novels.

*sigh*

I had an anxiety attack talking to my prof trying to do proofs. (He is only helpful to those who are doing well in the class, this has been confirmed by many classmates, the asshole.) SO I left. This period of the class I have only done 2 proofs, I hope that's enough for a C, I did one hard proof so I hope that counts for something. That and I've done a couple of unsuccessful proofs so it's obvious that I'm trying. The 1 mg of Xanax made it kind of hard to finish the proof I was working on since it makes my brain all floaty. *sigh*

Tonight's trivia night and one of two nights a week I get to spend with my math geek and I can't seem to get off the couch. UGH. I don't know what to do. *sigh* Having an anxiety disorder and an anxiety inducing class sucks. A LOT.

Wow, this explains A LOT!

So, thanks to wonderful women science bloggers from my blogroll (like Science Woman and Mad Scientist) I have found an article about Imposter Syndrome that is in this week's Science Careers.

"Impostor syndrome" is the name given to the feelings that Abigail and many other young scientists describe: Their accomplishments are just luck or deceit, and they're in over their heads. The key to getting past it, experts say, is making accurate, realistic assessments of your performance. Perhaps equally important: knowing you're not alone. Abigail thinks that sharing her feelings with other people is how she will eventually come to grips with her sense of feeling like an impostor. "It's fantastic to hear other people say, 'I've felt that way, too.' "

It's a feeling I get often, thinking that I have somehow gotten this far in math and physics by dumb luck or cheating, though I have never EVER done the second one, but I still feel that somehow I *must* have done something to warrant it. Example: For abstract algebra we get notes for a test, and I know there will be T/F problems on it, and I have space left on my sheet because I've all ready written all the definitions, proofs, and theorems that I can not easily remember or access (my brain looks just as messy as my work space), so I type up all the T/F questions with the answers (I've had the prof before and know they'll be the same questions). I got them all right when I answered them on the homework, and I have horrible test anxiety, but it feels like I'm cheating, even though I know the material well, having A's on the homework and knowing that other people in the class (who are mostly math fellows and grad students) are doing the *exact* same thing that I am doing. It feels like cheating, but I'm still doing it, because I know it's a big portion of my grade and to be honest, I can do homework, I can help people, I know the material inside and out, but I bomb on tests. ALWAYS. It's why I've gone from an A to a B in some of my classes. The damn final.

I get extra time on tests because I have a severe anxiety disorder. I am getting a tutor for my proofs class because (dis)Ability resources stepped in and intervened because I was having anxiety attacks every time I did the homework and even one in class the other day. This is the class we're supposed to do Moore Method though the way it is described in the link sounds wonderful compared to the way my class is run. *I* do not learn well this way, not at all. A few of my classmates told me that they are fine with this and expressed concern over my anxiety problems (it's a small department and one of them is a math fellow and I tried to keep this away from them since I didn't want to lord it over them, but they found out). This is obviously something that is warranted due to my disability, but it still feels like it's an unfair advantage over others (though I'm sure that they don't have to get up and take a walk around the building to calm down during a test as to keep from having a full blown anxiety attack.)

I have passed classes I've never studied for, and actually done really well. So why do I feel like I somehow don't deserve this? Like I won't be able to survive grad school or post-grad school research (I want to go into research) because somehow someone will discover that I can't do it, that I'm incapable, that I don't know what I'm doing, that I'm horrible at math and physics. I'm 2 1/2 quarters away from completing an undergrad degree in mathematics (the last quarter being computer programming and math history being the only required classes, so really only one more quarter of real math classes (I am also taking quantum mechanics b/c I'm a geek and may be going into mathematical physics)) and I have to constantly remind myself that I AM smart, that I DO know this.

It's strange that I have to continually remind myself of these things so close to my goal. I am passing my proofs class, even through all the anxiety (which up until I was told I could have a tutor was giving me such horrible anxiety I was unable to sleep for the first 6 weeks of the quarter), and I am IN LOVE with my abstract algebra class. It was really tough for the first assignment, but the last one was easy, I was helping other people out with their homework, and I was LOVING it. I'm confident that I will do well on the test tomorrow. I love this stuff and am seriously considering going to graduate school for it. It's fun and it comes really easy for me. But I still feel like there's a catch. But I'm just going to try and beat it out of my head. I may not be a grad student or a professional, but knowing that other people feel this way is v v helpful. I CAN do this, and I AM good at this.

UGH. I hate this ridiculousness.

Anxiety attack in math class today

I almost started screaming at someone in class today (do you *really* need to prove 3 things in one class when you were the one who proved the most proofs for the "first 3rd". You only raise the bar for the rest of us who were ecstatic (and I'm not the only one) of proving 3 in the last period, now we'll have to do more. We're 2 weeks in and I have none, but then again every time I try to do a proof I have an anxiety attack.) But (thankfully) instead I had a *quiet* anxiety attack and cried for the last 30 minutes of my class. It was AWESOME.

So here's the email I just shot off to my advocate at disability resources:

I have a math class in which my anxiety has got progressively worse in as
the quarter goes on. It's Math 312, Intro to Proofs via Elementary
Analysis. The style of the class is "teach yourself." We are given
definitions and sometimes theorems that, frankly, I do not find
illuminating or helpful and I do not find the prof helpful either. We're
not allowed to use any other resources, other people, books, etc.

Prior to today I was only having anxiety attacks every time I attempted to
do a proof, but today I had an anxiety attack during class. I am having a
horrible time and this class has just made my depression and my anxiety
worse. I can't get myself to school sometimes because of this class. And
I know it's going to get worse. I don't think I will be able to make it
through this class, but it's a requirement.

Is there anything you can do? I have to pass this class, but I don't
think I'll survive this and with only 2 quarters left, and full with the
rest of my requirements I don't think I'll be able to fit it anywhere else
(and everyone teaches the class this way).

Need I say again that I think this class is incredibly unfair to people with anxiety disorders (like me).

Oh and for good news, 48/50 on my Abstract Algebra homework (both points lost were ridiculous, they were things I knew that I forgot to put into my proof. ARGH!) Pure mathematics ROCKS!

i will, i will, i will

I WILL leave the house in time to go to school tomorrow.

I WILL go to EVERY class, even if one of my prof's doesn't lecture on the material (our test on Wednesday had questions from 3 chapters ahead of what we were assigned to study. WHo does that? No reading, no lecture, no homework. I have no idea how the hell we were supposed to know that. I just looked up temperature in the index and read EVERY section on it until I got to the relevant one.) , the other prof lectures straight from the book, and the last class is the evil proofs class where I desperately feel as though I will fly into a blind rage or cry at any given moment.

I WILL finish that damn proof I've been working on for 3 hours. (mixing delta/epsilon proofs with cluster points and continuity (but at least it's a closed set and I *know* how to do it in a hand wave-y way, but not a "rigorous" way *sigh* I can explain the concepts and how it will work, but how to put it all together to form that whole crappy rigorous proof thing, bah. Have I mentioned lately that I hate this class? He doesn't like it when I turn in proofs written in the style that my 401 prof likes them to be written. ARGH. At least I get A's for those assignments, so it's not that I can't write proofs, just not these (since I can't use a damn book)))

I WILL get up 2 hours early to go to my prof's office hours so I can finish said proof.

I WILL do my physics homework tonight, even though I will have an hour between office hours and class tomorrow.

I WILL drink that glass of wine tonight so that I can make sure I will actually sleep so I can get #' 1, 2, and 3 done.

I WILL FINALLY call the doctor's office and make that appointment to up the dose on my medication that I so direly need since I've had a "low mood" (nice euphemism for depression) for the past 3 weeks.

Ugh. *fingers crossed* these things actually happen.

Dear body:

I don't know what I've done, but can you please stop it with the constant pain. I take care of you and you reward me with seemingly endless migraines and muscle spasms. Also my tendonitis and arthritis acting up and the fact that I am in extreme pain if I don't wear a bra 24-7. I am really sick of spending my days in pain and my free time incapacitated and unable to do anything. I'm begging you. Please.

Lost Clown

Porn again, porn again

This was in the anti-porn LJ community, and I thought I'd pass it on.

'm not requesting to join the community because I don't feel I possess the right attitude for it, but, I did find an article in this month's issue of FHM in England (of all things!) about why one man had given up porn, and I typed up most of it because I thought you and/or the members might be interested in reading it. (Were my scanner capable of scanning magazines without blurring the text to buggery, I'd have scanned rather than typed, but there you go):


[just skipping to the main bits of interest, really]

Then the internet arrived. Designed to be a force for good and to share the knowledge of the world, it was immediately used, of course, to spread images of people having sex. The filth travelled around the glove like those ocean-going barges stacked high with rotting garbage. Only this was muck that everybody wanted, that found a welcoming port in every corner. In mine too.




Along with most other red-blooded males, I gleefully downloaded the photos, saw the pussies of Pamela, Paris and Abi. I cruised the sites and eyed up thousands of girls from every nation and in every position. When broadband arrived, I thought, "This is it, Utopia, a constantly refreshed supply of beautiful women, naked and performing for our pleasure." Now we are all sultans.

(Some talk about his nephew and how his nephew'll never have to buy a porn magazine from a shop because it's just a click away on the internet. Also mentions that the nephew in question is 13)

But slowly it has become clear to me that I'm the lucky one after all, not him. In fact, I regard anyone who watches porn these days as being incredibly unfortunate. Why? Because it's going to poison your mind, mess up your relationships and ruin your sex life.

That may seem like a sweeping statement, but I know it's true because it actually happened to me. Nothing I'm about to confess is based on bland statistics or boring surveys or government research - it's based on the fact that, in bed with a woman one night, I did something which caused her to feel fear and pain. I practically became a sex offender. And porn was to blame.

My transformation from nice guy to near-rapist began when I got into the habit of kicking off each working day by watching a bit of hardcore. I thought of it as my equivalent to a cup of coffee. A pick-me-up. Five minutes of online ogling before settling down to the grind of earning a living.

(explanation that 'hardcore' in this case wasn't referring to anything underage or illegal, so it's not as though he was watching 'the shit with animals and torture and dungeons', but the regular stuff often watched online)

The participants seemed to be clean and willing, and their activities appeared innocent enough. Certainly, I never felt I was being perverted by them, especially as my favourite one, called "Her Sweet Hand", was entirely devoted to women giving hand-jobs. In my view this was only "second base" and therefore hardly pornographic at all.

If you'd asked me back then if watching these clips was affecting my sex life, I'd have said, "Yes, but in a good way." The way I saw it, my libido was getting charged up like a car battery, so when I pulled a girl I would be raring to go. She'd get better sex, and I'd get a chance to act out some of the scenes I'd watched. Everyone's a winner.

After a while, however, I noticed I was getting much more dominant in bed. Previously, I had been a pretty democratic lover, happy to share the workload in the three classic positions, but now I found I was doing a lot more doggy style. I would do it harder, too, and while I did it I would pull the girl's hair and think, "Yeah, you're getting it now, you dirty little bitch." If sufficiently emboldened by drink, I would actually say those words, and plenty more besides. Then, after showering her who was boss for half-an-hour or so, perhaps pinning her down by the wrists for variety, I'd climax. But whereas in the old days, I was happy to come into my Durex or on her tits, now it had to be all over her face and neck like a white volcano.

(the segment preceding this is mostly just reiterating what's been said before and not that interesting)

I can only guess how far down that track I'd have gone if I hadn't been snapped out of it. But luckily - for me, anyway - I pulled a girl at a party and then went too far. Far too far. We got pissed, cabbed it back to my place and then I gave her the full Beast of Hammersmith treatment. I remember talking filth, going at her like a merciless jackhammer, when she first asked me to stop.

I didn't stop. In fact - and this is the hard bit to confess - I gave it to her even harder. One... two... three strokes, riding the wave as she squirmed underneath me. I was engorged with power, my cock a weapon. But then she wrenched away from me, and I could see by the look on her face that A Bad Thing had happened.

It took a lot of fast talking and soothing hugs to calm her down. At one stage, I thought she might actually report me. When she left, I shivered under the duvet, shocked at what I'd done.

What had I become? And why? I had never acted like this before, so I deduced that it might be due to the internet porn I'd been feasting on. The next day, I visited some of the sites I'd used regularly. And slowly, just as a secret image used to emerge if you stared at those old fractal pictures long enough, the truth became clear.

Modern porn... it's not about sex at all. It's about cruelty to women. Almost all of it, especially the most popular "gonzo" king, is built on their humiliation. Again, let me stress that I'm not talking about the extreme stuff here, I'm talking about the mainstream. Your basic, entry level porn.

The problem stems from the fact that porn gets stale very quickly. There are only so many ways a man and woman can make love, so the adult-video makers have to up the ante constantly to maintain sales. Once, you never saw penetration. Then anal sex was a taboo. Now it's pretty common to see triple anal penetration. As one porn director put it, "People want more. They want to know how many dicks you can shove up an ass. It's like Fear Factor meets Jackass."

Precisely. It is like Jackass. Painful and demeaning things - like getting cornhold or throat-fucked - are happening for our pleasure. And the discomfort shows on the women's faces. They get hurt while we whack off. Looking back at my favourites with fresh eyes, I saw it clearly. Even in the "innocent" hand-job one, they worked without being pleasured themselves. They ended up been coated with spunk. They were, quite literally, sex objects.

You want to know the really worrying thing? Porn is a multi-billion dollar industry, famously bigger than Hollywood, and if the sight of women experiencing discomfort or humiliation was distasteful to the mass audience, it would have been edited out. Market forces would insist upon a correction. So the only conclusion to draw is that normal guys - not a tiny minority of perverts and weirdos, but you, your pals, your brothers, your colleagues - actually like seeing it.

Well, not me. Not any more. I've seen what they're selling and I don't want to buy it. And I warn you, everytime you watch a gonzo clip from "Meatholes" or "Exploited Babysitters" your subconscious is being bombarded with the same message. You won't so much get brainwashed as braindirtied. And then - like it or not - there's a chance you'll bring what you've viewed into your real-life relationships. Monkey see, monkey do.

Personally, I'm now only going to use the computer for e-mails and poker. If I want porn, I'll stick to the older kind where everyone appeared to be having fun. Say what you like about '80s porn movies, at least I know I'm never going to end up like the blokes who starred in them. Mainly because I hate moustaches...

(emphasis mine)

First off I'd like to point out that he's a rapist. No matter how many hugs or whatever he gave her and even though she didn't report him does not in fact mean that it wasn't rape. He admitted to continuing after she said no. He admitted that he thought she would report him. He is a rapist.

While he doesn't realise that all porn is dehumanising and degrading to women, he does come to a very real conclusion. Time and time again men tell the same story, but do we (usually) hear it in media other then feminist magazines or in forums other then the feminist blogosphere? A resounding NO. Many of the people Pamela Paul interviewed for Pornified said the same things, and about how they were no longer to sustain erections with a woman unless they envisioned the degrading images of pornography. However mush they want to sweep this shit under the rug, there are always people willing to tell their stories, be they women who escaped the industry (like me) or men who have come to the realisation that porn turns them into sadistic assholes. While I disagree with him continuing to look at porn, bravo for him for publishing this in a lads mag that glorifies the pornification of women. Hopefully more men will be brave enought to stand up to this.

Why am I anti-pornography?

I think Gail Dines does a great job of talking about the misogyny, normalisation of pedophilia, and racism in porn. This video is about an hour long, but I think it's a great introduction to the harms of pornography.

Pornography is to sex what McDonald's is to food.

Leagalisation of prostitution does nothing to alleviate abuse

Turkish political candidates talk about how legalised prostitution does not mean better circumstances for prostitutes.

"They talk about domestic violence, but it was the state that beat us up," she says, in the stuffy, shabby office that is serving as her Istanbul headquarters.

Frequently breaking down in tears, she goes on to talk about 18-hour working days in the brothel, social security payments withheld, even murder.

"Serpil, mother of three; Fatma from Diyarbakir; Hatice from Izmir; all three were killed while I was inside and their deaths passed off as overdoses," she says. That was the rule for disobedience, she explains: first, a beating, then rape, then murder.

"We're not here simply to get attention," Tukrukcu says. "We're here so that people know the truth about all these things."


Two women are bravely overstepping the public taboos against former and current prostitutes by running for office. They seek to ban prostitution, focusing on the state-employed prostitutes that both were pushed into. Their stories, like the one above show that it doesn't matter if prostitution is legalised and regulated (like the state sanctioned brothels in Turkey) that prostitutes still fall victim to rape and abuse, and even murder, which is the same problems that women working as prostitutes the world over have problems with.

I hear a lot from people who support the legalisation of prostitution saying that it will make conditions better for prostitutes. There are not many places where prostitution is legal, so looking at Turkey's problems with prostitution give us a glimpse into how legalised prostitution works. The bottom line is that it is no safer then illegal prostitution.

Now I do not support the arresting of prostitutes. This I think is a crime. These women all ready have enough problems without having to deal with the law. I support the Swedish Model which criminalises the buying of sex and decriminalises the selling of sex. The also offer programs to help the women integrate into society by offering a plethora of job skills for them to learn. And those are the people that should really spend time in jail: the johns. It is not the woman's fault for needing to sell herself to get by, but it is the john's fault for raping these women for money. When mens demand for women to be accessible for rape on demand diminishes then we will see prostitution disappear. But this means that we need an equal society where women are not treated as the sex class, but instead seen as fully human.

Holiday, uh, fun?

Things to do:

1) Prepare bag for day trip
2) Go to woods and/or secluded lake to avoid

a) Drunken idiots
b) Fireworks ALL DAY
c) a + b

3) Come home and complain more about stupid US holidays to foreign friends (because of a, b, c)
4) Tell countless people who wish me a happy 4th that I hate the 4th because of a, b, and c, and convince them it's not because I'm UnAmerican.
5) Make more iced coffee (taking the last bit with me to the lake/woods
6) Think about the fact that like 99% of the population really knows anything about the holiday just that it's a day off where they get to be drunk and stupid and shoot things that could set them (or someone or something else) on fire.
7) Hate the world when the stupid fireworks are being shot off by neighbours at 3 am like they have been the past week.
8) Plot my revenge. (did I mention 3 am fireworks for the past WEEK?!!!!)