Ambigram Dan @danuep@wandering.shop

Thinking about how we talk about people being a "mean drunk" (or maudlin or angry or confessional one) and about alcohol being a depressant. Does one's depression get expressed in a characteristic flavor, like intoxication does?

I wish there was an outlet that seemed natural to talk about the conflicting feelings of parenting. Posting on social media about any specific moment always feels so performative: either, "look how perfect my kids are," or "kids: horrible creatures amirite"

This time on "things I wish I'd been brave enough to say at the time":

I actually pulled it together and said something, leaving the friends' Jan 1 party, that I didn't really appreciate the dismissive tone of the conversation about gender ID earlier.

I didn't let them tell me that I hadn't understood them right.

I didn't let myself get drawn into being defensive.

Partner kindly listened to me dump core for 20min back home.

sometimes it seems like seasonal affective disorder issues are the dumbest, most cliche mood issues to have

usually around november to december

I wonder why that could be

Today in Good Things Happening, No, Really:

Noelle Stevenson, of Nimona and Lumberjanes fame, is showrunning a new series of She-Ra:

http://variety.com/2017/tv/news/trollhunters-season-3-trolls-boss-baby-netflix-1202637829/

(also, according to the link, some other crap is happening. ignore that)

someone's taking the tinfoil hat fashion-forward

https://wandering.shop/media/kepQrDQqDlbOwMK8deo

A thing I wish I'd been quick/brave enough to say at Thanksgiving with friends:

I'm sorry that you're uncomfortable with your in-laws' parenting style and that their sons annoy you. I'm also happy that you're enjoying having our kids visit.

But you should know that praising ours by comparison doesn't actually feel good: it reinforces the feeling we get that children are considered unpleasant and unwelcome by default and that our parenting is always being judged.

...and I'm struggling these days to articulate why that evokes a feeling of horror. Humanity--mine, everyone's--feels like the substrate over which larger organisms struggle. We all dance many dances to fuel multiple systems overlaid on us--economies, ideologies, nations, norms--and as they grow and self-organize, they optimize and compete for use of their substance, us.

It's not that there can be no variation, that (as in so many facile dystopias) all individuality must be pursued and stamped out mercilessly. But the systems above require the deviations below to fall within certain tolerances -- the dance must be danced.

It's a lovely elaboration of "as above, so below"--perhaps more apt than it wants to be. For the mitochondria to work, the fictional farandolae within them must dance according to their nature. Organelles to cells, cells to organs, organs to individuals, and, in L'Engle's cosmology, humans and cherubim in the great dance of Creation.