Chinese New Year’s greeting pushback.

I’ve been really digging giving out Chinese New Year’s greetings and have been giving out my special campaign greetings pretty indiscriminately, including to random people and friends and coworkers.

When I went to go give one to my one (Tibetan) coworker with a good sense of humor, though, she was not pleased, and to be honest I was wondering how a Tibetan would react, given their history with China.

When I did that, she gently reminded me about their history, but then I told her that a lot of the (Chinese) people who live in my community dislike the same government and a lot fled here or are from Taiwan or whatnot, and Chinese language and culture isn’t the same as the present-day government of China.

She listened but seemed unconvinced.

I was a bit surprised at her reaction; I thought she would have been a little more open-minded.

[Intermezzo.]

Shit's so crazy with me lately, that I'm usually a month ahead of where I really am on my posts, but now it's down to like a week.

I expect that one day the shit I've been writing will be out there like three to four weeks ahead of time, but I'll have died in the meanwhile, and my shit will have ended in the meantime, and my shit will just peter out, while I'm dead.

A weird delayed electronic death it will be.

A dream of a lesbian bar.

The other week I dreamnt –

I’m in a big cavernous room with rows of picnic tables sitting end-to-end, and it’s sort of dim, and there’s a group of (white) women of mixed ages sitting over in the next row like a table down from me closer in towards the closer wall, though we're still a good distance away from the wall.

Somehow we start talking, and they clue me in that they’re here as a refuge from spaces where transgender women go, and this is where all the serious lesbians go.

At that, I’m surprised, because some of them are very young for being radical feminists, like in their mid-to-late 20s.

One older woman introduces herself to me, too, and her name is “Marge,” and I realize that she’s a commenter too from this radical feminist blog that we used to frequent a while ago back before it got shut down, and that that was actually her commenting handle on the site, "Marge."

. . .

Antics of one resthome resident: Refusing to change.

So, this one resthome resident who’s over a hundred years old who I help out a lot has needed varying non-verbal cues lately, to indicate to him that he might need a change.

Lately, I’ve noticed that actually holding up the pull-up (=adult diaper) and pointing to it in front of him works, where he'll key into what I'm doing and then get up and go to the bathroom so I can check his pull-up and help him with a change if need be.

A time or two after I started that, though, he reached out and grabbed the pull-up, and then he used it to wipe his nose.

Like a few seconds later in the middle of wiping his nose, though, he looked out of the corner of his eyes at me slyly, to see if I knew he was kidding or not.

LOL.

He was just pretending to be confused, and he was saying ‘no’ to me and f*cking with me at the same time!

And at over a hundred years old, it’s just so funny.

LOL.

Smartphones.

I’m just not a fan of how addicted to my smartphone I am.

I have it on grayscale since it’s less addictive that way, but I still use it a heck of a lot, especially Twitter to stay current with news through like 8 accounts that I check daily on a range of topics, especially Current Events and Trump-Russia.

One day I was super busy and I missed checking Twitter, and then the next day I found myself on there for over two-and-a-half hours.

It’s just too much.

After my election, I think I’m going to have to wean myself off the internet, like Facebook and Twitter and whatnot, so I can have a normal unwired life again.

Maybe I’ll get one of those apps that lets you lock internet on your phone?

Between that and no internet at home, that should do the trick, I think.

I should focus more on long-term reading and writing, and just being absorbed in the world around me.

Anecdote of a bassist: Christmas presents.

The other week I popped by a local bar and randomly found out that my one (white) friend from Mississippi’s band was playing.

So, I had a couple of beers till there was a break and we could catch up, and we did, and then I met his (early 50s) (black) bassist and me and him then started chit-chatting a bit.

He said last week he was talking with a(n old) (presumably black) guy who was like eighty-four years old, and he asked him how his Christmas was.

“Good, I got a sweater and some pussy,” the (old) (presumably) black guy was like.  “Both were too big, but it’s the thought that counts.”

. . .

Tenured profs are lame.

The other week at a networking reception, I met a (tenured) prof who knew people who donated to my campaign and seemed interested in my activist work, but when I asked him for a donation, he was like, “I have a baby.”

So, in so many words, I said that that major activism at his institution that I’d done had been on my own time while I was making like twenty-four thousand a year and going into over fifty thousand of debt, and now I’m starting over at two jobs, one minimum wage, and so he shouldn’t give me that line when he has more money than I can dream of and he's acting like he's poor.

“Don’t be one of those stereotypes where you applaud and applaud someone else doing stuff, but you don’t do jack, even as simple as giving money,” I was like.  “That’s a typical tenured professor, so self-absorbed, while thinking that you're all that.”

Later, I realized that I should have said that my work has fed his family, so the least he could do was give some of that money back.

Next time I’m in a situation like that, I just might try that latter line.

These people have no idea how they sound to other people; they’re honestly sitting ducks, politically, they’re so out-of-touch about how their situations stack up with those of other people.