In terms of Best Years Ever, this last year wasn’t one, in more than a few ways. I lost three family members to cancer, saw the end of many friendships, saw the end of my own 3-year relationship.

Regardless, I’m happy. Happier than I have been in years. Things are turning around, and much as I did ten years ago at the onset of a very hard period in my life, I find myself looking ahead and realizing that things are changing and not for the worse.

Let’s see, what else. 22 now, finishing up my fourth year of college as a math and Russian major. Adopted a wonderful dog from a wonderful friend. I’m getting my own apartment at the end of the summer, and this summer itself… well, it promises to be *very* interesting. (Again, more on that later, all two of you reading this will just have to hold on!)

Welcome back to my brain and doorstep, please don’t mind the cobwebs. Pull up a chair and introduce yourself, I’ll be around for a while this time.

It’s been a really rough week; my grandfather passed away yesterday, after years and years of being terribly ill, and had taken a serious downturn in the past week. I’m relieved it’s over, but it’s still been hard. This is/was finals week for me this semester, and two of my finals–the math ones–I’m taking incompletes in; there’s absolutely no way I could handle studying or trying to do work right now.

So far, I’ve been channeling all my energy into knitting. I’m 90% done with the baby hat I started for Elijah last night; it looks awesome, and I purposely used a thicker yarn and larger gauge since I figure that I should err on the side of a too-big hat given that, y’know, babies grow.

I’m doing pretty well. It comes and goes; lots of energy is going into knitting. I also bought some super soft lavender baby/lace-weight yarn to make the lace stockings from this months VogueKnitting with; the pattern and charts looks super, super hard, which is awesome and kind of exactly what I’ve been looking for in a pattern recently. You can see a 360-degree view of them here, or you can check out this awesome blog post about them to see how they look on a sexy curvy lady. These will be my first socks, too, so this should be pretty entertaining. Seriously, though, the charts are totally insane.

Also, I have the most wonderful boyfriend in the world. Right after I found out about my grandpa yesterday, I drove over to my best friend’s house since her mom was home and I needed a mom and someone to hug and cry; soon after, my boyfriend drove over from work on the other side of town to hug me and turn right back around. That night he also came over and played Super Smash Bros while I knit, and took me out for sushi and ice cream. This morning he sent me snuggly kitty macros, too. <3

Today, I think, will be more knitting and thinking and hugs. Possibly some chocolate cake and dark coffee as well.

It, *especially* HDR, mimics my migraine aura and nightmare coloring perfectly. Looking at HDR pictures, especially clouds, is like submerging myself into some kind of nightmare I can’t wake up from or shoving my eyes face-first into a migraine with no protection.

My eyes don’t work like that. I just don’t *see* like that. When things get that vivid and sharp and dynamic and full and fat and swollen with color and pixels, it’s a migraine and it’s going to be a hell of one, or I’m asleep and can’t wake myself up. Things shouldn’t move like, shouldn’t be that… sharp and extra-dimensional and vibrating with sheer fullness and gaaaaaaaaaaah.

It makes me feel like someone is stabbing my brain through my eyelids or vibrating my brain instead my skull or… I don’t even know. I can’t describe it. It’s like someone fills my brain with a chalkboard and pours liquid nails down it and amps it in my brain.

Split infinitives are the classic example: generation after generation has been taught that “to go boldly” is more correct than “to boldly go,” but really, this is all just arbitrary bullshit. There is absolutely no syntactical reason not to split the infinitive other than sometimes a whole one sounds better than a split one–if I say “I want to slowly drive” instead of “I want to drive slowly,” I may sound a little odd, but it’s totally understandable. The stigma against split infinitives is an old holdover from the ridiculous idea that Latin was the perfect language and that we should strive always towards their ideals–in Latin (and Spanish and Italian and Russian [which is also Indo-European!] and probably French), infinitives are one word, so splitting them would be seriously, seriously wrong, as it would be like in English if I said “I am go to the store ing.” (NB: I had to split a non-infinitive there to get the point across, since splitting infinitives in English is *okay*!)

The issue with striving for Latin perfection, other than the basically racist premise that any one language is superior to another, is that Latin is way, way more inflected than English within the word itself–a lot of constructions that can be done in Latin using one word, maybe two (usually the verb) require a auxiliaries and syntactical clues in English. Since we’ve got more words going on anyways that are separate, *we can split them* (for the most part).

I mean, seriously. If we’re stealing rules from Latin, then I want my fucking cases and fricking awesome verbs back! Screw solid infinitives. I WANT -IBUS AND -ESSE- AND -BO BACK, DAMMIT. Maybe I should just start declining wordes [sic, not a typo, just a really lame joke] at random! I <3 cases so hard. ЗА ПАДЕЖИ!

So UW-Health wants to open a second-trimester abortion clinic, as the clinic in town has stopped offering them due to their qualified clinician retiring. Unsurprisingly, there has been major, major backlash against their decision and wants.

You know what? I don’t like abortion. I hate it. It sucks.

I’ve never been in the position to make a decision like that, and I hope I never have to–it’s a really hard decision, no matter what the situation is. I don’t know what I would do–I’ve thought about it, and talked about it, and I think that it’s something that anyone who has PIV sex, regardless of birth control, needs to really and truly think about and consider.

Everyone says it’s a matter of where you say life begins–but you know what? That’s bullshit. Total and utter bullshit. It doesn’t matter how you define life, because no matter what, it’s a shitty situation and a painfully hard decision to make. Does the idea of abortion bother me? Not if it’s really early, when it’s still a bundle of tissues and crap. When does that change? Fuck if I know. It’s not something you can quantify.

So what if life begins at conception? Who cares? That doesn’t make the situation better, it doesn’t change a rape and it doesn’t mean someone has the resources or the ability to raise a child. Does that make the fetus, the tissues, a citizen with all the rights of people in our country? Really? We value the rights, the life, of a little bundle of tissue, more than we value, say, the lives of two people in love that happen to both be men or both be women? That’s an argument I can’t stomach. If life begins at conception, fine, but do not dare to tell me that fetus has rights you wouldn’t afford to a gay person because of their fucking brain chemistry.

No matter what, it’s a shitty, shitty situation. It’s not going to go away. I don’t care if life begins at conception or two months in or three months: I just don’t frankly care. It’s my fucking body, it’s my fucking uterus, and it’s half of my fucking DNA. There is no easy situation, and it would be wonderful if every child were a wanted child, or if we could give unwanted pregnancies to those who can’t conceive on their own. But we can’t.

But you know what? Pro-choice or pro-life, and I consider myself in the former “camp,” everyone agrees on one thing: wouldn’t it be great if abortions were never necessary? If there was no rape, no failed birth control, if every woman who got pregnant wanted the child and had the ability and resources to raise it happily and healthy–wouldn’t that be wonderful? Everyone can agree on that.

Time for some crap news, folks: the world isn’t perfect. It’s not going to be. Birth control isn’t perfect–not even sterilization!, although I imagine a total hysterectomy is just about 100% if not actually–and people are going to have sex whether or not they’re ready for children. You know why? Because it feels good, and it’s fun, and let’s face it, a lot of us get horny out of our minds. That’s how we’re built, and that’s okay. Sex isn’t dirty or bad or gross or sinful–we don’t have to keep it in our pants or hold a dime between our knees or lie in bed not touching ourselves while thinking desperately about Margaret Thatcher.

Sex happens. It’s going to keep happening, too. Sex happens, rape happens, birth control fails, mistakes happen. We aren’t perfect. Abortion is just a fact of life. Abortion sucks, and it’s a hard decision to make, but you know what? Even if we make it illegal, that won’t do shit. It just means that they’ll be dangerous and illegal–it won’t stop it. Criminalizing something never stops it. I can’t fight something–I can’t ban it–when I know that doing so condemns so many people that our society already shuns, when I know that doing so means some women will be permanently harmed or killed because their only way out was illegal procedures that no one was monitoring. I just can’t make that choice for anyone else.

Some people who protest abortion clinics, who torment the women who go in, who harass the doctors, who yell and picket–they say they’re doing God’s work. That’s bullshit. That’s sheer and utter bullshit.

The one’s doing God’s work are the ones who help the women, who treat them, who give them comfort and–yes–abortions, regardless of their own beliefs. Who realize that, sometimes, life stacks the deck against you, and that for whatever reason, you have to make the hard choice and followthrough no matter the pain involved. Who realize that the most important thing is to help people, to respect them, not to judge and demonize them because of their choices.

So if you want to stop abortion? Awesome! Give out birth control. Teach people about their bodies. Learn to say no, and learn that without consent something is never okay. Teach your kids to respect everyone, regardless of their choices. Learn how to tell when you’re fertile and learn to suck it up and wear the fucking condom. And you know what? That won’t get rid of abortion. Nothing will.

So until there’s no rape, until birth control is infallible, until there are infinite resources, until we can give unwanted pregnancies to those who can’t conceive–well, sorry, but I’m in the realism camp, and I’m not every woman alive. How can I possibly judge for them?

Until then–until we live in a perfect world–I want the choice. I want the choice to raise a child I love with every cell in my body, I want the choice to control my own life, I want the choice to hang onto that tiny shred of control I have left after I’ve been raped, I want the choice to breathe and to know that when I have a child, that child is loved and wanted and ready to be cared for the way that every child deserves to be. I want the choice to give my love and body when and where I want to.

I’ll be honest: I am ridiculously excited, to the point of God-knows-what, about Barack Obama being inaugurated today.

I’m happy to see the first black man become president. I’m happy to see a change from Bush. I’m happy to see–dare I say it, lest I mindlessly repeat campaign slogans?–change for the first time in ages.

I won’t miss Bush. No one’s surprised by this, and I imagine most of the people reading this think along similar lines. The man has done a lot of bad for this country. I don’t hate him: I may hate many of his policies, but he’s still just that, a person like everyone else. I’ve never met him. (I’m reminded of conversations I’ve had with Russian language friends–I ask what they think of Bush, and they simply say that they don’t, because they’ve never met him.) No matter his policies, no matter his personal views, he’s just a person, and I do wish him the best.

Something my boyfriend said stuck with me: Bush’s cat died and he was, of course, upset. Why wouldn’t he be? I’m the first to voice my dislike for Bush, but he’s still a person: he still misses his cat. So here’s my sendoff after 9/11, after 8 years of administration, after 2 elections that had me up all night: good-bye, Bush, and I’m truly sorry to hear about your cat.

Yeah, I’m hopeful. I’ll admit it. I’m super hopeful. I can still barely believe that Obama actually won. He can’t fix everything–there is absolutely no way anyone could do that, and Obama is as much a human as you or me–but he can start. He’ll do as much as he can, and he’s sure to disappoint, because he’s still just a man, and there’s nothing wrong with that.

It’s just that: the start–of something new, of an era, of the end of the world, of whatever: no one can speak to what until afterwards when we have hindsight.

I can, however, say this with assurance: today is the start of Obama’s presidency. So, welcome, Mr. President, and I hope you enjoy your stay.

The Boyfriend and I were craving sushi on Saturday, and I had heard the name of this place before–since we were at East Towne, we drove around a bit, hoping to find it, and decided to try it out. I was expecting something akin to Sushi Box–something a little smaller, a little more casual, a little more order-at-the-front and pick-a-drink-from-the-cooler. I was mistaken–it’s much more akin to Takara or Wasabi or Ginza of Tokyo: very much sit down, order drinks, that sort of thing.

We were seated instantly, brought menus, all that jazz. Both of us just had water–not only was it the middle of the day, but both of us are rather boring teetotalers–and we split an order of gyoza as the appetizer. The gyoza were delicious, perfectly cooked and flavorful–they held together well, no sogginess, and came on a lovely plate with some truly addictive sauce.

Since we were craving sushi, we each got the lunch special–3 rolls (6ish pieces each) for $12.95. I had a spicy tuna roll, spicy shrimp tempura roll, and a shrimp and cucumber roll. Boyfriend had a spicy tuna roll (can you tell what our favorite is?), a tuna and cucumber roll, and a spicy california roll. All of the rolls were absolutely heavenly–fresh, perfectly prepared, flavorful, and spicy enough for a burn but not such that you were scrambling for water. My favorite was the spicy shrimp tempura roll, which included shrimp tempura, spicy whatever, cucumber, and avocado, and was absolutely divine–I’d eat an entire lunch of just that roll.

Best sushi that I’ve had in town, easily. Good prices, good service, good atmosphere, good food–overall just an amazing combo.

Scarves and hats are key. Hands can always go in pockets, legs are usually warm enough with jeans to break the winds up–but scarves and hats keep all the heat from running away into the wild yonder.

Hot chocolate does, of course, solve all ills.

What never ceases to entertain me, however, is everyone’s reactions when I reveal I’m a math major. The question always comes up–that’s part of being in college, the relentless questioning of your future and goals–”What are you majoring in?”

The reactions fall into a couple of categories, by and large. (Also, the fact that they all start with A is a coincidence, honestly.) Tragically, these are sorted by frequency.

• Abject horror. “What… math? Are you serious? Why would you do such a thing?” They often pull a very comical expression, and I’ve even had people back away, eyes wide.
• Awe. “Oh, wow… math! Wow. I could never do math!”
• Apology. “I… oh, wow, I’m no good at math…” This often goes hand-in-hand with awe, although the tone is usually embarrassed and the person won’t meet my eyes.
• Appreciation. “Good for you! It’s so good for women to be in such a male-dominated field like math, you’ll have so many opportunities!” I’ve gotten this mostly from older women I know, unsurprisingly. Definitely the least irksome of the responses.
• Agreement. “Oh, really? Me too! I love math!” This is absolutely the rarest of the reactions, although the excitement that goes along with it is always boundless.

I’m always surprised, especially by the first few. I imagine it’s a pretty American, or at least western thing, since we put such little emphasis on math in school–in fact, I’d be willing to be that if more people had taken the math classes I took in high school, they’d be just as good or better than me at math.

With the reactions, though, you’d expect that I confessed to some aberration, not just a major. Many people pretty much consider being good at math to be an aberration in and of itself, not to mention enjoying it!

First off, good on the UW for realizing that this need should be filled–and it should be filled safely, legally, and without shame. If they don’t provide it in the area, someone else will, and it probably won’t be licensed clinicians with medical training, either.

Obviously, people are upset about this. I’m not surprised–abortion is one of those topics that guarantees an argument. It’s always pro-life vs. pro-choice, or so everyone says–the problem is that those don’t represent the actual two sides of the argument.

Pro-life and pro-choice are not mutually exclusive: I mean, look at the words themselves! It’s not an argument between pro-life and pro-death people–no one likes abortions. They suck. No one wakes up in the morning and goes “Gee, you know what sounds fun? An abortion! Let’s get at ‘em!” This isn’t like legalizing marijuana or alcohol or anything: women aren’t doing this for fun. It’s not a matter of want, it’s a matter of need: being pro-choice means that, regardless of what you think about abortion, the option should be there and be available for those who need it.

Abortion should be accessible. It should be an option, because–let’s face it–mistakes happen. Rape happens. We’re not a perfect world.

It doesn’t matter what you think about abortion. Let’s face it, abortion sucks. It’s a fucking hard decision, there’s no real good answer to it–it doesn’t matter when you think life starts, because that’s not the real question. No matter what, there are consequences.

The ideal solution would be–and everyone agrees on this!–that abortion was never necessary. No rape, no drunken sex, no mistakes, no broken condoms, every child a wanted child–it’d be fabulous if you could only get pregnant when you wanted a kid. But life just doesn’t work like that.

If you’re against abortion, awesome. Don’t take issue with the women who choose it, don’t fight the providers who are doing their job and keeping women safe, don’t blame society and the media: teach others. Make sure everyone has access to birth control. Make sure everyone is in a safe, healthy relationship. Make sure everyone knows how pregnancy happens, knows how to say no, knows that having sex without consent isn’t okay. Make sure people are educated. Make sure that sex is something that happens between people who care about each other, and make sure that birth control gets used when kids aren’t wanted–and, you know what? Make sure people can get Plan B when condoms do fail, because, let’s face it, they do.

No one wants abortions. Some of us want others to have the same choices we all do, however, whether or not they happen to be pregnant. A fetus doesn’t mean I can’t control my own body.