There’s something unsettling about the peanut butter
Halloween is right around the corner folks…
TW: Rape, child abuse, suicide
I was inspired by poetry club on Tuesday and I had some really great responses to the article I wrote around about rape and violence, so I headed to the library Tuesday evening and looked at the archived copies of the New Zealand Herald. I wanted to examine how often the perpetrators were discussed, rather than the victims and what the media chose to focus on; especially since the Roast Busters have been in the news again, this time for fears about one of the victims as well as the lawsuit between John Tamihere and RadioLive.
[click images to view larger]
#Ichabod Crane will not win the Kaiju war.
#DidYouKnow #Deaf #DeafAwareness #education #SignLanguage #advocacy #NMSCares
This is actually sadly relevant. I had a lecture this summer about sign languages and Deaf culture and when I was finished, one hearing girl from the audience stayed behind to ask me some more question.
She asked me: “And your parents use sign language, right?” Like it was the most obvious thing in the world and why is she even asking this, of course my parents must know sign language.
"No… They don’t, actually."
"And how do you communicate, then?"
"But… isn’t that complicated for you?"
"It is, sometimes."
"They probably didn’t have time for it…" she said. And I haven’t the heart to tell her that my father was offered sign language courses several times, that I offered to teach them some signs and that they always refused.
But I did told her: “It is not that rare. Most of deaf people I know have hearing parents who don’t sign.”
It’s the sad truth. People are willing to pay for surgeries to “repair” their children, but they are not willing to learn something to communicate with them.
i’d like to add onto this with my own personal experience, too. i was born hearing, but as soon as i was diagnosed as HoH, my parents didn’t do anything to learn ASL. they were quick to put me in classes, but they wouldn’t when i suggested to them that they take the classes with me so that we could learn.
i’ve tried to teach my mom how to sign numerous times, but she always says that “you can’t teach an old dog new tricks,” to which i tell her that she can learn, she just doesn’t want to. which is true. neither of my parents want to learn how to sign, but they want me to be able to hear perfectly so they don’t have to repeat themselves.
little do they know that their frustration with me not being able to hear them would be solved if they would just learn how to sign. maybe signing something to me once instead of repeating themselves four times and then getting mad would be more beneficial.
I’m absolutely shocked at this, it’s never crossed my mind that many parents wouldn’t even try to meet their hard of hearing kids halfway.
This includes my parents. “You can lipread and talk, you don’t need to know sign language!”
Lipreading is a chore. Many people ‘forget’ I’m hard of hearing. During conversation folks turn their heads or bodies away. I can’t lipread the back of your head. People try to talk to me across the room, down the hall, or by yelling outside. If my hearing relatives learned ASL, communicating with them would have been so much easier.
Ever since I learned ASL and met other people who could sign communication has been so much easier. I can finally understand people the first time. Other hard of hearing or deaf people I have befriended have told me their families did THE SAME THING with them. Their parents often didn’t learn sign.
Not knowing sign language has made accessing the Deaf community harder because I learned ASL as an adult. As a result, my proficiency is poor and most of the people I learn from are hearing rather than deaf or hard of hearing people.
Many of my friends are also hard of hearing or deaf. Thankfully they’ve been great at helping me get up to speed. Many hearing parents and hearing relatives don’t think ASL is important. Let me tell you—IT IS.
I didn’t ever really want to write this post, but recent events have forced me to. I need to find a temporary foster situation for my two bonded cats, Squirtle and Soren. This summer I left my rental house in the middle of the night because of an abusive roommate and while I can keep my dogs with me in my current living situation, I am unable to keep my cats. They have been boarding at the veterinary clinic that I work at, but I can’t keep them there forever. The original plan was to move back into my old house once my abusive roommate had left, but they completely trashed everything before leaving and it would be almost impossible to get it back to a livable state.
I would be looking for anyone in the Maryland, DC, Virginia, Delaware, West Virginia, or Pennsylvania area who might be able to look after my babies until I am able to move into my new rental house in May. They are both neutered, completely up to date on vaccines (rabies, distemper, FELV), and I would provide 100% of the food, veterinary costs, and whatever else they need. I would also be more than willing to give whoever is able to look after them what little extra cash I have for their troubles. Soren and Squirtle are both super sweet love bugs but they are easily frightened and stressed. Squirtle does really well with dogs and other cats, and Soren mostly just tolerates them.
If you’re able to help at all, please let me know! I’m willing to drive up to four hours away from Beallsville, Maryland in order to find them the best foster situation.
This was meant to be a quick warm up, but it turned into a comic that I’ve wanted to draw for a while. This is something that is extremely important to me, and I appreciate it if you read it.
A while ago, I heard a story that broke my heart. A family went a cat shelter to adopt. The daughter fell in love with a 3-legged cat. The father straight up said “absolutely not”. Because he was missing a leg. That cat was that close to having a family that loved him, but the missing leg held him back. Why?!
Many people have the initial instinct of “nope” when they see an imperfect animal. I get it, but less-adoptable does NOT mean less loveable. 9 out of 10 people will choose a kitten over an adult cat. And those 10% that would get an adult cat often overlook “different” animals.
All I want people to do is be open to the idea of having a “different” pet in their lives. Choose the pet that you fall in love with, but at least give all of them a fair shot at winning your heart.
Don’t dismiss them, they deserve a loving home just as much as any other cat. They still purr, they still love a warm lap, they still play, they still love you. Trust me, next time you are in the market for a new kitty, just go over to that one cat that’s missing an eye and see what he’s all about!
Let me tell to you a thing.
This is Lenore. I first saw her in a little cage at the Petco I frequent (I used to take my parents’ dog in for puppy play time), and she looked like the grouchiest, old, crotchety cat in the world, and I fell instantly in love. She was cranky, she was anti-social, hanging out at the back of her cage. Her fur was matted because she wouldn’t let the groomers near her.
She was perfect.
But I didn’t have a place for her. I wasn’t living in my own space yet, and where I was, I wasn’t allowed cats. So I pressed my face to the bars of her cage and I promised that if no one had adopted her by the time I’d bought a house, I would come back for her.
I visited her every week for over six months while I looked for a house. At one point, they had to just shave her entire rear-end because the mats or fur were so bad. They told me she clawed the heck outta the groomer that did it, screamed the entire time, and spent the next two days growling at anyone that came near the cage.
A couple of weeks later, I closed on my house. I went back and I got an employee, and I said: “That one. I need that cat.”
They got the paperwork and the lady who ran the rescue that was bringing the cats in told me that Lenore (at the time, Lila) was 8 years old, had been owned by an elderly lady who had died, and brought in to a different rescue, who’d had her for six months on top of the time I’d been seeing her at Petco.
This kitty had been living in a 3x3’ cube for over a YEAR because she was older and “less adoptable.”
I signed the paperwork, put her in a cat carrier, and drove her to my new home. I had pretty much nothing; a bed, an old couch, a couple of bookcases, and a tank of mice I called “Cat TV”. I let her out of the carrier and onto my bed, and I told her “I told you I would come back for you when I had a place. It’s not much, but it’s yours too now.”
Lenore spent the next three days straight purring non-stop. She followed me around the house purring. Sat next to me purring. Slept next to me purring. Leaning into every touch, purring, purring, always purring. She still purrs if you so much as think about petting her. She’s amazing, and I love her.
So, you know, if you’re thinking about adopting, and you see a beast that others consider “less adoptable,” think about Lenore.
The STORY THOUGH.
Author John Scalzi was on a roll this morning (currently 7:14 AM, 26 Sept. 2014) with a tweet he found from some guy sending out an “ultimatum” to women to “make a choice” between feminism and, well, men like him. So Scalzi launched into a truly magnificent set of scorchers, which I’m posting here for the delectation of people everywhere.
Also: I would like to thank that guy for setting the ultimatum. It makes finding a boyfriend so much easier when the undesirable ones wear a placard identifying themselves.