2017-Jan-30, Monday

(no subject)

2017-Jan-30, Monday 11:34
alexseanchai: Blue and purple lightning (Default)
fuck phone anxiety. fuck it in the eye. got my manager telling me last week that if she, who is "much older and weaker" than I (her exact words), can spend five minutes a day calling our congresscritters, then I can do it too. thing is she hasn't got phone anxiety!

fuck a few other brainweasels, too. like the "do it right or don't do it" one. emailing my congresscritters isn't "doing it right" because calling is more effective, and therefore.

This is really scary. Also scary: did Cheeto seriously sign an executive order saying for every regulation added two must be revoked?

(no subject)

2017-Jan-30, Monday 11:34
alexseanchai: Blue and purple lightning (Default)
say, who sent me the teabag of Hüttentraum Früchtetee mit Rumtrauben-Orangen-Aroma? I hope I've already thanked you, because I neglected to write your handle on the teabag paper and have therefore forgotten the correct name entirely...anyway, I have the kettle on to brew that cup of tea right now. it feels like the sort of Monday where a nice friendly cup of tea is the best possible remedy for the Mondays.

ooooh the tea is purple :)

tasty, too. not my usual speed, but good.

(no subject)

2017-Jan-30, Monday 12:02
alexseanchai: Blue and purple lightning (Default)
things that are actually really difficult in my current brainstate: trying to read up on ethics, specifically ancient Greek ethics but also the entire history of ethical debate from then to now esp. feminist ethics, and assemble coherent thoughts on the lot of it, when nobody in power gives a shit about ethical behavior
alexseanchai: Blue and purple lightning (Default)
Not like the brazen giant of Greek fame,
With conquering limbs astride from land to land;
Here at our sea-washed, sunset gates shall stand
A mighty woman with a torch, whose flame
Is the imprisoned lightning, and her name
Mother of Exiles. From her beacon-hand
Glows world-wide welcome; her mild eyes command
The air-bridged harbor that twin cities frame.

"Keep, ancient lands, your storied pomp!" cries she
With silent lips. "Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me,
I lift my lamp beside the golden door!"
alexseanchai: Blue and purple lightning (Default)
“I lift my lamp beside the golden door!”
Athena shouts, Her lightning torch aflame
In tarnished-copper green on New York shore.
Escape-to-Refuge is always Her name.
It matters not to Her from where you come;
What God, if any, you might answer to;
What talents, wealth, or skills you bring with you.
She cares that you are safe here; don’t succumb
To tempest tossing you and yours around,
Or rich men saying you are less than they,
More fearsome, and they’d rather you had drowned
Than found this world-wide welcome, found your way.
Come, weary one, whose journey’s at its end.
Be welcome, stranger, who might yet be a friend.


(hat tip Emma Lazarus, "The New Colossus")

(no subject)

2017-Jan-30, Monday 15:13
alexseanchai: Blue and purple lightning (Default)
Framing moral arguments across a political divide by [personal profile] magistrate. For when you're trying to talk around the conservative but otherwise sensible, decent people in your life.

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alexseanchai: Blue and purple lightning (Default)
let me hear your voice tonight

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