My mum and I had a shared period calendar when I was a young teen and still getting used to tracking my cycle, she hung the calendar and pen in the bathroom to model how I could track my cycle in a diary as I got older.

We invented a key/symbol system so the calendar wasn’t intrusive for my brother and father to see, and one of the symbols we used for the luteal phase was a sort of hourglass ⏳, it was originally my mums poor doodle/sketch of a panty liner to indicate “you might spot a bit this week” but it looked like an hourglass so I joked that symbol meant I’m “just waiting for the storm to arrive”.

It was the perfect symbol for me, because when people ask about the tattoo, and I don’t want to go into the real reason I say “it’s a visual reminder” and if they ask more I can say “it’s an hourglass, because there’s only a little time LEFT, it’s on my left hand - I get my lefts and rights mixed up. Plus it reminds me to put my watch back on after I get dressed, so it helps remind me of a lot of different things”

Yuuuup, I ended up getting a tattoo on my wrist that is essentially a personal period joke.

At one stage it was crucial for my survival, it was a kind of grounding token to snap me out of hormonal suicidal insanity when my PMS was at its worst. Something I’d see that would bluntly remind me “it’s not you, it’s your hormones, you don’t actually want this”

When I say the urge came and went zero to sixty back to zero in 30 seconds flat, sometimes that was an understatement. I really struggled because in addition to suicidal ideation during PMS, I had undiagnosed and untreated ADHD, which often gets worse with PMS thanks to the way oestrogen and progesterone play off each other.

Guess who’s got major impulsively issues. Guess what two symptoms really shouldn’t be combined.

I have zero desire to kill myself.

But my hormones seemed desperate to try and make me do it every month, especially as a teen.

It didn’t help that I had endometriosis and at 17 developed a uterine prolapse, on top of a rectal prolapse I’d had since I was 12. I was in agony when I was on my period, so sometimes the desire to make the pain stop overlapped with the suicidal ideation. That sucked. Hard to reason your way out of physical pain.

I’ve had a hysterectomy (from 17-24 my uterus just kept trying to make its own escape anyway despite attempts to sew it in place) and no longer suffer menstrual dysphoria because it turns out that was gender dysphoria not true PMDD. But I still get suicidal ideation as part of PMS, fortunately my ADHD is much better managed so now my tattoo is less a suicide detterant and just a reminder that I still have ovaries (sometimes I genuinely forget, and it takes me a few days to work out why I’m bloated and irritable and why I’m anxious about my sore boobs)

I fear his mental state may not grant him the capacity for such self awareness, even in prison.

Schools, town halls, community centres, some libraries, some council buildings, certain community spaces like scout halls, basketball stadiums, rotary clubs etc.

Old churches that are now public halls are also opened as voting stations, and some actual churches while not open for voting due to conflicts of interest, do establish rapid housing programs so people can get legal addresses for electrotal enrolments in time for voting, and others will be open as census sites for homeless folk to record themselves on census night. I grew up in bum fuck nowhere and on election day if the weather was tolerance AEC would set up an open polling station on the local football oval just to move through the register faster than what the tiny local school could handle.

Since covid lock downs, eastern states especially have enhanced their postal and early voting processes.

For about 2 weeks before elections (local, state, federal) for the most part you can just walk into any of the above buildings, in litteraly any suburb town or city that’s participating in the election, and cast your vote.

If you do your research on best venues and times, you can knock out your vote in 10 minutes flat. No queue.

Some people are eligible for postal votes too, you can request the ballot be mailed to you, or pick one up from the post office and cast your vote without leaving your home block.

But we’re far from competent. While I love our preferential voting system, it’s not well understood by the public, our LGA’s are still subject to gerrymandering, and there are large swaths of our community that are legally prohibited from voting for various reasons that I personally feel is an unethical antidemocratic policy. There are also huge groups of indigenous peoples who do not have accessible electoral education, trustworthy polling processes, and are disenfranchised from the electrotal process, with little government support or funding for culturally appropriate programs for engagement. Despite our preferential voting, we have essentially devolved to a two party system with neither major party really being any better, do we want the party of bigots, or the party of other bigots?

For his sake I hope so.

But for humanities sake I want him to go to jail, get the same treatment as any other prisoner, and not suffer.

Because if I get to live in a fantasy world where he’s in jail, I also want a world where the prison system is for rehabilitation and safe containment, not punishment and suffering.

As someone chronically Ill, I feel this so hard.

Every minute that I’m not at work I’m dedicating to making sure I’m likely to be well enough for work tomorrow.

I don’t do anything after work without asking “how will this impact my health tomorrow?” and that includes things like not being able to sweep my own floor because I know I need to sweep at work and the nerve damage in my arms won’t let me sweep twice in one day without keeping me up all night in pain, and if I don’t get enough sleep, I’ll get a migraine and won’t be able to physically see anything.

Most of my days off are spent in agony trying to restore myself and desperately trying to reset my house and home life so I can keep up with work, without overdoing it on Sunday and making myself sick for Monday.

So yeah, on the one day a month where I wake up for work and I don’t throw up or almost shit myself, and my heart rate is doing what it’s supposed to do, and I can see and hear and feel my feet… The temptation to “call in healthy”, so I can actually have a day off to enjoy myself for the first time in over a month is really hard to ignore.

I actually did that this week because Wednesday was my birthday, I went to work, it was a “bad workable day” (vs a “good workable day” or a “bad unworkable day”) and Thursday I woke up feeling really good, I only had a 2 hour shift and it was just admin so I took my first sick day in 6 months and used it to do all my linens and towel laundry. It felt like a proper day off because I was healthy enough to get stuff done for myself, without being in pain or having to stop to run to the bathroom or let my heart calm down, or give up on folding because I can’t feel my arms.

I can’t do that every time I want or even need to though. My bank account is really good at forcing me to go to work, healthy, half dead, or heaving. Chronic illness is expensive, and some days trying to keep up with work feels like it costs my health more than not working. but sadly not working is not an option for me, because I’m capable of work, so I must. (and continue to push my gov for universal basic income)

For context as to how working while disabled messes you up. I got hit by a truck on the way to work last year, I got to the office and used their first aid kit to patch myself up. Booked a doctors appointment, told my boss I’d be leaving early, then kept working until my appointment.

My boss was fine with this, and then someone on reddit posted a photo of the crash and my boss saw, they realised when I said “I was hit by a truck” what I meant was “I was hit by a truck”

When asked how I was feeling, and reporting “no different to usual” my boss sent me to the ER because they thought I had a concussion and was acting confused. ER checked me out, dislocated shoulder and wrist, soft tissue damage here and there, but otherwise nothing major or serious or nothing I don’t already deal with on a daily basis. I went back to finish my shift and my boss asked what I was doing working after I’d been hit by a truck.

I feel exactly the same level of pain today as I do every other day. If I take today off because this level of pain is apparently unworkable, it’s a slippery slope, eventually I’m going to have to come back to work despite being in this exact same level of pain. This is my baseline, now I can truly compare it to being hit by a truck.

I used to be on a pension, I wanted to work because I wanted purpose in the neo-liberal hell scape of my society. but my mental health was too shot because of this deep rooted idea that I deserved rest just for being in any level of pain that was out of the ordinary, and subconsciously I would talk myself out of doing anything because I deeply believed I shouldn’t have to.

But I don’t have that luxury, my ordinary will always be “hit by a truck” level, so right now I either learn how to consistently work through it, or drop dead broke and homeless.

In Australia Google maps has issues with routing cyclists on 80km busy truck transit roads that have no bike lanes, footpaths or shoulders. You’ll regularly get stuck behind lost uber eats cyclists whose map took them through a motor vehicle only underpass.

The other day google maps decided to reroute me from a quiet, wide street with no bike lane that was otherwise perfectly safe, and tried to send me through a nightsoil alley, down a heritage stock run that was paved with cobblestones and crossed over a storm drain 4 times in a zig zag.

Yeah, “safer” because there’s no cars I guess, but not suitable for bikes at all.

I have galactorrhea, pumping rooms aren’t a natural maternal family matter, for me, it’s a medical procedure.

Privacy is a lactating person’s choice, and right. public feeding is a choice that I agree needs to be destigmatised. Personally I’m not comfortable with public pumping, because I see my breast milk as medical not nutritional, so I choose privacy for myself.

It’s also difficult, it’s stressful, it’s uncomfortable. Having comfort, focus, peace and quiet, it’s important.

I don’t even have a uterus, so getting my leaky chest out in public is even further from being socially acceptable. I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve had mastitis because I have not been able to expell in a timely manner. Partly that was because I was embarrassed by my condition and didn’t stand up for myself and my need for access to a pumping room at work, and part of it was because my employers didn’t understand my need for a private room, they pointed out that it’s never been a problem for mothers in our office to whip a tit out when baby was hungry, and/or that my need was different because the reason I I had breast milk at all was different.

No one gets to expect me to be comfortable with nudity. My breast milk, my choice if I have privacy or not.

I used to do it in the bathroom because I didn’t have anywhere else, but that was a gamble, do I let myself get an infection because I’m letting my ducts clog, or do I risk an infection by pumping milk in the toilets.

I can never vet mine to balance, I can’t line up my phones centre of gravity because the wall is always in the way.

Yeah, seems like an exciting way to kill myself. Better than my current life plans so why not? No one said I had to survive in the past, just visit.

Accessibility.

We will never get rid of the analogue clocks from our school, we’re an adult education and alternative model highschool qualifications centre.

We primarily teach adults with no to low English, adults and teens with disabilities, and adults and teens refered via corrections services.

There is a significant level of illiteracy within numeracy, and for some of our students, it’s not a failing of the education system, it’s just a fact of life given their specific circumstances (eg, acquired brain injuries are common among our students)

Some students can learn to tell time on an analogue clock even if they didn’t know before.

But even my students who will never in their life be able to fully and independently remember and recall their numbers can tell the time with an analogue clock.

I tell my students “we will take lunch at 12pm, so if you look at the clock and the arms look like this /imitates a clock/ we will go to lunch”

And now I avoid 40 questions of “when’s lunch?” because you don’t need to tell time to see time with an analogue clock, they can physically watch the hands move, getting closer to the shape they recognise as lunch time.

And my other students can just read the time, from the clock, and not feel infantalised by having a disability friendly task clock like they’ve done at other centres I work at - they’ve had a digital clock for students who can tell time, and a task clock as the accessible clock. But a well designed face on an analogue clock can do both.

I myself have time blindness due to a neurological/CRD issue, so analogue clocks, and analogue timers are an accessibility tool for me as well, as the teacher.

At the end of the day, alcoholism, depression, and obesity, they are unhealthy states of being.

They are not something people choose, and while there are treatments, it’s not something everyone can control.

That doesn’t mean we should simply accept this state of being. People living with depression deserve better, people living with alcoholism deserve better than for us to say “it’s out of their control, they can’t help it, so we shouldn’t judge, let them be” when what they need is better support and better treatment options.

Likewise, obese people deserve better than “eat less, move more, fatty!” but they also deserve more than “all bodies are beautiful, just let us be”

I say this as someone who was a fat kid, and a fat teen, and a fat adult. I had a BMI of 50 for a most of my life. In my mid 30s, I got it down to 28, and still going.

So I say all of this is as someone else who was fat, obese, and morbidly obese. Obesity should be viewed the same way we view depression and anxiety, though depression and anxiety also need some better PR.

Being obese may not not always be a choice, but the the ultimate end goal of how we view obesity as a state of being is to find ways we can all manage our weight. Because obesity is not healthy, for those who can’t easily control their weight, life sucks, they are patients in need of treatment, not morally failing people, but also not “perfect plus sized activists who are healthy at every size”

Because while bodies and sizes vary and we can do healthy things at every size. Obesity is inherently unhealthy. Obviously being bullied won’t solve anything, but neither will society politely ignoring how hard it is to live a full life while suffering from obesity.

Being black isn’t an inherent health issue. It genuinely is just a different state of being. 99% of problems unique to black people are social issues, not medical issues… So the comparison between obesity and substance abuse issues is more helpful than trying to compare being obese to being BIPOC.

That’s alright, there will only be a handful of gen alpha even eligible to vote in a 2029 election, since they were born 2010-not even born yet

Yup, thyroid, adrenals, and gonads have been checked, both with blood work and untrasound.

I have dysautonomia due to a brain stem herniation, and temperature regulation is effected by that, but it’s just been so weird that the way this symptom effects me was decades of not feeling the cold, then suddenly now I’m not feeling the heat.

I know which one I’d choose if I got to pick… and it’s the one where I don’t need to go to a wound nurse for frost nip in February.

I’m pretty sure this is the actual etymology of news.

People asking each other “what new things?” becomes “what news”, as well as usage like “that information is new to me” becoming “that is news to me”

I was a year round shorts guy, genuinely didn’t feel the cold. Last year I suddenly became a year round thermal stockings, skivee, thermal gloves, jumper and woollen pants guy.

I can’t get warm. It’s like I’m catching up on 30+ years of never feeling the cold by feeling the cold all the time.

In my country, a fanny is a cunt, so hearing Americans call bum-bags “fanny packs” was, and still is, hilarious to me.

But I will be exclusively referring to my bum bag as my “strap on” from now on. Thank you, groucho’s mom.

It’s been years since I’ve seen them movie but I recall having a third interpretation of the joke.

I thought Austin has assumed the communists won because prior to being frozen he felt that USSR had a stronger standing in the cold war and would be the more likely victor, regardless of Austin’s personal opinions on communism and capitalism.

To expand on this, you could also imply that Austin assumed the capitalists lost because he was frozen. He knows he’s a great spy, what chance did capitalism stand without him fighting for it?.

I don’t intend to rewatch the movie because my life experiences since then have made it impossible to enjoy media that uses homophobia and transphobia as common punch lines, but I can still agree that it’s a great joke, a great movie for it’s time, and cleverly written.

Well not if you strip it from all context and the nuance of OPs specific word choice.

Because I could tell a story about my Turkish co-worker that ends like:

“my co-worker of specific race is doing dodgy shit and it’s so harmful for the whole community that he’s doing this, especially with how much anti-ethnic group hate is going around, he’s giving everyone a bad name and I’m worried his behaviour as an individual aashole who happens to be race is going to start a spree of hate crimes against others who aren’t doing anything wrong, because most people aren’t, my co-worker is”

And I would argue that this story is fundamentally different from just leaving it as “my Turkish co-worker is doing dodgy stuff”.

I’m trying to figure out what we’re noticing at all.

Can I not see the problem because I’m too British?