This journal is closed.

Most everybody knows how to contact me if they wish.

Good night, and good luck.

I wrote this a long while ago, and I came upon it today.

sometimes the most precious gift you can give to someone is to let go.

I needed to be reminded. It doesn't alleviate my sadness, but it does bring a measure of peace.

Iowa sucks a little less today...

The legislation to add sexual orientation and gender identity to civil
rights laws has passed the House. The Senate is consenting to the House
version and Gov. Culver has agreed to sign the bill. Your hard work,
dedication, and energy has been successful. Thank you to everyone who made
calls to their legislators, the businesses that showed their support and
all of the organizations who lobbied on the behalf of our community. This
year has been one of many milestones for lesbian, gay, bisexual, and
transgender people.

Today I had a transforming experience.

I am part of a group called DPRN - Deaf Professional Resource Network. DPRN is made up of a small core group of Deaf professionals who provide services to the Deaf community in the Greater Des Moines Metro area. And for those of you on my friends list who live in REAL metro areas (such as Chicago, Seattle, New York, etc)... shaddup. It's a metro area for US.

At any rate.

We were invited to speak briefly at a meeting with the AEA Leadership group. People who are involved in the AEA working with deaf children statewide were present. Basically, I explained what DPRN was, and that one of our priority areas was assisting with the transition of deaf children between school and "real life." We wanted to offer our services to come and speak to any of their deaf students, or parents of deaf students, or hearing classmates... whoever needed to hear from successful Deaf adults.

Each of us introduced ourselves and explained what our role was, what services we provide. We also explained what our educational backgrounds were; all of us were educated either entirely or primarily in an oral setting.

All four of us discovered ASL at a later age (17-19). All four of us used ASL this afternoon. None of us voiced for ourselves, despite being capable of it.

It hit them in the gut. All four of us are successful Deaf adults (some of us less or more than others). All four of us were educated orally. And all four of us CHOOSE to communicate in American Sign Language.

I have, over the years, chosen more and more to sign rather than speak when given the choice. For some arenas, it's not a good option for me. In court, for example, I want to make absolutely certain the record shows exactly what I am saying, not someone else's interpretation of such.

But when I have the choice... I will choose to Sign.

Let's backtrack...

Thursday, I was due to go to Cedar Rapids with Paul. He was going to band, I was going to see my client. However, both of us were freaking exhausted... so we ended up staying home. We cleaned... oh, how we cleaned! My kitchen floor was truly clean for the first time since we moved in here in 2003. And that lasted all of fifteen minutes... just long enough for the dogs to go out and come back in.

FRIDAY
Friday morning I was at the office before 8:30, and working on computer issues from the get go. I seriously never stopped all day... I ate my lunch in my office while I was researching a fix for something. My sole little interlude was reading a bit of fiction by a talented writer... yum! I ended up leaving about 4:30, which was later than I wanted... had planned to leave at 4. I was doing that because I was meeting Scott at the hotel where he and the Girlchick would be staying for the weekend (mind you, she didn't KNOW this yet).

Friday was the Girlchick's birthday, so I had arranged a hotel for her and Scott, and had gotten tickets for her, Lin, Paul, and I to attend a show on Friday evening given by a Deaf performer. Lin had left home and driven to Sioux City to pick up Melissa; they were nearing Des Moines by the time Scott and I met at the hotel.

I left Scott to hang out at the hotel and headed home to clean up, take a shower, and get ready to go to the show!

There was a reception beforehand; very yummy hors d'oeuvres and lots and lots of friends I knew. I wasn't a very good hostess; I didn't introduce Lin, Missy, and Paul to more than a couple of people. Sometimes I get so wrapped up in "PEOPLE PEOPLE I CAN COMMUNICATE WITH" that I just forget my manners entirely.

The show was a lot of fun... some silly jokes, some anecdotes, and a fan-fucking-tastic ABC-123 story. Afterwards, I chatted with a few people while the Girlchick played her DS and Lin and Paul sat and chatted about who knows what. We headed home, where Scott met us and I broke the news to the Girlchick that she and Scott had a room for the weekend. This news did not go over well, for reasons varied and sundry, but they headed out for the hotel anyhow.

I was exhausted. I collapsed into bed, after throwing a little hissy fit because I was pissed at Paul.

SATURDAY

I had told the Girlchick I would come pick her up about tennish, so we could go to the mall. She wanted to look for a bra for the wedding; I just wanted to spend time with her. So we cruised the mall... I ended up with two pair of shoes and two new bras, she FINALLY found a bra for her wedding. Scott picked up a very crabby, very hungry Girlchick and the two of them headed for Indianola for a premarital pastoral meeting.

I met Paul and Lin at Waterfront, where we finally had sushi. Lin was in fish bliss. Paul was having an orgasm right at the table from the wasabi. It was strangely reminiscent of a scene from "When Harry Met Sally."

Lin and I left Paul to pay the bill and such, and headed over to TJ MAXX to find some little gifty type things for the shower game prizes. Paul later observed to me that there had been a nun sitting next to us, and she might, perhaps, have been a bit perturbed at the number of times the word "fuck" had escaped my lips.

I found the most adorable top (black with white polka dots and cleavage galore) as well as a jacket (also tres adorable), and plenty of prize-worthy things. After checking out, I headed towards Hickman Road.

I had signed up to do a transport this weekend, for a Pit mix. Her name is Gia; she was rescued in Oklahoma, and was on a transport to Minnesota. I figured no muss, no fuss... one dog, I could handle in the truck.

Imagine my surprise when I pulled up to meet the previous transporter... and found a box full of puppies as well as Gia.
( Yes, there are pictures back here... )
The short version of the story: the transporter had loaded Gia up in Eagleville, MO, as per usual. While she was doing so, an older woman approached her and asked her what she was doing. She explained the concept of rescue, and the woman said, "Well, there is a lady over at the gas station giving away puppies for free..."

Transporter thought, "Hell, no." She called the coordinator, who called the end rescue group, who agreed to take the puppies. Transporter loaded them into her car, along with Gia... and headed to meet me.


The transporter told me that Gia was NOT very happy about the puppies... she had been growling at them the whole drive. This made me nervous, since I was going to be on my own, and the truck wasn't the most secure for a bunch of wriggling puppies and a slightly-annoyed pit bull. Ah well. I decided to give it a shot.

I wasn't even half a mile down the road when I realized I was going to need extra hands, and texted Paul/Lin to come meet me. When they drove up, I was sitting there waiting, with a puppy in my hand...

We all switched over to the car, and away we flew with me at the wheel, Lin cuddling Gia in the front seat, and Paul melting to pieces in the back seat with the puppies.

Half an hour later I said to Paul, "I think this puppy needs to come home with us." He said, "YES." That was that. We were chosen.

We delivered the other four pups and Gia to the next transporter at the Boondocks truck stop, and then the four of us (three sort of hairless, one quite furry) headed towards home.

When we got home, people dispersed to take naps and such. The Girlchick and Scott showed up and completely melted under the effortless charm of the puppy. It was decided that Melissa, Scott, and I would go to Petsmart to get things for him (leopard print, of course) and then meet Lin and Paul at CICI's for dinner (leaving the puppy in a crate in Scott's car).

Fate, however, had other ideas.

After we had found every possible piece of leopard print equipment for the puppy, we were walking out to the car. Missy gasped, and pointed at a dog who was sniffing around under a car, while an SUV barrelled through the parking lot. We were scared to death it was going to be hit, and I went running, puppy in hand. I managed to get the dog to come to me and calm down; Scott came over, picked it up, and put it in the crate. Melissa and I went inside to try to enlist the help of the Petsmart staff.

Yeah. That didn't work out too well. Bunch of mouth-breathers, they. I marched out of the store proclaiming quite loudly that THAT was the last time I'd be shopping there.

So... we took the dog home. When he climbed out of the crate at home, Paul let out a gasp and his eyes filled with tears... the dog's looks and mannerisms are SO reminiscent of Abby. His coloration is different, and obviously his gender... otherwise? Abby.


I'm going to skip Sunday (which included the Girlchick's first bridal shower) to wrap this dog-related post up so I can go to bed.

At present, we have four dogs. The puppy has been named Boone. The stray has been temporarily christianed AbbyNORMal (in tribute to both our dear departed pup and Young Frankenstein). Baby is none too happy; Smokey is dealing, and stealing the puppy's toys. Norm is housebroken; Boone is not. Norm and Boone play together very well. Boone is 11 weeks old, and TINY. I'm not sure he'll get a whole lot bigger than he is now.

The puppy, himself!

AbbyNORMal, with Lin hunkered down

Just LOOK at this face...

I always have believed things happen for a reason, and this weekend's dog-centered happenings reinforce this for me. If Susan hadn't been in Eagleville just when she was, she wouldn't have found the puppies. If she hadn't found the puppies, I wouldn't have adopted Boone, and I wouldn't have been in the parking lot of Petsmart at the exact moment Norm was darting around.

Instead of saving one dog's life, we saved seven. I'd say that's a pretty decent weekend's work!

More tomorrow... must to bed.

I am very, very, very tired of my trust being trampled, stabbed, kicked in the ribs, and left for dead.

So the Girlchick has decreed that a poll needed to be posted. Since *I* don't do polls, she had me help her create one.

So go fill 'er out! I'm curious!

http://sewcute.livejournal.com/510420.html

It was a hard day.

The day started with a meeting which was a follow-up from our salary discussion almost two weeks ago. It started with me discussing the grant I'm working on that will, hopefully, raise all our salaries. After that, Anita just completely fucked herself (and me) over. She started with, "I recognized Gretchen's leadership potential right away..."

WHY does she do this to me?! You may think this is a good thing. It's not. It's a BAD thing. She pulls me over and aligns me on her side against the rest of the staff, or elevates me to some kind of pedestal... and all it does is piss people off.

It pisses people off, and destroys whatever credibility I might otherwise have. That credibility has nearly all been consumed in the fire of this process. This bothers me for one reason and one reason only: I feel like I've been pushed OUT of the team.

Working at ACCESS has been the first time I have EVER felt like a part of a team. Not just a part... but a valued part. And Anita's hijinks have pretty well fucked THAT up.

The meeting just went downhill from there. It ended with Tami being charged, as the only person to disagree with the idea of doing a combo plan of hiring an AD and working as a management team, with finding another alternative.

I feel like the one reason she's so resistent to the idea of hiring an assistant director is she wants more money. The $2300 raise that she's likely to get from the grant I'm writing isn't enough. She wants the original plan of $4600 for people on the hand-picked administrative team to go through. That is NOT an option in any way, shape, or form now.

She told me later that her unwillingness to go through with it was more due to her feeling that hiring an AD would just be a cover-up for how ineffectual Anita is. I suspect the truth lies somewhere in the middle.

Whatever it was... I can't adequately explain just how BAD that meeting was. At the beginning, when Anita was talking about handing me the AD job on a fucking silver platter, I reminded her that our policy states that we have to advertise positions externally. She pointed at Kirsten (the facilitator) and said, "Kirsten said we don't have to!"

I said, "well, I'm not comfortable with going around policy. That's not very true to our fiduciary duty." "fiduciary duty" is one of Anita's favorite fucking phrases. It pissed her off so much that I used it against her that she got up to try to find the policy and prove me wrong. The thing is... I'm not wrong. I know this because it's something we just dealt with very recently in regards to other positions, which I was adamant needed to be advertised.

Kirsten said, "Well, that's a stupid policy. Change it."

You know, I admire and respect Kirsten, but sometimes she doesn't know when to shut the fuck up.

After that... it was just one thing after another. One of my clients who moved out of state is hitting roadblock after roadblock in trying to maintain her safety and her children's safety. I had an insurance meeting, which of course makes my brain spin a bit (in particular when I'm told that Paradigm is charging us $500 to change the names on the policy... wtf?). People were poking at me, and then Anita disappeared yet AGAIN.

She had taken Thursday and Friday off, and then half the day today. Tomorrow she'll be gone all day at a meeting in Ottumwa. The leadership, it overwhelms.

Marvel later told me that Anita had managed to fuck three things up in those three short hours she was at the office. Not only that, but the executive committee, which was to meet this week, has postponed their meeting. I'm hoping against hope that they haven't actually postponed, but are instead going to meet in secret to discuss what to do about Anita. This is probably a vain hope, but...

Tami made mention during the meeting that the only thing I'd been doing for the last two months was being an intermediary between Anita and the staff. She's right. And I'm heartily fucking tired of it. I'm also more than a LITTLE nervous about how things are going to go while I'm in Seattle... I leave in roughly two weeks.

I finished off the day by checking five or six things off my list, including typing up notes for myself for court. I'm nervous about testifying; not because I don't know what I'm talking about, but I'm going to be discombobulated if I'm forced to abandon my natural mode of communication (speaking) and rely on interpreters. Although... the interpreters that will be there tomorrow are two of the maybe four in this state that I would trust implicitly to voice for me in any situation.

I also finished off my day as one of the two people covering a shelter which needed four people to cover it. I am, obviously, completely useless when it comes to answering the phone... but Alysa wasn't much better, as she ignored the phone in favor of talking to a client. I had to yell at her from the break room, "Alysa, the phone is RINGING!" Jesus. She's a very sweet girl, but I don't know that she's all that bright.

Driving home, I literally felt like there was a black cloud of doom hanging over me. I wish I could just NOT take these things so to heart.

I headed home to teenagers who wanted to go to the mall for a promised shopping trip. For once, my brain worked... and I sent them to get money, and sent them to the mall alone. And then I got myself into pjs, braided my hair, took my pills, set my alarm clock, and climbed into bed. Which is where I am right now, because I have to be up at 5am and out the door at 6am.

And with that, I do believe I'll go to sleep...

I'm eternally amused by people who decide they can proclaim the truth of someone else's life, emotions, or actions.

No one can tell me that I don't feel X. No one can tell me that my life is a farce, a falsehood, an emptiness that I attempt to fill up in any way I can.

You know what? If you want to pass judgement on other people, that's fine. Freedom of speech, after all. But perhaps you should look at your motivations in playing some omnipotent being who knows all, and can proclaim the truth or falsehood of anything.

It always makes me sad when people that I had hopes for, people I once cared about, let me down. It makes me sadder when they let me down so SPECTACULARLY, and then continue to dig and dig and dig and dig the hole they've fallen into.

But at a certain point, I cease to feel sad... and I just have to laugh, and feel pity. Such a sad, sad life someone has to lead to feel the need to cut down, minimize, people... just to distance oneself from that former life, those former friends. Just to change who you are to fit who someone else wants you to be.

Determine your own truth.

The rest of the world will do just fine without you.

My beloved Brat is my hero.

She and Taeryn have passed their test in Seattle.


I'm so very incredibly squeefully proud of my sister.

I'm going to post my impression post from Boston but...

Before I do that, I want to thank my Meredith (woofiegrrl) for something I've not personally thanked her for yet...

She very thoughtfully sent me a travel alarm clock... she is teh AWESOME. I have to think up some way to thank her... *wink*

Thank you, sweetie! You are SO thoughtful!

Lots and lots of people do this. I always thought it was a neat idea, so I'm doing it.

Ask me anything.

No, seriously.

I'm screening comments (so only I can see them).

I won't attach names to questions. When I answer them I'll post the questions AND answers, but not identify who asked what.

Go for it *smile*

**EDIT** Anonymous posting enabled, too!

I've culled the list again.

I've become so insanely busy that the time I have to devote to either writing or reading LJ has gone WAY down.

Nothing personal about the culling; life happens.

Godspeed.

There is SOME justice in the world.

I wrote about my anger that was directed at Jetseta Gage's mother last year, when Roger Bentley was arrested.

Well, according to the last line in an article in the Des Moines Register this week... her two remaining children have been removed from her custody.

This is going to seem hard-hearted. After all, this mother has lost a child, under horrendous circumstances.

You know what? I don't care. I'm glad the children have been removed, and I can only pray they're actually in a foster home that's SAFE.

This feeds directly into my anger earlier this morning at the Department of Human Services and their completely fouled-up priorities. Children are removed from homes where they ARE cared for appropriately, for insipid reasons. Children are NOT removed from homes where they've already suffered abuse.

I know quite well how difficult the job of Child Protection Worker can be. I worked alongside CPWs for over two years, and I worked in a program for families at high risk of abuse for two years before that. I know there are good, conscientious social workers out there. I know, too, that there are power-mad people who enjoy the control they have over other people's lives.

The fault for the inconsistency lies within the bureaucracy, of course. It lies within the training of CPS workers, or rather their lack of training. The climate of DHS encourages control; control of people's lives, without adequate education about the long-term effects of these actions on children.

When I see the system work appropriately (as it eventually did in this case, and in the case of my cousin's girlfriend's children, who were finally removed from their mother's "care" late last year), I rejoice. But too often, I see children whose lives are disrupted and forever scarred by removal from homes where they WERE safe, and WERE cared for appropriately... while other children are left in an environment where they encounter daily abuse and neglect.

The favoritism and inconsistency that run rampant within this system need to be resolved, eradicated, before more children are handed lifelong scars as a result of "protective" services.

Drake University's production of the Vagina Monologues is coming up!
If you're interested in being involved, either as an actress or helping with the production, there will be an informational meeting on Sunday, January 22, at 8pm in Lower Olmsted (on the Drake campus).

The production is open to the community.. everyone who wants to be involved is included!

Any questions, you can leave a comment and I'll respond.

This is a great show, and the proceeds go to support programs that fight violence. I'll be posting more information about the actual performance as it develops.

Cross-posted to desmoinesia, desmoines, and my own journal

Dear Diary,

Today, Tim used the word "adjectives" in a sentence. Correctly.

This is a monumental day.

Clearing up ye ol' friends list of people who don't post, have disappeared, lurk, or whom I just don't click with or comment to.

Godspeed!

Maybe someday I'll write a post that's not random bits.

I thought I had a doctor's appointment this morning. I was going to go see my GP, whom I adore and trust, about prescribing antidepressants for me.

I got up this morning (which was a struggle... gah). I eventually got in the shower. And then I decided to have Paul call to make sure it was today... and it's not. It's tomorrow.

*sigh* You know how you get yourself all psyched up for something only to find it's not going to happen? I know Ben can relate to this just based on his weekend... yeah. Crash. That's where I am. Crashed.

One good thing that came out of this morning's rearrangement: I called the University of Iowa Cochlear Implant Clinic, finally. After talking about it for two years, I finally did it. I have an appointment for October 24.

Because only about four people know why, and because there are lots of people who don't know my background:
I lost my hearing at age 6. All of it, overnight. Many deaf people have residual hearing that allows them to use hearing aids for, at the least, some environmental cues. Me? The hearing aids just made my eardrums itch, because I had NOTHING.

My mother researched cochlear implants back in the early 80s, but they weren't really being done on children other than in California. For whatever reason, California wasn't an option. But then she saw a segment on The Tonight Show about how implants would be started on children outside of CA... and the rest is history. She wrote letters and made phone calls, and I ended up being the first child implanted east of the Rocky Mountains.

It was February, 1984. I was 13, nearly 14. The surgery wasn't too bad, although I wasn't happy about having half my head shaved. After surgery, which was performed at Trinity Lutheran Hospital in Kansas City, MO, I went home to Iowa to recuperate. Six weeks later, I was back in KC for activation.

The first thing I heard was a doctor's voice. It was a buzz, an irritation. It wasn't pleasant, and it was LOUD. They tested me, and then they told Mom and Mary (my audiologist there) to take me out and let me get acclimated to environmental sounds.

Everything made me jump. Everything until we reached the lobby of the Crowne Center Plaza hotel (I'm not sure what the actual name of the hotel was, to this day).

There, I heard something... as we walked up the stairs, the sound got louder and louder, but it wasn't a harsh sound. It was a soft sound, velvet wrapped around my raw nerves.

It was a waterfall within the hotel lobby... water. Running, rushing water. I'd always, as a child, stood in the creeks and rivers of my world, wondering what the water sounded like, hearing it in my mind.

It sounded just like it should. It was the first thing that ever did, and one of few.

The next few years, I worked hard... hours and hours of sound therapy each week. One strategy I remember being so successful with me was the use of music... my interpreters, Nancy and Rosalie, would transcribe a popular song for me, and I'd practice listening by learning to follow the words in the song. Over and over. It set the stage for my later strategy of music appreciation. It still takes me hours to learn a new song, but once I learn it, my appreciation is that much deeper for the work it took me to get there.

I did so well with my implant... I could eventually understand some speech without lipreading. That was an unheard-of feat at the time. I wore my processor all the time... even though it was a box that had to be stuck in my bra, leading to crude comments from boys who had an excuse to literally talk to my breasts (the microphone was ON the processor, which was a small computer about the size of a pack of cigarettes).

I learned so much, and I drank it in. I had the confidence to get involved in student government. I joined the drama club. I took German, and went to Germany as an exchange student. It didn't do away with my isolation and loneliness. Not by a long shot... I think nothing could have other than exposure to other kids like me. But the sound I did have at least gave me more outlets, more of a connection to the world of sound that had been such a mystery to me for so many years.

And then, one day, it was all gone.

First the sound was soft. Then it fled.

I was terrified, but I was convinced it was simply mechanical failure on the part of the processor. Mom called the implant center in KC. They promised to ship a new processor right away.

I was in German class. It was my senior year, and I was just auditing Frau Conlon's Deutsche IV class... because I was afraid to take it full-out when I couldn't hear myself speak.

Someone from the office brought the package to me. I opened it quietly. I looked down at the little box nestled so innocuously in foam. I breathed a prayer, put the battery in, turned it on, and put it on.

Nothing.

I carefully turned it off, removed the battery, and lovingly placed it back in the box. I closed the box and put it under my desk. I got up and walked with measured steps to the door. I opened it and closed it softly behind me.

And then I ran, ran, ran for the bathroom. I ran and I collapsed in the corner, with great gulping sobs welling from my throat. I'd just lost my hearing again. This time, though, I was old enough to understand what it meant.

Somehow, my mother was able to convince the insurance company to pay for a new implant... this one, a 22-channel implant (the first one was single-channel). I was implanted. I went through activation again, and I did some listening exercises, but my heart wasn't in it. I didn't want to get dependent on my hearing yet again. So... for years, I rarely wore my processor. It didn't help that THAT processor was huge... the size of a small paperback, and weighing in at several pounds. Even MY bra wouldn't hide that very effectively.

Even after I got my MSP (Mini Signal Processor), which wasn't really so mini... still the size of a pack of cards, and still requiring space in my bra, I didn't wear it much. It was probably six years after my second implant before I really started wearing my processor on a regular basis.

A couple of years ago, Cochlear Corp. (the company that makes the implant I have, as well as the processors) phased out the MSP. This means they will no longer service them, and cords and such for them are difficult to find. I wasn't too upset about this, since the new processor that replaced the MSP is a small, behind-the-ear one... hooray! I'd be able to hear without my bra on!

And then I started to think about how I had to readjust to sound after my second implant. I started to psych myself out, and before you know it... two years have passed. I still hadn't made the appointment to get the ball rolling.

Until this morning.

So. Come October 24, I'll be traveling to Iowa City. I'll be starting the process to get a new processor, with what I've been told is a dramatic improvement in sound. Maybe I'll even have it by Christmas.

I'm excited, and scared.

Well. THIS turned out to be a not-random post...

"Nobody realizes that some people expend tremendous energy merely to be normal."
~Albert Camus

For anyone who has remarked on how easy I make communication/lipreading look...

From the "restoration of faith in humanity" files...

polyfrog for assisting me when PayPal's idiosyncrasies had me ready to throw something at the wall. You're my hero of the day.

binxcat for heading down Biloxi way to help... I'm so proud of you (and oddly envious). Be safe, twin of mine.

ravynfyre for heading south, too, with her search and rescue dog team (hopefully... if the red tape doesn't stop them)... I love you, kiddo. Even if you're my bratty baby sister, you're still my hero.

Faith in humanity: at least partially restored.