göktuğ's blog

Yesterday ended up so unexpectedly nice, I wanted to record it.

D messaged me mid-afternoon to say that circuits was happening again that evening. I used to love transgym circuits, I did that as well as lift club almost every week and I've never been happier. But then our usual awesome trainer stopped doing circuits, which is fair enough but I was/am so used to their style and so comfy with it, and then the replacement started doing more of a boxing style fitness class, which was not to my taste (or accessibility needs: my lack of depth perception was posing too much of a problem) and then I kept being busy on those nights or whatever and I just stopped going some time last fall I think.

But I've really missed circuits; I love circuits. It feels like such a good workout for me: I can do even exercises I hate for a minute or two at a time, I never get bored, and I feel at the end like I've really Done Something. I used to have to bring bandanas to tie around my head to keep from getting too much sweat in my eyes, and I forgot to do that last night and really missed it! Because it's hard work.

And most of the people there weren't our usual old circuits people but people I knew from lift club who hadn't been to circuits before (or, did it like once a very long time ago or whatever). Including one of my favorites, who I said I'd meet outside and go in with together. I was really excited for him because I thought he'd love circuits and he did.

And, when I suddenly found myself with plans to be out for the evening I thought I'd start dinner prep right after work -- i did this last Friday when I went to yoga. But as I was still peeling sweet potatoes, D came downstairs, having finished work earlier than usual, and offering to help. So we just made all of my very easy plan for dinner (bangers and mash) and I had plenty of time to eat before going to the gym. It was lovely to spend the time together, it made an easy thing easier but also just so much more fun: being silly together in the nice sunny kitchen (I'm still not used to it being that bright at dinner time! it wasn't totally dark when I was getting showered after the gym, at about 9pm! bliss).

And I'm very glad I was able to eat beforehand: even with V warning me as I left the house "take it easy! you're out of practice!", even though I did take it easy, I was so sore by the time I got home. I knew not to sit down before I got upstairs and in the shower because I'd never stand up again. But I was so happy, too -- and it wasn't just the endorphins making me think that.

Since the day that I had no brain juice, I feel like I've been improving slowly, but from a low bar.

I had to miss a social thing that D's girlfriend organized on Thursday night, and I didn't go to D&D (also at her house) this afternoon because I've had a stabby bad-nystagmus-day headache on and off all afternoon and didn't think anything so visuals-intensive would be good for me. Between this and no lift club yesterday, I've been feeling in need of more socializing. And I feel like I didn't make much of my weekend, last night aside.

Last night was amazing though. After a little bit of annoyance at the insufficiency of the transport information given between the Britain First rally (ugh) that afternoon and preparations for the marathon today, both of which were between my house and the Bridgewater Hall, I determined the train would be best and -- with a little bit of running at the last minute -- it went smoothly. Like I said, it was angelofthenorth's first visit to the Bridgewater Hall, and I was glad that she liked it as much as I hoped she would -- she already wants to go back in the next few days.

We had surprisingly great seats, considering that when I called up to get tickets and was asked where I want to sit, I said I didn;'t care and I just didn't want to pay a lot. I don't think I'd heard Duke Ellington's Harlem before, but just like all the Duke Ellington I had heard it was a delight -- highlights were watching the conductor Joshua Weilerstein bouncing and flailing around, almost as if he was dancing to the music himself. Miriam exclaimed to me afterwards about the harp matching the double-basses.

The second piece, Nikolai Kapustin's Piano Concerto No. 4 was introduced to us as "wacky jazz but with rock, soul and maybe even funk hiding behind the very bland name. From where we were sitting, I could admire the pano soloist Frank Dupree in his forest-green suit who always had his hans flying around the piano keyboard, but next to his grand piano was a drummer at a trap set who was arguably a second soloist for the piece. It was really extraordinary, a ton of fun. When they finished, the pianist said "Would you like to hear some more?" (much to the surprise of the conductor, M later told me! she did the best audio description) and the well-mannered audience cheered enthusiastically enough that he seemed genuinely surprised in his reply, "Wow!"

For this obviously the orchestra wasn't involved, just him and his drummer pal whose name I didn't catch. The other musicians on stage watched along with the rest of the audience as these two played Kapustin's Concert etude No. 1. It had a drum solo! During which Dupree "snuck" away from his piano to come up behind the drum kit, theatrically grab a couple of drum sticks, and play right along with the drummer in a call-and-response way that deserved the chuckles it got (including what sounded like some use of the music stands etc.), with him getting back to his piano stool and send his fingers flying across the keys.

And then after the interval the main event, Antonín Dvořák's Symphony No. 9 in E minor, ‘From the New World’ which the intro said some of those players might have played 100 times, or 50 times. He described it as helping them pay their mortgages. The audience was asked how many had seen it performed before, how many had listened to it... M was expecting us to be asked how many of us had played it, to which of course I'd have been so excited to raise my hand. I hadn't listened to it in about 20 years, but I knew almost all of the symphony, and when we got to my beloved last movement, I couldn't sit still in my seat. I played bassoon for that in a band that didn't have strings, so I heard familiar parts not just in the bassoon but cello and double bass. Neurons that haven't gotten to light up for 25 years got to glow.

We joined the crowds decanting ourselves into the shiny darkness and on to Oxford Road station, with about ten minutes before our train home. I was still so excited I couldn't sit down while we waited.

So I wish I'd made more of my weekend to fend off burnout and some challenging things ahead of me this week, but last night was better than I had any expectation it would be.

We have a spice mix grinder, with lemon and garlic and chili and sea salt in it. It's so good.

But when I tried to add some to our dinner tonight, I noticed it wasn't really working. Despite it being single-use plastic, I managed to take apart the grinding bits, and when I couldn't scrape away the gunk I just left them in some water to soak.

I was just thinking I haven't done anything today, but I've done that. Tiny little thing that should make the future nicer. And more flavorful.

It's kinda funny, this morning I saw someone say

The most important "productivity hack" I have learned is to recognize when my brain is out of juice for the day. It has a very distinct feeling to it. Once that happens, no work of quality or substance will get done, no matter how long I bang my head against it. So, I might as well go home and rest.

And then I proceeded to have a day at work of just that kind, but sadly I didn't feel able to go and rest until about four o'clock.

It's such a miserable way to spend the day, absolutely knowing that I'm wasting my time for the sake of presenteeism. I'm not sick, I'm not even particularly tired, I'm not struggling in any obvious way, I just...need to rest, and think, and maybe read for myself. Nothing work-related feels possible.

I can see a little, so I do care a lot about light and contrast and things, so I'm not in the exact situation that a Blind online acquaintance describes here, but so much of this resonates with me. Especially as we're under increasing pressure to have cameras-on internal meetings at work.

"I am an unwilling cameraman, shooting an obscure documentary about my own face" resonated so hard with me!

My own parents are the even worse about this, though. As per entries passim, I talk to them every week. The only comment I've heard them make about my visual appearance is excessively unkind to say the least if not overtly transphobic, so it's not as if I'm motivated to share my face with them. Yet recently when my webcam was broken for a couple of weeks, my mom could barely carry on a conversation because of how distracted she was by this.

And her language is so telling. It's not "We can't see you" it's "We don't have you." It makes me feel so trapped -- pinned, like a bug in a collection.

It's the same as Robert describes his friend: ""Oh, You're gone! Where did you go?" I don't go anywhere! My mom says "Are you there???" even while I'm already talking. Like he says, " I didn’t go anywhere. I am right here. I did not teleport. I am still in the same spot I was just a few seconds ago."

My new webcam is a nightmare. It doesn't even show my whole head on the screen if I have the monitor as close to me as I otherwise went it. It has way too high a resolution: I've never seen all my facial features this sharply, and I'm very distressed to start now!

Being able to see a little means I am aware of how I look, and you know how people hate the sound of their own voice on recordings because that's not how it sounds to them? I feel like that about seeing myself on video calls. (I actually mostly love the way my voice sounds on recordings, heh.)

"As we prepare to go out of radio communication, we're still able to feel your love from Earth," pilot Victor Glover said. "And to all of you down there on Earth, and around Earth, we love you from the Moon."

Artemis is just so wildly different from previous moon missions. I love it.

I got that quote from this lovely piece on why we go to space.

NASA's budget is not the reason gas costs $6 a gallon, or why we don't have universal healthcare or pre-K. We don't have those because those in charge, and the people who voted for them, have chosen for us not to have those. It is a false binary that we even have to choose at all. The U.S. is the richest polity that has ever existed; there is more than enough money to go around to satisfy basic human services while still funding spaceflight. The people denying us those basic services would very much like for you to identify NASA as the culprit for its $24.4 billion budget, which represents 0.35 percent of all government spending, at the same time a pointless and purposeless war costs us a billion dollars a day, and the government seeks a $1.5 trillion defense budget.

Last night I dreamed that I lost my glasses, so all day I've been weirdly grateful that they are where they should be.

(In the dream I lost my shoes too. And both in such an obvious metaphor for migration -- on leaving an airport, I had to go through something that was half playground tunnel/slide and half like the brushes in a car wash -- that even in the dream I was like "oh, this is a bit heavy-handed and obvious!")

Not before breakfast, but also I felt like I was doing the impossible things, not just thinking them...

Work was a lot; I had meetings all afternoon, overrunning into each other, beset by people missing the point. I think another way the power dynamic of people with no (disclosed) disabilities who have to consult disabled people for their work... sometimes someone missed a crucial bit -- we're not just ranking these on their effectiveness but also their difficulty of implementation -- and sometimes one person thinks we need every detail of the specific symbols on the Berlin U-bahn and/or S-bahn maps (this is a breach of the maxim of quantity: as much information as is needed, and no more).

That latter person talked so much at the end that I missed the first train home that I wanted.

And as these meetings were going on, I also had to get something to my manager (artificial sense of urgency!) which I was really unsure of, something I've never done before and am not sure I'm doing right, so that was stressful. I almost think it was easier trying to do it at the same time as the meetings, since it kept me from being able to get too anxious about it; I just had to go "good enough!" and send him the documents at some point.

By the time of the second one, V had put dinner in the oven which meant I didn't have to cook, which was nice (we keep frozen meals around for precisely this kind of day; D was sleeping and V had already used a lot of spoons they didn't really have today and I wasn't home yet).

I just had time to eat that and watch the first inning or so of the Tigers-Twins game (which I didn't have high hopes for because it was a Skubal start, but it apparently went well! (has something happened to the Tigers?? silveradept, you doin' okay?)) before it was time to go help angelofthenorth get two heavy pieces of furniture down two flights of stairs.

I figured it was the kind of thing that would either be pretty quick or pretty grueling, and it was pretty quick. We didn't break anything, including ourselves. I rehydrated a little and walked home because buses are disappointing that time of night; the walk was actually nice: it was still warm even after dark (I'm not used to that yet!), it was clear and quiet, and the exercise was probably good for my muscles. I still struggled to even get myself into the shower when I got home though, heh.

And now painkillers and bed!