apparentparadox

I recently started doing an online Git course, and in one of the intro lessons, the course creator goes into a bit about how historically the default name of a Git repository was "master", but Apple and GitHub have recently changed to making the default name "main", and then goes into a diatribe about how this is imposing acceptable speech standards on the iOS development community.

The course creator could have used this as an opportunity to talk about how arbitrary Git branch names are -- they don't have any meaning to Git, just the meanings that users choose to put on them. But, instead they did this diatribe.

I'm really torn on whether to drop out of the course and request a refund. This seems to be just an example of privilege, rather than actual racism. I'm not sure what I'm going to do.


[Also posted on Mastadon apparentparadox@tech.lgbt]

We went to see the movie "Bros" the other day. It's very rare for me to see a current movie, and even more rare for me to watch one in a movie theater. I think that the last movie I saw in a theater was a special showing of "Blazing Saddles" on the big screen about 5 or so years ago.

Generally, I don't like modern movies. I like old movies (when dialog and not blowing things up were important parts of the movie). So, while Mark goes to the movies, I rarely go.

The whole experience of going to movies these days is just weird to me. Reserved seats? Recliners? Trailers for movies that I'm never going to want to watch? Really, do they really think that there is a big crossover of people who go to see a rom-com and people who want to watch a movie about people who eat other people? Maybe their marketing department just figures that the pool of people who go to movies is so small that "people who to go movies" will go see just about any movie, and that it really isn't worth it to segment the advertising to "people who go to this type of movie" from "people who go to that type of movie". Still, I found myself cringing during several of the trailers and I wish that I could unsee some of what they were showing.

"Bros" was an OK movie. It certainly wasn't a great movie. I can't figure out why the Billy Eichner character had any friends -- he certainly never acted like a good friend to any of his friends during the movie. I'm too old for the whole "'sup" way of starting a conversation with someone. But, it was a rom-com, I did cry in spots, it wasn't a horrible experience.

However, it just wasn't the right movie for me right now. It seems like there has been a lot of death in my life (two friends lost a parent, I lost a good friend), and there were little things in the movie that really affected me. When they go to P-Town, Harvey Fierstein has a BnB and there's a very short bit where they show a picture of a bunch of people from the 80s, and Harvey's character is the only one still alive. And when they are in the meetings at the LGBTQ+ History museum, there are posters for the a couple of the "March on Washington" events and I can't think of those without remembering the AIDS quilt on the Mall. It doesn't help that the Luke Macfarlane character is an estate attorney.

It's odd how maybe 60 seconds out of a nearly 2 hour movie can completely change how I reacted to the movie. For the movie plot, it doesn't really matter what Luke Macfarlane's character's job is; it's only important that he not like it. The "March on Washington" posters are just in the background. They could have had Stonewall posters or Disco paraphernalia and it wouldn't have changed the movie at all. The focus of the LGBTQ+ History Museum is queer people throughout all of history and I don't remember the AIDS crisis being referred to other than that one scene with Harvey Fierstein (and it wasn't mentioned directly even there).

I guess the take-away is that small things can make a big difference, especially when you're feeling raw.

I've been fairly bummed for the past couple of years mostly due to the election and what it says about my family, some of the people I (used to) hang out with, and the US. Not major depression, just a long time of being bummed; the metaphor I recently came up with was that I'm not on the edge, but I can see it from where I am.

Among the weird nit-picky things I've been thinking about lately is which of these bothers me most:

1. family/"friends" who are willing to sacrifice LGBTQ+ rights in order to get what they want politically (i.e. anyone who votes Republican)


2. those people thinking that I should still treat them like they're important to me.

Usually I believe it's the whole hypocrisy of thinking that I should still "love" them even though they obviously think that I'm not worth much to them.

But, either way, it's become clear to me that people who vote Republican or support churches like the Catholic church really don't care about me.

I've basically stopped talking to most of my family. My family used to be a major focus for me. Now I am finding myself resenting decisions Mark & I made in the past where we gave up stuff in order to put a focus on my family.

I've also given up square dancing. Mostly, that was because I was sick of the time/effort required to maintain a decent level of competency (studying by myself at home on a regular basis, and then trips to get some actual practice before making other trips to actually dance). But, a significant portion of the decision had to do with not wanting to be around a bunch of the square dancers who are Republican. Sure, those people are "friendly" towards LGBT folks, but why should I put in time/effort to be a better dancer when they're willing to sacrifice my rights to get what they want?

I haven't decided whether I should make my feelings known to these people -- or whether they're even worth the time/effort and I'll just slip away. Sure, I'll be polite to them if I'm ever in the same room with them, just as I would be polite to an acquaintance I don't have a lot invested in. In many ways, these people are like old neighbors from many years ago in that we used to have a reason to interact, and now we've gone our separate ways and so have little reason to put any effort into maintaining a relationship.


ps: There's also a bit of stress/sadness due to dealing with in-laws aging and losing abilities, and spending time/money trying to do what we can to help them out while they're still alive.

pps: I've got a support system of people who I do know care about me, and I'm not going through a major depression (I've done that before, I know the symptoms). I'm just unhappy.

When out walking the dog this morning, I saw a car with a bumper sticker that read "Keep Oregon Weird" on a car with Kansas license plates.

Were they saying that they wanted to keep all the weird people in Oregon to keep Kansas safe from having to think outside their narrow ideas? Were they Oreganos* forced to live in Kansas for a while, and wanted to keep their hopes alive of the Oregon they loved?




* I'm on a one person crusade to have people from Oregon called "Oreganos" rather than "Oregonians". I think "Oregonian" sounds weird, and "Oregano" is a yummy herb. Besides, people pronounce the one word "Ore-E-Go-Knee-Un", but we don't pronounce the state "Ore-E-Go-n", so actually "Oregano" is closer to how one pronounces the state name.

Australia has some cool ads going for marriage equality under the slogan "Until We All Belong", sponsored by some major corporations, including Air BnB.

One fund raiser is an "acceptance ring" that looks like a wedding ring, but has a 2mm gap to symbolize that not everyone can get married.

There is more info, and some heart wrenching stories here.

I've known that I'm colorblind (as most people would say) since the age of 15 when I was doing things along with all the other 15 year olds in my high school to get a learner's permit to drive. I can still remember how embarrassed I was when the instructor said -- in what seemed like a very loud voice -- that I shouldn't worry about being colorblind, just remember that the red light is at the top and the green light is at the bottom. It had never occurred to me until that moment that my vision was so very different from others.

Don't get me wrong: I knew that I didn't see colors as well as others. That had been obvious for most of my life, when they would not understand which car I meant when I said the dark brown car. But, that just led to me using different terminology to discuss things. For example, I would never refer to something by color, but rather by location or size or whatever. But I never would have imagined that someone would think I wouldn't be able to tell a red traffic light from a green traffic light!

My color deficiency bothered me quite a bit for many years, but over time, I've come to terms with it, and even embrace it in much the same way that being gay means that I'm subjected to discrimination and hate, but it also brings with it some real joys. I'm not talking about Mark here (although that is one of the nice side-benefits of being gay). I'm talking about really understanding that folks are different. When I was a straight white middle class male, I was part of the privileged majority. I took a lot of things for granted. Coming out and being hated just for being gay taught me a small portion of what other minority folks have felt for years. I still have no idea of what it must feel like to be a woman trying to make it in a computer company where some people will discount her work simply because she's a woman, or how it really feels to be a young black man targeted by the cops. But, I do know the fear of walking down a street not knowing if the car slowing down is full of people ready to jump out and beat me up or just to ask directions, or the knowledge that some people hate me and would be happy if that carload of people did jump out and assault me. That's something my brothers or male cousins have no knowledge of. It's easier for me to empathize with minorities because of being gay and what I've gone through.

Similarly, I've known most of my life that I see things differently in a real physical sense. This has made me more aware that others also probably see the world differently from each other. And knowing that people see things differently in a purely physical sense makes it easier to really believe that people "see" the world differently because of different perceptions or expectations or background. I think that it is all too easy for those who are "normal" to believe that others perceive/see/think the way that they do.

All this has come up recently because I just learned about a company that makes expensive sunglasses that purportedly help "colorblind" people better distinguish colors. And now I find myself very torn about whether or not I should spend that money. I wonder if this is how deaf people feel when thinking about cochlear implants: is missing out on colors really so important that I should spend money on it? Is this just a way to make money by making people feel like they are missing out? I've lived my life seeing things the way that I do, and basically doing just fine. Would my life be substantially enhanced by seeing more colors when outside (they are talking about also doing indoor glasses, but for now, it's mostly just for outdoors)? Is being closer to normal really something that I want to strive for?

I do think that if I were much younger, then I would get the sunglasses; I would probably enjoy seeing colors for many years (and yes, I do see the irony of saying that it was good to really understand that everyone sees things differently when wearing such glasses as a child might have kept me from learning that). But, at my age? Will my life really be enhanced by seeing a red flag waving 100 yards away, when now it only jumps out at me when I get closer?


In case you aren't sure, I'll answer the subject question for you: No, you don't see what I see. And you probably don't see what anyone else sees, either.

After much thought & deliberation, we decided to get married in our home state. We drove to Yreka and had a delightful experience. Everyone at the County Clerk's office was very friendly and helpful, and went out of their way to make it a good experience for us. Due to a bit of confusion at the last minute, not everything was signed after the ceremony, and we didn't find out until we got back home & heard the message on the answering machine. So, we had to go back to Yreka to finish off the minor details. When we did, however, we discovered that the nice people at the County Clerk's office had tried to catch us at the County Recorder's office (in case we went there to order a copy of the marriage certificate). The woman who actually performed the ceremony also gave us a copy of what she read so that we would have it to take with us.

When we did finally get to the County Recorder's office, practically the first words from the nice people there were "Did you get everything signed?". And the next words were "Congratulations".

These people could have all stuck to the letter of the law and to their strict job descriptions, but they actually put effort into trying to help us and wish us well. It's the small things they did that really helped make this a great experience for us, and I'm grateful to the kind folks of Yreka.


So far, the only real difference I've noticed is that I used to refer to Mark's parents as my "mother-out-law" and my "father-out-law", but now I have to remember to say "in-law". That may take a while to get used to. They've been my out-laws for a long time!

In the song "They say it's wonderful", Frank Butler sings:

And to hold a man in your arms
Is wonderful, wonderful
In every way

Just how would he know???

I gave up on FaceBook a while back, but here's something for anyone who's still on there to consider: On Leaving Facebook.

I just found out about "Ask a Mortician". Check out the videos here.