Oh, no: people want to legalize the purchasing of polar bear hides. This is well sad. Why would you want to kill animals for their hides? (Or their horns, or their blubber, or whatever.) I suppose I can excuse the killing of animals if you’re part of an indigenous group that is going to eat all the meat and then use the bladder for a water bag and the skin for a tent and the teeth for tools or whatever. But otherwise, I feel the same way as I do about murder, war, and the death penalty: we cannot give life; therefore, we must not take it. I don’t see animals as lower beings. In fact, I think in some cases they are more beautiful and compassionate than human beings, certainly. Plus I have a really deep emotional connection to narwhals and koi fish and owls and all my stuffed animals. Haha.
I had a mostly low-key day; I did a bit of shopping (new frilly underpants + American Apparel + finally some sunglasses that fit my face = love), and then I headed over to Cloyne to pick up some things I’d left and visit with my kitty-cat. Ginny was so sweet and friendly… I miss her. After I packed up my stuff, I hung around with Whaley and Paulilocks, who are the sweetest, most adorable constantly-stoned hyphy oversexed five-year-olds ever. Then Edward joined us, and I gave him the blue Mario mushroom tin of mints I bought him because he joked that my new meds sounded like a sort of power-up. We watched some YouTube videos and listened to music and cuddled and went for Mexican (I don’t feel crappy yet, but I’m waiting for my digestive system to start protesting the cheese).
Then I had a therapy session with Dr Friedman which was very good and very emotional. I cried a bit, which I hadn’t done with him previously. Basically, the gist of it was that I am obsessed with the idea that I am constantly imposing or being selfish or difficult because that’s what my parents are always accusing me of when I kind of attempt to insist they stop being so damn self-centred for two seconds… (Case in point: Like, I was just on the phone with Dad and Moe, after THEY had called ME, and they were all, “Well, it’s late here, so we need to go to bed”–like I was keeping them on the phone!) Anyway, there’s a lot of complex stuff going on, and the whole bipolar diagnosis is basically just so they can fill out paperwork for my insurance company. The most important thing is finding the proper combination of meds and therapy that will help me feel like I can make sense of my life. I so appreciate that.
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