Category: Personal

A Childfree Life

tekanji

This post won’t be long, ’cause I’m going to get my tired behind back into bed right afterwards. Went to the hospital yesterday and checked in – when I repeated my birthdate the receptionist was mildly surprised at my age – then went through the 2+ hours of waiting. Mom and I had gotten there early after almost missing our intended ferry, if we had caught the buffer ferry we would have been fine too. But, in our typical way, we spent most of the time debating any sort of issue under the sun so it was all good.

About 30 mins before surgery I got an IV in my hand with a saline solution and some antibiotics (doc’s orders because of my bleed time results) then I was eventually lead into surgery where my anaesthesiologist gave me my general anaesthesia – it hurt. At first I thought I had somehow pulled the needle when I was getting up onto the bed, but he apologized for it hurting and gave me the rest in lesser doses that hurt less. I was out like a light.

So, I woke up after surgery in my typical fashion – early. At least this time it was after everything was taken care of so, unlike my wisdom teeth removal, I didn’t have to deal with nurses who thought I was still under and doctors cauterizing my mouth because of that. Yeah, they didn’t get it until I started wimpering. Good times. Anyway, so back to this story, I was groggy and talked my nurse’s ear off, but I got up to go to the bathroom almost immediately (and I was told that I’d have to drink water first, ha! I’ve peed more in these past 24 hours than I do even if I drink my usual 4 litres of water) but I shook like a freight train.

Soon after that came the viscious cycle of nausea and stomach pain – the anti-nauseants would work until I was given the pain meds then I would throw up any water that I drank and, when I tried to take my oral meds I threw that up too. Somehow the food managed to stay down, but that was about it. Finally after being there for a couple of hours dozing in and out depending on how bad the pain was, my nurse contacted my doc and got me some Demerol. It put me out for another hour or so, but it did the trick. After that I got my oral med down and was able to walk around shake-free. While I was getting ready to go, my new nurse (the shift changed while I was there) was chatting to me about things and asked if I had kids, I said no, she was like “oh” then we continued chatting about things. Like the receptionist, no judgements or dirty looks, just a mild surprise.

On the car ride home I watched part of a Stargate episode before falling asleep, again dozing in and out and periodically asking mom where we were (I’m sure she loved having the “are we there yet?” kid in the car again, hehe). We got home, I tried to take my oral meds on an empty stomach (yeah, bad idea) and barfed it and more water up. After eating some saltines, I took another one, watched a Stargate ep or two and fell asleep. I woke up at about 3, went to find mom (she and her partner were playing World of Warcraft still). I was going to take another med, but was feeling a tad queasy even after eating a saltine so I decided against it. Turns out it worked just fine, because I woke up this morning without any crampy feeling in my tummy; just feeling bruised, which I am.

So, yeah, as I’m sure y’all can tell, this experience was harrowing and nauseating (ha, ha). At one point mom asked me how I felt and I was like, “Horrible, but it is so worth it.” And it is. A couple days of pain is a small price to pay for never having to worry about pregnancy again. I’m sure once the reality sinks in (and my stomach stops feeling bruised), I’ll be bouncing off the wall in excitement. Until then, it’s just me and more Stargate.

Further proof that success isn't always about hard work

tekanji

A few days ago, Astarte ripped apart the classist assertion that poor people do it to themselves (they ascribe to “a culture that eschews education and hard work”… right) in her post The Hurricane of Caring. She said many things in the post, but this one struck a chord with me [emphasis mine]:

I’ve been working since I was eleven. We weren’t dirt poor, but poor enough that I knew if I ever wanted anything, I was going to have to get it myself. I picked strawberries for $.11 a pound (think about that when you buy a pound of Strawberries next time). I sold office supplies for $5.60 an hour, made pizzas for $4.95 an hour, and made burgers for $5.20 an hour… all while going to High School. When I was done there, I took portraits for $6.00 an hour. My first tech job didn’t come as a result of working hard. My first tech job, which landslided into many others, came because I knew someone who knew someone who got me the job.

When I saw that, I thought to myself, “holy fuck, that is so true.” Now, I’m coming from the opposite position of Astarte, I’m one of the lazy rich kids who doesn’t know the true meaning of “hard work”. I’m 23 years old and I’ve never had a real job. Heck, I just graduated University and instead of going into the work force (of course, what I would use my Asian Studies degree for I have no idea), I’ve taken a year off to get my life taken care of before I go off to Japan to do language school (two years of learning the language to become fluent). Instead of the crippling debt that my friends have (well, less crippling for my Canadian friends than for my American ones, but still sizeable), I have money in the bank to use as I see fit. When I decide to start my own company, a dream of mine I have no doubt will be fulfilled, I’ll have the not only the financial support of my family but total access to their social network as well. And if anyone tries to tell you that the social network isn’t important, or isn’t as important as “hard work”, I say from personal experience that they’re lying their asses off or just plain ignorant.

I was talking to my uncle about a month ago about my elder sister who just went to law school. He turned to me and did to me what my dad is smart enough not to: he said I should go. After he listed off his reasons, I laughed at him (in a mostly nice way) and said that his points were valid but I’m just not interested. Apparently, me going to Japan and wanting to work in the video game industry is a waste of my time. Right. He then said that he had a friend in LA who runs an agent firm and that I should go get a job there.

side note: Okay, in what world do I look like the kind of person who would be able to smooze with celebrities? Seriously, I don’t know why he thought it would be a good idea to unleash me, the girl who speaks her mind 99% of the time and fuck the consequences, on a group of people who belong to a culture I consider to be vapid, boring, and part of the problem our society has with the evil -ism’s of all kinds.

Key point: Based on nothing more than a family connection and a hypothetical ability to do the job, I would be able to begin a career with a good salary and a lot of potential for upward movement.

Which brings me to the final straw that sparked this post: today I got a letter from UBC (my alma mater) that was an invitation to join the “Golden Key International Honour Society”. Well, UBC was obviously very excited because they sent me two copies (hopefully on recycled paper, otherwise whole forests of trees will mourn the loss). Somehow I managed to be in the top 15% of my faculty (apparently they don’t count my F from failing calculus, but even so I had a 77.7% average, which is on the top end of a B+ average for you non-Canadians) which qualified me.

I’m all for making my resume look good, but the first thing I noticed was an $80 membership fee. Honour societies already evoke the whole idea of elitist organizations that are primarily about furthering the careers of their wealthy members’ children, but it made me wary to see such an obvious way for discouraging the non-wealthy prospective members from joining. Perhaps I’m being too cynical – $80 may be a large amount of money, but many people may see it as an acceptable trade off for all the services that are available by becoming a member. In addition to the advertised scholarship programs, I did notice that once you became a member there was information on student loan debt reduction. Still, it sounds more like excuses to my ears than anything else.

In the end, I did become a member (I called my dad to talk to him about it, got my sister instead and she said “do it” without hesitation; she’s a member, too). I’m probably a big hypocrite for doing it, but if I have an opportunity to help my chances of getting the job I want in the future than I’m going to take it.

Bad, tekanji, bad!

tekanji

Okay, I haven’t delivered on my promised third part of my Girls and Game Ads series. I will, I swear. See, now you have a promise and a swear! But it isn’t entirely the fault of my laziness, really, I’ve been busy too! No, not just playing Sims 2 (I just got University, I blame EA!), but switching around my flights to Miami and scheduling my tubal ligation. Yeah, I said tubal ligation. Excuse me while I squee like a fangirl. That’s right, folks, on September 7 I will say goodbye to my fertility and hello to reproductive freedom. More on that after the procedure.

I’m also attending a gaming conference in Seattle on the 10th. I originally wasn’t able to go ’cause I was supposed to be in Miami, but then the hurricane hit and my dad’s house got trashed by a tree so I postponed until the 12. So I’ll be traveling so much my head hurts, but it’ll be totally worth it. I’ll try to write on that too, but I might not get to it with all the running around I’ll be doing directly after.

Oh and, as you may see, I’ve added a “personal” section to the blog. It’s part of my effort to both fan my narcissism and remove the “part-time hypocrite” stamp from my forehead (you know what I’m talking about, Sour Duck) and put some more personal into my political. I’ve also added a “series” category to keep a bit better track of any post series we do here. Oh, and done some link cleanup. Some were broken, some I never read, and some I decided were too outside the spirit of my blog to keep. I’m somewhat sorry to see Little Miss Attila go, but half the time I popped over to see what was up in her neck of the woods I would be greeted by language I found offensive. I value other perspectives, but I can’t support things like calling people other people’s “bitches”.

PS. I know this blog’s design is hideous and broken for IE users. Please poke me to update it, ’cause I really should but I’m a bad, bad, person because my laziness keeps getting in the way.

Midnight Ramblings of a Childfree Mind

tekanji

When I tell people that, not only do I not want children, but that I intend to get a tubal ligation I often hear the question, “But, what if you change your mind?” There are many responses to that; “when pigs fly,” “when hell freezes over,” “I won’t change my mind,” or sometimes if I’m too weary to argue, “If that happens, I’ll adopt. But it won’t, so it’s a moot point.” The last one thankfully has never spawned a comment like, “But don’t you want to pass on your genes?” Nonetheless, it is wearying to know that no matter what I say, most people just don’t get it.

I’ve been thinking about a way to help people understand that not wanting children isn’t some childish whimsy of my own. When thinking about a similar response to the question “But what if you meet a man who changes your mind?” (as if a man is the only kind of person I’d want to meet, but I digress), I began thinking about relationships and sexuality – something all people can understand on some level.

Think about it this way: if you become life partners with someone, then vows (spoken or unspoken) are exchanged. For better or for worse, you have made a contract with that person to give them your love and affection. In a monogamous relationship, you have given your promise to be with them and only them. If being with that person is something you feel in your heart is right, then do you regret the decision? Do you mourn every time you itch for something new, something different? Do you run off with the first person who takes your fancy, abandoning everything you’ve built with your life partner? No, probably not. The small things can be dealt with easily, and the larger things worked around (relationship counselling or, if absolutely necessary, parting ways).

In some ways, getting sterilized is like taking vows. These vows are not to a partner, but they are still to someone I love. I want to make these vows to myself as a way of honouring part of who I am. A way to make my life better because no longer will I have to face the decision of using birth control, which my body cannot tolerate properly, or relying solely on barrier methods with the constant fear of getting pregnant. It is a freeing decision; a way to ensure that, no matter what my life turns out to be that I will never, ever be pressured or forced into bringing a pregnancy to term. It is something that I need to do for myself, just as marrying someone out of love is something that some people feel they need to do for their relationship and their life partners.

Is it possible that part of me will regret the decision? Sure, but regret is a natural, human response. Part of me even regrets decisions that made my life better. I regret not having found a way to learn Japanese when the program at my university was unbearable. But my education in the general Asian Studies program was as valuable, if not moreso, and going to language school next year in Japan may be even more rewarding than having tried learning in a foreign country with the constant threat of getting bad marks on my mind. None of that will erase the bitterness of what was, but I regret more that it delayed me from what I wanted rather than what I decided to do with that delay. And I don’t regret my decision; I did what I had to do for myself. Right or not, it was my decision to make and I made it.

And, isn’t that what it boils down to? The right to make my decision about my body. To do what is right for me. I don’t want kids, have never wanted kids, and will never want them. I have the right to pursue happiness, and one branch of my happiness has a name: tubal ligation. I will not be happy and I will not be free until I obtain my goal.