Welp. That worked.

I scanned for news about the International Women's day and the global women's strike that was supposed to happen, yesterday. Not a sausage, as Bluebottle would say.

Hopefully, things are better in other places. Maybe some certain people will see the advantages of paying people equally for all the invisible work that gets done.

It could turn out two ways, really. The whiter percentage of the population could be just fine with a 27% pay gap, think they have enough rights already, and just not turn up. Or... there actually is a massive strike and people start to pay attention.

It's the whiter percentage of the population that matters, sadly. They're the ones who can literally afford to take a day off work. Wearing something red might make an impact. It might not.

The point remains that about 51% of the population is not paid for all the work they do.

And worse, the only people who do get paid 100% of what they should get paid are the able white men. Everyone else is short-changed.

Sigh.

On to regular business...

Once again, A2B has yet to get into contact with me. I shall virtuously wait until the following Monday. If it's necessary to re-submit (AIGH!) then I shall courteously do so.

...mumblegrumblefirkininternetwebformsgrumblegrump...

Chaos wrote a story! A small story, of course, about storms and dark thoughts. Which I will later be doing up into her very own book to read or consult during that scary, stormy weather that has her so worried.

Of course I'll be doing a small companion story about various thunder gods having a contest or a party. Have to do some research for that one. I'm going to throw in Shango, who I know is an African thunder goddess. And any I can find from Australian and Polynesian mythology. Because it can't just be Zeus and Thor having an arm-wrestle. That would be way too Eurocentric.

My day of inaction resulted in me finally seeing all of season 1 of Lemony Snicket's A Series of Unfortunate Events care of Netflix. And possibly more forensics than a human brain can hold together. But that's okay, I like a touch of the macabre.

And speaking of macabre - I finally did the homework my shrink gave me. Writing my own eulogy. Yeah. Creepy. It's supposed to be an exercise to try and tell myself how valued I really am, but... it's just kind'a highlighted how my life so far has gone nowhere so far.

As SPG once said, "That's dismal".

Either I'm a tough nut to crack, or I really am that huge of a loser.

Either way, it's made me determined to stay alive until I actually accomplish something.