Today has been tense. Someone got fired at work today for being a racist fuckwad. It was the asshole with the blue switches on his mechanical keyboard, (and the Confederate flag on many of his shirts, belt buckle, and bumper sticker.) Every time he pressed a key, it made an annoying click sound that defeats the noise canceling abilities of my Bose QC35’s. Needless to say, I wasn’t sorry to see him go. I left for home soon after he was dismissed. On my way out, my boss asked if I know of anyone to replace him. I suggested he hire someone disabled. Then I gave an extemporaneous lecture about why it’s an excellent move.
He started to object right away, so I reminded him I’m disabled. For some reason, many people assume disabled only means using a wheelchair. I don’t know the statistics, but I’d guess there are at least as many disabled who don’t look disabled (to the unaware observer.) I’m so glad I stopped talking at that point and didn’t speculate on who else in our office might have some disabling attributes. I was thinking it, though. (And I may have silently armchair diagnosed a few on my way home.)
I love M.’s mom. It will take a bit longer with his dad because he’s a LOUD talker. Every time he speaks, it’s like fingernails going down a chalkboard while an infant screams, a dog’s barking, and My Sharona is playing on crappy speakers, at the same time. (Calgon, take me away!) I think he might have trouble hearing. I’ll find out when I get used to his TALKING. He probably thinks I’m hard of hearing because I don’t respond (verbally) to anything he says. I like his eyebrows, though. M. thinks it’s hilarious because apparently, I cringe literally. (I told him he should be proud I don’t cover my ears and/or flee as that’s what I want to do every time.) A few more dinners and I’ll get a handle on it. I hope.
I beat the hell out of my drums when I got home. (Not really, I’m just hitting them harder.) I’ve been playing to a different album, Be Myself by Sheryl Crow. I’m so addicted to it. I like every song and they flow from one to another (like they should.) Today, my favorite song is Heartbeat Away. It fucking rocks. Yesterday it was Woo Woo, (but I can’t figure out what she means by double bubble Alamo.) I’m going to listen later with better cans (wired) because I don’t want to get caught singing the wrong lyrics (again.) She sings in my range (but probably has a much bigger range than me.) I’m a 2nd soprano (who would much rather be an edgy alto with a signature vibrato.)
Except when I’m singing along to Disney films, like Moana. I’m about halfway through it and love it so far. It’s worth viewing just to see how far animation has come with hair. I’m wicked impressed with how they animated her thick, wavy hair. I served with some American Samoans, and appreciate they acknowledged their strong body type in the film, too. Disney is getting there. Yay. Too bad Walt isn’t around to see the deNazification of Disney. I hope it continues.