Magical Fox Cheese

This really doesn't do anything though. Aside from the obvious marginalization of trans folk, this decision really does nothing to solve real threats and vulnerabilities present in bathrooms.

Let's just start with the obvious: bathroom stalls have several notorious and glaring issues. Firstly, and really, most importantly, the locks on stall doors are often either non-functional or barely secured. A dedicated enough person would have no real trouble breaking through the measly 3 inch piece of metal.

Secondly, and the flaw that truly needs addressed, stalls do not go floor to ceiling. Any perpetrator is almost entirely free to enter a stall either from over or under. Stalls really only provide the seemingly cheapest method of creating "privacy".

Finally, the problem it seems many people overlook. The entrance to bathrooms is typically a single swinging door, and often just a doorway! Banning individuals who just want to do their business and move on is making restrooms less predetory areas.

So, let me suggest a more effective strategy.

Having been to my fair share of restrooms (something that comes with life) I can say, with a fair bit of confidence, that the entire system needs reworked.

Only one bathroom have I ever been in that truly took privacy into account. A bathroom that solved 2 of the 3 glaring issues, and that could easily solve the third!

What is it? Full stalls, made of the same materials as the bathroom wall itself, going floor to ceiling, with real doors, and proper into-the-wall deadbolts.

Miraculous, and dare I say, near perfect. I unfortunately must say near, as even this set-up sees itself falling short due to one decision. Keeping the binary bathroom labels, whilst still having completely open doorways, less than six feet apart.

And alas, we come to the part where my knowledge is sparse. Here I have only conjecture, but I hope that if you disagree, you at the very least can suggest a counterargument.

The solution to the ineffective bathroom separation, in my belief, is to remove it entirely. Now, I understand this would be a momentous change to some (though rather freeing to others), but please consider it in conjunction with the other change.

An ungendered restroom, with real privacy and security, truly would be in the interest of individuals.

It's not running out of something to keep myself preoccupied or distracted, though that certainly doesn't help; it's the almost soul crushing emptiness of losing that connection. It always feels just... so sudden.

But even more than that, I hate an ending where you see months or years into the future of the world. Because no stretch of the imagination can change what happened.

And yet, that carries such a serene beauty to it. Nothing can change, and maybe it shouldn't-

I think back to House and Wilson riding into the sunset. Nothing can change what happened before or after that, and I think to some sense, I really love that.

It's complicated ---

Because simultaneously, I love imagining that something changed, that some circumstances played out more, came to a more fulfilling conclusion.

But sometimes, stories need to end. Everything ends.

I think I'm coping by writing

I laid on the landing of the staircase, peacefully alone. Above me was a single light, illuminating the ceiling where the sunlight didn't reach.

I decided to focus on the light, and the light alone; an exercise in focus. As I stared, the seconds ticked on, till my eyes started drifting from just the light, and began dancing around the recepticle of the bulb.

All around the center of the light was a refraction of rainbow, and at the edge of my vision the light twisted and deformed, taking on a milky hue. My eyes took in all the light, but focused on none.

Eventually, my own human limits began testing me, but not after a multitude of minutes had passed. My eyes began watering, straining for the quick motion of shutting my tired eyes. But to look away is to unfocus, and so I didn't; instead my eyes began watering, and a tear ran down the side of my face.

While my eyes may have seemed to fail me, the opposite was true: the water bent the light even more, filling my vision with light. I continued looking upwards, but my eyes started flicking around the roof. Everywhere I looked, the light's center remained the brightest focus.

Eventually, I grew weary of watching the light, and so looked away. If you've ever looked at the sun or a bright light, then I'm sure you know of the after image that remains for a while.

So too did the light imprint itself into my eyes; so the wall was spotted with a single circle of the light. When my eyes moved, the light did as well. It was a brilliantly white spot, a near perfect replica of its creator.

Suddenly, the image turned black. I'll admit, I was a tad worried that I had hurt my vision (more that is, I already need lenses) but this was not the case, fortunately. The circle however continued its trailing along my eyes.

I decided to shut my eyes, in order to experience the full intensity of the light. It was... near indescribably beautiful. It was as if the event horizon of a black hole has painted itself onto my retina (maybe cornea, I'm not an optometrist).

When I opened my eyes, the circle folded and shifted, into the shape and color of a hibiscus. I finally decided to stand up and walk about. Slowly, the flower faded, and I was left pondering the true meaning of my experience.

To clarify, while I was in a religious sanctuary, I do not believe it to be an experience given by a higher power.

That moon is the same that watched over the construction of the pyramids, the first of Shakespeare's plays. It's the very same that watched the rise and fall of empires.

The moon is the celestial body that gives direction and tides to sailors; and light for generations of sea-farers using the stars and moonlight for navigation.

The (arguably) most impactful event of the cold war, the moon landing, became a beacon of human resilience and success, and provided (probably) great motivation for further exploration.

Tacocat, tacocat

I've long seen you not

Your crisp crunchy crust

Or your pleasing palindromial proceedings.

Piano Cat, piano cat

Oh play me a song, oh piano cat

Your mellifluous melodious echo no more