stressed. overstressed.

i should tell you quickly, before I rush off to work that Dana has a friend working as a technical writer / editor for a company in a neighboring metropolis and she submitted her application today since the company is looking to hire someone entry level - within ten years all of the other writers will have retired!

i was up all night wednesday night fretting over how much a hate my job. that is usually a sign that it's time to quit and go somewhere else, but at this point money has a choke hold on me. i'm good at my job, i'm a fantastic worker, but i'm missing out on my college experience, and i'm pimping out my emotions for this call center job. i feel like i'm doling out my sympathies in return for money. I'm drained.

so i called out yesterday and submitted about 15 applications online. by the way, Monster.com is full of pure bologna. I had much better luck with the other sites.

i took Dana to school with me yesterday and we put up fliers about the ex girlfriend's motorcycle which she dumped on us three months ago. we want it out of our lives now, do you hear me universe??

and i want an emotionally fulfilling job that meets me needs, dammit!

best wishes to y'all. regularly scheduled smut, gender commentary and cultural critiques will resume soon. when? I'm not exactly sure.

get free, get free of it.

had a lovely and debauchery filled birthday party for my favorite married couple tonight. It culminated in a topless dance party in the kitchen. I had a blast the whole time, but I left feeling very very low. Maybe I exhausted my supply of serotonin, maybe it is very late at night, but for whatever reason I started feeling like I was out of place the whole time and maybe I didn't know it. I didn't want to go home, I wasn't ready to leave, but by the time we left, I think it had been overdue. I have a very weak sense of boundaries and so I easily end up overstepping them with no intention of harm. I should work on that.

Sista girl needs to get free of the shame, body shame. Shape shame. This sweet sweet lady needs to know how truly valuable she is. That is the thing I hate the most, when people have poor body image and can't murder the shame. Murder it, take out back and kill your "super" - whatever that is. "super mom" "super girlfriend" "super boy" to the rescue - kill them. Because no one should have to live up to standards that other people set for them. Get free, girl, dance for your freedom. Everyone's cheering you on except for yourself.

[Edit 11:27 a.m.] My dear girlfriend explained to me that the reason I probably felt so out of place could have been because I tried the Pot for the first time. I didn't think I had had enough for it to do anything, but with the way my mood crashed, I am willing to think that is what happened. I have not had that much fun in a really long time. Wow.

change of the tide

This morning I signed a least with my psuedo cousin for 13 months. This is seriously permanent. The place I moved into is really not what I'm looking for, and all I have to do is forfeit my $300 deposit to be able to move out. It's not worth my money to stay the rest of the 3 months left on my lease. I did this because my cousin, Stefanie had a minor snafu with the law, after getting kicked out of her mom's house, and she has since been staying with me. Well, my landlord who is also my housemate (oh the joys of subleasing from strangers!) has been allowing her to stay with me on the condition that she pay $250 by the 15th. The government was willing to pay the money but he refused to sign any document stating that she was allowed to stay in MY bedroom until 3/31 so the funds could not be released. He called me at work, rather than telling Stef - he wants her out by Wednesday (which is illegal by the way, you can't kick anyone out with less than 7 days notice, apparently.)

I decided yesterday that I didn't like the living situation either. They are very unclean people, especially for people with fluid borne diseases, as I have discussed before. They have sex in the shower and then Stefanie doesn't feel comfortable washing the baby in there. On top of that, they want her out because they don't like the baby being there. My room is too small for me, the landlord keeps telling her a different story than he tells me, and they keep having big fights where the cops get called. After speaking with the landlord yesterday, I decided that it was so over.

So in yesterday afternoon I marched myself down to the leasing office where Dana lives and got the applications, filled them out, had my credit approved, and chose a one bedroom with a den. I spend most of my time here anyway, and I'd like to be able to decorate my own place with my own stuff and not have to feel like I'm bothering someone else. The government assistance is providing a moving truck for Stefanie so most of my stuff can hopefully go in there, and she's going to work on getting assistance for our utilities. I feel very peaceful about it. Last night I tossed and turned and tossed and turned and I couldn't get right about which unit I wanted, but we went to see them again this morning and the choice was clear.

Now, to furnish an apartment on a very small income, with me carrying most of the finances. Where there's a will, there's a way, and it shall be done! I feel so free!

one really horrifying day. only one.

I'm really in the foulest mood ever. Maybe not ever, but I'm very sour at the moment. I've been scowling basically the entire day.

Erin shooed me out of bed at 8:30 because "work called" and needed her to come in - I have no evidence that this is not true, but I was pretty irritated by being woken up so early, on a day that she said she'd be able to lie around in the morning. The commute home from her place - when driving in the daytime - takes literally 1 hour, 15 minutes. I'm going to have to start telling these bitches that if they want to see me they can come to my house. Eff this commuting with gas prices going for 30% of my hourly payrate. Rather than going to sleep, which I should have done, I stayed awake looking in craigslist for multi-unit houses in some of the historic districts in the area. Then, I went out to look at them. Which was horrific. The M-I-L quarters that I found, which was for a fantastic price and had a nice picture was absolutely horrifying for housing in a generally nice city. There was no central a/c, no backyard. The freeway is literally adjacent to the property, and the clothes dryer appeared to be older than the one that my family used when I was a child! The floor was separating from the wall, I'm positive there was mildew in the place - which I am allergic to - and to top things off, there was some random rotting car in the driveway. No thank you. I should have turned around and walked away when I saw the window a/c. Miss Avarice does not do window units. Uh-huh, No ma'am!

Oh, forgot to mention that before I went out driving and looking at rental properties, I found a hair in my favorite mc donald's breakfast sandwich. I dark brown hair. cooked into the sandwich. I'm very lucky to have a pretty strong stomach. Horrifying. Are you seeing the pattern here? It has been a really horrifying day. Not to mention the nightmare that I had early this morning, sleeping next to Erin. There are ginormous thunder storms headed our way, the skies have been pretty much grey all the day long and gust winds - the works. UGH!

I went to go look at some subsidized housing, and at some standard apartments as well. There are so very few that have any one bedroom units and many of them have no central a/c as well. I wish I had someone to look for housing with together. It would be so much easier to find housing if I had someone to share it with. Someone reliable who's going to stick around, someone who can love me for who I am and give me hugs when I come home. Just a friend.

On top of that, my mother can't find anyone to take care of her after her back surgery on Thursday, and i may have to take my vacation days to fly up and take care of her. My grandmother was going to do it, but now her back's hurting her, too and she doesn't want to take the drive all the way to NC with her back acting funny.

I had to take back the corset that I bought the other day because it was far too small for me, even though I tried to lace it differently. I went to the mall to soothe myself with some more retail therapy but I ended up just walking around moping and finding nothing of interest. Traffic on the way home was bad, and my car smelled like trash all day driving around because I forgot to take it out of the trunk on the way out of my apartments.

aghhhh complaaaaain!

phew. I'm going to go listen to music, say no words and sit native-american style on the floor for a little while. whoooo. exhale!

i think i'm in for some life lessons

Erin called me on her way to bed tonight. I was cleaning up from Family Night at Kay's after everyone had gone outside to smoke and talk, when the phone rang. Her job has apparently been taking up a lot of her time, and we've had an awful time trying to keep in touch. In fact we've barely spoken to one another since the last time - we can't seem to catch each other at the right time, unfortunately. Her birthday is next week, I wish I could be part of that. She told me to call her Monday after I get out of work at 10 and we can get together. I can't decide if I want to spend some more time getting to know her, or if I just want to leave that part alone. It is difficult for me to be able to know someone without caring for them a lot, so the more I know about her, the more I'm going to care about her. And that is, apparently, dangerous territory. But it's funny. I want to care about her. I do, in a sense. But not too terribly much...

Yet. This is coming from the mouth of a girl who has never had a proper girlfriend. Am I afraid of commitment? Am I afraid she's going to want to go too fast? Am I afraid of hurting her? What's my deal? I think maybe I'm afraid of being tied down, of having my curiosity harnessed and corralled. And I don't want that. I want to be able to pick and choose. But I guess that just means that if I really do get into a relationship, hopefully it will be one that I know I want, since I have not truly wanted anything yet.

Speaking of hurting people. I told a half-truth to Marian today, trying to get out of a date with her to my favorite restaurant. Why would I do that, you ask? I can't handle her shit, that's why. Twice, now, she has erupted into an emotional fit about how unlovable she is(n't) after I was trying to explain that we're not right for each other. TWICE. If I have not mentioned it before, let me do so now: Self-hatred is absolutely intolerable. I can understand if you have doubts about yourself, I can understand if there's a few things you'd like to change, but I cannot stand, cannot be in the presence of outright self-hatred. This is especially true after I have already told you several times that you are valuable and cherished. So, I'm going to have to figure out a polite way to say "we can be friends but you're not for me, and I know you're not for me, so stop trying to convince me because it was over before it started, honey." Instead, I told her I was on my period and feeling sick to my stomach. It was true, but I still could have taken some drugs and gone with her anyway. I'm sad, it was my favorite fresh seafood restaurant that overlooks the bay - and it was her idea when she didn't even know that my grandfather used to take the family there all the time...

dance card

my dance card has been filling. this week has been packed.

still talking to Sandy on the side, and sending dirty notes which thrills her to pieces, and thrills me even more that she likes them and doesn't try to change the subject like other girls have been doing.

while we did have a very relaxed afternoon together and a sweet moment outside as i was leaving, i have completely lost interest in Marian. you may have realized that i can be a bit of a bitch. if someone can't compete with me, intellectually, i get bored. there was an overly long rant tonight that exhausted my interest. she's also way too much like my brother - she has the same needs and engages the same sympathies that he engages in me. i already feel drained. check that one off the list!

Crave is coming to visit this weekend. we've agreed on no expectations, but she seems to be a fine fella so i'm sure i'll enjoy her company. she's in town for a bit to visit someone else, and as a perk! we get to do a "round 2" on the date we supposed to have in NYC in October. she answered one of my CL ads for an intelligent toppy butch. i'm pleased to have a second chance because so far, she's a jewel.

to top it all off, i've just planned a date for tomorrow night with Autumn who is "transitioning" from an ambiguous, undefined gender, gradually into something more and more masculine. i haven't seen the outcome of the haircut that has reportedly "done the trick", according to the referring friends.

Wow, three in one week! What's a girl to do? Let's just call it extracurricular activities towards my Women's Studies degree, shall we?

hard travelin hootenanny

I have a lot to say but I am not feeling very concise at the moment. I'm still talking to the girl from last summer who was driving trucks at the time. She's up north spending time with family, but she keeps working her wiles on my heart. She opens up soft spaces in my heart for herself and sings my praises, although we've never met. She says I'm so wonderful, a woman of such good character, she see me as stable, with achievable life goals and intelligence and all those good "marriageable" qualities. She wants me to call myself hers and I'm sorry, but I can't do that. I need you here in flesh and blood, I need to touch your skin to know that you are real.

So we talked. She has family she can stay with here. She may come visit the week that school has let out at the end of this semester. If there's chemistry, and if I'm not otherwise attached, I might be able to put a name on this, but for now, honey I'm not yours, and I'm not anybody's.

I own my happiness.

So anyway, there's the little problem of some big feelings of affection on her part that she conjured up with no help from me and I don't really know what to do with them. Some of them I reciprocate and some of them I do not. She's trying to get my heart involved when my cunt is doing the talking.

still going!

Why go on a date with Marian when so many red flags are already up?

The answer is because I have been on exactly 0 dates, have had exactly 0 girlfriends, and have kissed exactly 1 person 2 times (and it was the same night, do they both count?). With those statics in mind, I am eager to go on one date, with one pot smoking, non-degree-seeking butch because I would like to have fun with my twenties and I have wasted (perhaps not wasted... you know what I mean) nearly a quarter of them, being confused. Since I'm not confused and have a great deal more direction and motivation in life than I did 3 years ago, I've decided it's time to meet some people. A date is just that, a date, and while she may be looking for The One, I'm not, so the fact that it's certainly not meant to be, I'm not getting my heart involved.

What's my heart for, anyway, if my body and my snarky mouth can do the rest? I suppose I have yet to learn that part.

So, yes, there are several red flags already, but hey. Maybe I could at least do some makin' out. That would be very satisfying and it doesn't have to mean anything.

all is fair in love and war?

We have never been very good at establishing and clearly communicating relationship boundaries. But what if it comes to that?

Here is what I would expect from myself:
1. To exhibit temperance
2. To keep my heart at a safe distance (that distance is yours and mine to dictate)
3. To keep my mind and body available to you, for whatever you need them (within reason).

Here is what I would expect from you:
1. To be decisive and fearless about your decisions. Jump in feet first once you know what you want, and don't get out of the water until you're done with whatever you wanted to accomplish.
2. Talk to me honestly and frequently about how you feel so that we won't have any surprises (you can be sure I'll do that, it's a compulsion of mine).
3. Tell me what you expect from me, as well. Tell me what you want out of it.

If you want to be with me, you have to earn it by not playing games with my affection, and you have to know, generally if not specifically, what you want, and ask for it. Here we are, back to that ever-useful mantra, "ask for what you want."

you've got it all wrong

tonight, someone who has only met me twice had the nerve to call me straight laced. clearly, the person was misinformed, but that doesn't make me any less furious.

Straight laced? Uh, last time
I checked, the drawstrings
on my fucking corset
were cross-laced.
Obviously you didn't
take the time to look
a little closer.
If you had,
you would've seen
all the red marks,
scratches and scabs
covering my back
and shoulders and waist
because I have had my hands
arms twisted behind me,
tearing at the laces,
yanking pulling the string,
even breaking the straps.
I am determined to
draw the string out of

every.

last.

hole.




The other day, someone else did the same thing, in so many words -- "Oh, no you're too shy for that!" What bothers me about the term "straight laced" is that it connotes (at least to me) the tattle tale, the voice of reason, the one who can't relax. It's the one who plays by the rules instead of making up her own - the one who refuses to subvert.

It is my mother.

I'm compelled to prove the person wrong next time we meet, but I don't know what purpose that would serve. It motivates me to keep on tearing at the laces, trying to break free. Where are my safety scissors? Someone come and cut me out. I need it.

[Edit: 03:43] A friend of mine clarified that "straight laced" basically means that I'm not a drug addict or a whore. I guess I don't really fit those descriptions... exactly. Apparently the person did me a favor, but that doesn't make me feel any less indignant. Maybe, in larger perspective, it was meant to make me examine how I take rejection? If that was the test, I don't think I did very well...

dyke drama

*screams* I'm flippen excited about Season 5. Who's getting season 4 so we can re-watch it? We only have 2 months! I'd like to know exactly who is fucking on the couch - what a scene. Warm afternoon sunlight and a little naked body. hmmm.

whorish

RANT Disclaimer: In this discussion I use the word "men" in a general way, mainly referring to non-feminist men and those who are perpetuating a violent, systematic (at times, even unconscious) suppression of women's various rights, freedoms and responsibilities, - not, indeed, to every individual man. I have known and have dearly loved a great many men who truly give women a voice, and safe space to stand tall. I do not hate men, so if any males are reading (and if you are, please speak up!) please do not take this personally; but let us all consider our own behaviour and thought patterns for the purposes of personal growth and edification.

Since I wasn't able to properly articulate what I was thinking (read: feeling) during a conversation I had with an old friend, I'm going attempt some thinking-out-loud here. My old friend is actually an old friend of the family, and one whom I would consider a distant cousin - not by blood, but by the spiritual connection of our families.

We were just casually discussing a mutual friend who has only been around a short while. Old friend, A, and new acquaintance, Z, (funny...a-z) recently had a rather turbulent falling out. But we both agreed that she tends to dress provocatively. Z has a sister whom I went to high school with, who in fact had larger breasts than Z has, so it runs in the family. Anyway, Z is quite bright but A made a comment about how she always has these crummy boyfriends that end up screwing her over. A decided that it was because of the way she dresses.

Now lemme tellya, that really pisses me off. Most importantly, social acceptance of different modes of dress differ across lines of time, place and culture. But what she said was very revealing about the fact that our, and all, cultures have a set of standards for women's appearance that somehow communicate a message about the woman. Women who show more skin are automatically deemed to have low moral standards, they are grouped into a lower social class, and also assumes that she's easy. This is only one example of how appearance can miscommunicate. Appearance is a means of segregation - male from female, homeless from working class from upper class, gay from straight, trustworthy from untrustworthy, normal from eccentric... And of course although we think we can judge people's character, or race or class, or sexuality or whatever, from their appearance, most of the time we're dead wrong and don't actually know it.

everything i do is judged,
and they mostly get it wrong
Ani Difranco, "Joyful Girl"
(and one of my most favorites)

Our clothing would be totally, completely inappropriate in the context of some (but not all) Muslim cultures. For example, in Turkey (Scroll down to "Turkey") it might have been okay for a girl to wear a t-shirt and jeans, but never a tank top, and never, ever shorts, which is basically the only thing A ever wears. Here's another example from Indian culture.

So why do we say that Z only attracts trashy men by dressing in a manner that accentuates her breasts and legs? A said it's because a respectable young man doesn't want someone who's "easy". Or a tramp... That because she doesn't cover up and dress nice, she'll never find a guy who's respectful and respect-worthy?

I don't know, this just doesn't sit well with me. It doesn't sit well at all. Because there are times when I dress provocatively, not because I'm easy (heh, although that may be the case...) but because I enjoy being in my body. I want to revel in that confidence. I guess I don't mind a little bit of attention, [friendly, appreciative, non-threatening attention - like when someone recognizes that I like what I've got] but I hate that I get read as a whore, (informally, if not formally). A few months ago, and I don't remember if I mentioned it here or in another space, I was out buying gasoline for the car after having visited a friend. I was wearing a seriously, seriously short skirt. Something I would not worn in public except for driving in the car, but I had run out of gas so I had no choice. As I was leaving, this large, hairy, burly man said, "how you doin?" as if that were going to attract my attention. AS IF I WOULD TAKE THAT AS A COMPLIMENT - THE FACT THAT YOU THINK I'D GO FOR YOU JUST BECAUSE YOU HAVE A DICK, JUST BECAUSE YOU MISREAD WHAT I WAS TRYING TO SAY WITH MY BODY. Ugh. This gets me into the argument about being femme and being straight until proven guilty. Which I have beat into the ground, and will continue to do so until I have completed my paper for one of my exit courses.

And for all my years of feminist training and learning to love my body and in all the volumes of feminist rhetoric stored in my head and on my shelves, all I could think to do was give him the femme-eyes-of-death and say, "You don't need to be talking to ladies like that." Seriously? I didn't even tell him why he shouldn't be talking to me like that. I didn't even tell him that the fact that my skirt showed the panties over my rear a little bit does NOT JUSTIFY his patronizing, sexist comments. Would he have said the same thing if I were wearing a swimsuit at the beach? Unlikely. So he said, "well, fuck you too." And I should have said, "not in a million years, in fact, never, not ever."

AND ANOTHER THING: Anyone who thinks I was asking for it can fuck off. A man is not an animal. If we give him the mind to think and reason (as we deny that to women) on the sciences and the arts, can we not allow him the exercise of his will in the realm of sexuality, too? By calling them chauvinist pigs we're dehumanizing them and stripping them of 1) the right to choice and of 2) civil responsibility. That's one another reason I have a problem with Trojan's Evolve campaign. Yeah, men should be prepared if they are going to sleep with someone, but the ad automatically assumes that just because the man has a condom (whoopdeedoo!) in his back pocket (not a safe place for condoms) that the woman he's trying to talk to is into men (problem number 1) and going to fuck him that same night (problem number 2). I'm glad someone's saying use a condom, I'm glad a condom company finally figure out that they could use their commercial adverts as a public service announcement [edit: BUT do it in a way that respects women and gives them the brains to make a choice - of course what kind of an advertisement sends that message... "use our product, but you still might not get laid...". And by the way, she is just as responsible for the condom as the guy is.]

I keep typing things and then deleting them. I don't have sufficient words and phrasing and presence of mind to explain how I feel about this. I just feel like screaming. What a fucking insult, really, to say that someone isn't worthy of a good man because she enjoys the sensuality of her body. There's no winning this game, when the winner is supposed to be fucking Martha Stewart at home, the blessed virgin mary, and Jenna Jameson --- oh, and don't forget Joan of Arc when men's lives are in shambles and only the strength, resourcefulness, and tender care of a woman can salvage him. I'm just fighting for sexual agency and my environment doesn't want to give it to me. I just want to wear whatever I want, and not have to explain and excuse and prove myself. A single woman is either a prude or a whore but I just want to have a healthy sexuality that doesn't compromise my standards or my safety. Is that so much to ask? It is, and it has been for centuries. And I'm fucking done with it.

date with myself

This evening I thoroughly enjoyed my own company. Maybe I wasn't ready for a date. Maybe my guest read my blog about it being my first date? Maybe I'm going about this the wrong way. Or maybe things just didn't work out as planned. Who knows? I got a text message just as I sat down at my table. What a way to go, but I didn't let it get to me.

I enjoyed my food, a glass of wine, a sweet dessert and a hot little cup of Turkish coffee. Beforehand, I sat for about 2 hours in Central Park writing about my experience this weekend, trying to explain it all but having a rough time with the details. I almost don't want to write too much about it, as if it would become just a story or a dream if I were to write what exactly happened. I wrote about my muses who guided me. I wrote about my struggle to push past the wall that I bumped into. I wrote about the immensity. It was a nice afternoon. I've found my way around Manhattan with not a wink of trouble, even when I'm not quite sure where I'm goingr.

And since I'm all dressed up and nowhere to go, I think I'm going to make my way over to one of the gay bars in town. After a bit of a rest, of course. Maybe I'll read some more of my homework...

short skirt

1. have a short skirt. a very, very short...

2. both of my dates have made requests on my attire.

a. lots of skin, hint of slut (my favorite)
b. flowy skirt and a smile (my second favorite)

3. traffic court. judge knew my family name. no ticket, just court fees.

4. nyc in 6 days. i still don't have my wardrobe organized, i have no suitcase, no purse/bag, no ride to the hotel.

NYC planned-spontaneity update

The Flight Fiasco
so guess what! not only did my first flight get canceled, but MY ENTIRE ITINERARY because the rep who entered my reservation didn't take down my voucher number properly, and it was "unpaid". I'm on hold right now. Ugh. This may require a supervisor. Something cosmic is preventing me from going! gah!

[update 02:13] PHEW! It has been reinstated by a supervisor. I have already gotten my seat assignments and all but one are acceptable. Bless the Lord Baby Jesus for fixing that goof-up! Yay!

The Housing Crisis
The housing is getting scarce - nearly all the inexpensive, hotels are full. All chain hotels are outrageous. Which leaves hostels. It's seriously the difference between $250 for the week or $250 for a NIGHT. I'm a LOT freaked out by the hostels. I need a travel buddy if I'm going to sleeping in any creepy dormitories. Anybody wanna come with me? I had decided to just take the plunge and book a hotel and just be two grand in the hole. That may not be the wisest decision, however. Especially if I want to do fun things that cost money. Oh, Lord Baby Jesus, HELP ME!

There was one hostel that had doors and walls. But no ceiling. So you could hear everything on the entire floor. No power outlets in the rooms... yeah, uh NO. The a hotel I'd picked (it was $100) just skyrocketed to $201 for all five nights. Even if I camp out at the airport on Tuesday night, I will still be out $804 + 13.35% tax and like $10 a day in just-because-we-can charges.

*die*