I think, today, I met a kindred spirit. A tea drinking, deep thinking, ship sinking woman with a love for the everyman, everywoman, everyone in all of us. She has a tongue and a mind for language, and a great deal more than that. She taught me to knit and said such wonderful things about my beginner's swatch. We talked and knit vulvas and drank tea for hours with nary an awkward silence.
The funny thing is I have been curious about her from afar for nigh on two years, fearing I were not of her kind. And maybe I'm not, but she treats me as though I am one . . . of a kind!
The best part is that (I feel) we have so much in common, and it is always joyous to be in the presence of someone who knows your customs and shares your attitude about life.
I am nothing if not grateful.
Showing posts with label language. Show all posts
Showing posts with label language. Show all posts
27.1.09
11.9.08
23.12.07
15.11.07
Girls Write Now
Founded in 1998, Girls Write Now Inc. (GWN) provides a safe and supportive environment where girls can expand their natural writing talents, develop independent creative voices, and build confidence in making healthy choices in school, career and life.
Now this girl is jealous and wants a writing mentor. If I should ever have a social life again and can go to workshops and submit my poetry. I'm chomping at the bit. Er. Pen, rather.
Now this girl is jealous and wants a writing mentor. If I should ever have a social life again and can go to workshops and submit my poetry. I'm chomping at the bit. Er. Pen, rather.
13.10.07
bleeding
I want to write for pay.
I stopped writing poetry after I graduated from high school. Didn't pick up the pen for a poem again until after my first year of college. I had been severed and the pen drew back the stitches that eventually healed up my wounds. But writing poetry, journaling, writing scholarly papers for my degree - it's not enough.
I'm salivating from cover to cover over someone else's name printed on the spine of a book. I lust for the breeze of my pages being flipped, fanned. Give me the ink, bleeding through the binding, beauty.
But I've been censoring myself. Writing in my journal instead of writing here, because I feel like what I write is too scattered, too thoughtless, and certainly not blog-worthy. I hesitate to even write that I haven't been writing because it seems trivial. And I've purposed in my heart to publish my poetry by the end of the year. That's so soon...
Does anyone know where I can submit some of my more polished poetry?
I haven't made that effort in some time, and I think it would be good for me.
I stopped writing poetry after I graduated from high school. Didn't pick up the pen for a poem again until after my first year of college. I had been severed and the pen drew back the stitches that eventually healed up my wounds. But writing poetry, journaling, writing scholarly papers for my degree - it's not enough.
I'm salivating from cover to cover over someone else's name printed on the spine of a book. I lust for the breeze of my pages being flipped, fanned. Give me the ink, bleeding through the binding, beauty.
But I've been censoring myself. Writing in my journal instead of writing here, because I feel like what I write is too scattered, too thoughtless, and certainly not blog-worthy. I hesitate to even write that I haven't been writing because it seems trivial. And I've purposed in my heart to publish my poetry by the end of the year. That's so soon...
Does anyone know where I can submit some of my more polished poetry?
I haven't made that effort in some time, and I think it would be good for me.
29.8.07
Brazen, Dagger
So last night I was delighted by a package stuffed into the mailbox.
Dagger: On Butch Women
and in a few days, my used copy of
Brazen Femme: Queering Femininity
You know, my bookcase houses some other books on sex and gender and feminism. But these will be the first overtly queer titles to grace the bowing shelves. They are heavy with knowledge, my bookcase is overstuffed and in need of a companion. But where shall I put such things? Maybe I'll ask my roommate if I can make the dining room into a "study". There's nothing in there now, it's an empty space with a few random electronics guts lying on the floor. It needs a pillow pile and a pair of bookcase. A loveseat maybe. A rocking chair.
I've always wanted to have a library. A study. But how privileged can I be, that I can even entertain the thought with any sense of possibility whatsoever?
In my Feminist Theory class today we were talking about how everyone's experience of female life and of feminism is different. And how feminists in the third-world are still fighting for things that our First Wave mothers have already accomplished. I guess sometimes I just need to count my blessings.
It's a blessing to me that I can posses this literature. That I can keep it and display it on a bookcase. I can give it a name and talk about it in public. Because of the workers who came before, who gave me this gift.
Dagger: On Butch Women
and in a few days, my used copy of
Brazen Femme: Queering Femininity
You know, my bookcase houses some other books on sex and gender and feminism. But these will be the first overtly queer titles to grace the bowing shelves. They are heavy with knowledge, my bookcase is overstuffed and in need of a companion. But where shall I put such things? Maybe I'll ask my roommate if I can make the dining room into a "study". There's nothing in there now, it's an empty space with a few random electronics guts lying on the floor. It needs a pillow pile and a pair of bookcase. A loveseat maybe. A rocking chair.
I've always wanted to have a library. A study. But how privileged can I be, that I can even entertain the thought with any sense of possibility whatsoever?
In my Feminist Theory class today we were talking about how everyone's experience of female life and of feminism is different. And how feminists in the third-world are still fighting for things that our First Wave mothers have already accomplished. I guess sometimes I just need to count my blessings.
It's a blessing to me that I can posses this literature. That I can keep it and display it on a bookcase. I can give it a name and talk about it in public. Because of the workers who came before, who gave me this gift.
2.8.07
your clit is a phallus
So I read this blog sometimes called Nouveau Queer. It's a queer blog based in Montreal.
Here's a recent post about the clitoris being defined in the dictionary as a phallus. Whee! I never thought of that before, but they do come from the same tissue...
Insertable Objects
Did you know also that there's apparently a Phallological Museum in Iceland? phallus.is
well, you learn something new every day.
Here's a recent post about the clitoris being defined in the dictionary as a phallus. Whee! I never thought of that before, but they do come from the same tissue...
Insertable Objects
Did you know also that there's apparently a Phallological Museum in Iceland? phallus.is
well, you learn something new every day.
22.4.07
bodies
woo is a funny word.
what does it mean to woo someone?
to win their affections?
does it mean that you charm someone
with your wit and good looks?
but i think the word woo goes further.
as in. oh yeah baby, right there...
they don't call it "woo" for nothing.
take one look at a naked woman and the first thing out of your mouth is "woo, man!"
today's quote, "As I started my third cosmopolitan, I was DRUNK - but that is exactly what I wanted to be"
what does it mean to woo someone?
to win their affections?
does it mean that you charm someone
with your wit and good looks?
but i think the word woo goes further.
as in. oh yeah baby, right there...
they don't call it "woo" for nothing.
take one look at a naked woman and the first thing out of your mouth is "woo, man!"
today's quote, "As I started my third cosmopolitan, I was DRUNK - but that is exactly what I wanted to be"
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