sorcyress: Drawing of me as a pirate, standing in front of the Boston Citgo sign (Default)
I am allowed to want things that aren't fair.

Really.

I'm not entitled to them, oh certainly not, but I am allowed to want anything and everything I want. And I'm allowed to say that, and see if I can get it, and make compromises, and work through things, because that is what mature adults do when they have desires. They take steps to see those desires through, be that to fulfillment or closure.

I am allowed to want things that restrict others' choices. I am allowed to ask them to let their choices be restricted. They are allowed to say no, and if they do, it means I get to learn how to deal with it. I like learning how to deal with things, it makes me feel strong.

And I am allowed to want anything and everything I want, no matter how dirty or terrible or unfair or cruel or indulgent or useless. Wanting is not bad. Actions are changeable, feelings are not, and desire is every bit as much a feeling as hatred or sadness or guilt.

(Sometimes I find myself repeating in my writing and need to change the words to be less the same. Sometimes I find myself repeating because repetition is ritual and saying the words over and over and *over* again sometimes makes it easier to hear them.

And so despite the fact that I know asking for restriction is not fair, and something I find horrific asked of me, I am still allowed to want it. I can cry because I feel betrayed, cry because I am jealous, cry for any number of fucked up fractured reasons (because I am a fucked up fractured person and know that I'm just very good at hiding it) but I cannot cry because I feel wrong for wanting.

Desire is not wrong.

And so it is written and so it shall be cast.
sorcyress: Just a picture of my eye (Me-Eye)
((Was meant to be posted before the con-report. Stupid faulty crossposting.))

There's a whole weekend to talk about at some point. There's a lot of sub-essays from the weekend to get into. There's issues to be written down and slowly sorted.

But I just had a sharp reminder that I communicate best in the written word. You can tell me anything you want, and I will appreciate the sound, and sometimes it will be all that I need. But writing things down? That makes them real.

"Planning"
"2-6 months"

Sometimes everything changes. That's not necessarily a bad thing. I think it means I'm growing up, or something equally nonsensical.

And it doesn't matter how many times he said the words, or something like them, over the course of the last week. They weren't real until he wrote them down. Remember that about me.

~Sor
MOOP!
sorcyress: Drawing of me as a pirate, standing in front of the Boston Citgo sign (Default)
There's a whole weekend to talk about at some point. There's a lot of sub-essays from the weekend to get into. There's issues to be written down and slowly sorted.

But I just had a sharp reminder that I communicate best in the written word. You can tell me anything you want, and I will appreciate the sound, and sometimes it will be all that I need. But writing things down? That makes them real.

"Planning"
"2-6 months"

Sometimes everything changes. That's not necessarily a bad thing. I think it means I'm growing up, or something equally nonsensical.

And it doesn't matter how many times he said the words, or something like them, over the course of the last week. They weren't real until he wrote them down. Remember that about me.

~Sor
MOOP!
sorcyress: Sketch of me wearing one of Zaphod's outfits from the Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy movie (Zaph-me)
There is a Marilyn Monroe quote that I found some months back. I didn't think much of it at the time, but it's been rattling around in my head ever since, resonating and finding bits of me to latch onto. It may currently be one of the most important pieces of relationship advice I have in my personal arsenal.

“I'm selfish, impatient and a little insecure. I make mistakes, I am out of control and at times hard to handle. But if you can't handle me at my worst, then you sure as hell don't deserve me at my best.”


It just rings so spectacularly true for me. I am, if we're being perfectly honest here, a bit of a mess mentally. I'm s-l-o-w-l-y getting better at it. But it's agonizing to me sometimes how much time it takes to iron out all the negative wrinkles from a practised brain, how difficult it is to turn wounds into scars into solid self again. I am, unequivocally, not there yet, not with any of the various fractures and fuck-ups my brain tries to do to me. If you're going to make a serious commitment to me --be it lover, friend, moirail1, or something else entirely-- you're going to have to deal with the fact that sometimes I will stop working in any sane or functional way, and it would be nice of you to help me fix that.2

But you know what?

I'm so worth it.

I am intelligent enough to hold my own in nearly any conversation. I am reasonably quick-witted and *always* eloquent --I think very hard about my words before I say them, and tend to use them precisely. I am hyper consent-oriented, and enough of an activist to accept and defend pretty much anyone until they prove themselves asinine. I have the need to create like most people need breathing, and I don't typically care the delivery method as long as I'm making SOMEthing. I'm fiercely loyal to my friends and lovers, and will defend other people far more intensely than I'd ever defend myself. I'm impatient enough to be an excellent leader in a group ("we're doing this now!") and charismatic enough to keep people from resenting that. And I am _awesome_ in bed, and if you don't believe me, I'll get some letters of reference and they will be the most fawning things you ever did read3

If you can't handle me at my worst, if you won't handle me at my worst, aren't willing to put up with the gender dysphoria and the rape triggers and the daddy issues and the imperfection stress and the fear of commitment and the strong and sour fear of people leaving me...if you just aren't interested in interacting with me when I'm not in the right frame of mind, and everything seems broken or lost or numb...

...then you will never get to see me shine.

~Sor
MOOP!

1: Uh. It's a term from Homestuck. The translation I operate under is sortof a "super close friendship where one member of the pairing is responsible for/good at calming the other member down when they get worked up and are going into angrysmashrar mode." I have a two-way moirailship with Ria, because both of us are good at negating the other's ANGRYSMASHRARness. Also, because Ria is the bestest person of all persons, pretty much all of the time. 'Rails before pails forever1a.

1a: No, I'm not going to talk about pails or buckets in this public journal. What sort of uncouth troll do you take me for?1b

1b: Look, if you want to keep up with all the things I reference, you are just going to have to read more webcomics. start here. It is 4000+ pages long and ridiculously complicated, enjoy!

2: I, of course, do not expect you to fix that. Nor will I likely ask you to help me fix that (especially not explicitly) unless I am _way_ way way way more fractured than normal, and in very particular ways. If I'm panic attacking, for instance, I almost never tell people, and certainly not directly.

3: Except that I date smartalecky folk, who'd likely take this as a "let's take her ego down a notch" challenge. In all seriousness, I have no idea how I rate on the general sexings scale, but I'm enthusiastic, creative and clever, have a fair bit of practise and am very focused on Making People Happy. This seems to work well for me.




As an aside, a long time ago, someone told me "I really don't understand what your host of boyfriends see in you". I replied, truthfully, that I didn't either.

I still don't know what people see in me. But you know what? Every once in a while, I recognize that I am a potent individual, with all the power that implies. I can tell what my boys see in me --it's the same things I see in myself when I'm having a good day. And trust me, I have enough of the good days to know, deep down in the part of yourself that makes or breaks your self-image, that I am a wicked pissah individual, the likes of which most people just can't keep up with.

What do my boyfriends see in me? They see me. And that's absolutely enough.
sorcyress: Drawing of me as a pirate, standing in front of the Boston Citgo sign (Default)
Cryptic:

Yes, of course the logical thing to do when I tell you I am not always good at accepting gifts is to give me something so perfectly tailored on so many levels that it makes me stop breathing for a moment.

AlsoCryptic:

Yeah, so, I guess I _really have to work on that_ then, don't I? Fck. In a good way. In an overwhelmed way. The prospect of success is terrifying.

NotCryptic:

Um, go write me porn? Seriously, like practically no one has written anything this year, and it's heartbreaking. Except for that one person who wrote me more than a dozen, which is totally awesome and to be encouraged, but holy crap I don't want to post more stories from one person than everybody else combined, that is just silly.

So yeah.

~Sor
MOOP!
sorcyress: Just a picture of my eye (Me-Eye)
Sometimes you find lines, but don't have the essay to put them into.

I feel rather like it might be arriving in Oz just to find the emerald city to be made of cardboard and paint.

((And sometimes you have lines and the essay to put them into is not so good as to be worth the trouble of posting it))

~Sor
MOOP!
sorcyress: Drawing of me as a pirate, standing in front of the Boston Citgo sign (Default)
Okay, I'm at that point where I have sixty tabs open across seven browser windows, and that really means that I need to make a link post and get on with my life. So here, have some sundries!

*Boston folk, in last Saturday's flooding, Taza Chocolatier got hit hard. They are trying to convince people to buy their stock so they have money for repairs. Buy some chocolate for a worthy cause!!

*Also Boston Folk, today at seven PM there is going to be a recess in Davis Square. Bring your jump ropes and four square balls, and believe me, I would be there in a heartbeat if I was a few hundred miles north and east of here.

*Improv Everywhere's newest stunt: Recreating the beginning of "Star Wars: A New Hope" on the Subways!

*I'll be honest here: I really quite want this foldable bicycle. It's a neat design, and I emphatically want to have a bike to tool around with up in Boston, to the point where I'm gonna need to find a way to get mine up there *some*how. So yeah.

*"But then there are some shows that go completely beyond the pale of enjoyability, until they become nothing more than overwritten collections of tropes impossible to watch without groaning." (A hilarious review of that terribly unrealistic show on the History Channel --"World War II" (I mean, could you *get* more melodramatic?). Read the comments. Sporfle warning.)

*I will unfortunately not be able to post this Girls With Slingshots guest strip by Erika Moen in my future classrooms, but I want to so badly!

*Locked posts, so no links, but I'd like to extend appreciation to [livejournal.com profile] chickenhat for "LESS COWBELL!" and to [livejournal.com profile] ncarraway for giving an earworm trigger warning when he mentioned GaGa's Bad Romance.

*[livejournal.com profile] ms_hecubus continues to keep a fairly funny blog (seriously, I should make the list of people who's journals are fun to read even if you don't know them1), this time ranting about how "Every time I use a plastic bag, the terrorists win". (And hopefully she will not mind me linking her, as I was impolite and didn't ask permission this time)

*Oh, and her followup letter to Sears.

*Speaking of Racheline (You do read the footnotes when they come up, and not at the end, right?), she went to a conference recently, and made this post about secrets and exile that talks about coming out about various things. And then I babble about this a lot more, because I find it important )

*Oh look, another [livejournal.com profile] ms_hecubus post, this time Sensibly pointing out that boobies are both sexual and practical items, and to try and define them as one hundred percent one or the other is useless

*[livejournal.com profile] yagathai came up with a fantastic new portmanteau: Voluntarting. Please go use in a sentence.

*Look! It is A map of the creative process!!

*So, I follow the [livejournal.com profile] davis_square community because I like knowing what's going on in my world --signal to noise is high enough to keep me coming back. Most of the posts seem to get between zero and fifty comments or so. So when I see one that gets _253_, I pay some small attention.

It is, of course, a post on how to have good bicycle/car relations.

I love my hippie city and miss it dearly.

*Mel Gibson Rant Quotes Presented by Kittens. I don't even know how to react to this. Trigger warning: severely abusive misogynistic language.

*Animation showing all the nuclear bombs that have gone off from 1945 to 1998, including test sites and the like. Long, but neat.

*Want respect for bicycles as transport? Use them that way!

*[livejournal.com profile] ratatosk talks about a recent court decision saying that the FCC's current indecency policy is unconstitutionally vague. Go censorship fighting!

And that seems to be everything. Now I can go clear the two hundred or so items out of my RSS reader. WOO!

~Sor
MOOP!

1: Also on that list is:

[livejournal.com profile] rm, who writes about dancing and fandom and gender and the whole racism-misogony-homophobia-god-society-sucks-thing and doesn't really take shit, and writes just *fantastic* stories about a life that seems very much to be a part of a different world and time sometimes.

[livejournal.com profile] kittikattie, who writes about video games and American Girl dolls and ponies and art and the whole society sucks thing and takes even less shit than Rach and has a constantly amusing slice of life journal thing going on with lots of pictures of interesting stuff and is the one who coined the phrase "black day"2 which I use sometimes.

And ShadowCaptain would be if he hadn't left elljay for the evil that is Facebook, and Ms_Hecubus like I said, and there are almost certainly other people who have interesting and entertaining journals, in case you need more to read, which I doubt. Dan4th and Heptadecagram, when they post. Others. Whatever, maybe I'll make this into a post of sorts sometime.

2: Black Day: A day in which you put on your gothy best, because sometimes it is nice to be all black-clad and take-no-shit. She always has one on the fourteenth of February, as well as two or three others across the year, mine show up sporadically, but seem to be reoccurring on the fourth of July.

3: In watching Clueless the other day, I remarked that "only to a sixteen year old would "and you're a virgin who can't drive" be seen as such a slur".
sorcyress: Drawing of me as a pirate, standing in front of the Boston Citgo sign (Default)
I have apparently determined that listening to "Between"1 on endless repeat is fun and a good idea! Doubly frustrating, because I was doing this a couple weeks ago, too --I don't like being in the same gloomspace twice in a month. I thought I had snapped out of this one already.

***

Went into my multivariate calc exam fully expecting to fail. Sat down to maybe scrawl some notes down for a study sheet, and realized that I hadn't actually learned anything all semester. It felt a bit like those stereotypical dreams2 where you didn't know you had a test and so didn't study, except without the waking up part. Quite awful.

Luckily, I was able to pummel my memory into at least writing down something for every part of every problem, and I do think I had some idea of what I was doing on a few of them. I did manage to correctly remember what cross-product multiplication of vectors was, so, yay me I guess.

But yeah. Things I learned this semester: Parameterization. WoooooooooooowhydoIsuckatmath?

***

I am supposed to be packing right now, as today I move the rest of my stuff out and start on my grand gallivanting adventure that I really just *have* to get some e-mails out about. First though, I think I need to find somewhere in Porter Exchange to scavenge breakfast from. So yes, breakfast, then go home and throw everything into boxes, then commit seppuku, then...wait, spellcheck recognizes seppuku? I am astonished, I was just throwing that in to check if anyone was paying attention.

...today is one of those whiny days where I really want attention. I'm going to have to snap my mind out of that before I get annoying, since I'm painfully aware of the fact that me being all *cling, paw, paw, paw* at people is in fact, not charming.

(Today is also one of those whiny days where I somewhat want to hide forever. I'll see how well I can manage that once I've finished packing.)

***

Rackle is really really cool, and said some good words to me last night that I should reread at some point and remember.

***

(Calling Olsen, calling Memphis, I am calling, can you hear this?)

~Sor
MOOP!

1: By Vienna Teng. Good song, great waltz, really honestly kinda depressing as hell when you listen to the lyrics. Multiple depressing ways to look at it, too. It's *brilliant* or something. The fact that it's invaded my world for the moment might be a bad sign, not really sure. I think I prefer to sort out the problems that it expresses rather than collapse under the weight of them. Wooooo, cryptic!

2: I don't remember if I mentioned it when xkcd brought it up, but I don't have stereotypical dreams. I have only rarely dreamt myself naked, and never had my teeth fall out. I've never flown (though I would fall for a while, but not endless falling --just a ten-twenty foot drop half sliding alongside a wall). My dream tropes involve getting uncomfortably groped by people I'm supposed to be platonically fond of. Oh, and food. I have good food dreams unfairly often.
sorcyress: Drawing of me as a pirate, standing in front of the Boston Citgo sign (Default)
Every once in a while, something will happen in my private life, that I don't feel would be kind to share in the public journal, usually because it involves someone else, but occasionally just because I do have my own life (kinda) and a right to at least a little bit of privacy.

Of course, it being me, I immediately want to get the input of the world at large, for virtually everything that ever happens ever. Breaking up with Blue Canary is a prime example of this --the day it happened, I made a filtered post, to some of the people I was closer to at that point, and I didn't bother to tell anyone else until a few weeks later.

So yes. Something kindof completely unexpectedly sweet and mature and wonderful just happened, and I'm not gonna give you more details than that, nyah nyah. There is a reason I have a cryptic tag on here.

((Man, if you could tag twitter entries though, that would get waaaay more milage than over here. I use twitter as my immediate "THIS IS MY MOOD" all the time, which leads to a lot of crypticness.))

Semirelatedly, I'll never understand why I find it so awesome when people act like sane adults. I was clearly brought up by society to be cynical and emo or something, because it throws me for a loop when I *don't* get abused by the world sometimes. So yay?

*smiles like a ninny*

~Sor
MOOP!
sorcyress: Drawing of me as a pirate, standing in front of the Boston Citgo sign (Default)
I spent the weekend in New York City with [livejournal.com profile] thorog and his girl, Rose. Insert appropriate They Might Be Giants song here.

We...basically had a sinfully good time of things. Saturday, we arrived and went to Surreal Estate, which is the house/commune [livejournal.com profile] muzikmaker21 and roughly fifty other hippies live in. We got the grand tour, and learned far too many names --I think I picked up that prettyboy is Quin(t?), and I met an adorably charming girl called Meg, an aussie named Hannah, and a different adorably charming girl called Emma, who was totally flattered when I accidentally called her Meg. We also went and got really good pizza from the sustainable pizza place across the street from Surreal Estate, where Nathen works.

Eventually, we wandered off to Times Square, where we stood in an abysmally long TKTS line1 and spent much time debating what show to try and see2. We were this close to going and seeing ROCK OF AGES3, but there was not seats together, so we decided we'd rather sit in the same place, and see Avenue Q.

After TKTS, we hit up Toys R Us, where we acquired a Brenton/[livejournal.com profile] gyrik_224, and bunches of candy. We did not acquire a dinosaur, because it wouldn't fit in my purse, or a stick pony, even though I was tempted. Also, LEGO PIRATES ARE HAPPENING AGAIN! Just so you all know.

Dinner wound up being at a bar a couple blocks up from Times Square (Daltons? I think Daltons) which was good food, very nice to Rose and her pepper-allergy, and did not try to card us when we walked in, which would've resulted in me being kicked out5. So they get points! From there to AveQ, which was fairly enjoyable, and pretty much targeted exactly at the four of us --the girl halfway through her undergrad, the girl in the middle of her graduate degree, the boy just out of college and trying to make a living in the big city, and the boy trying to get a doctorate. Musicals written for twenty-somethings are fun!

Wandered for a while in search of ice cream, settled for Jamba Juice at the Port Authority, at least in part because they had bathrooms. Headed back to Surreal Estate, where we learned that drunk hippies really really like delicious oatmeal chocolate chip cookies6. Tho and Rose did their own thing for a bit, and I went out on one of the roofs with Nathen and Meg to chill. Oh, and in case I haven't made it clear enough yet, Surreal Estate is very *very* awesome. I may go ahead and take my ten day trial period sometime, were I a New York kind of girl. ((They give you ten days before they figure you've moved in, and should therefore pay rent or teach dancing or give backrubs or something. They are a very chill commune.))

We slept. [I am debating this sentence, someone remind me to ask Tho if I can post it.] Sunday morning we woke up, got dressed, and danced salsa and swing in the common room. Eventually, we managed to wander out for bagels, which were delicious, and thrift storing, which was really quite fun --Nathen managed to find a tie that said "viagra" on it repeatedly, and I got a gorgeous summery dress --doubly good, since it was a billion degrees out, and I had previously been wearing black jeans.

We left Surreal Estate and headed to The Strand, where we again met up with Brenton. I'm not entirely sure what happened between 1:30 and 4, but I think it involved a lot of books, and possibly Forbidden Planet. From there, we walked many many blocks to a tiny little macaroon shop Tho had found out about using the power of the INTERNET! and then a pasta shop for dinner, and a quick look around Macys while waiting for the bus home.

Ended out the trip by sitting on the sidewalk in a light rain, chatting and snuggling. Long, overly hot, ride home with some absolutely smashing conversation, and then to bed, to bed.

...or in my case, to Vera, in order to chat with people and make sure none of you has exploded while I was gone.

And that was my weekend! Origins in three days! Aiee, I've got to pack >.<

~Sor
MOOP!

1: Dear mom, you lied, it's not under the Marriot Marquee anymore. It is in fact, smack in the middle of Times Square
2: NTS: Write "Phantom of Chicago Q...OF AGES!"
3: \m/
4: Okay, yeah, there's a reason I couldn't remember your screenname, Dragon. It is a complicated name, that I'm not totally positive I can pronounce.
5: Not that we ordered any boozahol anyways. But they do sometimes card at the door, and being as I was the only under-21 in the group, it would've been annoying as all hell.
6: Brenton made 'em for us because he's a gentleman or somesuch. They were fekken' delicious, and did not last very long at all.
sorcyress: Drawing of me as a pirate, standing in front of the Boston Citgo sign (Default)
I'm not strong. But sometimes? I'm strong enough.

S
MOOP!
sorcyress: Drawing of me as a pirate, standing in front of the Boston Citgo sign (Default)
Oh hey, I never posted this. It seems pretty readable, so have an essay that's been lying around on my desktop for a couple weeks. I think I wrote it just post-NEFFA or so.



So, I don't shave my legs.

(I don't shave my armpits either, but it's a little easier to hide that --I can wear t-shirts all summer. There is weather where pants *really* aren't an option.)

I've never shaved --never really seen the point. My general feeling about it is that the only thing it really accomplishes is boy attraction, and therefore falls into the same category of "completely fucking useless" as wearing make-up does. When I was of an age to learn how and get into the habit, I was also of an age where boys were useless and relationships impossible. For just post-pubescent Sorcyress, boy chasing was the furthest thing from my mind.

As I've gotten older, actually accepted that maybe this relationship idea is not all bad all the time, and started to (on occasion) do things specifically to attract boys1, 2, I've still never bothered to shave my legs. Between the feministy stance and the much larger "I am lazy and a little bit of a perfectionist and I don't want to waste my time doing that to the degree I'd want to" stance, I've just never gotten around to it.

This would not be a problem, were I not a little bit self conscious of my hairy self. Okay, a lot self conscious. I try really quite hard to love my body just the way it is, but as with the stomach thing (mine is round, not flat), I live in a society that has made it very very clear that my body is NOT PERFECT and I should therefore try to fix it.

This is obviously bullshit. The clearest reason I can see for having a societally perfect body is so I can catch myself a man. Maybe if I get to a point where I can't rattle off without thinking the names of ten guys3 who would happily have sloppy make-outs with me I'll shave and start binge-dieting like it's going out of style6, but in the meantime, I think I can live comfortably with my really quite awesomely hot body just as it is.

Now, almost a year ago, something in my attitudes changed. Prior to this, I tended to wear a lot of tights, a lot of pants, yes, all summer long. Tank tops would only be worn with an open button-up shirt over them. Society couldn't make me take a razor to skin7, but it could at least make me hide the fact that I didn't.

So, a year ago, I was driving somewhere with my friend Jim. It was recockulously hot out, because it was summer in Maryland, and I was wearing shorts. At one point in the conversation, he commented, and I gave my usual "I am lazy and a feminist and therefore don't bother" answer. His response? Totally without mocking "You go girl."

My brain clicked into place, and more or less all was right with the world. That was about the point of my life where I started actively trying to be better about loving my body like it deserves. I've stopped wearing tights when I know damn well they'll be too warm, short skirts are even less the enemy than before, and while I'm still a little bit self conscious wandering out in the world, I'm getting better and better at just not giving a shit.

I don't get in people's faces about it. I don't rail against my smooth-legged friends. ((Hell, when given the invitation, I will happily run my hands up and down my roommates just shaven legs --all of the niceness without any of the itching or stubble the next day!)) I don't even usually bring it up. I just wear short skirts and bare legs and let people decide for themselves whether that's terrible. If people can't be friends with me just because I don't match that idea of normalcy, well, I don't really want them to stick around to find all the other deviant behaviours I indulge in.

I still can't look in the mirror every day and think I'm gorgeous. Hell, half the time I can't even manage seeing "pretty". But I'm getting a lot better at looking in the mirror and seeing myself, exactly as I'm meant to be, and not someone uncomfortable in her own skin.

~Sor
MOOP!

1: I feel that this is about the point in the essay where I should say I'm only using boys because I am too lazy to constantly write out "folk who like girls" I have no problems with being ogled by members of any gender --at least not when I'm in ogleable mode. It's a weird little exhibitionist line, and would probably take another essay to explain.

2: And I still don't often do things specifically to attract people. Rocky Horror and *some* conventions are the only exceptions, and only to a small extent.

3: This is not an exaggeration, and I've thought of at least two more since I said that. And these are just the folk I *know* want sloppy make-outs --I'll be damned if I can ever remember or keep track of how many of you want to take me home and do naughty things with me.4

4: ...or to me, but that's a different post, and one I don't feel like putting here. Suffice to say, I think that sloppy make-outs5 should have all parties as active participants. More fun like that.

5: This is a euphanism.

6: Or, you know, I'll just get over it and be happily single. Shock, horror, all that.

7: And that's another thing. Razor blade. Can kill people. Scraping against skin. How the *fuck* is this considered normal for *anyone*?

((That being said, I do have maybe a slight preference for clean shaven men. But I've had perfectly nice kissies with boys with beards before, so really, shaven status is totally up to them. Unless they try to grow a pornstache. I do not give kissies to boys with pornstaches.))
sorcyress: A character from a comic about the maintenance workers of the universe, holding a thumbs up and saying "MOOP!" (Zonker-MOOP!)
So, this weekend I went to NEFFA. YAY! I decided to go the entire time without Vera. YA...oh, wait, BOO!

But! Before going, I set up my phone to receive twitter messages, from mom and the people who were gonna be at NEFFA, and more importantly, set it up so I could update my twitter from anywhere I got phone service.

Tweets are in italics, and under the cut )

So yes. NEFFA this year felt largely more like a convention than a dance event, but I'm pretty okay with that. I spent several hours doing multiple kinds of dance --I got to do a bit of swing with a really talented lead --he led me through a couple jumps and dips, which was rad.

Volunteering went reasonably well, if dull. Dancing was not enough but quite good what there was. People were utterly amazing --I should really make a point of talking to SpringIsWrath more often, as he is wonderful, plus keeping up with Jesse (known also as Boy-I-Kissed-At-Flurry) and [livejournal.com profile] ncarraway.

Soyes! That was my weekend. More posting on more things eventually.

~Sor
MOOP!

POSTSCRIPT: My twitter is here, if you want to actually follow it. Let me know offlist who you are, so I can follow you back!

1: I like boys in skirts, oh yes I do.

2: Tall. Painfully skinny. Long hair. I don't find everyone who fits this trope attractive, and there are certainly other tropes I go for hard (my height, something like twenty or thirty pounds more of curves than I have, dark hair, female -oh yum!) but both my dating track record and my eyecandy track record reeeeally like the gangly ones.

3: Pets, with the capital letter, are different from pets, without. The capital letter denotes ownership of some sort --it's very not my kink, but not to the level where I'd call it an antikink4 or anything. I find it a fascinating power dynamic, from both sides.

4: I feel that the most acceptable word for the opposite of a kink is a squick. But the word squick (and its original meaning)...well...squicks me, so I try not to use it. I'm working on finding a better word, expect post on this later.
sorcyress: xkcd panel with a single character alone at the computer and the text "Some nights, typing *hug* just doesn't cut it." (xkcd hug)
Following yesterday's theme of offbeat things fixing my mood, I am feeling better now because I lied to jere7my.

Now, normally, lying to jere7my is a naughty wicked thing and absolutely shouldn't be done. But it was one of those "are you okay?" "yes." lies --not that it makes it better or nothin', but at least I hope you can all understand that it's the sort of lie I tell far too often, and am therefore very used to doing.

He said okay. Trusting my answer, we returned to the dance.

I blinked, and my brain laughed at me. "Well dear" a rather sensible part of it said. "You told him you were okay. I do think that means you have to actually be okay now."

And so I more or less was.

***

As for reasons why my mood was in a not good place, well, the most of those belong in other venues. Stress about classes, and schoolwork and scheduling for next year is one. An interesting analysis of what is lost by the choices I have made is another. Letting my brain slowly piece together all the reasons why I might have failed one particular facet of my life is a very unpleasant third.

None of them are going to go away in the next few days, especially not if my body is going to insist on spewing blood shortly, like I suspect it will. I don't anticipate feeling particularly happy, probably not in more than brief spurts until the summer, but at least I don't seem to feel particularly negative. And in the meantime, there are ferrets and lemon cake, and those are both very very good things indeed.

I'm sure one of these days, the things that make me cry will go back to all being based in myself, and my own poor self-image, rather than in the problems caused by other people and my relationships with them. I look forward to it --while it's never fun to feel hideous and unloved, it's much easier to snap my brain out of it than when I'm trying to comprehend why I feel so hurt in a situation where no one involved has done anything wrong. Tears shed at the fault of others are generally more earned than tears shed at my own faults, or something equally melancholic and poetic.

Have a good evening, my dears.

~Sor
MOOP!
sorcyress: Drawing of me as a pirate, standing in front of the Boston Citgo sign (Default)
Woo!

Soyeah, it's my first day of classes for the new semester! So far I have taken Italian, which has a very Italian teacher ohmygod (her accent is...not my thing, but still kinda awesome) and eaten lunch. It's been a productive day.

On the plus side of everything, I think I may actually be getting at least one meal into me at least three days a week because there is a lovely hour long break between Italian and Calc (YAY CALC YAY CALC YAY CALC!) which should be spent entirely on the main campus where the food is. So yayfood.

And presumably, I can arrange to grab things to eat the other two days of the week as well. So this is a good arrangement, despite having all my classes on campus this semester rather than at Porter Exchange.

There was something else I wanted to say, but I don't know what. Um. Yaymoney? Oh, cage matches! Right, cage matches. *is notetoself*. Also, thing.

Damnit, I took my focusmeds today! (For the first time in over a month) I should not be this scattered! Ah well. I think it's time for me to go to class now. Ta!

~Sor
MOOP!

(Yes, I know boring entry is boring. You can scroll past it, if you read this first. :D)
sorcyress: Drawing of me as a pirate, standing in front of the Boston Citgo sign (Default)
Apologies for missing yesterday, I suppose. This is really only just my project, I think, so I don't know why I feel the need to offer apologies to anyone else. Still though. It's just been...a long day. Didn't get a chance to post, not really, so I'm just going to skip the ninth and go onto the tenth.

The tenth is more relevant, anyways.

One year ago today, it was 2008. And I had a bit of a panic attack. Nothing too serious --just me bailing on reality for a bit, climbing my tree, talking to the denizens1. Being shoeless and in a t-shirt in a tree, at night, in what I think I remember being wet. All of this (including and especially the bodymisery2) is very normal for me.

Different from most every panic attack prior to that date, this was the first time I have any memory of being able to Get Help with my insanities.

I'm up there, in my tree, with Gabe just holding me --not trying to help me, not trying to sort me out, just being this presence wrapped around me in a way that no one had ever really done in the real world3. And somehow, he gave me the strength to know that I would listen to someone else, and that the only way to do that was to use that tool in my pocket and call someone.

I forget exactly what I got Magus to tell me when I called him...something along the lines of "You're a worthwhile person, okay?". And...it worked. We talked a little on the phone, and a bunch on IM. It's frightening to trust like that; I'm still not really any good at it.

But at least I'm getting better.

Oh, and Sor? You're right here:
And I have no idea why I'm telling you all this and I think I may need to go sit quietly back behind my walls for a little bit, but that's probably not the right answer except it's safer there
Only not, because walls trap people inside them


Soyes. I'm actually planning to discuss the entry from today more when I get around to making my resolutions2008 post. But damn. It's nice to know how to trust people. And it's really really nice to know that I have people who, when they ask how I'm feeling, I can say I feel shit and babble a bit and they'll comfort me and randomly and for no reason tell me I'm pretty6.

Take care of yourselves, y'all. And call me if you need that shoulder --I mean it.

~Sor
MOOP!

1: Annnd slitting Alis's throat. Yeah. I get fucked up during panic attacks. Luckily, denizens don't die like that.

2: Bodymisery --using the world around me to inadvertently hurt myself. Letting myself be hungry or freeze my ass off. Yes, I know I should do that sort of shit, but when I'm in that sort of state, I can't bring myself to care or believe I deserve the proper human comforts I tend to love.

3: I have this thing...since I was very young, most every time I've cried, I've had this desperate want for someone to just be there to hold me and help me feel better. Of course, if I called them or in any way got them to come do such a thing, it would be tainted by the fear that I was hurting someone through my own misery, or dragging them away from something more important4. As such, I have *been* held like I needed when I cried, twice now even. It's mind-bogglingly amazing to realize you're living one of your fantasys.5

4: Yes, I know this is *really* stupid. You don't have to tell me.

5: 2008 I got to live three big ones, that I remember. Yeah. Yeah. It was an amazing year.

6: Gods, I love that. I never get tired of it, and I'll probably never stop blushing and smiling like an idiot.
sorcyress: Drawing of me as a pirate, standing in front of the Boston Citgo sign (Default)
So, day!

Woke up at eleven thirty or so. Totally intended to stay in bed through three hits of my (five minute) snooze alarm, but my bladder expressed disapproval of this and I had to get up1. This is, I'm sure, more than you wanted to know.

Washed hair2, got back to the room, found a message on my phone from Maddie being all "food?" Went and ate lunch with Maddie and Emily and Ria, Maddie ran off, Ria, Em, and I went up to Ria's room and watched YouTube videos for a while. Eventually, Ria had to catch the shuttle to AIB, so Emily and I went walking towards Harvard Square, so I could run a SEKRIT MISSION and so Emily could meet up with her boyfriend.

Secret mission accomplished, boy gathered, and Maddie aquired (we found her!) the four of us trekked off towards Oona's, which is a bit like a high end thrift store. Or, in other words, it's one of those stores that steals money using magic money stealing techniques. On the plus side, I now have a bitchin' brown velvet jacket that I'm sure I will use in some costume, someday (It was only two dollars!) *and* I have another short skirt3. So, I suppose it was a successful trip.

Walked back, hung out with Maddie for a bit and chatted, then walked inside the student center, totally intending to go upstairs and get on my blacks and get Vera and stuff. Got waylaid by a bunch of awesome people, including Nick Wookie and his mom, and the ever-wonderful LezzieBeth, who is the biggest dyke on campus. And this is Boston, so that's saying something.

Quote of the day is wins:

Beth: Yeah, and I've been asked to be in threesomes like twelve times.
Nick: Beth! This is my MOTHER!
Nick's Mom: *covers Nick's ears with her hands* It's okay, I have been too.
Nick: ..........*dies*

And I have resolved to tell everyone in the cast this quote, in order to get revenge on Nick for yesterday when he pulled me onstage during bows. Fucker.

Andyeah. Have been doing theatre things since about five. *waves and runs off to continue*

~Sor
MOOP!

1: This is, I'm sure, more than you wanted to know.
2: NTS, buy more conditioner. Other NTS, you apparently use conditioner faster than you use shampoo.
3: I'm not silly enough to call them dangerously short anymore, since everyone bitched at me about it last time. :P
sorcyress: Drawing of me as a pirate, standing in front of the Boston Citgo sign (Default)
A/N: The events and things and thoughts and feelings leading up to this particular thoughtstream have been sorted out and reasoned with and talked over and etc. In short, please don't read too deeply into this post, I'm not trying to put it out there as a hint to anyone*, it is merely some words that I think sound good strung together.

***

friendship privileges )

~Sor
MOOP!

*...anymore.
**This may be less true than I think. I'm not sure how body shy I am at the moment, it tends to vary across a long range, even within the same people.
***Well, technically, I don't want to stoink anybody. Replace with snog/date/pet as appropriate.

Not private because I'm better than that.

Interviews

Mar. 31st, 2006 10:41 pm
sorcyress: Drawing of me as a pirate, standing in front of the Boston Citgo sign (Default)
I've been interviewed! By Aren, V, Momo, Fish, and Katters! )

And that is all. Time to go be quite dr0nk some more.

...not that the results are entierly bad. Stil though. NTS: Don't drink anything Kat gives me and won't tell me what it is.
NTS2: Certainly don't drain the thermous if she does.

~Sor
MOOP!

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