Eeeeeeeemo.

Being alone for a long enough period of time gives me three courses of action.

I'll dance like an idiot. Music pumped, body moving, fuckin' WOO! Also, do handstands and stuff, for practise. But I like this one. It's somewhere between happiness and joy, and just plain fun.

I'll masturbate. Pretty self explanatory. This one is a weird option, because sometimes it's awesome and gah-can't-walk-good, and sometimes it's heartbreakingly lonely.

Or I'll cry.

I cry a lot. Probably more than any of you realize or think, and I certainly couldn't tell you how often, beyond "I have fucking *sobbed* four times in five days¹, and while that seems slightly high, it doesn't seem significantly so."

It's my response to emotion. Which I kinda hate, a lot, because it's so weak, and I'm not supposed to be weak, I'm supposed to be this awesome kickass strong chick. But I cry when my mood goes sour, and I cry when I get all overwhelmed by love, and I cry when I feel I'm safe enough to do so. I cry at weddings and funerals and in memory of the dead and the living and the loved.

I cry when I'm freaking out. I cry when I get overwhelmed. I cry when I get frustrated, and when I get angry and when I get insecure. And of course, can't have a panic attack without a healthy dose of -gods-can't-escape- tears.

(And yes, it occurs to me that maybe this is one of those "see-a-doctor, get-on-meds" sorts of things. But I don't think I'm Depressed --I find it inconceivable that I could ever contemplate suicide in more than the theoretical, and a lot of the time I am really really happy, or at least content. No doubt a dose or six of therapy would do a body good, but I also think I'm managing life without.)

And so this is how I react to things. Fine, whatever. I also solve problems, at least some of the time, although I'm not always good at solving the social ones, and so they tend to be pretty harsh on me. But I work them out, or get them to managable levels. And if I can't solve them, I look for ways to deal with it, and generally manage pretty okay.

But it sucks, and not just because then my glasses get all streaked with saltwater and I get headaches. I don't particularly like being weepy, and when I get thus, it's all too easy for my insecurities to kick into high gear, reminding me of all the actual reasons² I have to cry, and not just this one stupid slice of negativity. And once I start having to deal with that mess, I'm pretty much a wreck for a little bit, until I can quite firmly get ahold of myself and make things better.

(Usually by cranking music so loud I can't think. It's incredibly cathartic. Bad for my ears, but cathartic.)

And...I don't know. This really doesn't have much of a point beyond confessing, I suppose, and seeing if that helps a little. I mean, I'm certainly getting better at accepting that I cry like an idiot annoyingly often. Just putting this out there with the hopes that all you can accept it too.

~Sor
MOOP!

1: Anger and insecurity over sexism, having a mild panic attack about the potential of a mouse, sobbing over none of your damn business yesterday, and breaking down crying about more none of your damn business today.

And I mean, my period's gonna start any day now -hell, I think it's technically overdue by a couple days (which is one of those things that I never think about, because there is actually no chance whatsoever that I'm preggers, but I *will* start doing the stupid "well what if he masturbated and then touched my hand and I masturbated OH SHIT!" sorts of doomsday scenarios. And those stress me out, and I know damn well that stress makes my period late. It's a vicious cycle.

Besides, my tits ache. I'm gonna start spewing blood any day now, judging by that. I'm totally not preggers.

2: I keep a mental list of things that are so staggeringly overwhelmingly bad right now that I can't solve them. Most of them are not things I'm willing to tell you --the two men that have done significant psychological damage to me, being mad homesick and missing mom, various relationship woes -not that I ever have such things ever, because I seriously have the best damn retinue of boys anyone could ever wish for. Also missing people. It really really hurts to be several hundred (thousand) miles away from the people you want to be with right now. You can only do so much with IM and Skype.

On modeling

So, this morning started with doing something I've only gotten to do once before --modeling for a friend.

"But Kat, you go to a school that is half an art school. An unhealthy portion of your friends are artists. How on Earth have you only managed to model once before?"

I have no idea, maybe my friends are the sorts of artists that don't need models? But at any rate, my friend Haeden is doing his photography project this semester on gender and gender expression. He asks me "do you know anyone...?" I reply "Well, me, and I can scout around."

So we spent about an hour, taking pictures, and then me writing some words down about them. It was very neat, and we got sortof a sliding gender scale for me --gentleman, genderneutral, femme, slut. Which isn't the full set of gendered words that I feel can describe me (hint: Woman doesn't, nor does man) but I feel it's a good sample of the most important of them.

It was extremely fun. I like modeling, apparently, and I'm totally vain¹ enough to enjoy looking at the pictures afterwards. I'll be sure to let you lot see as well.

Now, I am going to go to a museum with jere7my and have a generally good time of things. Have a nice day, kids!

~Sor
MOOP!

1: Carly Simons *did* write that song about me, after all...

P.S: My body has pointed out that I'm definitely not preggers. Yaaa-no wait ow. I will go back to touching boys hands with impunity.