MOOP!

WARNING: This post doesn't really get so far as talking about rape, per se, but it does talk about regular, routine, sexual assault. Trigger warning in effect.

Unlike most of the people on my friends list, I am really not that long out of high school at all. I graduated a little more than two years ago, and entered just over six years ago. This journal was started in December of my freshman year --it makes a really good chronicle of my life sometimes.

And sometimes, I laugh at naive younger!Sor, and sometimes we argue, and sometimes she weeps for me, as I am now. And sometimes, I weep for her, as she was then

On a similar note, why would any girl want to degrade herself by LETTING boys smack her on the rear end, or pinch or grab her butt? I see it in school way to often, guys do that to the girls and the girls just LAUGH! Why the hell don't they care?? That guy just grabbed one of your "private parts," a part of the body that you've known since childhood is even more private and personal then the rest of your body, and you just sit there and giggle. You IDIOTS! Trust me, and guy who gets his hand within a foot of my rear end will suddenly find that hand shoved down that throat. It still being attached to his arm is optional.
18/May/2004. Please don't mind the fact that it has taken me a very long time to apparently learn the difference between to and too.

Because it's really really hard to fight against everyone you're close to. Because you don't want to be called a prude, uptight¹. Because if you deck the guy, you've forced your friends to see you as "humourless" and perhaps a freak.

After all. He was only doing it in good fun.

I've never much had to worry about seriously resisting the peer pressure of the average high school crowd, because I was so far flung out of it *anyways*. I ignored and avoided nearly everyone who wasn't either part of the Table --largely a collection of those of us who were two (or more!) grades ahead in math and liked playing magic-- or the Theatre. The boys I grew up around, certainly in those first two or three years of high school, were sweet and dorky and painfully inept at girls. More importantly, they were gentlemen, and I think the idea of smacking one of their friends on the ass was just as taboo to them as it was to me.

But reading blogs, and posts, I stumble across the following --

A growing number of teenage girls view sexual harassment and even assault as “normal,” says a top Toronto school board official.
Gerry Connelly described the “new normal” phenomenon during her keynote address at the annual Safe Schools Conference in Toronto today.
“A young girl will see somebody being pushed against a locker and fondled inappropriately, or they are being touched inappropriately and they say: ‘Well that’s just the way it is,’” said Ms. Connelly, director of education at the Toronto District School Board.²

And that's what it was to me --normal. Sickening, and dirty, and slutty, and how dare those girls degrade themselves like that, but ultimately, a fairly normal sight to see. 14!Sor never once considered that maybe it wasn't the girls degrading themselves, so much as submitting to being degraded³. Out of fear of being ostracized, out of an inability to fight back, out of just not caring, because they know it's not going to stop, whatever.

And maybe I was wrong, and it wasn't sexual harassment at all. Maybe most of it was couples, roughhousing, playing, being just a little bit of exhibitionists just to show off they had each other. Maybe it was friends goofing around. Maybe not one of those girls I ever saw ever felt the slightest bit uncomfortable with the situation --it was just another touch, like a hug.

But I honestly kind of doubt it.

~Sor
MOOP!

1: Perhaps nearly as bad an insult as slut, some days.
2: From PunkAssBlog, the article "The Evolution of a Feminist"
3: I...can't quite get this wording right. I want to say that the girls themselves were not doing anything wrong, however, they also weren't trying to fight back, and were instead accepting the situation -which is not inherently wrong, it's hard to fight against someone stronger than you, especially if you don't want to be told to just lighten up- but also did not necessarily help their situation. Insert debate here as to how much the victim is responsible for changing their situation. Yes, the abusers are fully at fault, but if no one ever stands up and tells them that it's wrong --and that did not necessarily need to be the girls-- they will continue their abuse. Orsomethinglikethat?

WARNING, because my disclaimers go both ways, for the people who read their friends lists from the bottom on up!
This post talks about regular, routine sexual assault at a high school level. Trigger warnings, and all that.

Every occasionally, I break out my deck of tarot cards for a few days, and start to mess around with them.

I don't particularly believe in an ability to see the future. I wouldn't want to be able to see the future if I could. I like not knowing, because yes, it could be terrible, but yes, there is still hope. Without knowing how terrible it will be, there is always a sense of hope.

I don't know how much I believe in magic. How much I believe that I can attune the deck to myself. I refuse to keep the deck in its box though. I keep the cards wrapped in a piece of sheer black cloth, and I have for several years now. They live under my bed sometimes, and on my desk sometimes, but I can always tell you where. They're not important to me rationally, but every once in a while, I get spiritual, and it's nice to have a physical component to my rituals.

The first thing I did when I started to seriously use the cards was get rid of the instructions. Get rid of the interpretations. Get rid of what other people think the cards mean when you draw them, because the other people have no idea what's going on in my head right now. Using pre-defined concepts limits how I can interpret the cards. It turns it from a ritual to a silly little game --"Oh, I wonder what sort of tall dark stranger will come into my life this week."

I interpret the cards based on myself, and only on myself. I can't read for other people --I tried once, I think, and it got twisted up with my own unconscious. Nor do I let other people read for me. This has to be a purely personal thing¹. All the cards get read as if they were drawn right side up -I don't hold for reversals having any specific significance. I shuffle the major and minor arcana together.

Not having set interpretations makes me think about every card. It's a rorschach test --I'm presented with a picture that has nothing to do with me on the surface (Seriously, who has ten swords lying around?) and I have to figure out why the deck gave me that, and what that means to me today. And not having set interpretations means that the deck can use the same cards to tell me different things, depending on who and where I am when I draw from it.

There is some constancy to how I interpret things, of course. Pentacles always tie in with religion, swords are violence or masculinity. Staves are again masculinity, or turn to pencils to represent school. Theoretically, they could also become a message of creativity. Cups are femininity, and sexuality. The major arcana is largely interpreted as it is. I have a standard Rider-Waite deck, and the pictures provide insight as well --eight of swords, five of cups, both are sinister cards for no more reason than the images they show.

I am also not consistent in how I do a reading, though just now I've hit upon a variant I'm rather fond of. I shuffle the deck, sometimes counting how many times I mix the cards, sometimes just letting them become scrambled. Last year I was doing a lot of readings with four or eight cards, oriented to point in four directions. Thirteen is my luckiest of numbers, and I will often pull the top thirteen aside before revealing a card --my newest variant involves doing that five times, then taking the remaining eight cards as a sort of minor reading. Eight is my personal number, I jest that years linked with it are better for me (eighth grade, eighteen, and 2008). And of course, this variant leaves me with thirteen face up cards at the end.

After I've stared long enough, I shuffle the cards back into the deck, and leave it be for a bit. Sometimes I better know who I am, and what I need to do; sometimes I've simply distracted myself for a moment, away from whatever pain made me need the ritual in the first place. I don't do it for answers, I do it for focus, and for stability.

No, this entry doesn't have a proper ending. It's not an essay, it's a collection of thoughts. It's my journal, I can do that if I'd like.

~Sor
MOOP!

1: "Ich Errinere Mich An Weimar" by the World/Inferno Friendship Society. Which is largely not a band that ties into my homebrewed religion, but then again, I have found great power in some of their songs. It fit.

Assuming we leave on time, I've got a little more than an hour left in this particular part of the world. Sixty six minutes, we can call it.

I am, of course, politely terrified. Because I'm serious when I say that I really truly don't intend to ever LIVE in Columbia again. I'll visit, sure. But not the sort of complete move-in that I've been doing.

Yesterday, I spent the morning wandering around and saying goodbye. I skipped one --the park on the left. I've got the time to go say goodbye now, but I almost like it better like this. As a "see you later." It is, after all, where I grew up. More so than any other spot on the paths system, moreso than my one place that is mine alone, more so than anything else there ever was, that playground has watched me age.

I think it approves of me.

For all the vitriol I spew, Columbia was a really wonderful place to grow up, and it's really all because of the paths. The paths and their woods and the playgrounds. Places to run around, places to sled, places to play silly kid games and silly teenaged games. The tree under which Veronica and I would lie for hours just talking, the swingset of synchronity, the equipment for playing blind tag.

The whole thing is a long long chain of memories. Here is where Chris hugged me close and special, here is where I slipped and fell for capture the flag, here is where Veronica and I dammed the creek, here is where I had a moment of sheer badassary. Here and here and here and there, and dammit, they've captured fifteen years of my memories, I have to have some affection for them.

So, goodbye Columbia. Good luck, take care of yourself. I'd love it if your grew into a place a grown-up could live in, but that's not happening, and honestly, that's okay.

You were, for this child, perfect.

~Sor
MOOP!

1532:
Managed to cull the hats into the things I actually regularly wear. Even though it breaks my heart to do such a thing, since I do love my hats, quite dearly. Also, I really need to start doing the mom thing more often, and wearing a backwards ball cap --I have two perfectly good ones. (Would have three if I hadn't lost my Sweeney Todd one like an idiot)

At any rate, that's one of the two really hard clothing things done. Next up...shoes, and those don't squish *nearly* as well.

1619:
NO I DID NOT GET DISTRACTED BY ALYS PLAYING EVERQUEST WHATEVER MADE YOU THINK THAT HAHA

1651:
So, a little bit of exploration re: that bacardi commercial I posted has led me to discover the fun that is Matt and Kim. I'm still sitting at three songs --the ones they've got official music videos-- but I like what I hear. Getting my hands on their album is a must; I keep putting on Daylight to clean to, and dancing around like an idiot instead. It's *very* fun.

Also, I mean, they strip down. In the middle of Times Square. In winter. For a Music Video.

What can I say, I'm a little bit of a sucker for girls who don't shave their armpits. Unshaven legs I can take or leave, but please leave the hair under the arms, it is totally lovely.

((yes, I am a little bit of a freak sometimes))

1700
Also, it bugs me when people whine about musicians selling out. If Matt and Kim hadn't sold out by having their music in that commercial, they would have one less fan who enjoys their stuff and would be willing to go see them play live, if they came anywhere near Boston. (Though I am looking for excuses to go to New York...)

Plus, selling out = enough money to eat and make more music that you'll enjoy. Or whine about. Whichever.

(I am not actually a music fan, just a person who listens to music sometimes and likes it.)

1701
RIGHT WORKING RIGHT!

1719
Notetoself: Don't read YouTube comments. duh.

1724
I have a lot of zip ties, and am not really sure why this is. Also, I'm rapidly approaching the point where I need an actual tool bag for myself, fucking *glee!* even if I lost my totally awesome knife damnit damnit

1736
Seriously, making a cohesive list of everything left I had to pack was a really quite clever idea. Well done, Miss Kyress¹. NOW DO THE THINGS ON THE LIST!

1738
Notetoself, do a Sorky² vocab sheet sometime. Need to have on it: Pumpkin Time, some names of mine, Milk Crates, ponies and monkeys, other things I say a lot, fwen. Similar to my acronyms cheat sheet.

1755
RIGHT THAT WAS AN INTERESTING YET POINTLESS DIVERSION. Back to the accounts.

1805
I do not know what is up with my left hand these days. It just insists on baubles --doesn't feel right without three rings and some bracelets, or something equally warped. WHY DO YOU SO WANT FRIVOLS, SELF?

1816
Also, judging by dad's tentative plans, I have less than forty-eight hours left in Maryland. BOOYAH!

1817
Things I need to do during the daylight hours tomorrow: Return Larry's sound equipment, go to the post office and send presents to people. NTS: Make sure I have addresses. Also, bank. Also, at some point I need to order my birthday present for myself.

1822
Hmm, wonder if the package center is hiring. It would certainly ensure that I actually get all my mail when it comes, and not, oh, in mid summer for packages sent in march. *rars at Lesley*.

((Those cookies were still delicious though!))

1840
The beginning of "Board of Governors" from Jekyll and Hyde always sounds a bit like the music from The Weakest Link to me. More cracktastic artists than myself (or at least, more familiar with the J&H secondary characters) would be drawing this. "Henry Jekyll, you are....THE WEAKEST LINK. GOODBYE!"

...Hyde would like it to be know that he doesn't approve.

1843:
..........ohmygods, Henry Jekyll/Herbert West. They can try to out 'scientist' each other. It'll be all delightfully sociopathic and WONDERFUL. Both of them are all like "It's for a good cau-AUG MY LIFE IS BEING RUINED SHIT SHIT!"

Yes, I know there's only like one person out there who'll appreciate this, but whatever. THAT'S REASON ENOUGH TO POST IT!

1848:
......does that make Hyde Dan? Because...no. Not at all. I'd say maybe Hyde corresponds to West, but Hyde's a lot less concerned with results. Arg and damnation.

1907
HA! I SAY HA! TAKE THAT SHOES! YOU ARE NO MORE A PROBLEM!!!

((That's how I know I'm a chick. Seriously, I have way too many shoes to ever be a boy.))

1927
It's always nice when this project looks doable, instead of "oh god oh god"

2004
Iiiii don't want to do the rest of this. Like, at all. Someone come pack for me?

2012
Still left to sort through/deal with: Notebooks?, Blank papers, Presents, Writing stuff, Wearable clothes, Laundry, Props box, Electronics, Business Cards, Pocket Stuff, Desk

Still left to pack: Photos, Weaponry, Jewelry stuff, Jewelry, Buttons, Love letters, Food, Top of Dresser, Legos?

ARGSAUCE!

I should just post this, and have more entertaining bits and pieces later or something.

~Sor
MOOP!

Postscript: Found my diary. Yay!

1: This is totally the Katters' fault, as are many of my names (See: "Sor") The first time I ever heard her pronounce "Sorcyress" she was doing so with a k sound for the c, rather than the s sound I'd been using. It's...a thing that I split names down the middle (also her fault) so I chose to shift the name from Sor Cyress (Pronounced Sigh-ress)to Sor Kyress. (Kai-ress).

2: Pretty much the same as reasons stated above.

So, ages ago on the internet, I found this video, and tossed it into my YouTube favourites¹.



It's a whole bunch of people dancing to Shakira's "Hips Don't Lie". I like people dancing, and I like this one especially since it's got a nice batch of people, both boy and girl, having fun and, well, dancing!

Later, I found out about the wonderful, *wonderful* "Where the Hell is Matt" video:



Which, again, had lots and lots of different people DANCING. This time, from all over the globe. It makes me smile just about every time, and occasionally makes me all sappy and tear-up. This is because I cry a lot, but also because it's really quite beautiful.

One night while watching television, I was half assedly watching a commercial when my brain went "wait --what?" I promptly rewound (I love living in the future) and affirmed that, yes, this was the most awesome commercial since the Discovery Channel ran its "I Love the World" commercials. It's for Bacardi --Hey booze drinkers, is Bacardi actually awesome, or just really good at advertising?



Wasn't that completely rad? I make no claims whatsoever to the accuracy of any of the dancing, but it's got a nice song, and does a good job of getting the point across, even if it fails dance history forever. ((Notetoself: Point this at Susan sometime))

Lastly, there is this thing called the Brotherhood 2.0. It is a pair of brothers that decided to make a video blog for each other, and send vids back and forth. It is pretty awesome in general, and has attracted a huge following --what they call the Nerdfighters-- who are devoted to decreasing world suck. My friend Ria is one of them, and she's sucked many of the collegefolk into joining as well, at least in a vague sort of way.

Anywho...this is self explanatory:



HAPPY DANCE!

That's all. Have a good day!

~Sor
MOOP!

Arg, footnotefail.

1: My YouTube favourites consist of "everything I might want to watch again sometime". Unless I bookmark a video instead, at which point, eventually I wise up. It's a pretty eclectic mix of videos, since a fair amount of it is music I want to listen to until I get around to buying it, and cartoon bits, and things people have linked me and all manner of nonsense.

EDIT in 2021 to update the links because something went weird with them

Every six months or so, I'll attempt once more to do the Big Paper Sorting Project.

Which, as might be guessed from the name, consists of taking all the papers in my room, sorting them out, and recycling as many as I can bear to part with.

All this really means for this journal is that I start posting weird collections of quotes and one liners and the like --words I want to save, on papers I want to recycle.

No, today is not going to be a big post. I just feel like giving you this:

The Rules:

1) Avoid Stupidity

2) No Wigwams

3) Boys are the stupidest thing to fight over. So are girls. Don't do it.

4) You are the most important person in your life
4a) Your happiness is more important to you than anyone else's

6) No dancing until homework is done
6a) If given the opportunity to shag Randall Munroe, TAKE IT!

Yeah, these are the ones that are pretty much set in stone. I do, in the back of my mind, occasionally mutter about breaking rule three, largely as it's been rule three since...ninth grade? Tenth? Maybe even earlier.

Oh, alright, one more glimpse into my strange and twisted mind:

Stuff I learned this year¹

*Grasshoppers² are *delicious*
*It's okay to cook things from scratch (and awesome)
*Work like a real person
*Bullshit is still the primary component of all essays
*Skirts rule!

~Sor
MOOP!

1: Freshman year of college --Aug2007-May2008
2: Not the bug. The drink.

That's twice in the past thirty-six hours that I've wanted to bite someone gently, as a way of indicating "mine"

It's something I've done for a while now. Biting things is how I claim them as my own. CD's, books, comics, art --if I get something new and utterly fantastic, my response is often to bite one of the corners lightly, not even so hard as to mark it. But hard enough.

With people, it's never an exclusive claiming, of course. Even were I *not* poly, it would not be an exclusive claiming --owning people, and the prospect of being owned both frighten me. But sometimes, the affection and the love wells up in such a way that I do feel in some manner possessive. And so my automatic thought is to bite, lightly, and on the shoulder generally.

It's definitely a light and gentle sort of biting. While I can and sometimes do bite to hurt (both myself and others, always *with* consent, thanks) that's a very *very* different sort of biting, for a different sort of situation. Possession bites are not ever meant to hurt, even in a good way. They are my way of saying you are a friend, you are family, you are nakama, you are part of Mine, and at this moment, I feel particularly close to you, whether you realize it or not.

Of course, I have only a very limited subset of the world that I can do that to -casual biting is not really encouraged in formal circles, or even informal ones, and among those I think of as Mine, not all of them are bite-friendly. But maybe I should start again. A subtle little kiss, with teeth, a way to say in actions what I can't always work out in words.

---

I find it amusing that I already have a tag for this sort of entry...

~Sor
MOOP!

Sometimes I make myself laugh --case in point:

9:53:26 PM jere7my: How's you?
9:53:39 PM Sorky: Not bad
9:53:51 PM Sorky: Cleaning room, kinda
9:53:56 PM jere7my: Ooo.
9:53:59 PM Sorky: May be out of energons
9:54:06 PM Sorky: Will have to beat up some cars until I get more

I really really like the concept of beating random machines until they give me energon cubes.

~Sor
MOOP!

(No, don't worry if you don't know what an energon cube is. It means you probably have an actual life.)

Goddamnit, do I have a tag that says "I have a crush on every boy" yet?

Because I have a crush on every boy.

~Sor
MOOP!

((Inspired in part by "I love photography, origami, board games, bondage, science fiction, movies, and computers", from a new friend's userinfo. Oh, I do so love boys who are honest about the things they like.))

((Also, sometime I'll write a real post about this.))

Women are warm and soft and curvy, and squish in all the right places. They have nice breasts, and hips, and don't have sharp elbows or knees. They take care of their body, and do things to make it look and smell nice.

They know how to cook, and are good at it. They make things from raw ingredients, not from boxes, and know how to go shopping for what they need, and don't even bother with recipes, since it's all so very simple to them anyways.

They sew things. They can both make things from patterns, like costumes and period clothing, or they can modify things that they get from other stores, to make them fit better.

They know what colours look good on them, and what colours match with each other, and what colour belt you should wear with these shoes, and what pattern shirt you should wear with that skirt. They can tell what clothes flatter their figure well, and what clothes won't. They look good in dresses. They own proper underwear, with lace sometimes, that serves just as much as decoration as it does utility.

They wear make-up, often every day. They know how to do it subtle-like, so that no one can tell they're made up, and they know how to do it striking, to emphasize their eyes and cheeks and lips. They can apply lipstick in one go. They know what hues to use for their skin tone. Similarly, they know lots of pretty things to do with their hair, and can pick or choose to match the occasion.

Women follow when they dance. If they're quite good at dancing, they lead sometimes as well, but only with the very inexperienced. They are good at following, and do not try to back lead.

They are flirtatious in appropriate ways. If they are single, they can flirt with strangers out in the big wide world, catch eyes, ask boys for numbers, all that sort of things. If they are hooked, they know how to behave properly as half a couple, know when to kiss their boyfriend, and how to hold him and where hands should be placed.

They do not tell dirty jokes. They may be bawdy in groups of their closest girl friends, discuss vibrators or birth control or very mild kinks, but they wouldn't dare mention masturbation in mixed company, or be vulgar. They are not sexual creatures in public. They may sometimes tease their boyfriends in public, but no one else, and get embarrassed if someone notices.

They are monoamorous, and display cautious amounts of jealousy towards their boyfriend's female friends. They are heterosexual, except for perhaps a few incidents of experimentation in high school or college, and perhaps except for a best friend, with whom wildly over the top, and completely platonic flirtation can occur.

~S/R
MOOP!