sorcyress | Entries tagged with fear

Content Warning: School shootings

I have to leave the house at 7:30 if I want to get to work on time.

At about 7:15 this morning, I was reading my daily webcomics, and got to today's Something*Positive. It involves Rory, the teenager character who is about to graduate high school. It is about the shootings in Uvalde.

Randy Milholland is a fantastic storyteller, and this is not the first time his comic has made me cry. But this might be the first time his comic has made me break. Sitting in my chair just staring and _sobbing_, one moment of cathartic grief that had been building and not able to feel yet.

And it was 7:20. And I have to leave the house at 7:30 if I want to get to work on time.

***

I did what any red-blooded American would do: I distracted myself out of the immediate moment, stopped feeling things, finished my breakfast and went to work, walking through the doors just a few minutes before the bell. I ran into a coworker and gave them a slightly heavy answer to "how are you" which we both diffused with sarcasm and dripping irony about how everything _must_ be okay because we are here at work.

I am sitting in a classroom where my students will come and learn and laugh with each other and play games and copy each other's notes and do tiktok dances and ask for help and teach each other and practice their language and whine about tests and try to distract me and fidget and be enthusiastic and have brilliant insights and maybe someday get shot. I teach English learners, my classrooms are 80% brown, just like Uvalde so it's not like the cops would give a damn about us either.

Everything is broken.

~Sor
MOOP!

Content Warning: School shootings

Fun Fact About Sorcyress 1: I passionately and viscerally dislike passing through tunnels when out and about in the world.

It's not a claustrophobia thing --I was thrilled to be squirming my way through tight spaces at Boda Borg. It's something to do with the sudden and total restriction of freedom in case of attack. Long stretches of scaffolding along the sidewalk elicit the same reaction. If someone were to jump out at me in this space, my options are terrifyingly constrained.

(And it's definitely got an aspect of "can I be attacked here" --I can drive through tunnels with no trouble at all, or ride through them on the T.)

Fun Fact About Sorcyress 2: Approximately every 4-6 months, I spend Way Too Long getting sucked into the terrifyingly dark part of humanity and read about a whole lotta shit I shouldn't be reading about.

When I say "terrifyingly dark" I mean that I've largely stopped reading about serial killers on wikipedia, because at this point, meh. (Plus, you know, I've read 'em all). Humanity's a lot more fucked up and terrifying when it's *not* killing each other.

This is ALWAYS a bad idea. Always¹. I get spooked and nervy and do not like being anywhere with my back exposed. I have made huge strides in the field of "being able to handle my fear" but it still leaves me jumping at shadows for a few days. I have a wonderful large imagination, and a good retention of things I've read. This does not serve me.

Fun Fact About Sorcyress 3: There is a tunnel I have to pass through on my commute.

***

So it's possible that I am leaving work much later than usual due to FFAS2 up there, and it's also possible that I spent a considerable part of the last two hours reading about gross things². And I've been listening to music, and daydreaming, and mostly calmed down the part of my brain that's busy going "YOU ARE ABOUT TO BE KIDNAPPED AND TORTURED FOREVER OKAY"

And I reach the tunnel! The tunnel goes under a bridge. There is technically one on each side. There is no easy way to cross the street over the bridge otherwise, which kinda makes sense --why bother with pedestrian walkways interferin' with the cars when you can just waltz on under! The tunnels are lit at night, which is cool, but the path angle is pretty awkward for the side I usually take.

So I'm cruising along, pretending that I'm not super nervous, because let's face it, I've been kinda fucked up on fear a few times in the last month, and I just keep gritting my teeth and sailing on through because the tunnels only like 50 feet wide, maximum. So, bike bike bike bike THERE IS A SHOPPING CART THAT WAS NOT THERE THIS MORNING AND HOLY SHIT THAT'S A PERSON NOPE NOPE NOPE.

Fun Fact About Sorcyress 4: My brakes currently work! Boy do they!

I screech to a halt and call "sorry!" across because I see the person starting to stir and oh shit I just woke them up, and then I try to back up while still straddling the bike which causes me to fall ass over teakettle and drop my bike on the ground. "FUCK!" "wait, sorry, sorry, have a nice night, bye!"

And I grab my bike and hightail it away from the tunnel and say "fuck it" and watch the traffic and rabbit my way overland across the street because I don't care that there's probably not someone in the other tunnel NOPE.

And I feel _really_ guilty, because the person was A) just trying to sleep and I woke them up and B) probably feels kinda gross and not-a-person and offended that I didn't want to go near them. I wish I could explain that it's totally not them, they are probably perfectly nice, it's just that I hate that tunnel anyways and I was kinda freaked and something being different was just completely unacceptable.

But you know what? With the exception of falling off my bike, I didn't get hurt or tortured in the slightest, and I'll take that small victory.

~Sor
MOOP!

1: "So why do you do it?" Eh, some combination of morbid curiosity and an enjoyment of the adrenaline rush. Plus, some of the scary shit I frequent contains some degree of "here's how to protect yourself" and that might be useful in the long run (hi r/Let'sNotMeet!)

2: Baltimore tried real hard to win the title of World's Worst Catholic Sex Scandal, and no, I don't want to know the actual competition for that one, I've had quite enough for one night thanks.

Crossposts: http://kdsorceress.livejournal.com/745262.html

My winter break started about two and a half hours ago. It's nothing like the month long extravaganza that was college breaks, but it's a hell of a lot better than last year, when I was working food service, and had to work on New Years. And for only thirteen days, I intend to pack a lot of interesting in.

See, tomorrow morning at *phenomenally early*, Sparr and I get on an aeroplane and head out to Chicago. Like, early enough that we're taking the T tonight and staying on the floor of the airport. Again.

We're in Chicago for variable amounts of time over Christmas. That's not really the ridiculous part, though I'm hoping to get to hang with a friend of ours while we're out there, plus all the Very Necessary parental interference and harassment of younger siblings. No, the ridiculous part of my winter break comes when I return home.

So, on the 28th, I'm gonna fly home (having sent Sparr back two days earlier), landing at Logan around 10:30PM or so (barring disaster). I'll get to the house. I'll set down my bags. I'll pick up a more different bag. And Nurit and Genni and Tricia and I will pile into the car and start driving.

Nurit, you see, is from The South. She holds a love for Waffle House that is surpassed only by her love for bacon. And we just don't have such glorious beasts up here in the godless north. So we're gonna road trip to Waffle House. Somewhere along the trip, we're gonna acquire at least three more people, at least one more car, and oh yeah I'm gonna get dumped off in the middle of a city where I have spent essentially zero time before.

A day or two in Philly with ~*~<3 GALIA!!!!! <3~*~ (yes she deserves that much ridiculous around her name, Galia is THE BEST) and then I grit my teeth and square my jaw and ring in the New Year with dancing. A lot of dancing.

I'm going to Hogmanay. Which has all the same problems as Pinewoods, only warped madly by my Rituals of New Years. I _will_ sob, my only hope is that I can do so artfully or alone.

(Because maybe if I say the worst, it can't come true.)

Straight from Hogmanay back to Boston (the 1st will be a day of travel for me, rather than games, or waffles. I am very sad for this.) and a little bit of sleep. And then...school in the morning. New Year.

Let's see how well I can lead to it.

Crossposts: http://kdsorceress.livejournal.com/650012.html

I feel so young right now. Wide eyes, and looking to the grown-ups for an explanation, because nothing so far makes sense.

"But why would someone hurt¹ someone else? I thought hurting was bad. "

I really want my mommy.

R.

1: You're an intelligent lot. I shouldn't have to clarify this. But nonconsensually hurt someone. Duh.

Disclaimer: This is an angry Sor post. I have specifically not called out the person who made me angry, because maybe he's still a friend. But holy shit, can I not deal with him in any way less passive aggressive than posting in here right now.

I did not do the intelligent thing and sit for a few days, or get someone to read this over. Because sometimes the fastest way to let someone know how much they hurt you is to get very very angry at them.

Some days, it really fucking sucks to be a girl¹.

Because OH-EMM-GEE! You like, get your period, and it like totally ruins the super-cool white pants you bought on sale last week at Macy's, and your boyfriend was all like makin' out with Cyndie, and ew, she is like such a tramp and so you're so done with that asshole, god, he never called anyways.

Yeah. Right.

Or maybe it's because the world is insidious and subtle, and you've been raised in it, and even though you're trying so damn hard to get a handle on all the internalized misogyny you've been carting around for the last twenty years, there's always more.

And so when you get into an argument about sexism, you have to have it patiently explained to you that maybe the right solution to this problem is to get some nice men involved, to solve it all. And no, there are no women who could possibly fix it instead. Men only.

And it's being told you're having an emotional response, and silly little thing, the emotional response isn't what we're looking at here, we're looking at the practical solution. And it's remembering every insidious thing anyone has ever implied about how females are so terribly emotional, and it's such a bad thing.

(And it's crying for ten minutes after everything is done with, with pure unadulterated rage, and part of the rage is sheer hatred for yourself for being so utterly unreasonable as to have an emotional response to someone hurting you. Because society says that that is the so utterly typical female reaction, and that such a reaction is wrong)

And it's starting out the conversation by asking if this is going to make the angry feminist more angry, and having the answer be "no". Because of course, what is there to make a girl mad about, in suggesting a male based solution to a problem primarily concerning females? And it's being mad just right there, because if we're talking about a situation where young girls are having a problem young boys don't, it is almost certainly going to make the angry feminist more angry.

And it's being told that it's okay, the person who suggested this male solution in the first place is a feminist. And she doesn't really seem okay with the solution either, but again, it's the practical solution. And the practical solution is always the right solution, always²! And it's being told that, because she's a feminist, it's absolutely okay, and there is nothing wrong or sexist about this situation.

And it's asking for the conversation to be over, because you're not sure which of the two participants is more likely to be the recipient of physical harm, him or yourself. Because you can't deal with this. Because he's not listening, and you can't put into words all the rage and insecurity and self-loathing that's come from the last two decades from having a vagina and that he and his penis have never had to deal with.

And it's having him continue to argue after that point³. To continue the discussion after you asked in no uncertain terms to end it. Because you're not the important one here. Your request doesn't actually matter in the slightest. Because he still has things to say.

And it's knowing that he's right. You're not the important one here. Your voice doesn't actually matter in the slightest. The men still have things to say.

~Sor
MOOP!

1: It really fucking sucks to be part of any minority group. I'm not trying to devalue anyone else's experience here, I'm just bitching about what's directly affecting me at the moment.

2: Before you argue this point, consider: It is more practical to off people than to pay them social security. Killing them costs less money, and they no longer take up space. Practical solutions and correct solutions do not always go hand in hand.

3: Can I go from angry to fucking furious here? WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT?! If someone is talking to you, and they ask to please end the conversation, DO NOT KEEP ON FUCKING ARGUING. Say "Okay, but I'd like to talk about this at a later time" if you have to, and change the goddamn subject. Anything else just says to me that you don't actually respect me enough to listen when I say 'stop'. And I have _big_ fucking problems with people who don't listen when someone says 'stop'.

WARNING: This post talks a bunch about rape, and about fear, and about blaming the victim, and behaviours that people should take in order not to get raped, and behaviours that people should take in order to not, you know, rape anyone. If any of that is likely to trigger you, please skip the rest of it.

Someone linked this, and I don't remember who. But it made me laugh, in that pathetic, oh god, why do we even need to say this? sort of way.

Sexual Assault Prevention Tips Guaranteed to Work!
1. Don’t put drugs in people’s drinks in order to control their behavior.
2. When you see someone walking by themselves, leave them alone!
3. If you pull over to help someone with car problems, remember not to assault them!
4. NEVER open an unlocked door or window uninvited.
5. If you are in an elevator and someone else gets in, DON’T ASSAULT THEM!
6. Remember, people go to laundry to do their laundry, do not attempt to molest someone who is alone in a laundry room.
7. USE THE BUDDY SYSTEM! If you are not able to stop yourself from assaulting people, ask a friend to stay with you while you are in public.
8. Always be honest with people! Don’t pretend to be a caring friend in order to gain the trust of someone you want to assault. Consider telling them you plan to assault them. If you don’t communicate your intentions, the other person may take that as a sign that you do not plan to rape them.
9. Don’t forget: you can’t have sex with someone unless they are awake!
10. Carry a whistle! If you are worried you might assault someone “on accident” you can hand it to the person you are with, so they can blow it if you do.
Credit to No, Not You

((I especially like that it's a non-gendered list on all accounts, and can easily apply to all manner of hurting-other-people, not just sexual assault.))

Lesley is not the sort of campus where they pound into our heads the "YOU WILL BE RAPED AT ANY MOMENT!" paranoia that a lot of places seem to feed -which is actually odd, now that I think of it- but I'm still tempted to print out a couple copies of this one and leave them somewhere casual.

And no, I don't particularly think anyone on my friends list needs to learn any of these lessons. I'd like to think that they wouldn't be "friends" if they did.

But seriously. It really really really sucks to be a woman, and constantly be told that YOU need to do the work, that YOU need to change your habits, and your clothing, and your behaviours because if you don't, the poor defenseless men around you just won't be able to control themselves, and they'll just *have* to rape you on principle.

It sucks to know that I shouldn't leave the house in that flighty little skirt that looks really cute, that I have to wake my roommates up with a text message so they know I got where I was going safely, that I won't ever drink around college kids¹ because I can't trust that they won't try to push me too far. Yes, they're all actions I take, and just some of the actions I take to keep myself safe --I walk a half mile or more most nights in order to get to the beds I sleep in. I keep my eyes open, and I keep a sense of where people are around me. When I go to Rocky, if I'm by myself, I wear a big coat over my slut-clothes, or try to find other groups to walk with.

When people offer to walk me home, no matter how much it sucks, I take the offer. Because yes. It's embarrassing to have to be walked home, like I was some kind of defenseless child, and it hurts my pride that I have to accept help like this, and sure, I can laugh it off, or maintain that it'll be nice to talk to the boy for a little bit longer. But it really really sucks to have to have someone else help me with as simple a skill as walking from point A to point B, just because I'm small and female. And I hate that I'm too smart to argue them out of it and walk around alone.

So yeah. I try and do the stupid behaviours that the internet and the college advisors and the sweet and well meaning and patronizing professors tell me I should do. I try to keep my head up, and my mind clear, and make my agenda known. I do my damndest to be a good little girl, and skip the parties² with the drinking and the idiocy and the potential for danger.

But I really wish that I didn't have to feel like being raped was dependent on anything that *I* did or didn't do. I really wish I *could* wear short skirts when I feel like it, or go to Rocky all by my lonesome, or wander for hours under the stars and lights of a sleeping city. I wish I didn't have to check in to anybody at all, not ever. I wish I didn't have to worry, and I really wish that some of these behaviours are so ingrained I don't even realize I'm worrying.

It sucks sometimes to live in an imperfect world.

~Sor
MOOP!

1: There are other reasons for this, too. But I don't trust college kids sober, and I definitely don't trust them drunk.

2: I don't actually get invited to this sort of party. But if I did!

WARNING (again, for people who read their friends list from the bottom on up, like me): This post talks a bunch about rape, and about fear, and about blaming the victim, and behaviours that people should take in order not to get raped, and behaviours that people should take in order to not, you know, rape anyone. If any of that is likely to trigger you, please skip the rest of it.

It was just a daydream --that's what it felt like, that's what it had to be. Nothing else. And then, at the end of it, I woke up. Daydreams don't let me wake up.

I remember...
the first meeting with the Bad Guy, and realizing that he was totally and completely evil.

Having my nessecary reporter ID card stolen by him, while I was curled up outside his window.

And stealing it back by leaning precariously through the window and grabbing it away before he could stop me. (A very "me" thing to do)

That the bad guy was, at the beginning, Cillian Murphy, only Nik was playing him in this version or something. At the beginning. When the dream was still set in a movie.

And we were in a movie, and I remember telling my assistant (Aly?) to google Cillian Murphy's name, knowing that we'd have to add effects so it only got movie Cillian and not reallife Cillian.

The bad guys assistent, feeling me up. Forcing a kiss. Then later, I went to tell the police, report the pedophilia. Said assistent was playing goalie in the game of whateveritwas, and was actually a ten year old girl. All charges of sexual harassment were dropped, and from the booing of the croud, I figured that I needed to hide.

Miss Bev (A friend of mines mum and my ex math tutor) was there. She was going to help me hide --it's nice to have allies on the side of good. She suggested the best place was back up in my hotel room.

I hated my room. The way the hotel was designed, it was at the very end of a looooong hallway. I had to turn my back to open my door, and somehow, I knew he was watching me. It was no longer a movie.

Fear.

And I joined up with Nathen, and he helped me to get outside. Still predawn, perhaps five in the morning. We determined to hide all the stuff that had been in my backpack --I wasn't going to need it in my Final Battle.

We dumped what I wouldn't need into a paper bag, and found a manhole. We pried it up, but the sewer was too full. So we had to find somewhere else.

We buried it near a tree as the sun rose, me and Nathen in the middle, and more and more people arriving with the dawn. Shayla was definently there -she drew a beautiful marker for the bag, a portrait of me- as was Aly, and many friends of Nathen's.

And before I went off to defeat the badguy or lose my life (And/or virginity? It was a bit unclear as to whether he planned to rape me, kill me, or both) I awoke.

*********

Never have a daydream that isn't.

~Sor
MOOP!

Current Mood: Shaken
Current Location: On Dimi, about to go clean
Current Music: None

Right then. Random flist spam removed.

I'm having an alright week, although today hasn't been steller.

Damnit. I had something to post, but that was before I realized it's time to go to tutoring. Ta, kids.

~Sor
MOOP!

Confidentials:
1) Of course I'll forgive you. But I think I have to look at you in a different light right now.
2) I'm sorry, I didn't mean to be so harsh. But sometimes you need a shoulder to cry on, and I hate to say it kid, but you're just not it. Al says hullo, BTW.
3) ...fuck.

Current Mood: Introspective
Current Music: Damnit, Janet...yes, it's an obsession.

( *eats the memes...* )

~Sor
MOOP!

Current Mood: chipper
Current Music: Totale Finsternis, Tanz der Vampire

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MOOP!

The Rantings of a Terminal Optimist

Entries tagged with fear

(no subject)

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Winter Break Plans

Regarding the attempted assassination of Representative Gabrielle Giffords

Angry feminist is fucking PISSED.

This digressed quickly.

A Disconnected Dreamlog

Dear self...

(no subject)

Profile

May 2025

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