MOOP!

So, the other day I was going through old 750words posts and stuff, and pulled out a bunch of things that I thought were worth saying in public.

A lot of them are kinda depressing, because I think words often flow better when they've got a pinch of melancholic to them. But here. It's like a sundries post, only just with things I've written.

Author's notes are in italics

---

There is a boy.
Who likes me and other girls.
And likes me more _anyways_.

***

Being loved by someone sweet and devoted to me is nice, and I love them all for it.

But being loved by someone sweet and devoted to me over other girls is just a whole different realm of exciting. And of course, we don't actually have much of a romantic relationship at all, but still.

I've never been the girl who wins before. It's the scariest damn thing, but gods help me, I like it.

Yeah, this was really startling when I realized it for the first time, and I still kinda refuse to believe it's true.

And of course, there is no "winning" in poly (except maybe making everyone involved in your relationship scheme happy) but there's also not quite a word to express what I mean here. I am perfectly content to be right where I am in all the relationships I'm in --hence the reason I'm in them-- but sometimes it's nice to realize all a sudden that someone thinks you're special enough to set aside a girl who is clearly hotter and more interesting than you are.

---

...then it just hurts more and I am tired of it hurting _more_. Things aren't supposed to keep hurting more. Shouldn't pain level out at some point?

Yes. Yes it should. I think this particular pain might've gotten close to level for now, the problem is just that level is a lot of pain, and so I can only lock it away for so long before it rages at me again.

What, no, I'm not emo, nope.

---

I hate because the only other option is to hurt, and this hurts so bad I'm not sure I can deal.

I don't remember who or what I hate here. Very plausibly myself.

---

And really, if you don't have all your words sorted out beforehand, if you don't know what you're going to say, what's the point of trying to say it anyways? I'm a fucking writer, if I can't put a problem into words, there's probably not much of a problem in the first place.

...and even if I can put it into words, I'm a cynic, and a victim and extremely clever. If I can put it into words, I can figure out arguments against the problem until it no longer exists, or boils down to just me being a tiny idiot. And no one but me can fix me being a tiny idiot.

And this is why I am not very good at speaking up when there is something wrong in one of my relationships. If I can sort it out on my own, because I was just being silly, why would I bother my partner?

Yeah, I'm _really_ not good at this relationship thing. Anyone who says otherwise is lying.

---

And when the going gets tough, I am presented with one option -to overwhelm myself in sensation.

Tense certain muscles past any reasonable point, shut my eyes tight, or stare meditatively into something lovely, or run and run until the body runs out of energy, or most used of all, drown my internal monologue in music.

I drown myself in music all the time. Hell, let's be honest here, it's one of the most useful coping mechanisms I currently have in order to fight bottom. I get sad, I pump on the Next to Normal, or s00j, or Vienna, or whatever else I've got, and I make the sad, if not go away, at least have to struggle past the noise to actually get to me.

It's a really really nice coping mechanism. It also means that I'm going to be deaf before I turn thirty.

My made up mind was not put here for you to try and change. Cheers, s00j.

---

But the best part of today is that I've hit upon two separate things that make me incredibly _incredibly_ happy.

The first is pretty logical. Giving Blood. Me donating a pint makes me both incredibly pleased with myself, and punchy as fuck due to the light-headedness. I am okay with this state of affairs, especially if it makes me unlazy enough to go give blood more often than the twice yearly I've been doing.

Speaking of which, I'm almost eligible again. Anyone want to go to the red cross with me this weekend?

---

I am amused by Hyde, protecting me from the ghosts that lurk for hours after I read anything creepytastic, no matter how far I remove myself from the immediate.

"Don't worry dear. There is nothing in this house as scary as I. Except maybe for you."

Oh, excellently played you delightful fucker.

y'all do know who Hyde is, right? He lives in my head and gives me not terribly good advice. Because I am, say it with me folks, a little bit broken.

---

I am, for the first time in my life, willingly sitting out while actively at dance.

I just...don't feel like dancing. I'd say maybe I'm tired, except I know I've danced in physically worse shape before --and that's not even counting on the sprained ankle!

No, I just can't cope with the idea of doing more dances tonight. There is apparently a point where the pain of dance overtakes the pleasure --I know, I didn't realize it could happen either. But there is, and I've finally hit it.

***

I don't want to sob in the middle of the dance hall, in the middle of a waltz. I don't know that I could explain why if I did. I do know that I don't ever want to have to. I hate crying, I hate the pain, and I hate people giving me sympathy, because I hate being weak enough to need other people.

All I want is to just be strong enough to survive independent of outside forces. Maybe that means I need to break up with everyone, not have outside forces that affect me any longer. GO LIVE IN A CAVE AND BE A HERMIT, SOR!

I am such a whiny cunt¹. It is beyond me why anyone at all gives a damn about me in the first place. :P

Cunt explained below. No, you don't get an explanation for the rest of it. But this is a pretty common mental path --emo -> yelling at myself for being emo.

---

Dog and I get along well, and that's really really important.

I need to remember that having friends who I can bitch about the odd parts of my life to are a really crucial thing for me to have. I also need to remember how much I appreciate having friends who will slap me down when I am using inappropriate language, or otherwise being an elitist jerk. (see also, Jesse glaring at me when I used bitch. I want to give him a cookie and a hug for that alone)

Dog is awesome. I really want to hang out with him more this fall, when I'm back in Boston.

---

(I don't know how to feel about the fact that I'm using Amanda right now for a little extra bit of stability. She is a fucking idiot. But her art, when it's good...

It's good. It's the best. Right now I am angry and hurt and sad and scared. And that is the perfect mood for listening to Amanda, because she will reinforce the parts that are okay to be reinforced, and she will eradicate the parts that need to just Go Away.

I use music to blank myself out. She's really really good at that.

Hate the artist, love the art? I don't even know anymore. It is so hard to be a good person sometimes.)

Can we have an Amandadebate-free space in my journal comments? I'd appreciate that.

Yes, this is all just because I handle arguments extremely poorly, and I can't freak out and walk four miles in this state.

---

I find it telling that I've had two boys in a row who were just for sex. And I'm in love with both of them.

Sex is a bit of a misnomer --I have what the Shakers² call an "unsullied cunt", which is apparently terribly valuable and should be protected at all costs. But boys who I am into with the kissing and such, and not the romantics. And...yeah. My traitor of a heart has started to sigh wistfully, and doodle our initials together on my school notebooks.

---

The emotion involved, this is more than sex. Sex is just endorphins and dopamine. Waltzing is...joy.

So, I almost just wrote "fucking _this_" as my author's note. Which means that I just tried to emphatically agree with something I wrote. So, uh, yeah, I'm a bit of an idiot.

---

~Sor
MOOP!

1: This is not a word that I should use. It's a slur, flat and simple, and I should not use it to refer to myself (which I do, occasionally), or any other woman (which I don't.)

That being said, there are a lot of things I call myself that no one else may touch, and yes, cunt is one of them. There's a hardness to it, all edges and corners and sharp, and in some moods, the words I feel that fit best are the words that fit this hardness.

2: See also, Shakesville here, and the specific origin of the term unsullied cunt here.

So this is technically fifteen minutes late. Sue me, it's not tomorrow until the sun rises or I sleep.

A week ago, I made a post being all "Half-Naked Thursday, whee!". It was meant to be a look at more metaphorical nakedness, stripping down the walls to show you what I've really got going on in my world.

At any rate, then I mentioned that I originally had two photos and was only showing one of them. This makes this weeks HNT really really easy for me to manage --next week, I will have to actually look around to find a bit of myself to reveal, if indeed, I continue on with this trend.

But yes. Have a picture of me being naked. Odd, in that it's also not a picture of me at all.

Happy Thursday.



This second is a little more new, a little more raw. It's the ceiling of my room, directly above my desk.

A week or two ago, I was having a rough night. In talking with Rackle, she brought up the term "Index card days", where you're just so socially frustrated and out of cope that you have to communicate through tiny 3" by 5" cards.

I have a pile in my desk drawer. Out they came that day, and it seemed the most logical thing in the world to write some song lyrics across them. Lyrics from strength-songs, where the lyrics don't necessarily matter in the slightest, but the message of being strong is crucial to my well being. "Go Away Godboy" is the song I use the most for this --I've never really had problems with people trying to convert me or mine, but howling along with the words can stabilize my mood like nothing else.

Because the words are meant to say "fuck you, I'm stronger than that", and on days when I am weak and helpless, I really need that.

And I forced myself out of the sobbing¹ to write more of them, because if I am actively writing, I am forcing distraction, and that little edge of distraction is all I need sometimes to stabilize. All of them have wound up there, tucked into the framework of the drop ceiling. I've got ten of them now, apparently. I'm sure that, as I enter this mood, and need the music and lyrics, I'll think of more.

So that's my current vulnerability. Come visit, I'll let you read them if you'd like.

~Sor
MOOP!

1: Which itself was after that pervasive emptiness, and broken by my reaching out. I don't like playing shitty girl games, and I hate being cryptic, but that doesn't mean I manage to make all my words to people transparent. There are people who can read between the letters and the lines, through the /me and the carefully arranged punctuation and capitalization, and figure out what I'm actually trying to say over IM, that I just can't, because the words just won't come.

...and because there isn't an elegant way to put what I'd be doing in reality into words. It's that vulnerable look when I arrive on your doorstep, and ask for a hug, and pull myself into you, a double fistful of your shirt as I hide inside your arms, and pour myself out onto your shoulder. It's past want, straight into need, and I don't have a lot of people I've done it to, or *could* do it to (two? maybe three?) and I'm about to lose one of them, but I don't care, because sometimes there's safety there, and that's what I need more than anything else, that memory of safety. ((ETA: Holy run-on sentences, Batman! But this is kinda what my brain starts doing when I am in a vulnerable state))

It's an index card with eight words on it. It's an IM with eleven. It's being held, and being *held* and being held. It's the stairwells at Springstep, and just out the door at NEFFA. It's the long process of reducing the scarred and improving the weird. It's crying in June with the door shut, it's crying in July curled in the arms of someone I can't have, it's crying in August to a boy I barely know, it's crying-sobbing-breaking in January as I watch Next to Normal and try to separate their pain from mine, and try to find the strength I need to say the words I can't, I couldn't, I did.

It's the response I need, when I need it. It's breaking the emptiness with a *kiss*, and breaking the sobs with an *embrace*. It's *comfort*, from everyone who's ever given it.

And it's s00j and Dar and Vienna and Amanda and Alice.

If you can figure out a quicker way to tell people I need "that" than all the above, I'd love to hear it.

Y'all miss me? I was looking back over my archive and realized I've made painfully few posts this month. This is a damn shame, and I'm gonna see what I can do about fixing it a bit.

'Cause what doesn't kill me, doesn't kill me, so fill me up for just another day!

I don't like depressing music.

This might surprise a lot of you, who I'm sure have observed the lyrics I post and tweet with a skeptical eye. How is "freedom is being alone, I fear liberation" not depressing, for instance. And do you really expect us to think you don't like depressing music given how often you use music to sob?

I do use music to sob. I use music to sob out the last of the pain and force it away from my head so I'm empty. It's a hell of a lot easier to reach stability from empty than from anywhere else. Music doesn't make me sad. It makes me stable.

And so the music I really like, when I'm in one of Those Moods? It's not sad music. I skip the slit-your-wrists emo and goth in exhange for music that puts me into an entirely different mood.

I like music that makes me hopeful. "Go Away Godboy" is a song about telling the bad things to sod off. "Oasis"¹ is about how much life sucks, so might as well dwell on the positive. "Whatever You Want" is a song of taking power back.

And Next to Normal?

Every song I regularly listen to out of Next to Normal is a hopeful song. The whole musical is tinted by the pain and frustration and misery exhibited by every member of the family. And the songs I like? Are about fighting back, against your family, against your insanity, against your fear, and against your whole damn potential of inexistence.

This is music that goes straight past eleven into the category of howling along at the top of my lungs, and laughing maniacally as I do so. In chronological order, "Just Another Day", "Everything Else", "You Don't Know", "I Am The One", "I'm Alive", "I've Been", "Didn't I See This Movie?"², "I'm Alive (reprise)" "The Break", "Maybe (Next to Normal)", "I Am The One (reprise)", and "Light" are all songs I can no longer listen to at a normal volume, because they are just so good at drowning out my internal monologue when sung along with.

It's not all the songs from the show that I have starred, but it's all the ones I have starred for a reason other than just being clever with the lyrics or musically fun. And you have no idea how hard it is not to toss in lyrics from every song I mentioned. No idea, because this musical is Just That Good.

So no, I don't listen to sad music. Why bother? Sad music would just reinforce the mood. I don't want to reinforce moods when I fight bottom. I want to break them.

And you find some way to survive. And you find out you don't have to be happy at all, to be happy you're alive.

~Sor
MOOP!

1: (pre-note: Do not be with the Amanda wank in my comments. I'm still not sure I'm recovered from the last batch. There are plenty of other places to discuss her and the issues surrounding her right now.) It does not matter what else wank Amanda brings to the world, for this song, I will always have at least a little bit of respect for her. Hell, if she gets bad enough, I will rerecord this song myself, because it is a perfect microcosm of how I feel about all the doom and gloom in my world.

After all, I've seen better days but I don't care, oh I just got a letter in the mail, Oasis sent a photograph, it's autographed and everything, Melissa's gonna wet herself I *swear!*

(I really really like faking it like a giggly giddy typical teen girl. I have scared people with my like totally valley cheerleader voice OMG! It pleases me that Amanda does this at least a little bit too --hide the pain behind enough snark, and maybe people will never realize you're in pain in the first place.)

2: Curses, I missed a chance to quote swatches of this one in every day conversation. Yes, because sometimes my life is just that fantastic and weird.

And you find out you don't have to be happy at all¹
To be happy you're alive

...holy fucking shit, have I mentioned yet how repeatedly Next to Normal gets it absolutely one hundred percent right?

Next to Normal repeatedly gets it absolutely one hundred percent right.

~Sor
MOOP!

1: Amusingly, this alone has made me legitimately happier than anything else in the past two days.

Every rare once in a while, I will, for no apparent reason, filk my life into whatever song appears to fit.

This was today's adventure (apologies to John and John)

Where do they Sell Kazoos?

Paper Source sells paper
The deli's selling food
Grocery store sells flowers for the girls who will be wooed
J.P. Licks is Ice Cream
Joeys is for Thai
Goodwill's full of lots of things, I guess I better try

'Cause where?
Where do they sell kazoos?
Oh where?
Where do they sell kazoos?

Rosie's is a bakery
Scottish Import's gone
Joie de Vivre ought to work, but inventory's wrong.
Greenward is for hippies
Tokai is for gifts
Ace is for construction, toilitries from CVS

But where?
Where do they sell kazoos?
Where?
Where do they sell kazoos?

Kazooooooos. Kazoooooooos! Kazoooooos. Kazooooooos!

Porter Square's a T-stop
Davis is as well
Harvard Square might be right, but getting there is hell
Damn my feet are tired
Been walking all the day
Just try Stellabella, if they have them I will pay

And there
There's where they sell kazoos
There!
There's where they sell kazoos!

~Sor
MOOP!

HAPPY FIRST OF MAY WOO!

( NSFW lyrics as to why this is important below cut. )

I love JoCo, yes I do.

~Sor
MOOP!

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.

This bridge was written
to make you feel smitten
With my sad picture
of girl getting bitter
Oh can you extract me
from my plastic fantasy
I didn't think so
But I'm still convincible
Will you persist
Even after I bet you
A million dollars
That I'll never love you
And will you persist
even after I kissed you
goodbye for the last time
will you keep on trying

to prove that I'm dying
to lose it, I'm losing
my confidence
I want it
I want it
I want it
I want it
I want to
I want to
I want to
I want to
I want you
I want you
I want you
I want you
I want a
I want a
I...want...a...
I......want......a......
coin operated boy

***

'When normal people get stressed, they eat more and sleep more and drink more caffinee and punch things, and work out their stress in rational ways. When I get stressed, I write. Come to think of it, when I get happy I write. And sad. And angry. Oh bollocks, writing is my comfort food, isn't it?'

***

Hehehe, more flistspam! You poor poor people, you didn't sign up for this. But that's the beauty of having a livejournal --I can write all sorts of loads and loads of shit, and I'll just assume you'll skip it if you aren't interested. Or something. You should still all go vote in my poll so I know to get you a Holiday card.

Allfornow.

~Sor
MOOP!

ToPost:
Nettiquite question involving changing security level
Bit of ramble on certain phraseology
Something else from my notebook
ToDo lists
Aig, stress!