MOOP!

Trigger Warning: Emotional/sexual assault

Honestly, it's been a pretty shit day. I got triggered -hard- in Davis earlier. Like, just standing next to the 9/11 memorial with tears pouring down my face. Because Davis Square is doing The Clothesline Project.

This is, if you've been reading this livejournal for a long time, or otherwise have all the pieces, how I figured out that I had been raped. I had one year of college where the April t-shirts were a tragic thing that didn't have anything to do with me, and then the next year where I walked past them and Understood. My senior year of college, I was able to make my own.

I feel incredibly strongly and positively about this project. But wow, I was not expecting to be slapped across the face with them suddenly appearing in the middle of October, in the middle of the square. I've never seen an installation off a college campus.

So yeah. Walking across the square, spotting the t-shirts strung up in the main part and just freezing. I wouldn't say my stomach dropped, but the sense of Self I keep behind my sternum just completely curled in around my spine. It almost hurt physically, seeing that and remembering.

I went over and paid tribute, because that's what I do. And then I turned and left without talking to the organizers or learning about the domestic violence vigil that was apparently held tonight. Chasing away the pain went relatively quickly, this time. I went to the library, held myself together enough to get my books, and pulled up an old sonnet to recite over and over as I walked. Between the fact that it actually has a good cadence to it, and that performing is a good distraction (and distraction is all I'm ever looking for), I got my brain back on track. I was even well enough to recite it for a video for y'all.



All that aside, it was a nasty surprise to be cold-cocked triggered like that. I have been scarring (I have been lucky?) and while it comes to mind with relative frequency, I haven't been doing the hard-freeze-and-interrupt version of Remembering My Sexual/Emotional Abuse. Usually I do a long soft sad, or a "I'm not actually upset about this, but the conversation has led to a reference" thing.

(I feel weird that my reaction is so often the latter, mostly because I feel like it makes other people uncomfortable that I can treat my rape casually. Like, I'm sorry that I've put in ten thousand words and like eight years of healing, but that's how it goes. Thing happened. It's in my history now. It'll come up sometimes. Get over it please? Being awkward and sad and Requiring Comfort is not your job.)

So yeah. At least my quick search of the internet indicates they won't be there tomorrow. I should be fine even if they are, the visceral hit is over. But whee, huzzah for triggers I don't even realize.

~Sor
MOOP!

Trigger Warning: Emotional/sexual assault

So, last Tuesday I had an emo attack of the *worst* sort, which led to me curled up on the floor crying and holding my boxcutter. Not cutting myself, not cutting anything else (although I was tempted to butcher my jeans just as an outlet) just playing with it. Eventually, my brain kicked in and went all "hurr, you're a writer, why don't you write on yourself instead of not-cut yourself. Doesn't hurt anyone!"

So...I did. I wrote an exceptionally emo poem called "Litany of Hate" using myself as the canvas. I wrote it mostly on my arms and legs, and have done my best to reproduce the not COMPLETELY behind the walls bits here:

( Said poem. An unhealthy combination of emo and 'Why Sorcy is effed up' version point whatever beneath the cut. Own risk, blabla )

So! Results.

( In which Sorcy does manage to metadiscuss the above poem and some of the ramifications it had on her, but also spends quite a bit of time digressing about movies, being distractable, and plotting lesbian biblophiliac porn. )

Logically, I think the next thing to do would be an analysis of the poem itself, but I'm bored of writing this, and will do so later. (Later here having a meaning of broken'never'. [/scruffy!Norrington]) I'm off to go scrawl down random things in the writersjournal about bits of world that I have been building since sixth grade. Ta!

~Sor
MOOP!

(((Apropos of nothing, I appear to have coined a new term in the dictionary of useful Kat-stuffs. Before the Walls. It's the general equivilant of things that are behind the walls, except that you lot get to read it.)))

Postscript: My English class is rubbing off on me. I actually went back and fixed the text of the second cut so that it had proper parrallelism. On a side note, what does ETA mean? I got that it's some sort of "I edited this" shorthand, but I don't actually know the rest.

Remember, remember the fifth of November
The gunpowder treason and plot.
I see no reason why gunpowder treason
Should ever be forgot.

Guy Fawkes, twas his intent
To blow up king and parliament.
Three score barrels were laid below
To prove old England's overthrow.

By God's mercy he was catched
With a dark lantern and lighted match.
Holler boys, holler boys, let the bells ring
Holler boys, holler boys, God save the King.

~~~

Just got back from watching "V for Vendetta" with an assortment of wonderful college kids.

I now know far too thourgholy what the term "Intellectual Crush" means.

It was good.

~Sor
MOOP!

(And I am working the line "A revolution without dancing is a revolution not worth having." into my novel if it kills me --11000 or so words down, 39000 or so to go!)

So I walked to the store, because I wanted a Apple.
an Orange
and an organ.

I wanted to see what it was like
Looking at the hearts.
So I went.
And I did.
And as I stared at the hearts, some nice and soft and large
Others small and hard
I pulled my own out to look
And was confused

My heart was large
And it was soft, and clean and loving
But it had a part
Darker
and harder
like a stone, shoved into my heart.
It scared me.

An old woman came over and looked at it
and looked at me
"oh no dearie, you don't want that one.
Get one without a bruise
one which hasn't locked itself up.
That one
that ones bad
It's got love.
But no romance."
And I looked at her
And at my heart
and I left.

It's different, having this heart
Having love
love for people, love for those who amaze me
love for my families and friends
yet no romance
and no way to get any
for my heart is scarred.
and therefore
I am alone.
And will stay there.

Stephanie, please don't hate me for writing this. I thought your was so clever and interesting and i just wanted to see if I could play with the concept, and try and put my own spin on it.

I don't know if I did it very well.

For everyone, go here to read the original poem.

It's much better then mine.

~Sorceress

MOOP!

The Tale of the PuddingMaster

Once there was a great and powerful household
And they held in their heart a great love of and desire for pudding
So they serched far and wide for someone to make them some
And they found the PuddingMaster
And yea, it was nifty.

So they begged "Good PuddingMaster, please
Please maketh us some of your pudding
And please letteth partaketh in in."
And the good PuddingMaster smiled and said "It shall be done."
And yea, It was nifty.

The good PuddingMaster went to the pantry and pulled from it a box
A box of Jell-o brand instant pudding, In the flavour of lemony goodness
And she set out before her the mix, and the milk, and the mixer and bowl
And she mixed together what was needed, until she had pudding
And yea, it was nifty.

She then took the small bowls, and into them she poured
Equal amounts of pudding for all in the household
She filled the bwls with lemony good pudding
To be eaten as a dessert later on
And yea, it was nifty.

And she went throughout the household with the leftovers
And distributed it to those who wanted it
The lady of the house, the hero with the games, and the child
All who ate it with glee (except the child, since she did not like pudding)
and yea, it was nifty.

So let the message be spread to all:
Pudding of lemony goodness -as well as all other flavors-
Is free to all who read this
Enjoy!

*hands out pudding to all who want it*

~The PuddingMaster

And yea, it is nifty!!

Original Tags: mom, alys-the-eternal, food, tagged, writings, cloneconvo, shan, silly