MOOP!

Hello there! This is your nine AM report that yeah, opting out of the backscatter machines really is as unpleasant as you've been led to believe.

I had the time when I arrived at the airport, and the security lines were blesséd short, so yeah, why wouldn't I choose to opt out? Cause someone else a bit of hassle, and not have naked pictures of me leaked to the internet in a couple weeks. I am quite okay with this plan, and so, at the point where you are meant to be removing your shoes and putting everything on the little moving belt, I smiled oh so cynically at the woman directing things, and asked what procedures one must take to opt-out.

She didn't quite sigh, and directed me to put my things on the belt --make sure there was nothing in my pockets, no paper, no anything, no belt, and of course, no shoes. "We have a female opt-out" she said wearily into her walkie-talkie, which nearly broke me in two right there --I am not female, and I hate being called such, and I know that it is only a hundred times worse for so many more people.

I had to walk through the backscatter machine to get to the area in which they would scan me --directly on the other side of the backscatter machine, causing a slight bottleneck as more compliant people had to squeeze around me. And there I was and there was a young woman who was not the slightest bit comforting as she told me that she was going to have to touch me.

And proceeded to do just that. She, as the one account has been saying, stroked my hair, which felt far more violating than I ever would have expected. She ran her hands down my back, over my ass, down my legs, then came 'round to the front to stroke my chest, down between and under my breasts, my stomach. Waistband search is apparently mandatory --she slid a finger into my waistband, both front and back, and ran it back and forth to make sure I wasn't concealing contraband in the waist of my panties or some such.

Perhaps the part that made it worst for me was the way she kept emphasizing "I'm going to use the back of my hand" when she went to touch the so called "private" parts of my body. I'm sorry, if you are rubbing something against my butt, my breasts, it really does not matter whether it's the front of the hand, the back of the hand, or a six inch rubber dildo. I will still feel violated by the pressure and by the fact that you are stroking my body in a way I do not consent¹ to. Her reassurances that it was "only" the back of her hand felt rather like being told that it's okay, the stabbing you're about to receive is "only" going to be done with a blunt knife.

I waited patiently afterwards, to gather my bag --ohwait, I forgot that I have evil Massachusettsian water in my bag. This simply won't stand! So I had to wait for the agent to dump out my water and send my bag through again (she wanted me to go do it, which would have involved going through the line again...um, fuck no, much? One, it's not my fault you can't tell the difference between a bottle of water and a bottle of EVIl, two, I am so not fucking going through that unpleasantness again.).

Now I am about to go refill my water bottle with more evil Massachusettsian water (somehow MAGICALLY DISTILLED by being from an airport water fountain *after* security instead of an airport water fountain *before* security) and continue to try not to cry about the fact that I feel like I was just molested.

Banner fucking way to start the day, especially after how impossibly shitty last night was.

Fighting the good fight, and all that. Just wish it didn't feel so damn futile.

~Sor
MOOP!

1: I do not consent to being photographed naked by the TSA, and I sure as _hell_ do not consent to being molested by a TSA agent. However, apparently if I want to fly in this country, I have to let the people in power molest me, so I'd better just be a good girl and shut my mouth about it. Charming!

2: (from the title) Is anyone else thinking that Eric Idle's song from 2004 could really use an update? It scans and *everything*

So, like I mentioned, I went to a ball this weekend, and, like I mentioned, I dressed up as a boy for it.

What I didn't specifically mention was that this was the first¹ dance event I have ever been to where I not only danced exclusively male³, but I dressed the part as well. So, for the first time in just about ever, I was given a chance to seriously debate the pros and cons of which gender I choose to be at a ball.

The pros of being a guy are numerous, and *awesome*. Like I said in my earlier post, there is a tremendous advantage for me to mark myself immediately as queer. It becomes self-selecting --the people who will seek me out will often (not always) be open minded sort of people, and the people who will avoid me entirely will often (not always) be the sort of people who think I'm going to hell forever for liking to kiss girls. I am okay with not having to deal with that.

Additionally, man, do I *ever* love drag. I'm not good at it --my face is girlish, and I do my damndest to smile when dancing, which pretty much sinks me⁴-- but I enjoy it. I already know full well that I am a gentleman and not a lady, dressing the part just gives me an excuse to be even more over the top with it all.

I do think my Tenney glasses help at least a little bit though --one of the criteria when I was picking out the frames were for glasses that would not be the breaking point of whether I passed or not. And, of course, the hair absolutely doesn't help in the slightest, but that's never changing, as I look fairly rubbish with short hair.

And the big pro, because I am vain and because I am anxious: I have sig*nif*icantly better period gentleman's clothes than period ladies clothes. I got a couple of both nice and surprising compliments throughout the course of the night. It's nice to know that, despite all the flaws with the outfit (ohmygod, vest, also breeches that fit would be nice, and eventually I'd enjoy a real shirt) people will go ahead and see the good parts (Why that is just about the BEST TAILCOAT EVER, also, not black which *is* period, and I am infinitely smug about, really.)

Also, simple krawatte⁵ knot with pinning the ends under my vest looked just fine. Although it does bring us to a major con of dressing like a male. See, you know how I have weird neck issues, and weird choking issues, and the like? Yeah, and to make it better, they're exacerbated by panic, or nervousness, or pretty much any serious negative emotion.

High collar, bound tight under a cravat. Add in a healthy dose of "dear gods, they are all going to laugh at me for being so terribly dressed, and then I am not going to know how to set, or do solos, or *anything* and everyone is going to hate me" and you have a Sorcyress who is only avoiding clawing desperately at her neck through sheer force of will.

Ladies get to wear nice swoopy low necked things. Which, you know, me and my complete and utter lack of cleavage *ever* are just so excited about trying to look good in, but at least no neck issues.

The more important disadvantage of being a guy?

Go put on a tight, binding sort of bra. Then an undershirt. Then a long-sleeved shirt. Then a vest. Then a nice big thick (bonus points for wool!) tailcoat. Oh, and don't forget tights *and* breeches!

I managed to not collapse dramatically from heatstroke. But I thought about it a couple times. It would've been quite fantastic, really. And I would've gotten yelled at by half the people there, ohman. Bastards bein' all caring about me. (I appreciate it guys, thank you!)

And this is the big disadvantage, and the thing that might make me try and find a Regency dress of my very own, because yes, it matters to me that much:

Ladies can dance with whomever they'd like.
Gentlemen cannot.

Period, fullstop, end of story. Or at least, theoretically end of story. I am young --the third youngest vintage dancer I know (and the other two are a dance instructor's daughter and her best friend)-- and I like dancing enough to not particularly want to see it (literally) die out. But if I'm going to be in charge of keeping this going (and ye gods, is that a frightening thought), I'm gonna do it my way, and that sure as hell is gonna involve anyone dancing with anyone.

The reasoning, now that I am not scary!ranting, is that "Gentlemen will not dance with each other if there are unpaired ladies". Being in a tailcoat meant that I was counted among the gentlemen for the evening, and yes, even with me and Rach as male, there was still a majority of ladies in attendance. And at this event specifically, there were a fair number of new and inexperienced dancers, almost all of them female.

This is a chivalry issue. The leads/men are expected to ask follows/women to dance, because while women can dance together, they often don't. Furthermore, it is *scandalous* for the women to ask each other to dance. Where is your sense of chivalry! Such pretty ladies should not have to do such a silly thing.

And sure, to a certain extent, it makes sense, especially in couple dancing. If you have two people who can lead or follow, and two people who can only follow, more dancing happens if each lead pairs with a follow. However, much of Regency is set dancing --grab a couple, line up, and mirror each other's movements (for the most part). The Regency waltz is symmetrical --each person places their right hand on the other's back, and their left hands either float elegantly next to them or get joined overhead. The differences between what men do and what ladies do are minute!

However, there still exists the precept that if two leads are dancing together, they are thereby preventing two follows from dancing. An inexperienced dancer may not wish to dance with another inexperienced dancer, or a lady may not wish to dance with another lady. But really, my general feeling is that, if you want to DANCE all you need is another warm body who knows the patterns. It doesn't matter a whit what genders they are or aren't --the only point at which that would be a problem is if you are more focused on flirting than dancing⁶.

Soyeah. After a reasonably fun line dance followed by a waltz with mnemex, the caller of the evening scurried over to scold us for not providing our gentlemanly services to some ladies. I managed to duck my head apologetically, and *not* hiss "fuck you" at someone who I really do respect a fair amount⁷, but the temptation was very much there. Especially as not going out of my way to break rules meant I danced neither with rm or marcmagus, both of whom I would've enjoyed doing such a thing with.

So that's the big thousand dollar question of whether or not to keep dressing like a boy. If I dress like a boy, I look awesome, I get to play genderfuck, and I generally have a fine and flirty time of things. But I can't dance with any boyfriend I would be lucky enough to bring, not unless he's in a dress (separate, personal, bitchy rant) and passing, and that hurts, honestly. Dancing is how I've found more people worth kissing than anything else (except maybe cons) and I continue to maintain that a good enough dance is better than sex.

Gods, this turned out agonizingly long. Were I a clever writer, I would've split it into two posts, but when have I ever done something useful like that? Also, verdict? I'm vain. I have good looking boy clothes. I'm just going to have to conveniently forget that gentlemen aren't permitted to dance with each other at least once at every dance event ever. Because, yeah, I think it's a stupid rule, and I'm willing to do what I can to fight that power.

((And yes, yes, I'll make up for it by dancing as often as possible with newbies. I'm not a *complete* bitch, jeeze.))

~Sor
MOOP!

1: I...am not sure, actually. I think I went to a night of SCD as Erik² once, but I also think that dissolved. Plus, it's really hard to differentiate between "girl in a kilt" and "boy in a girl body in a kilt"

2: Erik is the name of my drag persona, though I think he's losing ground to just being Sorcy!male vs Sorcy!fem.

3: Okay, I've never danced a whole event as a boy. But I've been to workshops and danced only the lead's part, on a couple different occasions. And I try to queer it up whenever I can, because it's boring to just dance with the boys.

4: This is one of the most unfortunate passing tips I've ever encountered, but it also seems to be true. I have stared myself down in the mirror, and managed to see Erik when I am seriouspants, but I have yet to ever manage to actually see him when I smile. I don't know if its boys smile different, or less, or what, but I look more boyish when I don't smile.

5: Possibly untrue --die krawatte is "the necktie", I don't know if it also applies to cravats.

6: Not that there's anything wrong with that, and when I'm in full flirtmode at dances, I ask the people I most want to flirt with to dance, not the people I consider the best dancers. This is why (for instance), while I find genarti a particularly good SCDer, and am always happy to have her in my set, I don't tend to seek her out to dance with --I'm not romantically interested in her, and part of SCD for me is flirting. Flirting at dances is not at all a bad thing. But seriously, it is called a dance and not a flirt for a reason --the dancing takes precedence.

7: Rixogirl, if you're reading this, I'm entirely serious. I do respect you, especially when it comes to knowledge of both the dancing itself and the historical context surrounding the dance. I also certainly respect the difficulty that comes with which historical aspects should and shouldn't be ignored --speakers for the musicians are a good thing, as an obvious example-- and where one draws the line between "too" modern.

But I really *really* do not like having to limit who I am allowed to dance with, especially when I have friends and people I get along with well across a reasonable spectrum of genders.

I don't want to live my life
On one side of an ampersand¹
Even if I went with you
I'm not the girl you think I am
And I don't want to match you
'Cause I'll lose my voice completely

(Ampersand, Amanda Palmer. There's a little bit more to the chorus, but it's not important to the way I interpret the lyrics. Me, interpreting things, it's enough to make a cat laugh.)

To me, ever since the first time I really Heard the lyrics, actually Listened to them, instead of just letting the music wash over me as I am so wont to do, I realized that Amanda was talking about something that terrifies me. On one side of an ampersand? She (I) doesn't want to be part of a pair, oh look, there is AmandaandBrian, KatandAnyone. No. Just please, no.

And my fear terrifies me.

I've been alluding to this, bits and pieces and slipped words. A sentence here and there, nothing anyone would notice, not without being able to see the big picture. And the brilliant part of talking to you and you and you is that no one besides me ever gets to see the big picture.

Call it want of freedom, call it my own asexuality (which was never asexual somuch as aromantic, I realise) call it fear of intimacy, call it all or none of the above, it's still there. I'm beginning to get to an age where I can get into relationships that last forever, last the rest of my life, last until marriage and beyond, and dear gods.

Dear gods, I'm petrified.

This...These feelings, the way I love people now means I don't want to lose them. I've been able to enter every relationship safe in the knowledge that it was going to end. High school relationships don't last, silly, people are too different. Hell, the fact that Blue and I made it almost a full year is inherently boggling, a year long relationship? At fifteen, sixteen? We were freaks.

I don't have that safety anymore. I can't rest easy in the knowledge that it will, eventually, end.

Oh, of course it still will. I don't fool myself, my prediliction for older men² means I tend very towards people who're at enough of a different place from me that eventually we will fragment, and that's okay. I'm alright with losing love (though I never want to lose friendship). But sometimes...I fool myself. Or my mind fools itself. And I realize that I don't want it to end, not ever.

And ye gods, with that realization...I want to run.

I want to run and run and run and hide and be all by myself for a long long while and that's terrible. It's escapism of the worst sort, it's shutting myself off because I just can't accept the idea that maybe it's okay to have someone else there to support you. Because maybe I don't have to go through all of life alone. Because maybe I'm not the only one who can take care of me.

Because maybe being independent is lonely, and maybe being as truly free as I feel I want involves building walls so thick and high that I'll never be able to see the world through them. And I do like the world.

Growing up is scary, but why does it seem so much safer if I could just manage to do it alone.

I...I guess all I'm trying to say is that my therapist was right (damn her) and I think I'm scared of intimacy. I already knew I was scared of opening up, for reasons I've never been able to grasp. I'm scared of perfection for reasons half rational (as hard as I try to achieve it). I never realized that I was scared of safety.

If I flirt with everyone, smile and flounce, keep myself from never falling in love, then no one can ever care about me, and I'll never care about them. All hearts will be safe, unbroken. If I need to bury my face in a shoulder, I just have to turn to the nearest Toy, held fast in walls spun of quick-witted bullshit, rapidfire excuses for the tears on my face, my Need for arms around me.

And I'm sure that would work much better if I never slipped. Heels are pretty, sure, but I still trip, and tumble heart over head into love. And being in love means I have to care, have to be intimate, have to actually let myself open and be honest --I'm terrible at being honest, not in a way that causes me to lie, but in the actual speach, actually getting myself to the point where I can say the words that I need to sometimes. I'm getting better --I've been getting better for most of the last year, learning how to say I need help, say what's going through my mind.

I think I've been falling in Love. Not just loving people, I'm good at that, used to that. Ever since I first managed to tell Veronica that I loved her (not in any weird way, just as a friend, do you understand?) so very long ago (when such words were not to be spoken) not a day has gone by where the phrase hasn't passed my lips. But being in love? That's a lot harder. A *lot* harder, and it keeps happening, once, twice, thr...

I don't know what I'm going to do about this. At the very least, oh, does it feel good to write. I half whispered earlier, tears carefully hid from my eyes "I don't have a home" but I *do*, I so very do. My home has always been my words, given a blank page and a nudge in the right direction, I can weave myself a safety so strong I can almost feel the phantom arms protecting me.

I suppose what I'm going to do is let myself be open. Force myself from running. Maybe sometime I'll find myself on one side of that ampersand, and maybe I won't mind it so much.

I think it's time to face fears. To figure out why they are, and let myself defeat them. Let myself be serious, for once in my life, because for once in my life, I have found something worth being serious about.

Let myself fall in love. One, two, not quite three times, and see what it's like not being totally alone. Contemplate marriage, a mortgage, and a wall that does not encompass me alone.

We'll see.

&Sor
MOOP!

1: Though, to paraphrase Magus, it would not be terrible to live life on one side of an incubus/succubus. [/obscure Nethack joke]
2: And my beautiful younger woman exception is a whole different sort of case, and one I don't wish to discuss here.

I'm going to ignore the backstory for this one, and simply say this:

I would like a picture of you, please. A good one, mind, if possible, the best picture of yourself you have. You can post a link or the image in a comment, or you can e-mail it to me (kdsorceress, gmail). (If you e-mail, and I don't know you in real life, please include your elljay name)

And because I heartily believe in reciprocation, here's a shot of me that I'm *really* fond of.

( under the cut, because I care )

~Sor
MOOP!

Well, considering that I've alredy has one person complain to me that I haven't been updating hereabouts, I figured I should come check in.

Life has been fairly busy, but on the whole, non-exciting. Except for Pirate Feast. Pirate Feast ruled!! There was lots of good food, and music, and trinkets, and dancing. TOTALLY going back next year.

Stuff that's happened since my last update:
Monday...Snow day! Makes me happy!! I went sledding with V's clan, and the sibs, then we all went home. Me and V made Mac&Tuna. (And are now the high priestess's of Macaroni and Tuna-dom, as we won two new converts to the cause -our sisters) Afterwards, we kicked the boys off the TV and us four girls played Halo. Lots of Tanky goodness on...that one level. Where Red Vs Blue takes place. Yeah, that one. Then the sisters bailed, and me and Veronica went and played the city level. I'm highly pleased with myself, I managed to get the soda machine all the way out of the building, and dropped it over the side so it landed in the main middely area. Go me!

...Yes, I'm not a very serious Halo player. Shut up. I speant a large amount of that game throwing things off the walkways overlooking the central area. It's fun!

Tuesday...School. Blek. Kung-fu...less blek, besides doing the Thirty Steps of Death, which is somewhere between Blek and cool. Mostly just ow.

And Kenny is highly cool. I like him. Even if he disposed of his dreads...*tear*

Wednesday...School (Blek) GSA, got chewed out for not showing up to the last few meetings, got deeply frustrated with Tyler and somehow managed to keep from going bitch on her. I'm sorry, but I missed last week because I was activly trying to keep someone from being sad, and yes, I might have missed some meetings because of my own stupid frivolous reasons (I wanted to go home) but in all truth we're not doing anything Aiii! Grr.

And I...No. Stop. *falls silent*

Isn't it nice to know that the screeners in my brain ocassionally work?

Thursday: Aiiiii! day. School (blek), then straight to Therepy-types, where I got in an argument with Miss Debbie about clothes and modesty and showing off my body and stuff like that. She was having difficulty grasping that I don't dress the way I do because I don't like showing off my body (although I do prefer not being oogled). I dress the way I do because I'm sickingingly practical, and having as many pockets as possible is a wonderful thing. Plus, it's more comfertable, and it's nicer to *not* have to worry about leaning forward and showing whoever your talking to a bit more then you intended.

And, MY number one reason for why I don't wear low-cut shirts...I'm short. This means that most people are taller then me, and therefore have to look down to talk to me. Looking down my shirt = bad.

After therepy, straight to UMCP to work concessions at the basketball game in order to gain LondonMonies. Yay for that. It was...interesting. Pretty much a straight jam of people for two hours, and some crazy stress, what with running out of things. I was lucky, I didn't have to deal with any idiots. And afterwards, I got food. Yay that!

Friday: School, home...something. Oh yeah! 'twasn't home, instead, after school on Friday I got to go to Chipoltle with Beth (<3!!), Anne, Jenna, and Chris who is a band kid. That was way fun, and next time I need to remember to bring money/scrip instead of just stealing food from everybody. Afterwards, we went and explored the golf store, and me, Anne, and Beth watched the figure skating boys, and argued about which ones were cute, and which ones were gay.

Then the three of us cool peoples walked home, and did our homework. And played MASH. There was lots of MASH throughout, and poor poor Jenna. *grin*

Babysitting was relitivly normal, then chats, and discussing old embaressing pictures, and discussing weather you prefer to be tied up or do the tying. Clearly that should be a poll.

...I need a paid account again.

Yesterday...quiet, went over to Luna's and played Munchkin and watched this awesome movie called Wasabi. It was in French, but we had subs, so it was all good. And the main actressy girl is ohmygod hot. I had to keep forcfully distracting myself from the TV before I started drooling. Rohan kindly informed me my lesbianness was showing.

Then me and mom went and kidnapped Josh, and the three of us plus Aly got all dolled up and went to PIRATE FEAST! Yes!!

Pirate Feast was far too much fun. Only downside was that there were a few too many people who were a bit too drunk (I had one guy say I was cute and that he had a fetish for my glasses...I politely disentangled myself from THAT conversation, needless to say.) But there was DANCING! And Ahmigawds, I've missed dancing. So that was very happy.

And I learned that the vegan potato soup tasted very good with ham in it. Nicely ironic, too, which is always a tasty thing.

And DUDE! I got to see Amanda(Crazy friend of Bernies, fellow DnDer, and birthday-buddy) there, and she was wearing a loverly corset and looked really awesome.

And then we went home and zzzzzz.

So thats my life. How are you?

~Sor
MOOP!

Firstly, everyone needs to read this:
http://www.livejournal.com/users/uncut_diamond/158646.html

Too funny!

Secondly: What would you do if I asked you out on a date? I realized it's not a very "me" action, and I wanna know.

Feel free to post anon. (Not even going to TRY spelling the whole word.) Or post and delete (I get 'em via e-mail, so it's all good.)

Thirdly: Sennan_Cuff/Pickpocket/Aren: Sorry I wasn't online at all. I've been scatterbrained, and completely forgot I was going to chat with you until, well, now. And I have to get off in a few minutes anyways.

Fourthly: Camp rules. A Whole HELL of a lot.

Especially the following things:

*Blue Canary. I totally less then three girl. *facepalms* What makes that sentance all the better is that she's the one who taught me that phrasing...
*Leah-Wolf. This one's just a given
*Flex: What can I say, he's FLEX!
*The fact that QM gets to be SPACE TIME PIRATES!!! WOOOOOOOO!!!! *dances*

That reminds me, I need my costume...

And the flag...

And to make swaps...

*sigh*
*The high ratio of lesbians.

What can I say, they amuse me!
*The lack of dirty minded evil boys.

Well...Flex, I suppose. But he's not dirty minded towards me, what with me being daughter aged to him.
*All the assorted awesome Illchester friends.
*That I get to play with a LOT of Sharpies. Not to mention all the knives and matches I get to handle over here at QM.

I wanna work a unit again though...
*That the only NOT awesome things are the lack of a Kawa, and the big fat GLARING evil lack of a CD.

For some odd reason, that reminds me that I have to write about Saterday nights gaming. It was WAY fun, Tara continues to kick a lot of butt.

THAT reminds me that Kaida challenged Tara to an OotF deathmatch, so I need to roll that sometime.

And THAT reminds me that I need to talk to TheNewAwk sometime (Excpet for the fact that he doesn't exist) and see if I can use his "Going off on a tangent" avatar. Ok, actually, the flow of thoughts reminded me of that. Whatever.

I think thats all for now. What with having to turn off and make swaps and stuff.

Oh yeah! Theres a new story in katarina_tales. Go check it out.

And I figure if I pimp her out enough, enough people will friend her so I don't have to anymore. :D

~Origami (What can I say, I'm still in a camp frame of mind)

MOOP!

Awesome things of today:

~The conversation with Samie about her snowman thing. *twitch* and to think that I was hoping camp would make my mind LESS dirty.
~Becoming Blue Canary's evil lab assistent
~Finishing reading up to today with Something Positive

Things to talk about when I have time:
~Dodge Caravan (Mine and Pickpockets son, he's named after Ford Prefect. *wolfFORDwouldbemoreappropriatehere,methinks-grin*
~Swaps, and how cool they are
~Reasons why Blue Canary rules, and why I think she's actually OtherKat in disguise
~Saterdays D&D session
~Meepo! (*punts*)
~TIM