Friday, April 22, 2011

Let the Fraggles play...

Man, my head might be trying to kill me, but it sure has been a fun couple of weeks with Julie. y'know, when she's not high on slurpees. wait. that's real fun too. it just involves more helping her ride her bike until she gets real cranky then taking her for naps. She's the head of activities and crafts with our ragtag team of anarcho scouts. Twist tie sculptures, wildflower seed bombings, lots of drawing and painting and art placement on the walls of the apartment that i'm not so sure i'm going to get the full damage deposit back from anymore...  dominoes skyscrapers (and she even sat still long enough to play almost a full game of dominoes with my bro the other night!) cape-making and walks and building nests to be birds in on the sides of every street in our neighborhood, and bike riding (i'm sure glad i found her helmet, she's a terror on the pedal-less bike we got from a pal, although she refuses to go near it unless i'm holding it, which feels even more dangerous to me sometimes as she tends to have better balance than me.) it's been fun. and i've even gotten some CLEANING ALL THE THINGS done while she takes her two-hour long splashy-bath every two days or so.

Did i mention that ALL of these activities involves a magic wand? Did I mention that EVERYTHING she does involves a magic wand? I suppose sometimes she uses it for sword fighting, but it's still called a magic wand.

Anyway, I'm really stoked for her to be three. Kids are real interesting and real funny. And all the good people are stoked on hanging out avec toddler. And i  REALLY like that she can tell me what she wants for her birthday now and i don't have to guess and make her things that i think are sweet but she's seriously non-plussed by. I'm a bit horrified of the amount of pink and purple i'm being swallowed by, between the neon pink and blue/purple striped legwarmers i'm knitting and the quilt i'm patching onto ("I want a PURPLE blanket with Princesses and Mermaids on it!") I figured i'd so with a stencil of Princess Peach that i made a mermaid tail for the bottom of, make a bunch of purple patches of it, then sew 'em all onto a purple and pink reversible quilt, as my skills are defintely not anywhere near any sort of ability to make a quilt myself.) toss in some headbands and hairclips and a slingshot and I hope that the baby daddy doesn't groan TOO much when she opens them. If he doesn't groan a little over the manic craft explosion we'll probably all be a bit confused though.

Things are good, as usual, with the baby daddy/Co-parent. we don't agree on much (don't really feel the need to though, which makes things simple for everyone) and have forgotten a lot of the small things about each other that drove us nuts, which is really nice. We don't understand each other at all, but I think we've really managed to figure out how to let all the things that don't matter wash out of view and just focus on loving Julie ALL THE TIME and letting that stand as enough for each other to respect the decisions that we make in our time with her. I'm down.

Wednesday, April 20, 2011

Phew, so I suppose this blog has become exactly what i was trying to avoid when i took it down last time, that is, it's become a pool of confusion and self-loathing. and y'know, george-hating. these things happen sometimes. And then they stop for a while, and i really like it when they stop for a while. my brain and heart can take breaks from the crazy, and I like them a lot when they come. I'm back on vacation from my brain trying to hurt itself. it's nice here.

Things are going well, and simply. Pretty focused on Julie's birthday coming up. She doesn't quite understand ages or birthdays or anything (although she knows what presents are, and that gramma's coming to visit, and that bowling is a rad time and all of these things are happening soon and therefore is STOKED.) I asked her what she wanted for the b-day and think i'm going to be able to make ALL THE THINGS that she wanted, i just hope they turn out to be as rad as they are in my head. there is WAY too much sewing involved for my skill set. which in no way includes sewing. sigh.

Spring is here, which means that it only snows for a few days at a time, and sometimes most of it even melts before snowfall and i'm glad for this, because we're getting way more precipitation than we do most years, which, although i won't have much of a garden going this year, that everyone else in this place will have a good run this season, and hopefully there will be chickweed everywhere soon. it's creeping out of the ice blocks in the backyard already and i've been munching on it when i'm on my way to work, but i'd like to get my harvest on and make some things. I definitely overdid the tincture making last season, and still have a shoebox full of 'em... and most of them are ones that i don't use much. I'm still not sure why i went with burdock leaf tincture, i guess just because there was so much lying around when i made the root tincture. this year i think i'll just fry up and eat the leaves. I might try to make up a salve with some chickweed and plantain and burdock leaves for burncare, but i've had really bad luck making salves so we'll just have to see how that goes. the stuff grows everywhere so i'm sure i could just pick some leaves fresh for burns, and hope that i don't mishandle the oven in the winter. (ha!)

Been anarchy-scouts-ing it up all over the place lately. the feral pal is good for having projects together. The homebrew experiments are going well and there seems to be no lack of fruit to make wine with floating around. We have discovered that we need to make a new batch of beer every 2 weeks to keep up with our consumption and distribution, and are contemplating doing a batch every week for a bit so that the distribution can rise. we just need to get a bunch more carboys and we're off. Also stoked on spring because that means that we can get most of the things we need to make the beer from alleyways and abandoned lots in the neighborhood. there are hops growing everywhere and i've still got a 5 gallon pail of barley that fnb didn't want kicking around. well, it's only about half full now, but i'm not cooking any more for food until we get more confident in our skillz and start roasting the barley ourselves to make wort. cause that'll be super fun.

came across the term salvagepunk today, something that maybe rises from the ashes of steampunk/dieselpunk's newfound commerciality.  Not that i expect it to have any different a fate, but i know there's no way i'm going to be selling the shit i make out of the shit i find, so now i guess i'm a cool kid AND can rock the anti-capitalism. until they find me and take both of those away at once when the ashes of salvagepunk blow into something ...marketable.

Monday, April 11, 2011

Egos should be illegal and mine just doesn't know how to act.

For one: the word Cunt is officially out of my vocabulary as of today.

For two: i like DOING STUFF and MAKING THINGS. and sometimes even going to bed when I'm already half asleep after yet another weekend of anarchy scouts (complete with bottle drive. ha!) and chatting with feral pals about how neither one of us know anything about adoption and feel real weird about it, but know that it doesn't pertain to us so maybe we just have to leave judgement outta that even though it makes us twitch (no, not thinking of adopting, it's just a theme that has come up a lot lately for whatever reason things come up.) The theme of gender and sexual orientation has come up a lot with us too. I can speak for myself and say this: I have a lot of goddamn privilege here, and i hide behind it.

I've been told by my family all of my life that i'm a lesbian, not in a way that they had any reason to assume my sexuality, but in the way that one might use the term as a slur because i didn't fit the gender norm, and i didn't care about a lot of things that they felt i was supposed to care about, and that i hated the fact that every time i started being friends with a dude he'd just wanna date me and i'd never really get to the "hey! we're pals and hang out and do shit and it's all good" parts. I always assumed that i could go through life and be treated "as a male" because that's how i approached situations. clearly i was wrong, and still am. Subcultural markers have helped with that, completely absconding with "sexualizing" my body in any way by conforming to the whole "if you don't dress sexy people won't treat you as a sex object" shit. (which, for the record, i fight myself on daily. i know it's bullshit. I've lived it's bullshit, but still somewhere in my heart i still hate the fact that i have a body that people will sexualize and i internalize that instead of confronting it.) So i've been wading through a lot of this and wonder if my identifying as genderqueer is all wrapped up in that. Like if i'm some sort of hurtful poser because women in my mind are sexualized and men aren't and that's why i'm uncomfortable being seen as female? real confused. I know that i've known i wasn't a boy or a girl since i've had the developmental ability to remember thoughts and feelings but i can't help but pick myself apart a bit on that.

Another piece, is the whole LIKING ALL THE BODIES piece. I mean, the bits a person has don't start the context for being attracted to them. Which isn't confusing at all for me. I really love the people that i love, and some of them i love in the way that sometimes we cuddle, and others sometimes we kiss, and others sometimes we do ALL THE THINGS. and others we've never touched at all. So i hid behind the official-relationships with male bodies, and secret crushes and flirtations with female bodies. These days everything is pretty much out there as much as anything else. I'm still confused all the time and wonder a lot about how fuckt my head is that although i can't have intercourse with a male body right now it's easier to admit to myself and others to being attracted to them than being upfront about being really attracted to/having relationships of whatever stripe with friends with female bodies and being comfortable and feeling safe having sex-by-anyone's-standards with them. Then again, that's likely mostly to do with the workmate-love more than the fact that she's a she. Now i'm just picking myself apart i think.

Maybe it's been too long since i had someone tell me every little thing that was wrong with me and now i'm doing it to myself because i don't know how to handle just being gentle with my Self. who knows. I think it's time to make some burdock tea and  saw some boards into dominoes and finally clean that damn silk screen emulsion off and clean up the house before Julie comes back tomorrow so the kidlet can mess it up good and proper on her own terms while pirate-queen-ing around the place.

Monday, March 28, 2011

kiss all of yr saviours goodbye...

Hmm. So the flipside of my last post is the way i actually react to situations with people who have really, purposefully, fucked me up.
Today George sent me an email (knowing full well he is not welcome to contact me in any way after sexually assaulting me, blaming me for it, throwing accusations and emotional abuse my way to invalidate and dehumanize me) asking for me to send him all of the emails he sent me during this time to show to his counsellor, and asking permission to go over my respeonses as well. y'know, as a favour, 'cause he's getting help. awww. barf.


How many times have i asked him not to contact me? well, about 15 over the phone, about 15 over email (after every time he emailed me all of his bullshit "we need to work on this so we can both grow because you're just as fucked up as i am if not more and you need me because i'm all you deserve" bullshit) . yep. i REALLY feel as though that's enough times for him to get that in no way do i want him to contact me. especially to do him a favour. a FAVOUR? really? The only favour i want to do for him is to fucking castrate him and let him bleed to death from the wounds.

of course though, i did. I went through the emails and forwarded them to him, re-reading all of the shit about how i was trying to make him kill himself, and employing a 'bullshit alienation campaign' because the 4 people i'd talked to about it weren't all that stoked on hanging out with him afterwards. re-reading (mostly skimming, but completely unable to think straight or even at all because of all the shit it stirred up) all of the accusations of how i wasn't everything he ever wanted in a partner because i called him out on his shit when he asked me to, and because i kept breaking up with him because i didn't feel safe around him and didn't want to date him.  And how that made me an empty, horrible, small person, for not loving someone who "liked [me] better before, when [i] was fucked up."

why did i do this? well, that's my shit to deal with, now isn't it? that's why this all got out of hand, why i dated him in the first place, why i stayed around for the whole 3 or so months that we were together, why it's taken even longer than that to get over it and not have it affect me so viscerally i can't breathe when i think about it too much.  Like millions of other people, I actually do believe that i'm a terrible human being and that if things are fucked up it must be my fault, that i'm just not treating people right, and if i had more patience, and more love inside of me, instead of these empty pieces that i'm always trying to put back together and losing halfway through the process, that i could be good enough for some abusive dickwad to be supported enough by me to change.

I mean, that's how it goes, right? If you take enough abuse, you can find the good parts of a person and help them grow and change into the person you know that maybe, someday, they might be?[/sarcasm].

yep, yeah, i was abused. in all the ways. and you know what? no one's going to save me from that. and no one can claim that because i was abused that i don't get to be the best parts of me, the parts that i kept untouched as much as possible, the parts that I held onto when there was nothing else, when i thought that i didn't have the right to speak, or to live, because every time i fucked up, i'd tell myself the things that i'd always been told. it's my FAULT. I'm not GOOD ENOUGH. I'm not WORTH ANYTHING. and I know better than that, and i know i've grown from there and i've cut off all ties with the people whose voices would otherwise echo through my life and keep me stunted and abused and incapable of becoming myself.

but i still sent him the damn emails. I still 'did him a favour' and i don't really know why. it wasn't to help him. it wasn't to help me. as far as i can figure, it's because i wanted the white noise in my head when i saw that he'd emailed me to STOP. and the only way i knew how to do that was to DO ANYTHING. and that's the task i saw in front of me. And I kind of hate myself for sending them. in fact, i hate myself a lot for sending them. I guess that's where my head's going to be pulling itself out of for the next week. I'm real confused.

When I sit and think about it, i know that all the things he said about me aren't true, just like how all the things my parents said about me and did to me weren't true or permissible. I know that I'm not the person their voices tell me i am. I know that i have a good life, filled with love, and that I care very deeply for people, just not people who hurt me on purpose. I know that i respect people and their boundaries. I know that sometimes i need a lot of space to keep from burning out, and to keep that level of care for the people i love, and that if i'm not feeling anything, it's time to build a nest and sit with it for a few days and let the feelings that i'm avoiding come up and make their way into and sometimes out of me. I know that this helps me treat the people that i love as though i love them, and to keep the people who just want to tie me up in their heartstrings at a safe distance.  I know that i'm not perfect, but i also know that i'm not going to tell anyone what they want to hear just to get my own way. if i'm going to be close to people, it's going to have to work for both of us, as we actually are, not as the idealized verisons of ourselves that society or religion, or even anarchism demands of us.  if i'm going to cuddle with someone, or fuck someone, it's going to be someone that i respect. not someone that i 'look up to', but someone that i can work with and communicate with, and practice good consent with in other areas of our lives before we get anywhere near the sexin's. I know this isn't going to work for everyone, and it's probably a step-backwards according to some, but it's what i NEED. And George refused to let me keep that part of myself for myself. He'd argue it out of me, not even logically, and use my emotions and our friendship to hurt me, sexually. Motherfucker doesn't have the right to come near me. to communicate to me, to be in my line of sight.

Sounds pretty familiar, i bet. I doubt there's a single person on earth who hasn't had at least a handful of people in their lives who have bullied them out of being who they need to be to be safe and happy. I hope fewer of those people are straight-up raped by these people and further shamed by them afterward but i know that that's way too goddamn common too.

So why, after all this processing on this here blog, do i still not understand why i gave him what he wanted, every time, even now, instead of fucking ignoring him or smashing his face in like i know i actually WANT to do?

Tuesday, March 22, 2011

There's no reason to be assured.

Hmm. I'm gonna talk about forgiveness for a minute here
Mostly because i have no concept of what that means.

I .. think.. i was raised to beleive that forgiveness meant figuring out how to make the best of a bad situation, how to change yourself and your emotions and thoughts to accept the person, see things from their perspective and not hold their degradation of you against them. Y'know, we're all just human, if you don't 'get over' what happened, then you're going to end up bitter and disappointed and lonely. GOd forgave all the shit we pulled, so we'd better forgive all the shit other people pull.

I'm hoping that forgiveness means something else, or i'm pretty much ready to throw the entire concept of forgiveness out the fucking window. Because so far as i can figure it, forgiveness means not accepting your emotions and experiences and struggles as valid and instead subjugating yourself further to your assailants/oppressors in the name of "being the bigger person" which is a pretty fuckt concet in and of itself.

lemme tell you: If someone hurts me, I don't have to "let" them hurt me again. it does not make me "just as bad" to refuse to be around them or to tell them to fuck off when they try to tell me why i'm WRONG about them. I don't have to talk it out, i don't have to help them heal, i don't have to tell myself that i can't heal unless i learn not to be angry. If someone hurts me, i have the right to anger. I have the right to have boundaries with them. I have the right to do what i need to do to take back what they stole. And if I pull some asshat shit on someone and hurt/assault/oppress them, they have every right to do the same.

So it seems to me, that in the absence of forgiveness, people just hafta learn not to be jerx. 'cause in the absence of forgiveness, you have to face yourself and no one's going to pretend you don't look like an asshole.

Monday, March 21, 2011

No Where To Run This Time

Today was an angry day. You can tell because i didn't have much to say. When i'm ranting and raving it means i'm ok, or alright or even STOKED! when i have nothing to say, i want to explode and know that i can't, or i can't just yet, or i need to make sure that the explosion is going n the most appropriate direction first.

I'm not sure when or why i stopped just exploding on whatever was in the way. I think it was a good switch, hmmm. maybe i even know it was. sometimes i miss having the ability to let all of my anger thrash out. I don't miss the parts that i couldn't control, but i do miss being able to let it do that without having to process half of it away first and being left in a constant flight response until then.

It was a weird weekend and I was hanging out, hoping to see a friend and heard that George was on his way down. so i left, 'cause .. well, when i hafta go, i REALLY hafta go. and sometimes it just isn't time to overshadow what's going on with my friends with what's going on with my shit. The people who know that George sexually assaulted me were really confused about why I left, especially after he agreed not to show up after all. Suffice it to say that i was in no condition to be there. Not because I would have tensed other people up, but because it would have hurt me, possibly. maybe another time and place i would have stayed and let myself get the support from my community that deep down i know i need although i keep denying it, but not there and not then. I'm real confused. I spent the night dreaming about dismantling walls around playgrounds and running into George and having him tell me stuff about how, y'know, he CARES about me, and he's CONCERNED because i just don't 'understand the situation' and that what happened isn't what happened, i'm just remembering it wrong and he'd like to support me so that i can get it RIGHT, because what happened really wasn't a big deal and i had to let it go and forgive him or else I'd be a worse person for it.

Fuck. That. man, even in my dream i knew it was bullshit. I guess that means that I really have gotten untied from his shit. well, here's to hoping. it's only a matter of time before we're face to face and i have to make sure i don't listen to a goddamn word he says.

So, it's springtime now, even though you wouldn't be able to tell if you went for a walk, and I'm going to listen to some sad music and clean ALL THE THINGS and get rid of some shit and let myself be ok and sit with this anger and let it help me decide what i want.

Tuesday, March 15, 2011

I watch 60 minutes go by hour after hour after hour.

went out of town with the feral pal this weekend. got to have a 2-beer night after the cock-up from the night before while everyone else had big bottles of hard alcohol to themselves. it was pretty funny. I like my friends. I like them when they're sober, i like them when they're drunk. I like them when they're yelling with me about TBTN and showing me how it can be done better, faster, and stronger. One year, some friends and I tried to organize TBTN here, we joined the committee, pissed everyone off, and left once all of our action points were done, and debriefed after the march. sadly, there was no actual debriefing, 'cause all I would have said is CUNT CUNT CUNT over and over. mostly 'cause i'm a jerk, and i wasn't allowed to use the word (not just at meetings, but at all, like, in the way that i'm not allowed to take the shit that's been put on me back and use it as a term of empowerment and funtimez.) man, i swear, I didn't call anyone A Cunt. i was just saying that i like the word and that i like to use it and i'm not using it to demean anyone 'cause if you ask me, a cunt is a fucking stellar thing to be. They really disagreed, and some people pushed the topic but i didn't, 'cause i'm also the kind of jerk who thinks that they're wrong all the time, or used to at least, and so i hid from 'em instead of stating my case. y'know, once i state it and they don't give a shit. never asked them to use the word. I understand that language affects people and that that word could very easily have triggered someone and it's not their job to tell me that I hurt them. I guess that's why I wasn't one of the ones pushing it. I did, in fact, take that word out of my vocabulary for years afterward. I get really excited when it falls out of my mouth now though. It's a good one. Really, my problem with TBTN was about being escorted by police for the march. I am not about to explain why that's fuckt.

On to other things. The trip was a blast, with lots of little fuckt parts that made it a roadtrip. Seeing family is always fuckt, especially when they ask you to be their support person for their newborn's circumcision and you hafta say 'hells of no, there is no fucking way in fucking hell i'm supporting any part of a decision to modify the body of a human being without it's consent, especially it's genitals.' without being that direct. I think i did a good job, made up some excuse about having to work that day (of course, i'm far from above calling in sick to ANY work in order to adventure, it was convenient.) then when i asked her about it and she sad it was her husbands decision i passively stated that i thought it was actually her son's decision then started talking about something else.  not about to harass my only family member in her own home two weeks after having a baby. also not gonna not say anything about genital mutilation. y'know? yeah. y'know.

oh yeah, and some dude pulled a gun on the feral pal and i about 5 minutes after we were accosted by some fucking racist scum for a cig and veered away from him. goddamn, i wish i had of just fucking hit the guy. sigh. the whole gun thing was WAY less annoying. (note: neither of us think that the gun was real, nor did we when it was happening, it's all good, seriously. it was just weird, and full of eye contact. dude didn't even ask us for money or anything. totally weird. i'm not entirely unconvinced that he didn't think we were friends with the racist fuck and that's why he did it. in fact, i really fucking hope that that's why he did.)

C.Pox update: all is well, barely a spot left on the kid. and she's eating like a ... toddler... again. meaning: everything, all the time, ever. and she got to run around in an empty community hall room today and actually admitted to it when she was tired. and i think we annoyed some liberals, so i'm stoked.

learning good consent update: there has been lots and lots of many drunken makeouts and more lately. I feel really good about all of them, and about the ability of all parties involved to say what they need to say, and what they're comfortable with, and that no is always the best answer if you're not super YES. I think the fact that I know and trust and have known and trusted the makeouts for a long time really helps. and that none of the makeouts involve p-in-the-v. (disclaimer, when i say makeouts, i could possibly mean anything from a furtive kiss to full on fucking in any sense-- including with all our clothes on. the people who need to know the particulars of things do. you, darling internet, won't. nor will anyone i'm not currently making out with. so there.) It feels safe, it feels good, and the one thing that i will tell you about, dear internets, is that constant communication and talking about consent and drawing up boundaries every single time... and when alcohol is involved, throughout the entire escapade... really does make things better. and i never intend on making out with someone without these things again. fuck, if i want a one night stand or a bit of a grind on a dance floor, i'm gonna make sure both they and i are ok with it. i'm really not sure how long it'll be til i feel like doing the anonymous makeouts, but either the object of my boner is gonna be weirded out and nothing's gonna happen any way, or shit will actually NOT be self-destructive. ugh. yeah. i think i really do need to stay away from the anon for now. I can't imagine making out with someone i don't know and trust to not be self-destructive for me. I'm stoked for people who are up on that, but for now, it's definitely not for me.