Saturday, December 25, 2010
Black Swan
Ok, so I realize it is Christmas, and it would therefore be more appropos to write a Christmas-themed post. However, I have a lot to say about this movie. I went to a morning showing yesterday (that's right. On Christmas Eve.), and I loved it. It was absolutely terrifying, erotic, and gruesome. The eroticism was mostly disturbing, and the the gore was even worse. The gore was the sort of thing that anybody with a nervous habit, such as biting or clipping nails obsessively, would shiver at. The movie took these habits and displayed their bloody, extreme results. It was the sort of movie somebody with my mind generally should not see. I was thinking about it hours later, and I woke up thinking about it.
The film illustrates an idea found repeatedly in literature and art. In many novels, such as The Picture of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde, the protagonist somehow achieves perfection, whether in beauty, success, or some other goal or desire. In order to gain that perfection, the protagonist must sacrifice something important. Typically, he or she sacrifices his or her soul. Black Swan displays this sacrifice as a process in which the innocent and virginal protagonist, Nina Sayers, loses her mind in her effort to dance both the White Swan and the Black Swan flawlessly, something it is not in her nature to do. Eventually, the impossibility and unnaturalness of the task leads to both her perfection and her destruction.
It is strange that in a culture which places a high focus on both attaining perfection and denying human nature, Culture such as Black Swan and The Picture of Dorian Gray has been created, asserting that in order to meet the expectations of our culture we must sell our souls to the devil, or whatever dualistic opposite of god in which one believes. Given that I believe literature and art function in American culture like Fairy Tales once did in others, simultaneously reflecting cultural values and imparting them to members of society in order that they might structure their lives around these values, the constant resurfacing of this theme in Culture is significant. Is it evidentiary of the conflict we experience as Americans? Is American thought in fact built upon conflict between dualistic poles? Maybe some day, I'll be able to propose answers to these questions.
Friday, December 17, 2010
Interviews and Armageddon
Well, I think the interview went well. I won't know until next week, though. I hope to receive a phone call for a secondary interview. I always hate it when they're done with the interrogation and say, "Do you have any questions for me?"
*cricket*
"Not yet," always answer, "but I am certain that if you choose to select me for the position, I will have many questions as I begin to work." I'm pretty flexible. I'm rarely concerned with things like, "How many people will I work with?" or "Will I have my own cubicle?"All I really wanted to know was, "how many hours a week?" and she answered the question before I even had to ask. I'll talk about salary, etc. if they offer me the position.
In other news, the apocolypse came to Richmond on Thursday. Everybody rushed from their homes as soon as they received word of the impending doom. They bought gas, milk, bread, all the necessary provisions for the Ice Age that rapidly encroached into the city limits. Work was canceled, and many people spent the entire day in their homes, not daring to venture out into the ice-cold, wintery death zone into which the city had metamorphosed.
I, myself, crocheted a hat for Mo and watched out the window as the snow grew to a massive height of four inches. I also watched the squirrel who chills on our back porch sit in his tree with his tail over his head like a canopy. Mo calls it the Squirrel Umbrella. It was adorable.
*cricket*
"Not yet," always answer, "but I am certain that if you choose to select me for the position, I will have many questions as I begin to work." I'm pretty flexible. I'm rarely concerned with things like, "How many people will I work with?" or "Will I have my own cubicle?"All I really wanted to know was, "how many hours a week?" and she answered the question before I even had to ask. I'll talk about salary, etc. if they offer me the position.
In other news, the apocolypse came to Richmond on Thursday. Everybody rushed from their homes as soon as they received word of the impending doom. They bought gas, milk, bread, all the necessary provisions for the Ice Age that rapidly encroached into the city limits. Work was canceled, and many people spent the entire day in their homes, not daring to venture out into the ice-cold, wintery death zone into which the city had metamorphosed.
I, myself, crocheted a hat for Mo and watched out the window as the snow grew to a massive height of four inches. I also watched the squirrel who chills on our back porch sit in his tree with his tail over his head like a canopy. Mo calls it the Squirrel Umbrella. It was adorable.
Wednesday, December 15, 2010
Coffee and Cheese Bagels
There's supposed to be a snow/ice storm tomorrow, which, in Virginia, means mob-scale idiocy. However...
I have Kahlua brand Hazelnut coffee!!!!
It's just coffee, booze not included. Fine by me. I'm not much of a drinker. But the coffee has subtle rum flavor and hazelnut, medium-bodied (my favorite). I didn't have to add much sugar, either, because it is just that good. It's like eating a rum chocolate! Plus, my dinner tonight is a bagel baked with cheese, one of my favorite meals.
Also, I have a telephone interview with a CPA firm tomorrow afternoon. I interviewed with a temp agency on Black Friday, and they've gotten me the interview for this job. It's full-time!!!! I'm so excited! Maybe with full-time work, I'll be able to get out of this rut. Wish me luck!
Mo has also told me she loves me several times today, and not in the sort of off-handed way we tend to say it when we're leaving for work either. She keeps on looking at me and telling me that I'm beautiful, and smelling my neck, and kissing me. (The smelling thing might sound weird, but there's this thing about the smell of a person you love. It's like eating chocolate, or your favorite winter meal, or drinking hot tea while your outside in the snow.) Then she looks me in the eyes and says, "I love you," with a slight shrug to her shoulders and a smile on her face (the right corner higher than the left). It's absolutely wonderful. I've had a good day today.
Monday, December 13, 2010
Musical Mondays: God Left the Ground to Circle the World
Boy with a coin he found in the weeds
With bullets and pages of trade magazines
Close to a car that flipped on the turn
When God left the ground to circle the world
Hey.... Oh....
Girl with a bird she found in the snow
That flew up her gown, and that's how she knows
That God made her eyes for crying at birth
Then left the ground to circle the earth
Hey....Oh....
Boy with a coin he crammed in his jeans
Then making a wish, and tossed in the seat
Then walked to a town that all of us burned
When God left the ground to circle the world
I chose this song because it reminds me of the question I constantly ask myself: Has God left us to our own devices? Did she give birth to the world and retreat into herself to watch what all its creatures would make of it? I wondered about it this morning, in fact.
Vanity Post
I'm really missing my long black hair today. Sure, it was messy, and frizzy, and heavy, but I loved having it. I'm also missing the long, craggy, pale face that it framed. (Right now it's more round and freckled)
On the bright side, maybe by the time it grows back, I'll also have that cute size 10-12 figure that went with it a couple years ago, and of course the craggy face. 6 inches/1 year to go!
I think that should be my weight/pants size loss goal. "Skinny Sophie" should be back by the time her hair is long again. YES!
On the bright side, maybe by the time it grows back, I'll also have that cute size 10-12 figure that went with it a couple years ago, and of course the craggy face. 6 inches/1 year to go!
I think that should be my weight/pants size loss goal. "Skinny Sophie" should be back by the time her hair is long again. YES!
Monday, December 6, 2010
Musical Mondays and Update
So, I've not been on blogger for a while. Mostly because I have been writing...
Harry Potter Fanfiction!!!!!!
I'm writing a story that takes place during the Marauder time frame. It's about Severus Snape and a bunch of death eaters, and it's also about an original character who is a sister to one of the baddies. I'm creating a very dark and harsh world for the Purebloods, and I'm having fun with it.
Moving on to Musical Mondays...
This is a song I've been listening to a lot lately. It has no lyrics, but it is wonderful. I didn't appreciate it until I saw her perform live, and before that I hated it, so I'm not sure how people will feel about it. You may not want to listen to it with headphones your first time either.
Monday, November 22, 2010
Musical Mondays
Stranger Than Kindness
Original by Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds
Cover by Fever Ray
Stranger than kindness
Bottled light from hotels
Spilling everything
Wet hand from the volcano
Sobers your skin
Stranger than Kindness
You caress yourself
And grind my soft cold bones below
Your map of desire
Burned in your flesh
Even a fool can come
A strange lit stair
And find a rope hanging there
Stranger than kindness
Keys rain like heaven's hair
There is no home there is no bread
We sit at the gate and scratch
The gaunt fruit of passion
Dies in the light
Stranger than kindness
Your sleeping hands journey
The loiter
Stranger than kindness
You hold me so carelessy close
Tell me I'm dirty
Stranger than kindness
I am a stranger
I am a stranger
To kindness
I didn't choose this song because it has any particular relevance in my current life. I chose it because certain phrases are strangely reminiscent of moments that have stuck with me for some inexplicable reason, moments I've been thinking about recently. The lyrics also remind me of the kind of emotional disturbance I have experienced that is at once agonizing and brilliantly beautiful. Plus, the music video is absolutely gorgeous!
List of Things Sophia Should Not Do At Work
Accompanied by ways to improve the situation:
1. What I should not do:
Even if the person on the other end is joking about everybody in my office being asleep, I should not joke back, especially not saying that boss is not yet in, so maybe he IS still asleep. Chances are that it isn't the person I think it is on the other end. Luckily, even though it wasn't the geologist like I thought, the members of the company have a joking relationship with the person it actually was, so my little faux pas won't make my boss look bad. *whew* But just in case...
What I should do next time:
Just don't do it. If my boss is not there yet, I should just say that I don't know where he is, but he should be in anytime. Or maybe ask the accountant where is prior to receiving phone calls. Today he was at a funeral. I'm trying not to beat myself up about this.
2. What I should not do:
One word--Facebook. I'm really bad with this. When I have nothing to do at work, I get on Facebook.
What I should do next time:
I should just read a book, or bring an article from home. It looks better, despite the fact that it's relatively the same thing--not working at work.
3. What I should not do:
Texting. I'm bad with this, too, when things are slow. Even though the accountant makes personal phone calls at work, I still feel like the secretary should not be doing personal communication. Usually it's only for important things with Mo, but still...
What I should do next time:
Bring my phone with me to the bathroom and text while on the toilet. Multi-tasking, baby.
4. What I should not do:
Blogging. I'm doing it right now. At work. I'm justifying it because this blog is an analysis of my behavior at work.
What I should do next time:
Same as #3.
5. What I should not do:
IM people from the BDSM community when I have a Yahoo email window open. You know how it has a chat built into the window like GMail? Yeah.
What I should do next time:
Just resist the urge to talk to the guy. He usually just provokes me with some idiotic comment anyway. Resist the urge to prove his idiocy to him. He's not smart enough to notice that's what I'm doing anyway.
Just stay off the internet. Period. Then again, maybe I'm being too hard on myself. Don't a lot of people dick around on the computer while working desk jobs?
1. What I should not do:
Even if the person on the other end is joking about everybody in my office being asleep, I should not joke back, especially not saying that boss is not yet in, so maybe he IS still asleep. Chances are that it isn't the person I think it is on the other end. Luckily, even though it wasn't the geologist like I thought, the members of the company have a joking relationship with the person it actually was, so my little faux pas won't make my boss look bad. *whew* But just in case...
What I should do next time:
Just don't do it. If my boss is not there yet, I should just say that I don't know where he is, but he should be in anytime. Or maybe ask the accountant where is prior to receiving phone calls. Today he was at a funeral. I'm trying not to beat myself up about this.
2. What I should not do:
One word--Facebook. I'm really bad with this. When I have nothing to do at work, I get on Facebook.
What I should do next time:
I should just read a book, or bring an article from home. It looks better, despite the fact that it's relatively the same thing--not working at work.
3. What I should not do:
Texting. I'm bad with this, too, when things are slow. Even though the accountant makes personal phone calls at work, I still feel like the secretary should not be doing personal communication. Usually it's only for important things with Mo, but still...
What I should do next time:
Bring my phone with me to the bathroom and text while on the toilet. Multi-tasking, baby.
4. What I should not do:
Blogging. I'm doing it right now. At work. I'm justifying it because this blog is an analysis of my behavior at work.
What I should do next time:
Same as #3.
5. What I should not do:
IM people from the BDSM community when I have a Yahoo email window open. You know how it has a chat built into the window like GMail? Yeah.
What I should do next time:
Just resist the urge to talk to the guy. He usually just provokes me with some idiotic comment anyway. Resist the urge to prove his idiocy to him. He's not smart enough to notice that's what I'm doing anyway.
What I should always do is....
Just stay off the internet. Period. Then again, maybe I'm being too hard on myself. Don't a lot of people dick around on the computer while working desk jobs?
Wednesday, November 17, 2010
Sophia has a bit of a social problem
Ok. I'm coming out with it. I have a problem. What is this problem?
Over-answering.
Whenever somebody asks me a question and a simple, polite response would be perfectly adequate, dare I say completely appropriate, I go on and on, eventually providing them with WAY too much information. In run-on sentences. Par example:
The way things ought to go...
Dance Teacher: There's a bandage on your foot. What happened? Everything ok?
Normal Person: I stepped on something in the shower, but it's mostly healed, so I can dance.
The way things go in Sophia's Universe...
Dance Teacher: Sophia, you've got a bandage on your foot. What happened? Everything ok?
Sophia: Oh yeah, it's fine. The drain in my shower sometimes gets out of place, and there are prongs on the underside. I kind of stepped on one of the prongs and cut my foot. It bled a lot, but it's healed pretty quickly because the prong went in at an angle, so the cut wasn't that deep. I'll be fine to dance. It shouldn't bleed through the bandage or anything.
Over-answering.
Whenever somebody asks me a question and a simple, polite response would be perfectly adequate, dare I say completely appropriate, I go on and on, eventually providing them with WAY too much information. In run-on sentences. Par example:
The way things ought to go...
Dance Teacher: There's a bandage on your foot. What happened? Everything ok?
Normal Person: I stepped on something in the shower, but it's mostly healed, so I can dance.
The way things go in Sophia's Universe...
Dance Teacher: Sophia, you've got a bandage on your foot. What happened? Everything ok?
Sophia: Oh yeah, it's fine. The drain in my shower sometimes gets out of place, and there are prongs on the underside. I kind of stepped on one of the prongs and cut my foot. It bled a lot, but it's healed pretty quickly because the prong went in at an angle, so the cut wasn't that deep. I'll be fine to dance. It shouldn't bleed through the bandage or anything.
Gods of Embarassment and Social Chaos: 10
Sophia: -3,458
Socially awkward Sophia strikes again!
Monday, November 15, 2010
Musical Mondays - Bitch
This song is a comfort to me when I'm feeling particularly... womanish. Yes.
Bitch by Meredith Brooks
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=M60cl7bKCMw
I hate the world today
You're so good to me
I know but I can't change
Tried to tell you
But you look at me like maybe
I'm an angel underneath
Innocent and sweet
Yesterday I cried
Must have been relieved to see
The softer side
I can understand how you'd be so confused
I don't envy you
I'm a little bit of everything
All rolled into one
[Chorus:]
I'm a bitch, I'm a lover
I'm a child, I'm a mother
I'm a sinner, I'm a saint
I do not feel ashamed
I'm your hell, I'm your dream
I'm nothing in between
You know you wouldn't want it any other way
So take me as I am
This may mean
You'll have to be a stronger man
Rest assured that
When I start to make you nervous
And I'm going to extremes
Tomorrow I will change
And today won't mean a thing
[Chorus]
Just when you think, you got me figured out
The season's already changing
I think it's cool, you do what you do
And don't try to save me
[Chorus]
I'm a bitch, I'm a tease
I'm a goddess on my knees
When you hurt, when you suffer
I'm your angel undercover
I've been numb, I'm revived
Can't say I'm not alive
You know I wouldn't want it any other way
Friday, November 12, 2010
Poem/Ritual Chant/Prayer
This is a poem I wrote this evening. The first four lines, however, are not mine. They were written by George John Whyte-Melville. A facebook friend of mine who's a photographer included them on his deviant art page with a very beautiful photograph, and that got me thinking. In light of the recent passing of my Grandpa, I decided to write a Samhain chant.
Photo found here: http://3feathers.deviantart.com/gallery/#/d32dmbr. Be warned, it has mammaries.
Autumn Chant
Falling leaf and fading tree,
Lines of white in a sullen sea,
Shadows rising on you and me;
Shadows rising on you and me;
Mosaics of color on frosted earth lay,
Dancing through air of the chilly day.
The sun of the summer can no longer stay,
Time for the flutes of Autumn to play.
Autumn wind, cold and free,
Entwined in the arms of the sleeping tree,
Make me the person I long to be;
Show me the people I long to see;
Out in the chilly night I spy,
The faces that leave, the loved ones that die.
Yet for us there is no need to cry.
This is their night, though we’ve bid them goodbye.
Hush! A call from worlds away,
Softly leads us to the winter gray.
“Listen!” it whispers. “Hear what I say!”
Love grows in the earth, slow though it may.
So take the halves of the house of red,
And in the black ground make them a bed.
As the Mother’s life is into them fed,
Through this New Year may we all be led.
Falling leaf and fading tree,
Lines of white in a sullen sea,
Shadows rising on you and me;
Shadows rising on you and me;
Mosaics of color on frosted earth lay,
Dancing through air of the chilly day.
The sun of the summer can no longer stay,
Time for the flutes of Autumn to play.
Autumn wind, cold and free,
Entwined in the arms of the sleeping tree,
Make me the person I long to be;
Show me the people I long to see;
Out in the chilly night I spy,
The faces that leave, the loved ones that die.
Yet for us there is no need to cry.
This is their night, though we’ve bid them goodbye.
Hush! A call from worlds away,
Softly leads us to the winter gray.
“Listen!” it whispers. “Hear what I say!”
Love grows in the earth, slow though it may.
So take the halves of the house of red,
And in the black ground make them a bed.
As the Mother’s life is into them fed,
Through this New Year may we all be led.
Wednesday, November 10, 2010
Strange Attraction
Ok... so I am very ashamed to admit this.
I still webstalk Ellie. She fascinates me. I read her twitter posts, look at her profile on this fetish facebook site. Today I actually found a blog she wrote years ago, when she and Mo were together. (She was definitely not evil. She was more like a confused little girl, as I have been, as many of us have been. Not that it excuses poor behavior, just makes the reasoning behind it clearer.)
It's not like I have a mad desire. It's not like I NEED to do it, or get upset when I can't find information on her. It's just that it's so damn easy for me, and I'm curious, so why not do it? The only problem now is that I want to talk to her. I wanted to suggest blue liquid latex for her halloween costume when she was having issues with it. I want to say Hi, exchange snippets of conversation. She's like one of the many people I have lost touch with and read posts for and about just to keep up with their lives. At least my emotional involvement with it is the same in both situations. Except she's not one of those old friends.
I feel like the creepiest fucking stalker.
I have no idea why I want to talk with her now, except that I just feel like it. Is it natural to feel as though you are friends with somebody when you've been keeping internet tabs on them for months? Or am I just attracted to chaos?
I haven't talked to her because of the can of worms it could open. I'm terribly frightened (or cautious) of the consequences.
Sophia, the creepy web stalker with too much time on her hands.
I still webstalk Ellie. She fascinates me. I read her twitter posts, look at her profile on this fetish facebook site. Today I actually found a blog she wrote years ago, when she and Mo were together. (She was definitely not evil. She was more like a confused little girl, as I have been, as many of us have been. Not that it excuses poor behavior, just makes the reasoning behind it clearer.)
It's not like I have a mad desire. It's not like I NEED to do it, or get upset when I can't find information on her. It's just that it's so damn easy for me, and I'm curious, so why not do it? The only problem now is that I want to talk to her. I wanted to suggest blue liquid latex for her halloween costume when she was having issues with it. I want to say Hi, exchange snippets of conversation. She's like one of the many people I have lost touch with and read posts for and about just to keep up with their lives. At least my emotional involvement with it is the same in both situations. Except she's not one of those old friends.
I feel like the creepiest fucking stalker.
I have no idea why I want to talk with her now, except that I just feel like it. Is it natural to feel as though you are friends with somebody when you've been keeping internet tabs on them for months? Or am I just attracted to chaos?
I haven't talked to her because of the can of worms it could open. I'm terribly frightened (or cautious) of the consequences.
Sophia, the creepy web stalker with too much time on her hands.
I'm a very bitter person.
I realize that I complain quite a bit. But to be honest, there really isn't much that's good in my life. There's a lot that's not bad, but nothing much that's actually good.
Mo and I are having problems. It's very unfortunate. We're two years into our relationship, and we already know that we need couple's therapy. But the sad fact is that we can't afford couple's therapy right now.
I don't know if any of you who (maybe) read this have been in a relationship after having been cheated on, but what Mo and I are going through is that awkward tension after a major trust has been betrayed, kind of like what some couples go through after infidelity. Think Alan Rickman and Emma Thompson's marriage in Love Actually after he's slept with his secretary. Neither of us cheated, though. It was something else. Basically, I've realized that while I still love Mo, the love is buried deep under this thick, numb shield, despite the fact that I've forgiven her. I thought that having more sex would help, or that it would help if Mo showed more of a desire to have sex. But I don't think that's what will make things better. I'm just going to have to peel off the shield myself, layer by layer.
On top of all this, my Grandpa died Saturday, and the funeral stuff starts this evening. I know it's silly of me, but I'm more worried about seeing my dad's side of the family than I am sad about the loss. He was old, I was not close to him, and he went out the best way possible: in his sleep. My dad's family, however, is the Aryan Race, and my aunts are stepford wives. They also hate my little lesbian guts.
I also realized that if my work circumstances don't improve by the New Year, I'm going to be making trips to the food bank. Hopefully, the student loan companies will allow me to defer my loans again. I just won't be able to make the payments. Welcome to America, folks. Where we face economic consequences when we peacefully protest, consequences that are no less binding than the illegality of free speech. Home of the oppressed, the uninsured, the unemployed, and the poor, educated people who don't qualify for governmental aid despite the fact that they live at the 37th% poverty guideline. Where the fuck is my government kickback? Where are my civil rights? Where is my girlfriend's free medical insurance? Where is that job that I'm supposed to have because of my intelligence, my hard work, and my diligence?
This country is a sham. They ought to tear down the Statue of Liberty, because now, her presence in New York is just plain silly. None of us has any liberty. We're all in a torture frame created by jobs and capitalism.
Mo and I are having problems. It's very unfortunate. We're two years into our relationship, and we already know that we need couple's therapy. But the sad fact is that we can't afford couple's therapy right now.
I don't know if any of you who (maybe) read this have been in a relationship after having been cheated on, but what Mo and I are going through is that awkward tension after a major trust has been betrayed, kind of like what some couples go through after infidelity. Think Alan Rickman and Emma Thompson's marriage in Love Actually after he's slept with his secretary. Neither of us cheated, though. It was something else. Basically, I've realized that while I still love Mo, the love is buried deep under this thick, numb shield, despite the fact that I've forgiven her. I thought that having more sex would help, or that it would help if Mo showed more of a desire to have sex. But I don't think that's what will make things better. I'm just going to have to peel off the shield myself, layer by layer.
On top of all this, my Grandpa died Saturday, and the funeral stuff starts this evening. I know it's silly of me, but I'm more worried about seeing my dad's side of the family than I am sad about the loss. He was old, I was not close to him, and he went out the best way possible: in his sleep. My dad's family, however, is the Aryan Race, and my aunts are stepford wives. They also hate my little lesbian guts.
I also realized that if my work circumstances don't improve by the New Year, I'm going to be making trips to the food bank. Hopefully, the student loan companies will allow me to defer my loans again. I just won't be able to make the payments. Welcome to America, folks. Where we face economic consequences when we peacefully protest, consequences that are no less binding than the illegality of free speech. Home of the oppressed, the uninsured, the unemployed, and the poor, educated people who don't qualify for governmental aid despite the fact that they live at the 37th% poverty guideline. Where the fuck is my government kickback? Where are my civil rights? Where is my girlfriend's free medical insurance? Where is that job that I'm supposed to have because of my intelligence, my hard work, and my diligence?
This country is a sham. They ought to tear down the Statue of Liberty, because now, her presence in New York is just plain silly. None of us has any liberty. We're all in a torture frame created by jobs and capitalism.
Monday, November 1, 2010
NaNoWriMo
So, I'm considering doing Nation Novel Writing Month for the first time. At other times in my life, I've been too busy. Now it seems that I need a way to keep busy. (Other than all that working out I'm doing)
I need opinions on ideas. I'm just not sure which novel I want to write, so any suggestions would be great. I have many ideas, but there are three that are prominent.
Idea #1
This idea explores the relationship between the captive and the captor, with some Stockholm Syndrome thrown into the mix. The only characters (thusfar) are two women: Lara, the captive; and Beatrice, the captor. As the novel/story unfolds, it depicts the deteriorating sanity of both women, and the ways their feelings toward one another are twisted. It will feature graphic SM-like torture scenes. I've considered adding a deaf maid to the story, so that some sort of outside "control" perspective will be present.
Idea #2
Epic fantasy piece. Marianthe Crevan, a brilliant student and fire sorceress wrongly accused of a crime, finds a surprising way out of her existence in the orphanage and reformatory of her native, icy land of Hevrildor. Upon the recommendation of one of her former professors, an ambassador to the warm, southern country of Aarollan, she is accepted to Harvington University, Aarollan's chief institution of higher education. She sets off to begin a new life, but the very man assigned to mentor her, the bitter and cynical Danatius Blair, seems to have no faith in her innocence or her abilities. His lack of support is made more apparent when, upon Marianthe's arrival in Aarollan's capital, a murder attempt makes it clear that her trouble may have followed her from Hevrildor. All the while, discord brews in the north eastern land of Vald'anger -- the restoration of an evil dictator, believed to have been long dead, to the seat of power. The threat of war encroaches upon the borders of Aarollan. Soon, Marianthe is tangled up in a plot that could destroy her life, the life of Dr. Blair, and perhaps even the stability of the world itself. With the help of several friends and allies -- Ulric Stanislaw, the air sorcerer and warrior; Professor Marciu, the ambassador and a powerful Zoemancer (opposite of necromancer. Lays improperly resurrected dead to rest and restores the worthy dead to full life); Helen Malek, a Seer and White Witch who walks constantly between death and life; and others -- Marianthe must find a way to preserve the balance between the Realms of Life, Death, Spirits, and Demons and save the lives of those she has come to love.
Possible first in a trilogy/series. This one involves intensive world building, cultural groups, and the establishment of a metaphysical religion and order to the universe. There are also some pretty detailed back stories to most of the characters, revelations of strange blood relations, and prophecies. I'm thinking it's going to be a brick of a book one day, if I can ever find the dedication. I don't know if a month is enough time, but it would be enough time to get this ball rolling.
Idea #3
Lucy lives a calm existence as a teacher in a boarding school, the same school in which she spent the majority of her youth. But memories from an event of her teenage years continue to plague her long into adulthood, memories of a pack of she-wolves that lived in the forest and of the Wolf Woman who was their leader. Sappho-erotic. Metaphor for something that was an important part of the formation of my identity.
As I write this blog, I'm getting a niggling feeling about which one I want to write, and I think I may know. Nonetheless, I would REALLY appreciate suggestions. Thank you!
I need opinions on ideas. I'm just not sure which novel I want to write, so any suggestions would be great. I have many ideas, but there are three that are prominent.
Idea #1
This idea explores the relationship between the captive and the captor, with some Stockholm Syndrome thrown into the mix. The only characters (thusfar) are two women: Lara, the captive; and Beatrice, the captor. As the novel/story unfolds, it depicts the deteriorating sanity of both women, and the ways their feelings toward one another are twisted. It will feature graphic SM-like torture scenes. I've considered adding a deaf maid to the story, so that some sort of outside "control" perspective will be present.
Idea #2
Epic fantasy piece. Marianthe Crevan, a brilliant student and fire sorceress wrongly accused of a crime, finds a surprising way out of her existence in the orphanage and reformatory of her native, icy land of Hevrildor. Upon the recommendation of one of her former professors, an ambassador to the warm, southern country of Aarollan, she is accepted to Harvington University, Aarollan's chief institution of higher education. She sets off to begin a new life, but the very man assigned to mentor her, the bitter and cynical Danatius Blair, seems to have no faith in her innocence or her abilities. His lack of support is made more apparent when, upon Marianthe's arrival in Aarollan's capital, a murder attempt makes it clear that her trouble may have followed her from Hevrildor. All the while, discord brews in the north eastern land of Vald'anger -- the restoration of an evil dictator, believed to have been long dead, to the seat of power. The threat of war encroaches upon the borders of Aarollan. Soon, Marianthe is tangled up in a plot that could destroy her life, the life of Dr. Blair, and perhaps even the stability of the world itself. With the help of several friends and allies -- Ulric Stanislaw, the air sorcerer and warrior; Professor Marciu, the ambassador and a powerful Zoemancer (opposite of necromancer. Lays improperly resurrected dead to rest and restores the worthy dead to full life); Helen Malek, a Seer and White Witch who walks constantly between death and life; and others -- Marianthe must find a way to preserve the balance between the Realms of Life, Death, Spirits, and Demons and save the lives of those she has come to love.
Possible first in a trilogy/series. This one involves intensive world building, cultural groups, and the establishment of a metaphysical religion and order to the universe. There are also some pretty detailed back stories to most of the characters, revelations of strange blood relations, and prophecies. I'm thinking it's going to be a brick of a book one day, if I can ever find the dedication. I don't know if a month is enough time, but it would be enough time to get this ball rolling.
Idea #3
Lucy lives a calm existence as a teacher in a boarding school, the same school in which she spent the majority of her youth. But memories from an event of her teenage years continue to plague her long into adulthood, memories of a pack of she-wolves that lived in the forest and of the Wolf Woman who was their leader. Sappho-erotic. Metaphor for something that was an important part of the formation of my identity.
As I write this blog, I'm getting a niggling feeling about which one I want to write, and I think I may know. Nonetheless, I would REALLY appreciate suggestions. Thank you!
Thursday, October 28, 2010
I just don't get it
I'm working out. I'm eating less. I'm drinking more water. I can climb a mountain and not get winded.
But I'm still gaining weight. I find new, pink stretch marks everyday.
I'm doing everything right, as far as I know. It's been a month now, and I'm 10 lbs. heavier than I was last month.
I don't understand what's wrong.
But I'm still gaining weight. I find new, pink stretch marks everyday.
I'm doing everything right, as far as I know. It's been a month now, and I'm 10 lbs. heavier than I was last month.
I don't understand what's wrong.
Monday, October 25, 2010
Day 8: Letter to my favorite internet friend
This friend is a person I know in real life, but only knows me online as my internet persona. She is an old friend who I am (possibly irrationally) afraid wouldn't add me to her cyberspace whatever if she knew it was actually me. Go figure. If she reads this, she may figure it out, but I doubt that she reads it.
Dear Annika,
I guess this doesn't count if I know you in real life, but you don't know you know me in real life, so I guess it does. I realize it's kind of stalker-ish to do this, and for that, I'm sorry. But I miss you, I think about you often, and I want to know how you're doing.
You were my best friend my freshman year. You helped me get through that hellish time of my life, and you helped me learn about myself. For that, I will forever be thankful. I still recall our shared geekiness and our late-night walks to 7-11, the graveyard, and the gazebo with fondness and nostalgia. I'm a different person now, as I am certain you are, and I can't help but wonder if the people we've become would be such good friends as our selves of 5 years ago were. As I grow older, I feel the strain that distance puts on friendships more acutely. I always knew it existed, but now it seems to matter more. Perhaps that's because it's difficult to maintain friendships as an adult, anyhow. I wish the physical distance between us were smaller, as well as the emotional distance.
Love,
Sophia
Dear Annika,
I guess this doesn't count if I know you in real life, but you don't know you know me in real life, so I guess it does. I realize it's kind of stalker-ish to do this, and for that, I'm sorry. But I miss you, I think about you often, and I want to know how you're doing.
You were my best friend my freshman year. You helped me get through that hellish time of my life, and you helped me learn about myself. For that, I will forever be thankful. I still recall our shared geekiness and our late-night walks to 7-11, the graveyard, and the gazebo with fondness and nostalgia. I'm a different person now, as I am certain you are, and I can't help but wonder if the people we've become would be such good friends as our selves of 5 years ago were. As I grow older, I feel the strain that distance puts on friendships more acutely. I always knew it existed, but now it seems to matter more. Perhaps that's because it's difficult to maintain friendships as an adult, anyhow. I wish the physical distance between us were smaller, as well as the emotional distance.
Love,
Sophia
Thursday, October 21, 2010
Day 7: Letter to my Ex-Girlfriend/Crush
Dear Allie,
I still want you from time to time. There were so many things that were wrong the first time. First of all, 22 and 18 is a HUGE age difference, but 27 and 23 isn't so much of one. At least you told me you were 22. According to your facebook, you were 21. It's strange that you would lie about something like that. Regardless, a senior in college is much different than a freshman. Also, I was a complete puppy dog for you. I wanted you so bad that I would have lost myself completely just to have you.
But frankly, the few times we fucked, it wasn't that great. The first time, you barely kissed me. I know now that I needed a lot of kisses to ease me into the whole losing my virginity thing, need a lot of kissing in general during sex. And the second time, you were so high on hydrocodine pills (that I ground up because you were going to snort sharp little pieces and probably tear your nostrils up), that you wouldn't let me do anything to you, said it would make no difference.
The only time I sincerely want you is when my self-esteem is at ultimate lows. Other times, I think that it would be nice to meet through some misunderstanding or freak circumstance and somehow end up in bed together. I'd like to see if you really are as bad as I thought you were, and maybe give you the kind of highly orgasmic sex that makes it hard to walk for a few days. And never speak to you again. Maybe it's sad to want a good revenge fuck. It's probably better not to engage in such behavior, and I know you're not worth it. But... can't help but fantasize about it.
Then again, I don't want an STD.
Sophia
I still want you from time to time. There were so many things that were wrong the first time. First of all, 22 and 18 is a HUGE age difference, but 27 and 23 isn't so much of one. At least you told me you were 22. According to your facebook, you were 21. It's strange that you would lie about something like that. Regardless, a senior in college is much different than a freshman. Also, I was a complete puppy dog for you. I wanted you so bad that I would have lost myself completely just to have you.
But frankly, the few times we fucked, it wasn't that great. The first time, you barely kissed me. I know now that I needed a lot of kisses to ease me into the whole losing my virginity thing, need a lot of kissing in general during sex. And the second time, you were so high on hydrocodine pills (that I ground up because you were going to snort sharp little pieces and probably tear your nostrils up), that you wouldn't let me do anything to you, said it would make no difference.
The only time I sincerely want you is when my self-esteem is at ultimate lows. Other times, I think that it would be nice to meet through some misunderstanding or freak circumstance and somehow end up in bed together. I'd like to see if you really are as bad as I thought you were, and maybe give you the kind of highly orgasmic sex that makes it hard to walk for a few days. And never speak to you again. Maybe it's sad to want a good revenge fuck. It's probably better not to engage in such behavior, and I know you're not worth it. But... can't help but fantasize about it.
Then again, I don't want an STD.
Sophia
Wednesday, October 20, 2010
Woman Crush
So, I've finally developed a crush on somebody again. And here's the strange thing. I've never met this person or spoken with this person. Who is it?
Her name is Margot Weiss, and she's an anthropologist who's stuff I've been reading. She did most of her field work on the BDSM community, and on SM play as an act which dissipates societal tension. It's very interesting stuff and she seems to work within the theoretical framework that (vernacularly) rocks my socks off. She sited an essay by Clifford Geertz about the Balinese cockfight several times. It's a very amusing essay, and works with the concept of symbol and metaphor within society. I have a total intellectual hard-on for that sort of thing.
Ok, so it's more of an OMG-she's-awesome woman-crush than a romantic crush. But still. I would probably not be able to talk if she suddenly walked into my office. And I might swoon a little bit.
Unfortunately, she teaches at a university that only has an anthro undergrad program, but I'm reading her PhD dissertation right now, and so I'm also looking into where she studied as a grad student. If she could apply the theoretical framework of "safe" and "accepted" anthropology to a topic that is so taboo (even in academic circles) and have that research approved by her advisers and published in Anthropologica, then perhaps that school is worth applying to.
Her name is Margot Weiss, and she's an anthropologist who's stuff I've been reading. She did most of her field work on the BDSM community, and on SM play as an act which dissipates societal tension. It's very interesting stuff and she seems to work within the theoretical framework that (vernacularly) rocks my socks off. She sited an essay by Clifford Geertz about the Balinese cockfight several times. It's a very amusing essay, and works with the concept of symbol and metaphor within society. I have a total intellectual hard-on for that sort of thing.
Ok, so it's more of an OMG-she's-awesome woman-crush than a romantic crush. But still. I would probably not be able to talk if she suddenly walked into my office. And I might swoon a little bit.
Unfortunately, she teaches at a university that only has an anthro undergrad program, but I'm reading her PhD dissertation right now, and so I'm also looking into where she studied as a grad student. If she could apply the theoretical framework of "safe" and "accepted" anthropology to a topic that is so taboo (even in academic circles) and have that research approved by her advisers and published in Anthropologica, then perhaps that school is worth applying to.
Day 6: Letter to a Stranger
Dear Stranger,
I haven't noticed many strangers on the street. That's probably because I don't go out much, and when I do, I am distracted. So I'm writing this letter to you -- to any stranger in general.
Whenever I see you and notice you, I always wonder about your life. Are you married? Do you have children? Are you having a good day? Are you an asshole? Then come the self-absorbed questions. Is there any possibility that we would somehow make out under the right circumstances? Would the two of us be friends? Do you like the same things I like?
Then you pass by me, and the moment is gone. It completely dissolves into my brain, like it never existed. Yet, on occasions such as this when I try to recall the experience of seeing you and thinking about you, the moment rematerializes and combines with the current moment.
At this moment, I wonder, will I ever speak to you? Will I ever learn the answers to the questions I have? Or will you always be a stranger?
Sophia
I haven't noticed many strangers on the street. That's probably because I don't go out much, and when I do, I am distracted. So I'm writing this letter to you -- to any stranger in general.
Whenever I see you and notice you, I always wonder about your life. Are you married? Do you have children? Are you having a good day? Are you an asshole? Then come the self-absorbed questions. Is there any possibility that we would somehow make out under the right circumstances? Would the two of us be friends? Do you like the same things I like?
Then you pass by me, and the moment is gone. It completely dissolves into my brain, like it never existed. Yet, on occasions such as this when I try to recall the experience of seeing you and thinking about you, the moment rematerializes and combines with the current moment.
At this moment, I wonder, will I ever speak to you? Will I ever learn the answers to the questions I have? Or will you always be a stranger?
Sophia
Tuesday, October 19, 2010
Weekend Adventures
Last weekend, Mo and I decided to drive out to Nelson County (where the mountains are) and hit up an Apple Fest I went to as a kid. Let me describe an Apple Festival.
Apples, local honey, apple butter, apple pies, funnel cake, candy apples, a pumpkin patch, a corn maze, local artisans, and kittens! The kittens were absolutely adorable. Here are some pumpkins from the pumpkin patch. I know they don't look it, but they're huge. 
After finishing with the Apple Festival, Mo and I hiked up a mountain! It was a 1.7 mile hike, and we both made it to the top and back down in a few hours. It was a beautiful trail with a serious of cascades all along the trail. The leaves have been falling, and it was like walking on colors.
After finishing with the Apple Festival, Mo and I hiked up a mountain! It was a 1.7 mile hike, and we both made it to the top and back down in a few hours. It was a beautiful trail with a serious of cascades all along the trail. The leaves have been falling, and it was like walking on colors.
Day 5: Letter to My Dreams
Yes, I realize it's been a while since I posted. So my 30 days of letters may take a lot longer than that... I will do every single letter eventually, and in order. That being said...
Dear Sophia's Dreamworld,
I've been playing a lot of hidden object games recently. The more I move about in these moody, cyberspace dreamscapes, the more I realize that you are a lot like them. You're dark, you're moody, you're insane, you make no temporal sense. To be honest, if I spent too much time thinking about the things that happen when I'm with you, then I'm certain I would begin to perceive Time as cyclical instead of linear (which, incidentally, works for the Zuni and other Puebloan groups). I have some questions for you:
1. Why do my sex dreams so rarely consist of fucking, but instead have some strange exchange that is somehow symbolic of sex?
2. Are you a reflection of my reality or a representation of my subconcious?
3. Does my Yiayia enter into my dreams, the way I suspect she does?
4. When I have joint dreams with Mo, how the hell does that work, exactly? How is it possible that the two of us could have the same dream at the same time?
Now that I've asked those questions, I'd like to thank you for being so colorful and vibrant. I'd also like to thank you for providing me with night-time entertainment.
Sophia
Dear Sophia's Dreamworld,
I've been playing a lot of hidden object games recently. The more I move about in these moody, cyberspace dreamscapes, the more I realize that you are a lot like them. You're dark, you're moody, you're insane, you make no temporal sense. To be honest, if I spent too much time thinking about the things that happen when I'm with you, then I'm certain I would begin to perceive Time as cyclical instead of linear (which, incidentally, works for the Zuni and other Puebloan groups). I have some questions for you:
1. Why do my sex dreams so rarely consist of fucking, but instead have some strange exchange that is somehow symbolic of sex?
2. Are you a reflection of my reality or a representation of my subconcious?
3. Does my Yiayia enter into my dreams, the way I suspect she does?
4. When I have joint dreams with Mo, how the hell does that work, exactly? How is it possible that the two of us could have the same dream at the same time?
Now that I've asked those questions, I'd like to thank you for being so colorful and vibrant. I'd also like to thank you for providing me with night-time entertainment.
Sophia
Monday, October 11, 2010
Day 4: Letter to a sibling
Dear Nicki,
It's sad that we have nothing to talk about. I really wish we did. You don't call me, and you don't answer my calls, so I've given up. Whenever you do talk to me, you make small talk with me, make fun of me, or put me down, especially when you're with your best friend. Do you remember the few times you've met Mo? She's three years older than you are, yet you still act as though she is not as wise or mature as you. To yourself, you are God, timeless, ageless, wise...and I am a peon, everybody is. Does your hurtful and egotistical behavior stem from your apparent need to be needed? Does it bother you that I am self-sufficient and strong? I've ceased being taken aback by just how insufferable you are, though I still find it confusing. How can you be so cold, hard, masculine, uncaring, unnurturing, close-minded, bitchy, unfeeling? Are you afraid of sensation, emotion? I'll close this letter with a segment from an Alannis Morissette song. It sums you up.
"When I'd speak of artistry you would roll your eyes skyward.
When I'd speak of spirituality you would label it absurd.
When I spoke of possibility you would frown and shake your head.
If I had stayed much longer I'd have surely imploded."
Without regret,
Sophia
It's sad that we have nothing to talk about. I really wish we did. You don't call me, and you don't answer my calls, so I've given up. Whenever you do talk to me, you make small talk with me, make fun of me, or put me down, especially when you're with your best friend. Do you remember the few times you've met Mo? She's three years older than you are, yet you still act as though she is not as wise or mature as you. To yourself, you are God, timeless, ageless, wise...and I am a peon, everybody is. Does your hurtful and egotistical behavior stem from your apparent need to be needed? Does it bother you that I am self-sufficient and strong? I've ceased being taken aback by just how insufferable you are, though I still find it confusing. How can you be so cold, hard, masculine, uncaring, unnurturing, close-minded, bitchy, unfeeling? Are you afraid of sensation, emotion? I'll close this letter with a segment from an Alannis Morissette song. It sums you up.
"When I'd speak of artistry you would roll your eyes skyward.
When I'd speak of spirituality you would label it absurd.
When I spoke of possibility you would frown and shake your head.
If I had stayed much longer I'd have surely imploded."
Without regret,
Sophia
Thursday, October 7, 2010
Day 3: Letter to my Parents
Dear Mom and Dad,
I know you raised me the best way you thought possible, but I stand here as living proof that you did multiple things wrong. I still love you, but I'm also still working on forgiving you for the ways you fucked me up.
Panic disorder, the inability to take care of my body, the constant feeling that I am not ever going to be good enough... these things I attribute to my upbringing, to you. It seems that your concern for my Judaeo-Christian salvation corrupted your ability to create a fully-functioning adult. I am not certain that I've learned anything from you. The truth is, I've had to relearn everything since I stopped living with you. I've had to learn how to treat individuals respectfully within my interpersonal relationships. I've had to relearn how to speak to people when I'm upset with them. I've had to reshape my standards regarding men, which men to fear and which to trust. I've had to learn what situations are dangerous when dating, and which are safe. I've had to learn about filing taxes, maintaining budgets, my schedule, my car all on my own, or with the help of older adults who were not responsible for teaching me these things. You should thank your lucky stars that I went to a University with a high non-trad population, or I may not have been able to make these vital, life-altering friendship with people who could mentor me about the world. You did not keep my innocence in tact. You just made me street stupid, causing me to lose my innocence in a violent way. There is also a good deal of innocence I never had because of the way you abused me.
I hope, one day, I can forgive you for all of this, and just see you as the people who conceived me and took care of my physical needs for the first 20 years of my life.
Sophia
I know you raised me the best way you thought possible, but I stand here as living proof that you did multiple things wrong. I still love you, but I'm also still working on forgiving you for the ways you fucked me up.
Panic disorder, the inability to take care of my body, the constant feeling that I am not ever going to be good enough... these things I attribute to my upbringing, to you. It seems that your concern for my Judaeo-Christian salvation corrupted your ability to create a fully-functioning adult. I am not certain that I've learned anything from you. The truth is, I've had to relearn everything since I stopped living with you. I've had to learn how to treat individuals respectfully within my interpersonal relationships. I've had to relearn how to speak to people when I'm upset with them. I've had to reshape my standards regarding men, which men to fear and which to trust. I've had to learn what situations are dangerous when dating, and which are safe. I've had to learn about filing taxes, maintaining budgets, my schedule, my car all on my own, or with the help of older adults who were not responsible for teaching me these things. You should thank your lucky stars that I went to a University with a high non-trad population, or I may not have been able to make these vital, life-altering friendship with people who could mentor me about the world. You did not keep my innocence in tact. You just made me street stupid, causing me to lose my innocence in a violent way. There is also a good deal of innocence I never had because of the way you abused me.
I hope, one day, I can forgive you for all of this, and just see you as the people who conceived me and took care of my physical needs for the first 20 years of my life.
Sophia
My boss rocks
Yesterday I picked up my boss from a car service place so he could be at work while his car got inspected. I also took him back to the place to pick up his car. On the way back, he told me about the Richmond Folk Festival, which is a large, free gathering of Richmonders, folk musicians of all nationalities, food vendors, and so on. The event looks unbelievably fun. Here's a link:
http://www.richmondfolkfestival.org/
This morning when I got into work, I found that he'd grabbed an article on the festival out of the paper and left it for me on my desk. What a thoughtful man! That's not all that makes him awesome, either.
http://www.richmondfolkfestival.org/
This morning when I got into work, I found that he'd grabbed an article on the festival out of the paper and left it for me on my desk. What a thoughtful man! That's not all that makes him awesome, either.
Wednesday, October 6, 2010
Day 2: Letter to My Crush
(Note: I'm just going to write the person who apparently has a thing for me, because I don't have a crush on anybody right now.)
Dear Kinky Man,
I realize that I'm sending you mixed signals. I am not ashamed to admit that I am doing it on purpose. I'm desperately trying to feel remorse about it, but the fact is that I just don't. I realize that you are a human being as well, but you're taking me too deep too fast. The only way for me to survive is to be willfully deceptive.
I find it absolutely hilarious that you tried to have cybersex with Mo and me last night. Believe me, when you said you wanted to have a conference IM session, I did not know that you had cybersex in mind. I haven't been into that since I was a teenager. Mo and I spent the entire time giggling and talking in hypotheticals, not getting hot and bothered. And you thought we were fucking each other. We didn't quite lie to you about what we were doing; we just used a few turns of phrase that we knew you would interpret sexually. And while your statements regarding what you were going to do to me were slightly arousing, they were more intriguing than anything, sparking conversation with Mo about boundaries, desires, panic attacks, and ourselves. The conversation we had with you inspired intimacy, just not the kind you intended. And in the morning-after aftermath of the whole thing, I just feel confused and a little disgusted.
Bottom line is, I don't know that I want you just yet, or if I ever want you. If you'd read the "About Me" section on my profile in fetlife, you would know that. You are not in any way excluded from the statements I made, because, as of yet, you are not anything special to me. At your age, you should know that, and I'm relying on this assumption so that I don't hurt you inadvertantly.
I understand that women are a precious commodity in the C'Ville community, and that is why I have yet to decide whether your behavior is predatory or just desperate. I hope that when I see you on Sunday you are respectful and don't dare to try anything.
Sophia
Dear Kinky Man,
I realize that I'm sending you mixed signals. I am not ashamed to admit that I am doing it on purpose. I'm desperately trying to feel remorse about it, but the fact is that I just don't. I realize that you are a human being as well, but you're taking me too deep too fast. The only way for me to survive is to be willfully deceptive.
I find it absolutely hilarious that you tried to have cybersex with Mo and me last night. Believe me, when you said you wanted to have a conference IM session, I did not know that you had cybersex in mind. I haven't been into that since I was a teenager. Mo and I spent the entire time giggling and talking in hypotheticals, not getting hot and bothered. And you thought we were fucking each other. We didn't quite lie to you about what we were doing; we just used a few turns of phrase that we knew you would interpret sexually. And while your statements regarding what you were going to do to me were slightly arousing, they were more intriguing than anything, sparking conversation with Mo about boundaries, desires, panic attacks, and ourselves. The conversation we had with you inspired intimacy, just not the kind you intended. And in the morning-after aftermath of the whole thing, I just feel confused and a little disgusted.
Bottom line is, I don't know that I want you just yet, or if I ever want you. If you'd read the "About Me" section on my profile in fetlife, you would know that. You are not in any way excluded from the statements I made, because, as of yet, you are not anything special to me. At your age, you should know that, and I'm relying on this assumption so that I don't hurt you inadvertantly.
I understand that women are a precious commodity in the C'Ville community, and that is why I have yet to decide whether your behavior is predatory or just desperate. I hope that when I see you on Sunday you are respectful and don't dare to try anything.
Sophia
Tuesday, October 5, 2010
Submission
So, just because I'm doing the letter writing thing doesn't mean I can't make regular posts, right? Right.
This past Sunday, Mo and I attended a meetup with a (somewhat) local BDSM community group. It was just some friends getting together and eating, more 0r less, nothing too terribly kinky. The group meets in a town about an hour away from where we live, which is not too bad, really. There is a group that is more local, but I don't really get a good feeling about them. The group that I'm thinking of joining places a great amount of focus on education, which is one of the most important things to me.
One of the guys at the meetup told me about a website called FetLife, which is like OkCupid and Facebook combined, only kinky. I joined the site, made a profile (without a photo of me, of course), and some of the people I met are already sending me messages, which is nice. It makes me feel welcome.
Something that I am enjoying, but that I'm a little wary of, is that a man in the group apparently REALLY wants to do things to me. The idea of it is indubitably titillating, but I don't want to rush into anything. I have to protect myself, or I could lose myself. But I SO enjoy flirting with the guy. I just hope I can keep it at flirting for a LONG while, until I am 100% comfortable being tied up, etc. He's also older than my father, and insinuated that he would be willing to pay for my gas to attend meetings. Something to think about....
This past Sunday, Mo and I attended a meetup with a (somewhat) local BDSM community group. It was just some friends getting together and eating, more 0r less, nothing too terribly kinky. The group meets in a town about an hour away from where we live, which is not too bad, really. There is a group that is more local, but I don't really get a good feeling about them. The group that I'm thinking of joining places a great amount of focus on education, which is one of the most important things to me.
One of the guys at the meetup told me about a website called FetLife, which is like OkCupid and Facebook combined, only kinky. I joined the site, made a profile (without a photo of me, of course), and some of the people I met are already sending me messages, which is nice. It makes me feel welcome.
Something that I am enjoying, but that I'm a little wary of, is that a man in the group apparently REALLY wants to do things to me. The idea of it is indubitably titillating, but I don't want to rush into anything. I have to protect myself, or I could lose myself. But I SO enjoy flirting with the guy. I just hope I can keep it at flirting for a LONG while, until I am 100% comfortable being tied up, etc. He's also older than my father, and insinuated that he would be willing to pay for my gas to attend meetings. Something to think about....
Day 1: Letter to my best friend
Dear Mo,
Thank you so much for being in my life. I know that you are so much more than my best friend; you are my best friend, magnified. It really means a lot to me that you will take care of me so often, help me make decisions and back me up.
You make me smile every day, even when I'm cranky and pissy and want to kick you. You are so brilliant that I can't even fathom the depth of your brain.
I wish, sometimes, that there was a way for me to tell you that other people think you are just as amazing as I think you are, that they love to be around you. One day, I hope you'll see that others think you rock their socks off, and I hope you'll feel a deep and satisfying sense of belonging.
You are my home, and I love you tremendously.
Sophia
Thank you so much for being in my life. I know that you are so much more than my best friend; you are my best friend, magnified. It really means a lot to me that you will take care of me so often, help me make decisions and back me up.
You make me smile every day, even when I'm cranky and pissy and want to kick you. You are so brilliant that I can't even fathom the depth of your brain.
I wish, sometimes, that there was a way for me to tell you that other people think you are just as amazing as I think you are, that they love to be around you. One day, I hope you'll see that others think you rock their socks off, and I hope you'll feel a deep and satisfying sense of belonging.
You are my home, and I love you tremendously.
Sophia
Wednesday, September 29, 2010
Every time I try to blog...
...I find that I have nothing to say. My friend Angie at My So Called Chaos is doing this thing where she writes letters to people. It seems like a good idea, so I'm going to copycat. I may start later today, or tomorrow.
The Curriculum:
day 1 — your best friend
day 2 — your crush
day 3 — your parents
day 4 — your sibling (or closest relative)
day 5 — your dreams
day 6 — a stranger
day 7 — your ex-boyfriend/girlfriend/love/crush
day 8 — your favorite internet friend
day 9 — someone you wish you could meet
day 10 — someone you don’t talk to as much as you’d like to
day 11 — a deceased person you wish you could talk to
day 12 — the person you hate most/caused you a lot of pain
day 13 — someone you wish could forgive you
day 14 — someone you’ve drifted away from
day 15 — the person you miss the most
day 16 — someone that’s not in your state/country
day 17 — someone from your childhood
day 18 — the person that you wish you could be
day 19 — someone that pesters your mind—good or bad
day 20 — the one that broke your heart the hardest
day 21 — someone you judged by their first impression
day 22 — someone you want to give a second chance to
day 23 — the last person you kissed
day 24 — the person that gave you your favorite memory
day 25 — the person you know that is going through the worst of times
day 26 — the last person you made a pinky promise to
day 27 — the friendliest person you knew for only one day
day 28 — someone that changed your life
day 29 — the person that you want tell everything to, but too afraid to
day 30 — your reflection in the mirror
The Curriculum:
day 1 — your best friend
day 2 — your crush
day 3 — your parents
day 4 — your sibling (or closest relative)
day 5 — your dreams
day 6 — a stranger
day 7 — your ex-boyfriend/girlfriend/love/crush
day 8 — your favorite internet friend
day 9 — someone you wish you could meet
day 10 — someone you don’t talk to as much as you’d like to
day 11 — a deceased person you wish you could talk to
day 12 — the person you hate most/caused you a lot of pain
day 13 — someone you wish could forgive you
day 14 — someone you’ve drifted away from
day 15 — the person you miss the most
day 16 — someone that’s not in your state/country
day 17 — someone from your childhood
day 18 — the person that you wish you could be
day 19 — someone that pesters your mind—good or bad
day 20 — the one that broke your heart the hardest
day 21 — someone you judged by their first impression
day 22 — someone you want to give a second chance to
day 23 — the last person you kissed
day 24 — the person that gave you your favorite memory
day 25 — the person you know that is going through the worst of times
day 26 — the last person you made a pinky promise to
day 27 — the friendliest person you knew for only one day
day 28 — someone that changed your life
day 29 — the person that you want tell everything to, but too afraid to
day 30 — your reflection in the mirror
Saturday, May 8, 2010
I hate this family sometimes.
So, Mo's mother planned another family triple date and didn't invite us. This happens all the time. It was with Mo's mom and stepdad, St. Betty the Bitch and Twinky Boy (her husband), and Mo's brother and his new girlfriend. They all went to see Iron Man 2 and didn't mention a word to Mo. I was actually sitting in the room when they were planning it and I was not invited. When Mo asked her mother why nobody invited us, Mo's mother said "Well, it's like a date thing, with Will and his new girlfriend." As if that's an answer. This leads me to ask the following questions:
1. Because it was a date between couples, are Mo and I not considered a legitimate couple? (nevermind that we've been together a year and a half, and Will has maybe been with this girl a month)
2. Though her family says they accept us and our relationship, are they, in fact, embarassed by their daughter and her lesbian girlfriend?
3. Are we the black secret of the family that they want to keep hidden from Will's new girlfriend? Do they think we'll scare her off?
I honestly don't feel like going out to a movie with St. Betty the Bitch and Twinky Boy, or Mo's mother and stepdad, but the fact is that it hurts Mo every time it happens. And I do not like it.
When I posed the above questions to Mo, she brushed it off and said the reason for her family's disgusting behavior was more likely something that didn't seem very likely to me at all. I honestly wonder if the above possibilities are just too hurtful for Mo to think about.
Once again, I feel the urge to confront the assholes, but I know that even saying something small like, "It really hurt my feelings that I was sitting three feet away, and Mo and I weren't even invited," would be a "outburst" in this stupid household.
But what I really want to ask is, "Are you all ashamed of Mo and I? Do you deliberately leave us out because you are embarassed by us? What is it exactly that embarasses you?" However, this would also be deemed an "outburst" and "disruptive."
I'm glad I'm getting out of this emotionally fucktarded situation. I understand that my family situation is also negative emotionally, but at least everybody there is honest about their feelings instead of pulling passive agressive shit that hurts people. At least there, when somebody hurts your feelings, it's because they've said something, and you have the opportunity to defend yourself because they've opened it up for discussion.
What's funny is that Mo's mom said a few nights ago that she was worried about our sanity in my parents' house. Does she call ignoring her feelings because they just might be negative "sanity?"
1. Because it was a date between couples, are Mo and I not considered a legitimate couple? (nevermind that we've been together a year and a half, and Will has maybe been with this girl a month)
2. Though her family says they accept us and our relationship, are they, in fact, embarassed by their daughter and her lesbian girlfriend?
3. Are we the black secret of the family that they want to keep hidden from Will's new girlfriend? Do they think we'll scare her off?
I honestly don't feel like going out to a movie with St. Betty the Bitch and Twinky Boy, or Mo's mother and stepdad, but the fact is that it hurts Mo every time it happens. And I do not like it.
When I posed the above questions to Mo, she brushed it off and said the reason for her family's disgusting behavior was more likely something that didn't seem very likely to me at all. I honestly wonder if the above possibilities are just too hurtful for Mo to think about.
Once again, I feel the urge to confront the assholes, but I know that even saying something small like, "It really hurt my feelings that I was sitting three feet away, and Mo and I weren't even invited," would be a "outburst" in this stupid household.
But what I really want to ask is, "Are you all ashamed of Mo and I? Do you deliberately leave us out because you are embarassed by us? What is it exactly that embarasses you?" However, this would also be deemed an "outburst" and "disruptive."
I'm glad I'm getting out of this emotionally fucktarded situation. I understand that my family situation is also negative emotionally, but at least everybody there is honest about their feelings instead of pulling passive agressive shit that hurts people. At least there, when somebody hurts your feelings, it's because they've said something, and you have the opportunity to defend yourself because they've opened it up for discussion.
What's funny is that Mo's mom said a few nights ago that she was worried about our sanity in my parents' house. Does she call ignoring her feelings because they just might be negative "sanity?"
Sunday, May 2, 2010
Bad blogger
Well, looks like it's every four days... problem is, I don't have very much to say recently. I've just been vegging. Extensively. And stressing about my stupid car. I may have to hit up family members for the money to fix it, or money to move, because my car is likely to drain all that I have saved up for the move, and I can't move without the thing.
Mo and I have been reading to one another. It's fun. We're reading a book called Sabriel. It's a young adult book about necromancers, and it's very entertaining. Plus, it doesn't have the stupid teenaged romance crap like Twilight. Hate that shit. I've also been reading Mo's notebooks, journals that she kept a time ago and recently. It's been very interesting, and I'm enjoying the chance to know her more.
I reconnected with a very old friend on facebook, and we've been talking. She was my greatest friend through the worst part of my life, and I loved her. So it's been nice chatting again. We haven't spoken for 10 years.
That's what's going on.
Mo and I have been reading to one another. It's fun. We're reading a book called Sabriel. It's a young adult book about necromancers, and it's very entertaining. Plus, it doesn't have the stupid teenaged romance crap like Twilight. Hate that shit. I've also been reading Mo's notebooks, journals that she kept a time ago and recently. It's been very interesting, and I'm enjoying the chance to know her more.
I reconnected with a very old friend on facebook, and we've been talking. She was my greatest friend through the worst part of my life, and I loved her. So it's been nice chatting again. We haven't spoken for 10 years.
That's what's going on.
Wednesday, April 28, 2010
Sophia Mann returns to blogville
I'm back! I was never a very good blogger to begin with, but a lot of that owed to the fact that I was in my final semester of college with four upper division classes.
Now that I'm finished with that, and only have one last thing to complete before getting my diploma, I plan to make a REAL attempt to blog. Every day, or perhaps every other day. I have not yet decideded. At any rate, I will be making daily entries during my last hurrah as an Anthropology undergrad, a trip to Greece and Turkey. (!!!) Granted, I have to do it for my course credit, but who cares?
So here's what's going on in my life:
1. I'm going to therapy. I'm trying to work through some issues I have (such as my tendency to burst into tears at the slightest sign of an instructor's disapproval).
2. Working things out with Mo. Our relationship hasn't gone south, more a little sideways. We discovered that we've got some big problems. Many of my friends (mostly the ones who haven't really had relationships) think that our problems signify the faliure of our relationship. But frankly (something that I wish I could say to those friends), I feel that it's not the problems in a relationship that make it fail. Rather, it is the problems interfering with the amount that each individual cares for the other within the relationship. So sure, Mo and I have some big problems (which mostly have to do with each of us as individuals), but despite these problems, we still love each other just as much as when we first fell in love. Therefore, we are taking this calm, school-free time to work on learning about each other.
3. Preparing for a move. We're going to move across the country to Virginia, where our employment chances are higher. We plan to live with my parents until the two of us get jobs, and then we will move out and create a home of our own (hopefully with a kitten). We'd originally planned to do this in Utah, but unfortunately, there is no job market for recent graduates in Utah, especially with the good ole' boy job networking that goes on here. In addition, though unemployment is still a problem in Virginia, it is not as bad, nor is the state's legislation sticking their heads in the sand regarding the unemployment. So employment opportunities are more likely to get better and better.
4. Being scared shitless about the move. It's terrifying, especially since its such an act of committment for Mo and I. I got a little cold feet a couple weeks ago. Does that make me the man in the relationship? :-P
5. Preparing for Greece and Turkey.
6. Studying Russian... soon. I will be soon.
7. Sleeping and playing computer games. I'm spending a little too much time on this recently, but oh well.
Now that I'm finished with that, and only have one last thing to complete before getting my diploma, I plan to make a REAL attempt to blog. Every day, or perhaps every other day. I have not yet decideded. At any rate, I will be making daily entries during my last hurrah as an Anthropology undergrad, a trip to Greece and Turkey. (!!!) Granted, I have to do it for my course credit, but who cares?
So here's what's going on in my life:
1. I'm going to therapy. I'm trying to work through some issues I have (such as my tendency to burst into tears at the slightest sign of an instructor's disapproval).
2. Working things out with Mo. Our relationship hasn't gone south, more a little sideways. We discovered that we've got some big problems. Many of my friends (mostly the ones who haven't really had relationships) think that our problems signify the faliure of our relationship. But frankly (something that I wish I could say to those friends), I feel that it's not the problems in a relationship that make it fail. Rather, it is the problems interfering with the amount that each individual cares for the other within the relationship. So sure, Mo and I have some big problems (which mostly have to do with each of us as individuals), but despite these problems, we still love each other just as much as when we first fell in love. Therefore, we are taking this calm, school-free time to work on learning about each other.
3. Preparing for a move. We're going to move across the country to Virginia, where our employment chances are higher. We plan to live with my parents until the two of us get jobs, and then we will move out and create a home of our own (hopefully with a kitten). We'd originally planned to do this in Utah, but unfortunately, there is no job market for recent graduates in Utah, especially with the good ole' boy job networking that goes on here. In addition, though unemployment is still a problem in Virginia, it is not as bad, nor is the state's legislation sticking their heads in the sand regarding the unemployment. So employment opportunities are more likely to get better and better.
4. Being scared shitless about the move. It's terrifying, especially since its such an act of committment for Mo and I. I got a little cold feet a couple weeks ago. Does that make me the man in the relationship? :-P
5. Preparing for Greece and Turkey.
6. Studying Russian... soon. I will be soon.
7. Sleeping and playing computer games. I'm spending a little too much time on this recently, but oh well.
Friday, April 9, 2010
Dear So and So
Dear Readers of Dear So and So,
I'm too lazy to get the picture.
Sleepy Student
Dear Army Anthropologist,
You really scared me yesterday when you told me you needed to talk to me after class. I felt like I was waiting for the principle the entire time. However, I was very pleased with the news that you gave me.
Your Anthro Student of the Year
Dear Me,
You are AWESOME. You've worked your butt off and kept it up. Even though you've bitched along the way, you've managed to do the thing you wanted. Do well. And here's the evidence: the faculty of anthro declared you Anthropology Student of the Year! Try to let this be enough. Keep this in mind when you're thinking you're not good enough. You are Anthropology Student of the Year for 2009-2010. You can do all kinds of things. And you will.
Sophia.
I'm too lazy to get the picture.
Sleepy Student
Dear Army Anthropologist,
You really scared me yesterday when you told me you needed to talk to me after class. I felt like I was waiting for the principle the entire time. However, I was very pleased with the news that you gave me.
Your Anthro Student of the Year
Dear Me,
You are AWESOME. You've worked your butt off and kept it up. Even though you've bitched along the way, you've managed to do the thing you wanted. Do well. And here's the evidence: the faculty of anthro declared you Anthropology Student of the Year! Try to let this be enough. Keep this in mind when you're thinking you're not good enough. You are Anthropology Student of the Year for 2009-2010. You can do all kinds of things. And you will.
Sophia.
Thursday, April 1, 2010
Angry Vagina
My vagina is angry. It is. It's pissed off.
Why is it that there can be medical research to create a pill that makes it so old fogeys (whose whithered raisiney testicle shouldn't be pumping out ejaculate anyway) can get it up, but NOBODY can do extensive and conclusive research about what upsets the vaginal pH, causing a woman to get a yeast infection?!!!!!
Seriously, we all know that spooge (which is disgusting), upsets the pH, but what about for women who don't have sex with men? What about all the 7 and 8 year olds who get them? It's clearly not BAD HYGIENE, like all those (male) pediatricians say. Because I have excellent hygiene and still get them. AND...
A woman knows when she has a fucking yeast infection, you fucking pricks. She doesn't need to go to the fucking doctor so that she can pay $25 or more for the doctor to confirm to her that she indeed knows her body, plus $5-10 for the prescription. AND...
Why is it that the creams are $10-$15 dollars? AND...
Baby Powder has corn starch in it. Corn starch is a sugar. Sugar in the vag causes infections. WHY are we using this on female babies? And WHY hasn't anybody come up with a safer alternative? AND...
I think that men should be disqualified from the ObGyn profession. They don't have a vagina or a uterus, how the hell are they supposed to know what's going on in my body? No amount of book learning can EVER make a man fully understand what a woman's body does. EVER. AND...
I am so tired of pouring countless amounts of money into my vagina because NOBODY can tell me why I get yeast infections all the time. I need to recruit some radical feminists to break into key members of the FDA's houses, stick a straw down their penises, pour salt into the tube, slowly remove the tube, and scream, "THIS IS WHAT A YEAST INFECTION FEELS LIKE YOU ASSHOLE, SO MAKE DIFLUCAN OVER THE COUNTER ALREADY!"
Saturday, March 27, 2010
Dear Life
Dear Twinings,
Thank you for being such a reliably tasty brand of tea.
Sincerely,
Tea Guzzler
Dear Wonderful Woman I Love,
I don't want to live here with you anymore, and I'm sorry. I still want to live with you, just not here. I've tried to be happy. But I'm coming to understand that I am just not. I can't be happy being constantly treated as a second class citizen at home. I can't be happy when I watch your family put you down every day, tell you that you'll never succeed, say things like, "If you graduate" instead of "when you graduate." I can't be happy when I watch them ignore your requests, show no consideration for your needs. And I most certainly can't be happy when you tell me that if you ever were to stick up for yourself, you'd get kicked out of the house (especially when the cruelest person in the house is your sister, who is treated like a goddess). THAT IS ABUSE. A person who threatens your life when you object to the slightest thing is abusive. I'm treated at the same level as you are treated, and you are treated like absolute shit. You don't deserve that, and neither do I.
I have 26 years of mistreatment and abuse to unravel with you. And I don't know if I'll ever be able to convince you that you're not a loser, that you're smart. I don't know if I'll ever be able to help you become strong enough to strike out on your own. You tell me that it's not my responsibility to fix things. And I suppose that you're right. But I can't help but want to. I want to make things better. I want you to be able to stop putting yourself down whenever your family is the slightest bit unhappy with you, whenever I'm unhappy with you. I want to make them stop doing these things to you. I WANT some equality in the house. I want some consideration. You say I'll never have that. Your family members are just not considerate people.
THEN I WANT OUT.
With or without you. I can't be here anymore. We've talked about this, and I know that you understand. I never got to live on my own. I never got to sleep alone in an apartment, make my own schedule, my own meals, take care of myself without help. I never got to own my own space, create my own atmosphere. I need to do that. But I also want you. Thank you so much for understanding that. I know I can't leave yet, have to wait until I have a job, until I'm done with this hellish semester. I know that the time I'll have to wait is two months minimum. I wish it were shorter, but I'll have to wait. I'll have to be unhappy while I wait.
I've tried to be happy, but I can't be happy with this. I wish I weren't miserable, but I am. I am completely miserable. I love you, though. I hate my unhappiness, my rebellion. I hate the thought that it might be hurtful to you. I know you want me to think more like you, to "be patient." But there's a difference between being patient and lying down and taking abuse. I know that you can't stand up for yourself now. Even if you were brave enough, it would not be practical, and it would not change a thing. The only way anything would have helped was if you had stood up for yourself when you were a little girl. Sometimes I curse that little girl in my head, wondering why the hell she couldn't have just said, "No. I need things." when she was six. I know I shouldn't be so angry at a neglected child, but sometimes I am. It makes things so confusing. The only way I can see to end this negativity is to leave. I need to get out.
With the utmost love and desperation,
Your girlfriend
Dear Bitch of a Matriarch,
You are a HORRIBLE MOTHER. You show favoritism. You let Saint Betty get away with everything. You let her mistreat anybody as she likes. You direct your anger at Mo, when it should be Betty you're angry with. You never listen to Mo. You're never considerate of her. You never do ANYTHING to show her that you TRULY love her. AND I HATE YOU FOR IT. Got it? I HATE YOU!!! You are ABSOLUTELY REVOLTING. You are a fucking coward too. You pretend like everything is goddamned rainbows and sunshine when you ought to just face the fact that you hate your job. You can't bear to think of anything that doesn't fit your mold of happiness. Mo says that's how you deal with your stress. Well, dealing with stress and shoving your stress away pretending it's not there are two distinct opposites. Disgusting, cowardly, cruel, bitchy, ugly, fake, lying, deceitful, selfish, HORRIBLE MOTHER. The only reason I wish no ill on you is because I know it would hurt Mo. All the same, I hope you look in the mirror one day and hate yourself for what you've done to your daughter.
Sincerely,
Woman holds the scales
Dear Saint Betty the Bitch,
Fuck you. Fuck you and your twink husband. I hope somebody destroys you one day. You pretend to be some wonderful Christian woman. Why is it that Christians like you are always such sweet and wonderful people at church, but the second they get home they abuse the people that they're supposed to hold in highest regard. I hope that you see the devil, and I hope that you see him in you. Hypocritical bitch. Evil harpy.
Oh, and I hope you get hit in the throat with something and lose your firetruck siren of a voice permanently.
Sincerely,
Woman who knows the truth about hypocritical Christians.
Dear Sweet Wuss Man,
Grow a backbone and stand up to people in your house. I know you're kind and principled. I know you see the treachery. Stop being so afraid of the Matriarch.
Signed,
Outside Viewer
Dear Dad,
I don't love you, and you really can't blame me. How could you be so fiscally irresposible? It's because of you that I'm in this mess, living in this abusive situation. It's because of you that I'm unable to get large enough loans to cover my housing AND my tuition. You promised me that you'd help me pay for my rent. You promised. And then you went back on that promise. I had nowhere to go but here. It was either that, or drop out of school and move back in with you. I'm sure you would have wanted that. Then he could beat the gay out of me with a bible. The only way I could finish school was to move in with Mo and her parents for free rent and food. And because of that, I'm living in an abusive household. AGAIN. I can never get away from it. You backed me into a corner, denied me a necessity, a healthy living situation which should have been mine. You've forced me to skip an important developmental phase. And it's a good thing that Mo is so understanding, or else I would have to break up with her. Because of you. Despite her understanding, I still fear for my relationship. I worry that it's going to end because I have a need that never got met. I know that you'd love for us to break up, you'd love to deny me happiness. Why did you do this to me?
Signed,
Your betrayed and destroyed daughter
Dear Psyche,
Why do you always hurt? Why are you always so desperate? Why are you always bloody and screaming? Why can't you just calm down, stop being inflamed, stop blistering, festering, and poisoning everything around you? You poison me. You fill by body with toxins. You make me sick, make me vomit. And you bruise so easily but never heal. You'll never be cured of the damage done to you when you were two years old, seven years old, a teenager. I wish I could cut you out like a tumor.
Sincerely,
Your host body
Tuesday, March 23, 2010
Random Thought Tuesday?
1. If women's hearts are in our vaginas, and home is where the heart is, my vagina is my home. Wouldn't it be wonderful if, when feeling stressed or anxious, we could just all retreat into our vaginas? Vaginas are warm, soft, and cozy.
2. Now I want a sleeping bag in the shape of a vagina.
3. Wouldn't it be comforting to have a sleeping bag which simulates the womb? I think that should be one of the things in the Stress Management center at my college.
4. Beer is good. Especially with peaches and cheese. And now I want to go hang around in Ireland again... and not get so drunk this time around.
5. No more sitting in the front row in the Army Anthropologist's class. He shall no longer look down my shirt. No more going to figure drawing sessions for creepy artist dudes just because I need the money. I'm a human, I want respect. And if I can't get respect by requesting it, I'll avoid being disrespected in a functional way. I've lost my taste for modeling anyway.
6. Sleep is also good. Time for bed now.
2. Now I want a sleeping bag in the shape of a vagina.
3. Wouldn't it be comforting to have a sleeping bag which simulates the womb? I think that should be one of the things in the Stress Management center at my college.
4. Beer is good. Especially with peaches and cheese. And now I want to go hang around in Ireland again... and not get so drunk this time around.
5. No more sitting in the front row in the Army Anthropologist's class. He shall no longer look down my shirt. No more going to figure drawing sessions for creepy artist dudes just because I need the money. I'm a human, I want respect. And if I can't get respect by requesting it, I'll avoid being disrespected in a functional way. I've lost my taste for modeling anyway.
6. Sleep is also good. Time for bed now.
Monday, March 22, 2010
Question(s) of the Day
What does the anthropologist do when she discovers that her informants have violated the law in some way? What happens if it is absolutely impossible for those laws to be held in place? Does she give her informants access to the legal code, or at least the organization in question? Does she keep it to herself, even if it may be a vital part of her project?
What does the student do when her professor, whom she would typically consult, is out of town for the third week of the semester playing Army Anthropologist?
(BTW, every single due date the guy has set is during the time periods he's away. Screw him.)
What does the student do when her professor, whom she would typically consult, is out of town for the third week of the semester playing Army Anthropologist?
(BTW, every single due date the guy has set is during the time periods he's away. Screw him.)
Thursday, March 18, 2010
Soooo, nearly a month later
It's been almost a month since I last wrote something... I've been working on getting my life under control, doing homework and research, and making sure I don't turn into my research project.
Had a run-in with Mo's sister, Saint Betty the Bitch, today. The girl pitched a fit because we were doing laundry and she needed to for a trip she and her twink of a husband are taking tomorrow. They're going to Seattle. I'm sitting here thinking, if they have enough money to go to Seattle for a week (and buy the entire inventory of Express and Buckle), they have enough money to move out... but I am going to Greece and Turkey in May for school, so maybe I shouldn't talk. Then again, it is a research trip for school and not a vacation. *sigh*
I found myself stalker-webbing Ellie McLonglip again a few minutes ago. I don't know why I feel the need to do it, but it does have the positive outcome of making me appreciate the relationship Mo and I have. It's unfailing, works every time. Maybe I should start doing that when Mo and I fight... just kidding. We manage to pull out of our arguments on our own just fine, and I think it should stay that way.
I've been working on being less codependent. Efforts have included activities such as going to a water aerobics class, swimming laps on my own, the occasional ice skating rink visit, therapy, reading a book on codependency, and applying for a job at a vet's office. The job is the most menial and stinky, being a "kennel tech" position, but I need a part-time job that I'm qualified for. And, having been a kennel tech for three months as a teen, plus having lived with cats and dogs all my life, I'm qualified. I have an interview tomorrow, and I'm a bit nervous, mostly because I'm worried I won't be able to handle a job with 4 upper division classes and research projects due soon. A positive thing about school is...
Had a run-in with Mo's sister, Saint Betty the Bitch, today. The girl pitched a fit because we were doing laundry and she needed to for a trip she and her twink of a husband are taking tomorrow. They're going to Seattle. I'm sitting here thinking, if they have enough money to go to Seattle for a week (and buy the entire inventory of Express and Buckle), they have enough money to move out... but I am going to Greece and Turkey in May for school, so maybe I shouldn't talk. Then again, it is a research trip for school and not a vacation. *sigh*
I found myself stalker-webbing Ellie McLonglip again a few minutes ago. I don't know why I feel the need to do it, but it does have the positive outcome of making me appreciate the relationship Mo and I have. It's unfailing, works every time. Maybe I should start doing that when Mo and I fight... just kidding. We manage to pull out of our arguments on our own just fine, and I think it should stay that way.
I've been working on being less codependent. Efforts have included activities such as going to a water aerobics class, swimming laps on my own, the occasional ice skating rink visit, therapy, reading a book on codependency, and applying for a job at a vet's office. The job is the most menial and stinky, being a "kennel tech" position, but I need a part-time job that I'm qualified for. And, having been a kennel tech for three months as a teen, plus having lived with cats and dogs all my life, I'm qualified. I have an interview tomorrow, and I'm a bit nervous, mostly because I'm worried I won't be able to handle a job with 4 upper division classes and research projects due soon. A positive thing about school is...
IT'S ALMOST OVER!
I'll be finished with classes soon, and then all I'll have left is Greece and Turkey, plus prepatory research, journaling during the trip, polishing of that journal after the trip, and writing a 15-page research paper. But there will be no more classes to attend as of June 1. I'll be spending my time working, finishing up Greece-Turkey materials, prepping for the GRE, taking the GRE, learning Russian, and applying to grad school thereafter. I'll also spend that time working out kinks in my life after that, too. It should be a productive year.
Sunday, February 21, 2010
Letter to the Gods
Dear Gods on your foggy mountain,
One evening in 2006, two of my friends, the mind-fuck ex, and I were sitting in the MFE's dorm room. All of us, as I recall, were stressed, angry about various things in our pasts that we each remembered and told one another.
"I'm pissed off now," Jenn remarked, gulping down the last of her Bacardi Raz bitch beer.
"Me too," I replied. "I just wish I could break something. I fucking love the sound of glass shattering."
Everybody was quiet for a moment, and the air in the room was so tense it was practically crackling. It wasn't awkward tension. It was more like pensive tension, the tension when the sky is cloudy just before the thunder and lightning.
"Let's do it," Gia (the MFE) said, sitting up from her reclined position on the floor.
"No way. Are you serious?" I said, disbelieving.
"I'm for it," said Shar, and Jenn agreed non-commitally. Everybody looked at me, waiting for my response.
"I'd love to," I said.
We gathered up all the glass bottles in Gia's room, stuffing them in a backpack, and walked down the spiral staircase into the dark. It was relatively warm out that evening. And, as I recall, the creepers at the base of the Victorian-type turrets were green. I think it must have been springtime. We made sure that nobody was around, and then fucking lobbed the bottles as hard as we could against the brick wall that supported the porch at the base of the turret. My throw was weak and girly, and I so envied the baseball-pitches my friends were making.
Despite my weak arm, I thoroughly enjoyed the ritualistic destruction of the bottles. It was such a release. And I never even thought about the poor groundskeeper who'd have to clean it up. I don't think many 18 year-olds are that conscientious. I certainly wasn't.
I wish I could do it again. But now, I'm too old, too accountable, too responsible to even seriously consider it. Now, I'd be the person to clean it up. I'd also have to think of an explanation for the noise to deliver to Mo's family, with whom I cohabitate. My life has lost so much of that innocent unaccountability, that spontaneous rashness I once had. Sometimes I'm sad for it, ache for it. Sometimes I wish that I could go out and do something completely ridiculous without chastising myself the next day, the next hour, during the act itself. And while some might call the loss of impulsivness "maturity," I can't help but think that it more resembles old age. I'm only 22 years old; aren't I too young to be so reserved? Shouldn't I be going out and raising hell every once in a while?
I used to have this ability to walk into a room and instantly tear it up, like a tornado. Now I'm a fucking food-colored whirlpool in a coke bottle. I used to be gorgeous and sexy, play at temptress. Now I'm just an overeducated nerd with a nail-biting problem. Okay, I had the nail-biting problem when I was channeling Aphrodite, too, but that's beside the point. The point is: Where did my devilish 'tude get to? Where did my "fuck all to you stupid girls who think I'm competition" go? I've lost that "sexual aura" some of my friends have told me I have. I want it back, damn it. I want to wear high heels and strut. I want to wear a tight black skirt and lots of makeup. I want to be the unattainable again. But I have no idea how to get there, especially when midterms are looming. And would getting back my sexual aura mean sacrificing something important? Have I made trades in my life? Does everybody make trades? If so, this barter-system sucks.
Hope all is well on Mt. Olympus (and that Aphrodite doesn't chuck an apple at me),
Sophia
One evening in 2006, two of my friends, the mind-fuck ex, and I were sitting in the MFE's dorm room. All of us, as I recall, were stressed, angry about various things in our pasts that we each remembered and told one another.
"I'm pissed off now," Jenn remarked, gulping down the last of her Bacardi Raz bitch beer.
"Me too," I replied. "I just wish I could break something. I fucking love the sound of glass shattering."
Everybody was quiet for a moment, and the air in the room was so tense it was practically crackling. It wasn't awkward tension. It was more like pensive tension, the tension when the sky is cloudy just before the thunder and lightning.
"Let's do it," Gia (the MFE) said, sitting up from her reclined position on the floor.
"No way. Are you serious?" I said, disbelieving.
"I'm for it," said Shar, and Jenn agreed non-commitally. Everybody looked at me, waiting for my response.
"I'd love to," I said.
We gathered up all the glass bottles in Gia's room, stuffing them in a backpack, and walked down the spiral staircase into the dark. It was relatively warm out that evening. And, as I recall, the creepers at the base of the Victorian-type turrets were green. I think it must have been springtime. We made sure that nobody was around, and then fucking lobbed the bottles as hard as we could against the brick wall that supported the porch at the base of the turret. My throw was weak and girly, and I so envied the baseball-pitches my friends were making.
Despite my weak arm, I thoroughly enjoyed the ritualistic destruction of the bottles. It was such a release. And I never even thought about the poor groundskeeper who'd have to clean it up. I don't think many 18 year-olds are that conscientious. I certainly wasn't.
I wish I could do it again. But now, I'm too old, too accountable, too responsible to even seriously consider it. Now, I'd be the person to clean it up. I'd also have to think of an explanation for the noise to deliver to Mo's family, with whom I cohabitate. My life has lost so much of that innocent unaccountability, that spontaneous rashness I once had. Sometimes I'm sad for it, ache for it. Sometimes I wish that I could go out and do something completely ridiculous without chastising myself the next day, the next hour, during the act itself. And while some might call the loss of impulsivness "maturity," I can't help but think that it more resembles old age. I'm only 22 years old; aren't I too young to be so reserved? Shouldn't I be going out and raising hell every once in a while?
I used to have this ability to walk into a room and instantly tear it up, like a tornado. Now I'm a fucking food-colored whirlpool in a coke bottle. I used to be gorgeous and sexy, play at temptress. Now I'm just an overeducated nerd with a nail-biting problem. Okay, I had the nail-biting problem when I was channeling Aphrodite, too, but that's beside the point. The point is: Where did my devilish 'tude get to? Where did my "fuck all to you stupid girls who think I'm competition" go? I've lost that "sexual aura" some of my friends have told me I have. I want it back, damn it. I want to wear high heels and strut. I want to wear a tight black skirt and lots of makeup. I want to be the unattainable again. But I have no idea how to get there, especially when midterms are looming. And would getting back my sexual aura mean sacrificing something important? Have I made trades in my life? Does everybody make trades? If so, this barter-system sucks.
Hope all is well on Mt. Olympus (and that Aphrodite doesn't chuck an apple at me),
Sophia
Friday, February 19, 2010
I've been awarded!!!
"This award means you're really going places, Baby. You'll still be blogging about your great adventures 10 years from now, and I'll still be reading them."
The Rules:
1. Link back to the blogger who gave you the award. ✖
2. Post where you'd like to be in 10 years. ✖
3. Pass it on to special bloggers. ✖
Le Blogger...
Miss Angie awarded me with this thingie. :-D
Where I'd like to be in 10 years...
I hope to be living somewhere quiet.
I hope to have gotten my Master's or my PhD.
I hope to have a child.
I hope to have a career in Anthropology.
But most of all, I hope to be happy.
Other bloggers...
All the other blogs I read are to be kept secret.
(SSSSSHHHH!!!)
Crankytime Letters
Dear Indian Art History bitch,
Thanks for the nervous breakdown you gave me yesterday. Can I please receive compensation for the five hours I spent crying? How about an automatic A in your class with no more work or attendance throughout the rest of the semester?
Wishing I could blackmail you,
Sophia
Dear Caramel Machiatto I threw out yesterday,
I regret that I never even got to take a sip of you. I also regret throwing you in the garbage. Getting lobbed at the Art History professor's head would have been a much more dignified death.
Sincerely,
Sophia (the machiatto addict with a stomach ache)
Dear Love of my Life,
I am so sorry. I don't know why we fought this morning. I don't know what's happening to me. I'm sorry I've become such a stressed out bitch. I'm sorry that I rely on you so much to take care of me. You should have been doing your homework last night, but I needed you. I wish I wasn't this needy. I'm also sorry that I bought a sandwich and chocolate and I'm going to eat it all before I can share it with you when you get out of class.
Hoping you'll forgive me,
Sophia
Dear Food,
Why are you the thing that consistently makes me feel better? Sure I eat mostly healthy food when I'm stressed (except for the chocolate), but it doesn't change the fact that I feel like a fucking pig when I eat and subsequently feel a bit happier.
Sophia
Dear German Art History Bitch,
Your homework assignment is not worth my sanity.
Hoping you croak,
Sophia
Dear Sanity,
Isn't it about time you got off holiday? You're needed at home, in my brain.
Missing you,
Sophia
Dear friend who needs to get over himself,
Get over yourself. I'm sick of hearing about how depressed you are, how much your life sucks, how hard your life has been. We all have hard lives, and you forget that I grew up in a domestically violent household, too. I'm sick of hearing about how hard your homework is. You're in freshman-level classes, for fuck's sake, and you're of reasonable intelligence. I doubt that everything is as hard as you say it is. Plus, if you're not going to do your math homework, stop asking my girlfriend to bail your lazy ass out when you flunk the test. Perhaps you should finally learn how to put yourself in another person's shoes. It's something that you never do.
Not planning on speaking to you for a while,
Sophia (your cranky friend who still loves you even though she's pissed)
Tuesday, February 16, 2010
Dear So-and-So
Dear Tuesday morning,
Why the hell did you have to come so soon? I was enjoying my sleep.Sleepy Girl
Dear Dad,
Please refrain from calling me at such indecent hours. At 5:45 a.m., I'm enjoying the last few minutes of sleep I get. If it's not an emergency, DO NOT call me so goddamned early, FOR FUCK'S SAKE.Your loving daughter
Dear Fucktard Art History Professor,
Thanks for writing "Assignment due on Tuesday, February 16 (Mardis Gras!) by midnight" on my assignment. I love being reminded that instead of celebrating with friends on a holiday, I'm going to be stuck at home doing your lame-ass fucking assignment. Oh, and thank you for having another four-to-five hour assignment due tomorrow. I don't have any other homework or classes at all and can definitely go to the library and watch a one-hour long documentary, look at an art book, read a 15-page article, answer 30 questions, and write a 2-page essay. Your 3000-level class is so deserving of this Master's level work. And I wouldn't want to do ANYTHING else with my time.Dedicated Student
Dear Coffee and Art Supply store on campus,
Thanks for the chai... and for the Ani DiFranco following me out into the sitting area.
Cranky but soothed student
Dear Miss Angie,
Thanks for the idea for a post like this. It's quite therapeutic.
Sophia
Monday, February 15, 2010
Valentine's Day (i.e. "Boinkfest")
This entry will be pretty explicit. Just a warning.
Well, I went to a Single's Awareness Day party at a friend's house that was lots of fun. Entertained impure thoughts about the hostess... but in the end, got pretty sleepy and decided to boogie on home.
The next day, I woke up before Mo and did a few interesting things to her to wake her up involving a blindfold and a FunFactory Share toy. After getting up and washing off, we ventured out to the most awesome local coffee shop for breakfast and chai. Then we went to "Dance Church" where I danced with a few hippie friends. It was refreshing to be with some happy pagans for a change, and I would describe the dancing as a wonderfully fulfilling spiritual experience.
After dancing, Mo and I went to the grocery store and dropped lots of money on wonderful food. We cooked dinner together. It's something we both love to do but have so little time for this semester. The food was really awesome. I made citrus chicken with sauteed onions. The spices used gave it a nice kick. Katie made rice with steamed spinach and salad, for which I made the dressing. Dinner was awesome and we got to spend some wonderful time together.
The remainder of the evening (or much of it), I spent in subspace. The night ended with one of the best orgasms I've ever had. Okay... maybe more than one. Hehe. And while the orgasm was amazing, it was not the climax of the evening. The climax of the evening was a moment when I saw the most beautiful thing I ever had ever seen in my entire life, and the moment I felt utmost devotion, safety, and love. I was devoted to Mo entirely. In that moment, nothing else mattered. And she accepted my devotion, loved it. She also knew the power that gave her, and was careful with it. In that moment, everything made sense, and I felt the most safe I (almost) ever have in my life. I always feel that safe with Mo, but it was the first time the feeling of safety was so much in the forefront.
Our second Valentines Day together was even better than the first. And I am still so in love.
Well, I went to a Single's Awareness Day party at a friend's house that was lots of fun. Entertained impure thoughts about the hostess... but in the end, got pretty sleepy and decided to boogie on home.
The next day, I woke up before Mo and did a few interesting things to her to wake her up involving a blindfold and a FunFactory Share toy. After getting up and washing off, we ventured out to the most awesome local coffee shop for breakfast and chai. Then we went to "Dance Church" where I danced with a few hippie friends. It was refreshing to be with some happy pagans for a change, and I would describe the dancing as a wonderfully fulfilling spiritual experience.
After dancing, Mo and I went to the grocery store and dropped lots of money on wonderful food. We cooked dinner together. It's something we both love to do but have so little time for this semester. The food was really awesome. I made citrus chicken with sauteed onions. The spices used gave it a nice kick. Katie made rice with steamed spinach and salad, for which I made the dressing. Dinner was awesome and we got to spend some wonderful time together.
The remainder of the evening (or much of it), I spent in subspace. The night ended with one of the best orgasms I've ever had. Okay... maybe more than one. Hehe. And while the orgasm was amazing, it was not the climax of the evening. The climax of the evening was a moment when I saw the most beautiful thing I ever had ever seen in my entire life, and the moment I felt utmost devotion, safety, and love. I was devoted to Mo entirely. In that moment, nothing else mattered. And she accepted my devotion, loved it. She also knew the power that gave her, and was careful with it. In that moment, everything made sense, and I felt the most safe I (almost) ever have in my life. I always feel that safe with Mo, but it was the first time the feeling of safety was so much in the forefront.
Our second Valentines Day together was even better than the first. And I am still so in love.
Tuesday, February 9, 2010
Afraid of the Dark
My mind has been playing tricks on me all evening. I went to petsmart tonight to gawk at all the cats I can't have. On my way back out to the car, I thought I saw somebody sitting in my driver's seat. The image lasted less than a second. Within that portion of a second, the first thought that occurred to me was, "Mommy." Not like, "Help me, Mommy." More like, "It's Mommy."
Yeah, I still call my mother "Mommy." Don't be hatin.
So, I got in the car, locked my door and placed a quick call to my parents. It's two hours later there, so they were a little agitated at the lateness of my phone call. They're alive, which is good. But the whole thing still makes me nervous.
Then, on the drive home, I stopped at a light, and the car in the other lane stopped in my blind spot. I had this image of somebody in that car pointing a gun at my head, and I thought, at least let me be in park so I don't smash my car and break my body into an unrecognizable shape. I want Mo to have something left of me. And just like that, the thought was gone.
And I still didn't want to be home after all this?
Yeah, I still call my mother "Mommy." Don't be hatin.
So, I got in the car, locked my door and placed a quick call to my parents. It's two hours later there, so they were a little agitated at the lateness of my phone call. They're alive, which is good. But the whole thing still makes me nervous.
Then, on the drive home, I stopped at a light, and the car in the other lane stopped in my blind spot. I had this image of somebody in that car pointing a gun at my head, and I thought, at least let me be in park so I don't smash my car and break my body into an unrecognizable shape. I want Mo to have something left of me. And just like that, the thought was gone.
And I still didn't want to be home after all this?
Monday, February 8, 2010
This is Beautiful
For the life of me, I can't understand why (from what I hear) so many men do not find this to be beautiful, sexy, or desireable.
Sunday, February 7, 2010
...?
So last night I went to an old friend's baby shower. It was up in my old stomping grounds, about half an hour north of where I live now. I had a lot of fun, as did Mo. I was going to give my friend Raphael a ride home afterward. So we got into my car and decided to get dinner at a local drive-in burger joint. It also has a dining room.
Anyway, we walked in there, and the manager of the place kept talking like Raphael was taking Mo and I on a date. Raphael is one of the gayest men I know. He paints his nails turquoise and emulates the Lady Chablis, for fuck's sake. So that was funny. And then, Owner Dude made a comment about how, "us girls should have another man with us."..... ok.
"We so don't need a man," I quietly remarked to Mo.
Later, after we had our food, he asked us where we were coming from. I answered, "we were just at a baby shower." And then he asked us where we'd be going.
"We're going to go turning tricks on 25th street after this. We really are living in cardboard boxes on the road to perdition," I wanted to say, deadpan, as if I were serious. Instead, I told him we'd be going home.
As we were leaving, Owner Dude looked at Mo and I and said, "Are you two related? Or are you just really good friends?"
Nope. We fuck each other, sir, I thought. Of course, we do more together than fuck each other; we love, support, and take care of one another, but I was going for shock value in my head.
Mo, ever more courteous than I am, said, "Friends. Have a good night." Or some such thing. And you know what? Friends is true. Mo and I ARE the best of friends.
I'm not sure what the Owner Dude's deal was. Was he saying that Mo and I were too old to still be unmarried? Was he trying to make us feel guilty for being female and being together? Either way, his statements are inconsequential. They're just bewildering and slightly amusing.
I'm beginning to think that, "Are you two sisters? You look alike." or "Are you two related?" is code for "Please tell me you're not lesbians." here in Zion. And it's just funny because we do not look alike at all.
Either way, that was one bizarre experience... but the food was TASTY!
Anyway, we walked in there, and the manager of the place kept talking like Raphael was taking Mo and I on a date. Raphael is one of the gayest men I know. He paints his nails turquoise and emulates the Lady Chablis, for fuck's sake. So that was funny. And then, Owner Dude made a comment about how, "us girls should have another man with us."..... ok.
"We so don't need a man," I quietly remarked to Mo.
Later, after we had our food, he asked us where we were coming from. I answered, "we were just at a baby shower." And then he asked us where we'd be going.
"We're going to go turning tricks on 25th street after this. We really are living in cardboard boxes on the road to perdition," I wanted to say, deadpan, as if I were serious. Instead, I told him we'd be going home.
As we were leaving, Owner Dude looked at Mo and I and said, "Are you two related? Or are you just really good friends?"
Nope. We fuck each other, sir, I thought. Of course, we do more together than fuck each other; we love, support, and take care of one another, but I was going for shock value in my head.
Mo, ever more courteous than I am, said, "Friends. Have a good night." Or some such thing. And you know what? Friends is true. Mo and I ARE the best of friends.
I'm not sure what the Owner Dude's deal was. Was he saying that Mo and I were too old to still be unmarried? Was he trying to make us feel guilty for being female and being together? Either way, his statements are inconsequential. They're just bewildering and slightly amusing.
I'm beginning to think that, "Are you two sisters? You look alike." or "Are you two related?" is code for "Please tell me you're not lesbians." here in Zion. And it's just funny because we do not look alike at all.
Either way, that was one bizarre experience... but the food was TASTY!
Tuesday, February 2, 2010
The (semi) Instant Remedy for Inefficiency-Stress
1. Take a shower
2. Let your hair dry the way the good lord meant it to.
3. Drink a glass of ice water (five parts ice, one part water).
4. Prepare dinner:
a. get some Ritz crackers.
b. cut up some cheddar cheese.
c. get leftover chicken breast slices and leave them cold.
d. salt and pepper the cold chicken.
e. get some green grapes and cut them in half.
f. stack thus: (from bottom to top) Ritz cracker, slice of cheese, piece of chicken, three grape halves.
g. Eat whole (like sushi)
And finally....
5. Get a hug from Mo, who gives THE BEST hugs in the world.
Bitchfest
So, I'm sitting here with a dilated eye. My computer is dimmed enough for me to look at it, and believe it or not, doing that is easier than having a lamp on. Fucking eye doctor.
Even though I can read now (yesterday I couldn't), I can't concentrate on the reading with a candle being the only light I can stand. I was having a hard enough time reading one of my ethnographies. It's about poor, sugar-farming communities in Brazil. I can barely read 4 pages without feeling the need to cry. It's so frustrating. I feel like I should be doing something to help the people in these poor areas, boycotting sugar or something. And then I realize that I cannot do anything to truly help. I'm trying so hard and I just cannot read that goddamned book. And I have to because I have work due on Friday. 50 pages behind with 70 more for this week.
This is coupled with an overwhelming desire to fix a person I've never even met. And I guess the problem isn't that the futility of such desires is frustrating. The problem is that it genuinely hurts. It hurts when I can't help people. And I feel so RIDICULOUS for it. I'm carrying the weight of the fucking globe in my chest. And the only time I can finally let it out is at midnight, when I should be sleeping. How stupid am I?
Even though I can read now (yesterday I couldn't), I can't concentrate on the reading with a candle being the only light I can stand. I was having a hard enough time reading one of my ethnographies. It's about poor, sugar-farming communities in Brazil. I can barely read 4 pages without feeling the need to cry. It's so frustrating. I feel like I should be doing something to help the people in these poor areas, boycotting sugar or something. And then I realize that I cannot do anything to truly help. I'm trying so hard and I just cannot read that goddamned book. And I have to because I have work due on Friday. 50 pages behind with 70 more for this week.
This is coupled with an overwhelming desire to fix a person I've never even met. And I guess the problem isn't that the futility of such desires is frustrating. The problem is that it genuinely hurts. It hurts when I can't help people. And I feel so RIDICULOUS for it. I'm carrying the weight of the fucking globe in my chest. And the only time I can finally let it out is at midnight, when I should be sleeping. How stupid am I?
I have been tagged...
...and what that means is that I have an opportunity to talk about myself. I never do that. Ha. This took me a week to write, but it's finally here!
1. I am planning going to into anthropology. Guess that's evident in the title of the blog. I particularly want to study religions and the development of neopagan movements, as well ritual pain infliction.
2. I grew up all over the place. As a result, the oldest friend I have that I still see on a semi-regular basis I have known for 7 years. It may seem like a while, but I know people who've had friends for 10 or 15.
3. I don't understand it when people consciously choose not to be self-aware. Knowing yourself is very important, in my opinion. So is loving yourself.
4. I just started a new job as a figure model. I've been modeling for a year now, but a private studio with about four artists was hiring. The work is more consistent than modeling for the group on campus, and pays just as well. I did my first night, and it was great. Will be going back for sure.
5. I feel like one of the most innocent people in the world and one of the most jaded simultaneously. I am not naive; I understand the way much of the world works, but sometimes I wonder how I'm not bitter yet.
6. I am the middle child. There seems to be something about middle children in our society that makes us predisposed to getting walked all over and generally being unappreciated by our families... until it finally manages to sink in that you're the only person who EVER helps out around the house, the only person who cares and shows it. Or maybe that's just an empath thing.
7. I'm empathic. It really sucks when I'm trying to do homework and somebody comes home all stressed out. I have usually have a drink in those situations, or I relocate. (Which totally throws off my groove, man.)
8. I LOVE wine. Reds are my calling, but I like some whites. I detest blushes. They're weak , wannabe reds.
9. If it's not wine, it's a margarita. With salt.
10. While we're on the subject of imbibing, I drink lots of coffee. Caramel machiattos are my vice.
11. People who act like they're entitled to receive my help on various school-related things piss me off. Have the courtesy to ask. I will most likely always say yes, but don't skip the asking part and go straight to the "yes" part.
12. I feel like school has made me into a social nincompoop. I mean, I go out. I have my fun and see people, but I don't know what's going on in their lives very much. I don't know who's dating whom, or who's friends with whom. And unfortunately, I don't have enough time or energy to find out. Mo says that I've prioritized. I say that I'm socially stunted. I feel so disconnected from the world sometimes, and I very much dislike it, but it doesn't seem like there's much I'll be able to do about it. Not until May, at least.
13. The world has, also, turned into a big project for me. It's all a research project, instead of an experience. Everybody I meet is part of a data set. (it's not like I collect info on people and write it down in my little notebook, but I'm constantly trying to find cultural implications in people's behavior.) I don't know if I even know how to be friends with somebody anymore, but I REALLY want to try. Is this something every anthropologist goes through at one time or another?
14. I'd say that most social activity I engage in is part of the "learn to be a friend again" attempts. Somehow, my brain ain't routed that way no more.
15. I yearn to be trilingual. I want to learn Greek and Russian. Russian is more of a priority, though, because I plan to study Russians eventually.
16. I'm very excited to go to Greece and Turkey in May. It's a school trip. I'll be learning a great deal about the Byzantine Empire. After that, all my coursework will be done. I'll just have to complete my research journal and a paper for it.
17. I love to Greek dance. I used to do it at the local Greek festival. I'm planning on finding little folk bars in Greece so I can do the kalamatiano like a native!
18. I believe very strongly that the dead come back to visit us. They don't haunt us, and they give us time to grieve for them. they just come back and check up on us from time to time, protect us from harm.
19. I've been falling asleep in class since I was 12. Last semster was the first time in 10 years that I didn't fall asleep regularly.
20. I hate things that make a ticking noise at equal intervals. Like watches and metronomes. They drive me fucking bonkers.
21. I feel like my life lacks a sense of community. Although I once felt at home in the local pagan group, I now feel estranged. Pagan Coffee has turned into a discourse on power, a pissing contest. It's all about energy vampirism these days. There's just no room for us Cosmos-loving daywalkers. And the anthro club here at school is populated with people I don't like to be around. It's sad. And although the gay community is a community, gay men and gay women are so different. I just don't feel at home among gay men.
22. I wish I had more lesbian/girl-loving female friends. It's not that I don't love my non-lesbian friends. I do. But sometimes, I just want to be around other people who are like me. Hence, the community statement made previously.
23. Once upon a time, I wrote fiction.
24. I also wanted to be an opera singer. Now I just wish I had ANY opportunity to sing.
25. I take myself way to seriously sometimes and I'm working on lightening up. I've made some serious progress since the age of 8, though. :-)
Sunday, January 31, 2010
More Thoughts and Musings
Thinking. It's dangerous. When you think, you realize that you have more potential for moral ambiguity than you realized, or worse, you have less than you want. *sigh*
So... back to the issue of Ellie McLonglip, the ex. I came to the realization that I wanted to meet her to somehow have proof that we're different. I still want to meet her, but this is no longer the reason. The things that I've heard about her and the things that I've seen are proof enough.
Now I want to meet her so that I can find something good about her. Everybody has something that's good about them, right? And part of me wants to befriend her, too, so I can find the good thing and make it come out. I honestly believe that everybody is a good person.
So here I was, at 5 a.m., just out of the shower and in bed with Mo. I knew I should have been snoring by that time, but instead, I was thinking. My thoughts went something like this: I know that she could not have been as close to one of the anthropology faculty members as she was if she hadn't been a good person... right? He told me that the BDSM community destroyed her. That must have meant that there was something good there to begin with... right?
And as irrational as it was, I realized that I wanted to meet her so I could find that former self somewhere underneath the selfish, sociopathic bitchery.
"You want to save her," Mo said to me. That wasn't exactly the way I'd put it.
Or was it?
When Mo made that statement, I was reminded of my feelings for my personal mindfuck ex, Gia. I remembered my concern for her well-being, a concern that has unfortunately persisted for nearly four years after the fact. I will always know that she's not ok, no matter what she says to me, and that she's in New York, and I can't help her.
And even though I know that I couldn't help her even if I were there, that she can only help herself, and even though I know that "good Ellie" might not have ever existed anyway, that I can't save people, it doesn't change the fact that everything in my nature begets a desire, almost a need, to do it, to save people. (Get a look a that sentence structure! My mastery of the English language astounds me, really. OK, it's a run-on, but I couldn't think of any better way to say it.)
Why do we humans have such a penchant for futility? We do things, or consider doing things, that logic tells us will not work, and then we get hurt in the process. Sometimes our irrational desires overcome our survival instincts. Is this what it means to be human? Is this truly what sets us apart from the "dumb creatures" of the Earth, our stupidity and bad survival instincts?
So... back to the issue of Ellie McLonglip, the ex. I came to the realization that I wanted to meet her to somehow have proof that we're different. I still want to meet her, but this is no longer the reason. The things that I've heard about her and the things that I've seen are proof enough.
Now I want to meet her so that I can find something good about her. Everybody has something that's good about them, right? And part of me wants to befriend her, too, so I can find the good thing and make it come out. I honestly believe that everybody is a good person.
So here I was, at 5 a.m., just out of the shower and in bed with Mo. I knew I should have been snoring by that time, but instead, I was thinking. My thoughts went something like this: I know that she could not have been as close to one of the anthropology faculty members as she was if she hadn't been a good person... right? He told me that the BDSM community destroyed her. That must have meant that there was something good there to begin with... right?
And as irrational as it was, I realized that I wanted to meet her so I could find that former self somewhere underneath the selfish, sociopathic bitchery.
"You want to save her," Mo said to me. That wasn't exactly the way I'd put it.
Or was it?
When Mo made that statement, I was reminded of my feelings for my personal mindfuck ex, Gia. I remembered my concern for her well-being, a concern that has unfortunately persisted for nearly four years after the fact. I will always know that she's not ok, no matter what she says to me, and that she's in New York, and I can't help her.
And even though I know that I couldn't help her even if I were there, that she can only help herself, and even though I know that "good Ellie" might not have ever existed anyway, that I can't save people, it doesn't change the fact that everything in my nature begets a desire, almost a need, to do it, to save people. (Get a look a that sentence structure! My mastery of the English language astounds me, really. OK, it's a run-on, but I couldn't think of any better way to say it.)
Why do we humans have such a penchant for futility? We do things, or consider doing things, that logic tells us will not work, and then we get hurt in the process. Sometimes our irrational desires overcome our survival instincts. Is this what it means to be human? Is this truly what sets us apart from the "dumb creatures" of the Earth, our stupidity and bad survival instincts?
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