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From now on I should only listen to those people who offer me both honesty and acceptance, or so says my horoscope for today, Tuesday the 22nd of May 2007. Sometimes it feels like I am overwhelmed with people like this, surrounded by true friends… other times it feels like I can count those honest and accepting people on one hand… or one finger, or even none at all.

As anyone who knows me or reads this blog with any regularity (and all of you who read this blog period know me, so really there’s no difference in those two groups) knows, I tend to be exuberantly, excessively passionate about the people that I choose to care about. I let people in very easily… for some reason, I still have the ability to trust, and to be sometimes painfully honest and open about my life and my feelings. In the past few months, I feel like that quality (and after much thought I have decided it’s a quality, damnit a VICTORY that I’m able to be that way), has been used, abused and torn to shreds, stomped on, shat on, pissed on and set on fire.

And yet, I continue to hope for the good in people, and the good in God, and the idea that it’ll all work out in the end if I just keep on going.

A few weeks ago, I lost someone I considered to be a friend… She sent me emails full of vitriol and anger, but I knew I’d lost her the second I started dating a boy, and right in front of her (how dare I) about a month before. She stopped talking to me, stopped confiding in me, started talking about me behind my back…and ultimately disappeared from my life completely, leaving something of a shambles behind her. I don’t care if “something of a shambles” doesn’t make grammatical sense – I rather like the sound of it.

The funny thing is, I also lost the boy I was dating who “caused” all of it. That is the one thing, however, that I don’t blame him for. Her heterophobia is not his fault (although it was his fault when he used her as an excuse to pick a fight with me because my friends didn’t like him (1 of them) when his friends hated and insulted me). The reason I ultimately lost the boy? … After dating for less than a month, I still refused to have sex with him. He needed, he said, a physical relationship (I don’t know what else you would call much of our relationship, though… basically what he wanted was the ability to stick his penis into my vagina, and I said no, I wasn’t ready.)

So, he pretended that things were okay, and told me he had no problem waiting. And then slowly stopped talking to me. He’d call me late at night only after everything else in his life had been attended to. He stopped text messaging me or returning my messages, and then got angry when I asked him why I hadn’t heard from him in days. Ultimately, after my asking him multiple times to just tell me what was going on, with no response from him, he blatantly ignored me for a week and then said he was “cutting his losses”… he was getting out because I wasn’t putting out.

That was the last I heard from him.

We were all taken in. My friends and I… people who don’t normally trust that boys are capable of being real human beings. We believed what he said, *I* believed him when he said he was crazy about me and he’d wait until I was ready. And it turned out to be an act – it turned out to be an ultimatum… either have heteronormative sex with me right now or I’m walking away.

Well of course I chose the walking away.

Call me crazy, but I think that sexual contact should mean something, and so I am wrecked over the fact that I kissed him, that I wasted kisses on him, that I believed he was who he claimed to be… and that no one warned me, not a single person. I ultimately blame myself for being taken in, and being screwed over. And knowing that no one is going to stop him from moving on to the next girl and pressuring her into sleeping with him – and in this town, it’s not hard to find a lot of girls who will. His behavior was absolutely disgusting, and I’m still in shock over it. I’m angry about it. I’m not angry at him for what he did to *me*, I’m angry that he thought he had the right to treat any human being the way he treated me. I’m angry that I met him when he assistant directed my performance of The Vagina Monologues, and so I assumed certain things, things he claimed to be true… that ultimately weren’t. He wasn’t feminist friendly. He was not an ally.

He was a wolf in sheep’s clothing, and he’s going to do it again. It is all I can do not to resort to egging his car, or slashing his tires, or starting a website devoted to making sure no girl ever falls victim to his bullshit again.

Because you can’t just say you’re crazy about someone, that however and whatever they want this relationship to be, they’re in… and then utterly and completely vanish from their lives because they won’t open their legs. And you can’t do that and call yourself anything but a misogynist. You can’t do that and work in the feminist community. You can’t do that, you can’t sit in my living room and mock The Monologues or bitch about how much you hate your friends and then turn around and put them ahead of your girlfriend every single time and wonder why it is that they want to know what the hell happened to change you so drastically in such a small amount of time.

The truth was, he hadn’t changed. I’d just bought the lie, and then the mask came off. And I hadn’t been wearing one. And he’d been wearing several.

I’m able to write about this now because I’m over the “us” of it all. I’m over *him*… in fact, I wasn’t even sure I liked him enough to keep the relationship going much longer. I was still testing the waters. I was still figuring out if I could trust him. But to a certain extent, as I do with all of my friends, all of the people I spend time with, I had let him in to some small extent.

Pissed and shat all over, that was me. Twice in as many weeks. Actually twice in less than two weeks. First him, then her.

So when my horoscope says to listen only to those people who are honest and accepting, I have to wonder if my radar isn’t off. If maybe I have no clue who the people are that I know that are honest and accepting, and safe. If maybe I’ve got this whole friendship thing wrong somehow. If maybe I should just shut down. Although that means they win.

If you’re one of those honest and accepting people, feel free to say so now. If you’re not, feel free to say so as well. I’d just like to know into which baskets I should put my eggs.

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So, tonight we had our first official Kappa Slappa Ho sponsored FCR (feminist consciousness raising) meeting. My Carmapuchia and I have decided (well, I asked her) to make a post together, because we are sooo cute like that..

The first thing we noticed today was that I talk too much. Well, we noticed that a long time ago, but tonight specifically I said that people should call me on it because I learned to talk over people so that I could get a word in edgewise with my dad in conversation and now I just interrupt everybody and it’s really rude and people hate me for it. No they don’t, says Carmapuchia. They just think I talk too much.

Then there was the part where people took pictures of me with a vibrator in my mouth and nose. At the same time cause it was the same vibrator. Cause it has two parts, one for your clitoris and one for your g-spot. The g-spot part was the one that was in my mouth, the clit part was in my nose. Well, technically my nostril. Hi dad.

Lots of people came. We had cake and pie. And no ice cream, Sparkle Pants just lied and said we did. But cake pie and ice cream is pretty sweet and fun to say together. Nobody is going to get that, because Sally Struthers ate all the cake, pie and ice cream and also the Cheesy Poofs. Do you understand now? No? My Econ professor wrote a text book with Matt Stone’s dad. Now do you get it? No? Then you suck.

We had a good conversation, I think. And then I was interviewed for a newspaper article and the writer was trying to follow me with a pen and paper. He should have had a tape recorder because I talk fast and I almost said “here, let me get my digital recorder and tape this and just give it to you” but he is the reporter so it’s his responsibility and it’s not my fault if he can’t get a tape recorder and just uses a pad like that guy on that episode of Veronica Mars. That is a good show, you guys should watch it.

Amen.

Gay Men. Haha.

Today Lena and I exchanged hymns. It was a very special Christian time for us. We were very special Christians and we talked about hymns. And it was cool. I love Lena. Her girlfriend and I could make out and it would be just as meaningless as making out with my Carmapuchia. I mean, not meaningless, but it would be like kissing my elbow.

Did I mention I had a vibrator in my mouth? And I got cool shoes the other day. Hi mom.

I watched a movie called “Connie and Carla” and it is good. You should watch it. I also watched a movie called “Another Gay Movie” and it is weird, and it is the gay version of American Pie, but with butt plugs. It was weird. You can see it if you want to, but you probably have to go to the gay store to rent it. There is one here, and it is nice, but the guy will make you put lube on your hands and you won’t be able to open a door for three hours or until you get to wash your hands, and the lube will smell like Lavender.

P.S. Eros is the best lube and you don’t have to keep re applying it if you are having sex with someone up the butt, but it is very expensive, but it is the same price as regular lube because you use less of it. Just a tip from your friendly girl who got a score of 97 percent better than other people who took the sex test who are actually having sex, and I am not, but I know more than them, and I say use Eros and a condom so you don’t get a disease, like the syph, because Carmapuchia’s voice is giving me the syph.

That’s a reference to Connie and Carla, go rent it now.

Anyway like I was saying, we had an awesome night and I might be in the newspaper but not because I know a lot about lube, that is Bee’s fault, she tells me way too much about sex toys and gay man sex. The google hits I get from this post should be interesting.

P.S.S. I love you all, please call me and tell me how wonderful I am because I am a little depressed and i have a paper due tomorrow that I have not written because I was having a four hour meeting about butt plugs and lube, no just kidding about feminism and stuff that is good and Carmen is feeling herself up. And with that I will say goodnight.

So.

Goodnight.

WordPress is a bitch to get the hang of, if you’ve spent the last seventy years blogging with movable type. I know MT inside and out, and I’m sure, once I have the time, I’ll get to know WP as well. It has some nifty features, but it seems to be for the type of person who just likes to drag and drop their blog into reality. I’m much more of a tinkerer.

SURF (Summer Undergraduate Research Fellowships) are due Thursday. I need to get my transcript, my written statement and a signed written approval from my thesis advisor by then. Meanwhile, the 101 degree fever rages on.

Last night I was so hot that Sparkle Pants ran me a bath. I got in, was in for five minutes and realized I’d turned the water bright green. The water had had no color when I’d gotten in. It was, in a word, freaky. How did I turn the water bright GREEN? Was I that dirty? Am I, perhaps, radioactive?

Financial aid stuff is also due Thursday. My renewal FAFSA is complete, but there’s another special little thing they make you fill out if you go to my University. And of course that costs 40 dollars I don’t have. I also got to postpone a midterm today, because my Classics professor understands that radioactive students should not have to come to class. Spring break is coming up and I feel so, so far behind. Everything is falling down on top of me and I’m riding the waves of solid panic attack.

Meanwhile, Bee and I have talked and are on the same page about a lot of things. She’s a lot like my Alex, so I just have to get back into the swing of bipolar, which I have been used to, and can be used to again. Bee’s girlfrend Lena, our roommate, is a packrat of considerable nature – almost as bad as my father, and the stuff piled on stuff combined with the being sick and the being behind and the deadlines looming are combining to give me a major case of the freakouts. I just want to fall asleep and never, ever wake up. I have dreams that stacks of things are falling on me and I’m suffocating and nothing will ever, ever be okay again.

Why won’t this virus go away? Why must every semester feel like a skinofmyteeth sort of thing?

So, my friend Bee and I are starting the first Feminist sorority in the country, and things are taking off a lot faster than I’d ever thought possible. We started it around certain ideas we both believed in, and that I think we still both believe in; but I’m worried about getting so caught up in trying to get members, or trying to get people interested without pissing them off that we completely abandon those principles we started the group with.

One of those is the idea that men cannot be feminists. Feminist-allies is what I prefer to call them. One of the foundational aspects of the group is that only women will hold leadership positions, because there are so many feminist organizations on our campus that are led by men, that are organized by men, that bring in male speakers, that center around men. I don’t want our sorority to become a care-taking organization. I want it to be by women, for women, and about women. And men can help, but they cannot lead. It’s our responsibility to lead our own movement.

This is a lot like the civil rights movement. White people were certainly able to help, to march alongside Blacks, and Browns, but they didn’t (usually) understand the oppression they were fighting as keenly as those they were fighting alongside. They were desperately needed, yes, to fight alongside, to raise awareness, to bring people to the movement, but they were not the movement themselves. Just like men are not the feminist movement, and they can’t be. Because they’re not women.

I just want to figure out how to stick my pole in the concrete and hang on. I don’t want to get whipped around left and right, recanting things because they aren’t universally…politically correct, I suppose. And I don’t understand why I should have to. I know that there are plenty of places where I am wrong, and I think that I am openminded enough that my mind can be changed if that’s the case. I just feel like we’re already buckling under for little to no reason…

It worries me.

I’m going to have a talk with Bee when she gets home tonight, but right now I’m just wondering why we’re giving in so quickly, when there’s absolutely no reason why we have to. We’re not even facing heavy opposition yet. What happens when we do?

Currently Reading

Eve Ensler, Insecure At Last

Brettell and Sargent, eds. Gender in Cross-Cultural Perspective

Quoth the Raven:

"Girls aren't beautiful, they're pretty. Beautiful is too heavy a word to assign to a girl. Women are beautiful because their faces show that they know, that they have lost something and picked up something else."

-Henry Rollins
October 2017
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