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22 June 2015 @ 09:58 am
Yup. I have fallen hard for a boy. Does me no good to say otherwise any longer, especially since I have told the people who would be most directly affected. It is a goddamn rush and I am fucking addicted.

I can't actually say with certainty that it's a bad idea to be so smitten with him. I know Hollywood would write a scene like this about a woman my age who's fed up with the current status of her life, but dude, I've been falling in love since I was four years old, it's just something I do.

I want to gush, but I don't want folks to think that my declaration of things I've noticed in this guy means I've stopped noticing them in my pookah. So you get this half-strangled stream of consciousness instead.
03 November 2014 @ 02:04 pm
My sophomore year of high school, I dated three different guys. The second of the three ended up being the most regrettable. He wasn't mean or abusive, but he also wasn't affectionate. He wasn't a whole lot of *anything* toward me, and that's what I ended up not being able to stand.

He has never attempted to connect with me directly on Facebook, nor I with him, but we have some mutual friends, so occasionally I see things from him. It's through that second-hand glimpse of his life that I know he now identifies as gay.

There's a part of me that's upset about this. As much as I try to be the person who is accepting and much as I try to tell myself that in a heteronormative society it could have been difficult for him to even *realize* he was gay, let alone come to terms with it and start living from it...part of me is screaming "You jackass, I dumped a guy for you because I heard you were interested in me, I spent three months living the song 'Buttons' by PCD and wondering what I was doing wrong, and it turns out you weren't actually interested in *anything* with ovaries?!"

You'd think that finding this out about him would make me feel *better*, by "explaining" why his actions were always so much cooler toward me than his talk, but it really doesn't.

Sometimes I've thought of trying to track down people I'm pretty sure I was a dick to when I was younger, to apologize, and then I've decided against it. If they're not in my life anymore, and they're not going to be again, they've probably tied up any loose ends in a way that works for them. Reappearing out of nowhere to make sure that it works for me as well would probably do more harm than good at this point, I tell myself.

And now I believe it just a little more.
15 October 2014 @ 11:33 am
Okay, yes, it's ironic that all these crazy hateful threats of violence - against Anita Sarkeesian, against the Ebola patient, take your pick - make me angry enough to fantasize about violence.

But y'know what? I am not for even a split-second believing that acting on those thoughts would be justified, or that the people spouting the hate deserve something bad to happen to them. Well, there are a few split-seconds where I am, and then I feel horrible for having actually believed that.

I've remarked to folks before that's how I can tell I'm a liberal. I have the hateful thoughts, yeah, but I recognize them as such and abash myself accordingly. I could swear there's an Epistle that discusses a similar philosophy about Christianity and sinning, but I have only looked for it a few times since I read it in 1994, and haven't found it yet.
This is freakin' awesome and it's what I want for my birthday this year:
09 January 2014 @ 12:29 pm
I have literally peed myself with excitement over this game, even though I haven't yet had a chance to play. (Sadly, it wasn't as spectacular as all that - I just got so into reading and fiddling with character sheets that I didn't notice I had to go until it was too late to maintain full control.)
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31 October 2013 @ 12:05 pm
It's a good day for letting go of stuff, in the pagan calendar.

I'll be re-homing some water I collected on vacation, possibly writing a couple of letters, and looking through my music collection for any good breakup songs.
21 October 2013 @ 08:38 am
I am not a good teacher or trainer.

People have argued with me about this on occasion, and I always go back to the same assertion: "Just because I understand something doesn't mean I can make it so you understand it too."

Since I am occasionally successful at that latter bit, folks sometimes continue to argue the point. And in a way they're right, because my occasional failures to communicate aren't the real problem; it's that I'm introverted. I am not shy, mind you, except perhaps by some extreme stretches of the imagination. And I don't mind crowds as long as all I have to do is navigate through them to get where I want to go (or perhaps just sit and peoplewatch). But unless you are on my wavelength or one of the nearby overtones, interacting with you is going to be a drain on me. And teaching is by necessity something that requires a lot of interaction.

So okay, I will concede that I can teach. But I am still very much not a teacher.
10 October 2013 @ 03:43 pm
Local radio station is hosting a costume contest, *and* I need to go fabric shopping on someone else's behalf tomorrow.

Time to reforge the Nyan Cat costume!
17 September 2013 @ 02:27 pm
I just realized my last post was three weeks ago, and it was friends-locked and super emo anyway.

Peredur is an awesome guy and I hope he finds his dream girl soon so I can stop crushing on him.
05 August 2013 @ 08:18 am
Back when I was still at Willamette University (so, mid-90's or thereabouts), I met a guy named Ryan via an online game we both played. In between the nigh-inevitable salacious chats, we actually got to connect and learn about each other.

As personal audio was not yet the infinitely customizable luxury it is today, Ryan often listened to the radio in his dorm room while we were online together. And every once in a while, this one song would come on that was painful for him to hear because of a traumatic memory he had associated with it, and I would do the best I could to send him comfort via words on a screen.

I hadn't thought about this for at least a decade. Then this morning, the opening guitar riff came out of my truck's speakers, and I felt my gut clench the way it had every time Ryan admitted to me that he was hurting.

I don't know if I'm supposed to take away any sort of meaning from this experience, but I don't think it's a coincidence that it happened shortly after I finished re-reading The Sacred and the Profane, which among other things talks about ritual time that is infinitely repeatable and recoverable. For a moment, none of the last eighteen years had passed.
Current Mood: thoughtfulthoughtful
Current Music: The Eagles - "Hotel California"