Classes started yesterday, and quite ironically (and fitting with my neo-Romanticist expectations) the two classes I thought I was going to hate the most are my favorites so far.
It is a truth in life that when a man likes you, other men can somehow instinctively smell the primal competition and succeed in sniffing you out all at the same time. There has been a flurry of offers to hang, get coffee, go walking in the park...I have to say it is quite flattering.
And so I'm thinking about all of this, because it seems I'm being handed a silver platter of choices. I'm actually not sure if I want to choose any, but I am intensely curious at all the options. I look at my semester, the time management difficulties already arising. And I still feel a pull toward something that perhaps would go nowhere, and certainly currently is going nowhere, but nonetheless the sexual tension exists, the interest exists, and is not to be denied.
More later...
Tuesday, August 26, 2008
Sunday, August 24, 2008
Cousins and kissing cousins
Strange night. Herbal tea, pity taken on strangers, which led to poorly drawn maps on napkins and date plans with foreign doctors and me feeling entirely too much like I don't say "no" enough, a few too many drinks with the full intention of becoming drunk, and a lasting buzz that will keep me from sleeping well.
I am in a strange limbo state with a friend who shouldn't be a friend - one of those men you should fuck or forget.
A good male friend reminded me that desire is a strong emotion, but fear is by far a stronger motivator; that even though men may make good and rational decisions based on desire (and on other far more important qualities), fear may keep them from these decisions; and that I have nothing to do with the latter emotion and all to do with the former.
He then told me he trusted me, which was a gift that put my heart entirely at ease with a not so pleasant past between the two of us.
He is the brother I should have had.
I often question if I am deserving, if I am attractive, if I am intelligent. I suppose this is a typical female plight, a neverending self-doubt, which I suppose serves a purpose in keeping us humble, but greatly wounds us by keeping us from believing we have the ability to make more of ourselves than what we expect from ourselves.
Do I want to be taken seriously?
Do I value people who listen and who have sympathy more than getting advice for how to fix problems endemic to my life?
The answer is, I don't know. In many ways I'm a complete mess lately. I don't understand myself and I am not motivated by much other than raw instinct and a desire to please those I have already bothered maintaining relationships with. But I'm too tired, too exhausted, to place myself in any self-discovery. I get through days. I actually don't know if it is enough just to get through a day anymore; I think more is required of me.
I also think I'm completely drunk.
Class tomorrow, but thinking more about life outside of school...
I am in a strange limbo state with a friend who shouldn't be a friend - one of those men you should fuck or forget.
A good male friend reminded me that desire is a strong emotion, but fear is by far a stronger motivator; that even though men may make good and rational decisions based on desire (and on other far more important qualities), fear may keep them from these decisions; and that I have nothing to do with the latter emotion and all to do with the former.
He then told me he trusted me, which was a gift that put my heart entirely at ease with a not so pleasant past between the two of us.
He is the brother I should have had.
I often question if I am deserving, if I am attractive, if I am intelligent. I suppose this is a typical female plight, a neverending self-doubt, which I suppose serves a purpose in keeping us humble, but greatly wounds us by keeping us from believing we have the ability to make more of ourselves than what we expect from ourselves.
Do I want to be taken seriously?
Do I value people who listen and who have sympathy more than getting advice for how to fix problems endemic to my life?
The answer is, I don't know. In many ways I'm a complete mess lately. I don't understand myself and I am not motivated by much other than raw instinct and a desire to please those I have already bothered maintaining relationships with. But I'm too tired, too exhausted, to place myself in any self-discovery. I get through days. I actually don't know if it is enough just to get through a day anymore; I think more is required of me.
I also think I'm completely drunk.
Class tomorrow, but thinking more about life outside of school...
Saturday, August 23, 2008
Monday, August 18, 2008
It may be possible that I only want to move to the City because I can thrift shop my way through life, and the good art is gratuitous and free, and my body likes the way a warm city breeze whips against it, whips up my skin, twirls my skirt, flirts with my hair, as I walk down the street and pretend I don't speak English and never have and never will.
Thursday, August 14, 2008
Some smart thinking, so I hope she doesn't mind if I quote a large chunk of her:
"Although QHouse is student-organized, I have to admit that I'm a little unnerved by the idea of separating queer students from the rest of the community. I think there's a real danger in extending a binary into a system of 3 or 4 categories and leaving it at that, rather than looking at individuals on an individual basis, acknowledging that biology and culture are inseparable and that the distinction is irrelevant, and confronting the fact that no one can ever fully understand the impulses that drive anyone else. Straight culture offers a lot of ways to avoid dealing with the nebulous nature of our feelings and compulsions, a lot of easy ways to claim a gender identity and criticize others', and I worry that the same cop-outs will crop up in the queer community as it becomes more widely acknowledged and acceptable. One of the great changes we've seen in the last few decades, I think, has been the way the gay rights movement has made people become aware of their own sexuality, question sexual norms on a larger scale than before. I know that to some extent, everything that becomes widely accepted loses some of its subtlety and nuance, but it unnerves me when people throw themselves into new stereotypes in defiance of the old ones. Not that my future housemates are doing that, per se; I don't know their individual motivations. But the idea of isolating queer students does seem to hold its perils."
It wasn't cool to be gay when I entered high school. I had frisbees thrown at me when I left to drive home in the afternoon. I will never forget the sweeping hush that came over the auditorium when I casually mentioned my bisexuality to the drama club. But the exotic allure of lesbianism had seemed to catch like a dry bush in a desert thunderstorm by the time I left the place. I was old news. I wasn't a rebel anymore, not that I had tried to be in the first place, although now people were alternately assuming that my 'choice' of being bisexual had everything to do with fitting in.
I made a conscious effort not to associate with any gay and lesbian organizations at Muhlenberg, nor to go out of my way to inform people of my sexuality. I've only been on one date with a woman since college began, and apparently, I wasn't gay enough for her. Because it isn't enough to just identify yourself as 'gay' anymore; there is a whole political purse-full of accoutrements that come with the territory.
It's funny to see the differing ways in which straight people define gay people, and in which gay people define themselves. And within those categories, the spectrum of different opinions. Gay conservatives - folks who are Amish-like in their gayness and in judging the acceptable level of sexual deviance of their friends - have come full circle in harboring similar belief systems as straight conservatives, although clearly if the two met on the street, the situation would turn Jets vs. Sharks very quickly. Veronica is correct to point out the gang-like persona that the gay community has begun to develop, not dissimilar to any other preceeding American fanatical social movement.
Along with V-----, I see this cult-like anathema towards non-gays to be the supreme downfall of the gay rights movement. As V---'s story unfortunately acknowledges, the gemeinschaft nature of the gay community effectively destroys the purpose of gay activism - instead of revealing gay culture to those 'outside' the circle, the gay community has begun to preach to the choir, and has alienated those who do not adhere to a list of very specific qualifications. To be gay is to be part of an elite circle, where displaying the depths of one's 'unique' and 'god given' sexuality has become the new version of whipping it out and measuring oneself against a ruler. Straight people recognize and label this hierarchy from the outside, labeling people as 'flamboyantly gay', or 'straight-gay'. The gay community accepts these labels, and creates its own. The gay community currently to has more of an interest in proving to itself that there is some sort of Platonic oneness achieved from how gay a person is than an interest in actually liberating itself sexually from the societal pressures placed on being straight.
So, like the hippie movement, I fear gay activism may be extinguished just as pathetically by its own social agenda. At the heart of it all, perhaps an individuals' sexual experiences are not dissimilar enough to warrant any kind of lasting social change. Additionally, sex never promotes just sex - all movements towards sexual liberalism have been a front to forward associated political agendas.
So, food for thought.
"Although QHouse is student-organized, I have to admit that I'm a little unnerved by the idea of separating queer students from the rest of the community. I think there's a real danger in extending a binary into a system of 3 or 4 categories and leaving it at that, rather than looking at individuals on an individual basis, acknowledging that biology and culture are inseparable and that the distinction is irrelevant, and confronting the fact that no one can ever fully understand the impulses that drive anyone else. Straight culture offers a lot of ways to avoid dealing with the nebulous nature of our feelings and compulsions, a lot of easy ways to claim a gender identity and criticize others', and I worry that the same cop-outs will crop up in the queer community as it becomes more widely acknowledged and acceptable. One of the great changes we've seen in the last few decades, I think, has been the way the gay rights movement has made people become aware of their own sexuality, question sexual norms on a larger scale than before. I know that to some extent, everything that becomes widely accepted loses some of its subtlety and nuance, but it unnerves me when people throw themselves into new stereotypes in defiance of the old ones. Not that my future housemates are doing that, per se; I don't know their individual motivations. But the idea of isolating queer students does seem to hold its perils."
It wasn't cool to be gay when I entered high school. I had frisbees thrown at me when I left to drive home in the afternoon. I will never forget the sweeping hush that came over the auditorium when I casually mentioned my bisexuality to the drama club. But the exotic allure of lesbianism had seemed to catch like a dry bush in a desert thunderstorm by the time I left the place. I was old news. I wasn't a rebel anymore, not that I had tried to be in the first place, although now people were alternately assuming that my 'choice' of being bisexual had everything to do with fitting in.
I made a conscious effort not to associate with any gay and lesbian organizations at Muhlenberg, nor to go out of my way to inform people of my sexuality. I've only been on one date with a woman since college began, and apparently, I wasn't gay enough for her. Because it isn't enough to just identify yourself as 'gay' anymore; there is a whole political purse-full of accoutrements that come with the territory.
It's funny to see the differing ways in which straight people define gay people, and in which gay people define themselves. And within those categories, the spectrum of different opinions. Gay conservatives - folks who are Amish-like in their gayness and in judging the acceptable level of sexual deviance of their friends - have come full circle in harboring similar belief systems as straight conservatives, although clearly if the two met on the street, the situation would turn Jets vs. Sharks very quickly. Veronica is correct to point out the gang-like persona that the gay community has begun to develop, not dissimilar to any other preceeding American fanatical social movement.
Along with V-----, I see this cult-like anathema towards non-gays to be the supreme downfall of the gay rights movement. As V---'s story unfortunately acknowledges, the gemeinschaft nature of the gay community effectively destroys the purpose of gay activism - instead of revealing gay culture to those 'outside' the circle, the gay community has begun to preach to the choir, and has alienated those who do not adhere to a list of very specific qualifications. To be gay is to be part of an elite circle, where displaying the depths of one's 'unique' and 'god given' sexuality has become the new version of whipping it out and measuring oneself against a ruler. Straight people recognize and label this hierarchy from the outside, labeling people as 'flamboyantly gay', or 'straight-gay'. The gay community accepts these labels, and creates its own. The gay community currently to has more of an interest in proving to itself that there is some sort of Platonic oneness achieved from how gay a person is than an interest in actually liberating itself sexually from the societal pressures placed on being straight.
So, like the hippie movement, I fear gay activism may be extinguished just as pathetically by its own social agenda. At the heart of it all, perhaps an individuals' sexual experiences are not dissimilar enough to warrant any kind of lasting social change. Additionally, sex never promotes just sex - all movements towards sexual liberalism have been a front to forward associated political agendas.
So, food for thought.
Reasons I love my future roommates:
-Amy is Hollywood fabulous
-Shan buys red crock pots and crock pot cookbooks
-Alli brings about three carloads of stuff, which at first seems like too much, but we always end up using everything in there at least once.
-There is always at least one of us running around singing
-There is always at least another one of us running around in a towel
-Amy can't leave home without her favorite books
-Alli can't leave home without something pink on or about her person
-Shan's impressive 80s clothing collection
-shared love of Anthropologie
-TEA!
9 days and I cannot wait.
-Amy is Hollywood fabulous
-Shan buys red crock pots and crock pot cookbooks
-Alli brings about three carloads of stuff, which at first seems like too much, but we always end up using everything in there at least once.
-There is always at least one of us running around singing
-There is always at least another one of us running around in a towel
-Amy can't leave home without her favorite books
-Alli can't leave home without something pink on or about her person
-Shan's impressive 80s clothing collection
-shared love of Anthropologie
-TEA!
9 days and I cannot wait.
Tuesday, August 12, 2008
nothing in particular
So although I had little trouble with the jet lag when I went to Germany, adjusting back to U.S. time is proving a bitch. Even though I now manage to stay up until at least eleven, I wake up at five.
Sigh.
The nice thing is hearing the early morning birds. It reminds me of chilly mornings at camp, my body waking up a half hour earlier than I had to, in anticipation of actually having to wake up, and I would lie warm in my sleeping bag, and watch the dawn go from gray to gold, and hear the conference of the birds outside the mesh window on the side of the cabin.
Am reading A Happy Death. I'm not sure if works should be published that authors clearly didn't want published. Are we that consumerist, that invasive?
Or just curious?
But I feel like I've stumbled across a locked diary, anyway. So I've been furtively flipping through the pages.
It is necessary for me to leave Connecticut. It is not my home. I am made to feel like a stranger. Strangely, when I had this conversation with my mother, she completely and wholeheartedly agreed that I needed to leave. She didn't even feign resistance.
You think this revelation would have come the moment I came back to find my bed dismantled and stored at my grandfather's house, and all my things boxed up for me. But my family has never been one to do rational things, like warn me that they were boxing up my life, so it didn't really phase me. We've never been warm and fuzzy.
List of things that my family should have informed me of, that I didn't until I discovered them on my own:
-bed removed, boxed up
-outside of house completely changed color (I actually drove by the house I lived in for 18 years because I didn't realize it was mine)
-dad's excessive amount of pain, pre-knowing what the heck was going on
-matt landed on the unfortunate half of the 'was I an accident' coin
I sleep on the floor on a one-inch thick piece of foam. It's actually quite comfortable. I've set it up so there are boxes on each side of me, and then lots of cushy pillows, and I am the deliciously warm filling in the center of the blanket and pillow concoction.
mmmmm.
So today...is again a whole lot of nothing.
Want to go up to Boston.
Want to go down to New York.
Want to write, but I've got work to do.
Sigh.
The nice thing is hearing the early morning birds. It reminds me of chilly mornings at camp, my body waking up a half hour earlier than I had to, in anticipation of actually having to wake up, and I would lie warm in my sleeping bag, and watch the dawn go from gray to gold, and hear the conference of the birds outside the mesh window on the side of the cabin.
Am reading A Happy Death. I'm not sure if works should be published that authors clearly didn't want published. Are we that consumerist, that invasive?
Or just curious?
But I feel like I've stumbled across a locked diary, anyway. So I've been furtively flipping through the pages.
It is necessary for me to leave Connecticut. It is not my home. I am made to feel like a stranger. Strangely, when I had this conversation with my mother, she completely and wholeheartedly agreed that I needed to leave. She didn't even feign resistance.
You think this revelation would have come the moment I came back to find my bed dismantled and stored at my grandfather's house, and all my things boxed up for me. But my family has never been one to do rational things, like warn me that they were boxing up my life, so it didn't really phase me. We've never been warm and fuzzy.
List of things that my family should have informed me of, that I didn't until I discovered them on my own:
-bed removed, boxed up
-outside of house completely changed color (I actually drove by the house I lived in for 18 years because I didn't realize it was mine)
-dad's excessive amount of pain, pre-knowing what the heck was going on
-matt landed on the unfortunate half of the 'was I an accident' coin
I sleep on the floor on a one-inch thick piece of foam. It's actually quite comfortable. I've set it up so there are boxes on each side of me, and then lots of cushy pillows, and I am the deliciously warm filling in the center of the blanket and pillow concoction.
mmmmm.
So today...is again a whole lot of nothing.
Want to go up to Boston.
Want to go down to New York.
Want to write, but I've got work to do.
Monday, August 11, 2008
Ah, mawwiage.
I've been thinking a lot about love and relationships lately.
I'm thinking about how much of my love life has been circumstantial, and about how many of my relationships have started not from a spark but from some other pressing motive. I suppose part of me would like to get married, but it would be a lie to say I would marry someone out of love. I know ninety percent of my decision would be based on the fact that I just so happened to feel like getting married at that point in my life, and the other ten would be based on the fact that I enjoy the ritual.
I don't think we have a specific soulmate. That idea smacks of elitism and a perverse existentialism for me. I enjoy being with many different people for many different reasons. I love people for many different reasons. I am resigned to say that I would be okay having sex with someone I respected and admired, but didn't necessarily have any physical attraction towards.
I think the shit we feed each other about love is intensely interesting. I think it's interesting that we propogate and pander to this very warped bedtime story of sexual success - that we as a society define sexual success as contractual monogamy. It was a curious turn of events that led marriage to be associated with love, and quite frankly, it was a poor decision. I think many of the most successful marriages aren't based on love at all, but rather mutual respect, friendship, and a collaborative effort to expound upon survival.
I'll probably think more about this later and edit this post, but there was a need to get that out of me for now.
I'm thinking about how much of my love life has been circumstantial, and about how many of my relationships have started not from a spark but from some other pressing motive. I suppose part of me would like to get married, but it would be a lie to say I would marry someone out of love. I know ninety percent of my decision would be based on the fact that I just so happened to feel like getting married at that point in my life, and the other ten would be based on the fact that I enjoy the ritual.
I don't think we have a specific soulmate. That idea smacks of elitism and a perverse existentialism for me. I enjoy being with many different people for many different reasons. I love people for many different reasons. I am resigned to say that I would be okay having sex with someone I respected and admired, but didn't necessarily have any physical attraction towards.
I think the shit we feed each other about love is intensely interesting. I think it's interesting that we propogate and pander to this very warped bedtime story of sexual success - that we as a society define sexual success as contractual monogamy. It was a curious turn of events that led marriage to be associated with love, and quite frankly, it was a poor decision. I think many of the most successful marriages aren't based on love at all, but rather mutual respect, friendship, and a collaborative effort to expound upon survival.
I'll probably think more about this later and edit this post, but there was a need to get that out of me for now.
Sunday, August 10, 2008
Loving...
German radio
NY&Co's ability to make fancy-pants out of sweatpants material
that European men can carry the male-equivalent of a purse
and wear scarves
beautiful weather
my delish farmer's tan
sunburn.
chocolate
and losing weight
and being in the mood to shop, and to
have an excuse to shop.
ALMOST sweater weather!
puppies.
driving my new car
to state parks.
not having obligations
to feel guilty.
sitting in the chair Goethe wrote in.
mind-fuckingly wonderful nights lounging on the side of a gazebo.
finding twenty dollars on the street.
NY&Co's ability to make fancy-pants out of sweatpants material
that European men can carry the male-equivalent of a purse
and wear scarves
beautiful weather
my delish farmer's tan
sunburn.
chocolate
and losing weight
and being in the mood to shop, and to
have an excuse to shop.
ALMOST sweater weather!
puppies.
driving my new car
to state parks.
not having obligations
to feel guilty.
sitting in the chair Goethe wrote in.
mind-fuckingly wonderful nights lounging on the side of a gazebo.
finding twenty dollars on the street.
Saturday, August 9, 2008
thought i'd share with a few souls that
I am feeling skinner and not only
feeling so, but actually am -
a mere 128 pounds of solitude and
counting down the seconds until
my way-too-large pants fall down.
and I'm going shopping
at my favorite store because normally
I'm just not in the mood, but the mood struck me today.
but first
I should grab a belt.
And I realize that I
own
none.
I am feeling skinner and not only
feeling so, but actually am -
a mere 128 pounds of solitude and
counting down the seconds until
my way-too-large pants fall down.
and I'm going shopping
at my favorite store because normally
I'm just not in the mood, but the mood struck me today.
but first
I should grab a belt.
And I realize that I
own
none.
Friday, August 8, 2008
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