improperlyhuman: icon says: Radical Feminism: Females First. Always. (females first)
Once again, the mailperson did not deliver my package. Like always, I got the little notice to pick it up at the post office tomorrow despite my being home at the time of "attempted" delivery.

I wanted that package so goddamned badly today, my internal organs are shifting in tortured anticipation.

I went to the post office and complained about it. Wasn't until I arrived back home that I re-noticed the doorbell outside the apartment building. The doorbell that does not work. I think the mailperson has been trying to ring the doorbell, and I, of course don't hear it and don't respond. My neighbor, however, has put a note up on the door indicating that all deliverpersons should knock. I've yet to hear a knock.

I hate the slumlord who refuses to fix my heater and rented me an apartment with a non-functioning doorbell. He didn't even tell me that it didn't work. I hate this apartment so much! WHY are there humongous cockroaches in a residential neighborhood?? Why is it so hot here, right next to the damned water??

Lovely day. Woke up too early again. My head still hurts from crying at therapy today. Couldn't find any good novels to read at the library. As in apparently every other library, someone has decided to categorize fantasy with science fiction. What are they teaching these people at library school.

This Red Bull seems to weaken my appetite.

I feel a sickness and a hopelessness deep inside of me. Womyn are being kicked out of "women's" homeless and DV shelters because they complain about the men who are now legally allowed to stay there. How did this happen?

improperlyhuman: Burgendy text on black background: "Promoting Commodified Sex Positive Is Not Sex Positive" (pic#8372521)
At least, I think I do. The core issue seems to be discomfort with the female gender role. I know all about that. Whether the coping tactic is gender non-conformity/radical feminism or queer theory/tumblr identities/trans trending, the core issue is the same (in some cases at least). And I'm looking at these womyn and I'm seeing that many of them are so young. And I'm looking on Youtube and I'm seeing grown ass adults calling Milo whatshername misogynistic slurs and I'm a little afraid for these youngsters.

So I'm not gonna make fun of the queer young females any more. Not that I ever really did hardcore. I just made...I guess mildly derisive remarks. Like I guess "tumblr identities" falls into the derisive remarks category, doesn't it? And I'm probably gonna change that "queer nonsense" tag to something more palatable; to what, I don't know. Not that I believe many people will ever see it; I just like to be consistent.

Anyways, I'm over it. I own my frustration and repulsion with the misogynistic and unrealistic ideology behind some of it. That's all me; that's not them.

Goddamned therapist cancelled on me at the last minute and had the appointment time wrong! The appointment was supposed to be today; I clearly asked her to change the time to Wednesdays last week. She called me yesterday, Tuesday, saying that she wouldn't be available for our Tuesday appointment.

She did seem disorganized the first two sessions, but I decided to give her the benefit of the doubt. And what choice do I have? No other therapist in town.

I was disappointed. I have to say things like this to myself because I guess I tend to be only vaguely aware of my emotions. Well, that's not so true in the past 5–10 years, but that's because they started to take over. That's why I was so uncontrollably angry for so long: I had no idea how to discharge the anger. I still don't! I heard tell that people should talk to other people about their emotions, but I sort of rejected that as not applicable to me because talking to people about my emotions has never felt good. But maybe it works some magic other than making one feel good...The magic called resolution. Ooooooh. I dunno.

lol I was just about to tag this post "queer nonsense." fail.
improperlyhuman: (Default)
The county transportation department held a meeting today about transportation needs for senior and disabled riders. I complained about noise on the buses, but that wasn't one of the top four complaints so it didn't get discussed. I think I left my eyeglasses there, but I didn't have the energy to go back.

A womon there said she had a hearing sensitivity and complained about the long bus ride into the nearest town because of the sound of the motor. She also said that she didn't qualify for paratransit services. I wanted to tell her that she could qualify on the basis of her "hearing sensitivity," which is how I qualified. But no time seemed like a good time to go over and talk to her. Sure, we had breaks and unstructured time, but breaking the ice with people never feels right. NEVER. And I don't like talking anyhow. I finally got tired of thinking about it and just left.

I was going to say something pithy about my desire to help womyn contrasted with my disinclination to do simple things like talk to them, but I can't quite remember what that was. Yes, I have fatigue and brain fog again.

My host back from homelessness episode #2 brought over the stuff I'd left at his apartment. I'm so glad because I was in desperate need of a haircut. I gave myself a punk cut this morning.

Every time I see him he tries to get me to spend a little time with him. He told me to call him for a ride the next time I go out of town for grocery shopping. I'm like, dude. What are you doing.

And the disturbing thing is that I want to spend time with him now. I didn't want to the first few times he asked me. I think I was too used to being alone, and somehow feared that which had become foreign. Maybe I only want to spend time with him now because I'm bored. I can't keep myself entertained because I can't concentrate  on anything. 

But the problem is that I also want to continue being a separatist. I like being a separatist; it is such a lovely thing. Except in practice sometimes it's messy.

I became a separatist for two reasons: my safety (physical and psychological) and to put myself in the headspace to devote my efforts to females. First of all, this guy isn't a physical threat to me. A psychological threat, meh, not really. I mean there are womyn going around liberally calling other womyn bitches and cunts, that's worse than anything he's ever said.

As for my female-centric headspace, well, I'm not doing much with it. All I do is sit in this chair, be tired, fret over my calories, and mess around online. Not really helping anyone, is it?

But I like being a separatist. This whole situation is really awkward and wrong. And I don't have anyone I can ask about it. I think I'll stick with separatism. I like my purity.

I wonder if there is something in the construction of this apartment that is making me tired. Is that possible? I don't think living in anything but simple and natural structures is healthy.

Now I'm not sure whether I'm fatigued or just sleepy.
improperlyhuman: (Default)
My new Internet service provider completely skipped my installation appointment today, so I still don't have reliable Internet access. The next available appointment wasn't until Friday, which is grocery shopping day, so I had to settle for next Monday, nearly a week from now! The shitty customer service I've so far received bodes poorly.

I found a way out of town, but it goes in the wrong direction, and I didn't have time to explore it because I had to be home in time for the installation appointment that never happened. I'll have to lug my bike up a flight of steps to get to the path.

I am depressed.

My neighbor has visitors all the damned time, and I can hear nearly everything they are doing from my living room, including yelling at grandkids, singing to the dog, booming up the steps, and talking while the T.V. is playing. I tried to escape by moving into the kitchen and could hear from there as well (and I can't get a good wi-fi signal in there)!

The landlord stopped by with some Borax and some sort of natural flea treatment (in case the Borax doesn't work) and asked me whether everything else was ok. Of course I couldn't remember to mention the neighbor's noise because I can never think during a damned conversation! He asked me how I was doing and I stood there staring at him like a moron because I didn't recognize that he'd asked me a question. Actually, I didn't stare, I looked back and forth between his gut and his face because I couldn't look at his face the whole time. Weirdo, that's me.

And what good would that have done anyhow?? I don't know that they are terribly loud; it seems that the walls are just thin.

I have to get out of here ASAP. I just moved in and I already have trouble sleeping at night and getting up in the morning.

I did have time to explore the single bike path in town. Bordered by the road and a rusting, barbed wire fence, it is nothing but an unmarked strip of concrete featuring raised cracks every three or four feet. I doubt that it's even half a mile long.

I called the GI Bill hotline and found out that I'm not eligible for any more educational benefits.

The veteran's service officer who payed my deposit still hasn't gotten back to me about helping me with furniture, which I would like to take care of ASAP so that I can pick up the furniture and get my stuff out of storage on the same day and not have to pay for two different moving trucks on two different days! I couldn't bear being on the phone this afternoon, so I tried to e-mail her before the end of business hours...and that's when the wi-fi went out.

And I couldn't save the e-mail as a draft. So I saved it as a "File," not knowing what that entailed, so that I could reboot the computer (after which the wi-fi inexplicably worked again, but it was already after 5 pm at that point). Then I had to remove all the formatting from the e-mail, which had been saved as an HTML file. What sense it makes to save an e-mail as HTML, I've no idea.

Some idiot used the word "mankind" to refer to all humans. AGAIN. That is irritating even under good circumstances, but I just couldn't deal today. Piece of shit, I hope you die, you and mankind. I don't even care if that sounds horrible; I have no more patience. It's 2016, anyone who isn't aware of a reason for not referring to females as "mankind" is a moron, and the people who do it anyhow are trash.

I'm going to call the housing facilitator tomorrow and ask him to continue searching for housing.

My main laptop won't boot lol!

Taking my bike out the back door is the most inconvenient thing ever because the lock is messed up and we have to keep a stick wedged against the door to keep people out. So I have to take it in and out of the front door without getting crap on the carpets.

So now what am I gonna do with myself? One would think I'd at least be happy to live near the water again. NOPE. It's cold near the water. To cold to go for an angry walk outside. All my movies are on the laptop that won't boot. Maybe I'll try reading a book in the bedroom. With the door closed. I feel like destroying something, honestly.


Nov. 23rd, 2016 06:32 pm
improperlyhuman: (Default)
I spent a lot of time playing atris and trying to make an online presence for myself instead of working today. I created another okcupid account. I think that I have more realistic expectations for okcupid this time around. At the very least, the site improvements are interesting.

If I've decreased my video size enough, I'm gonna apply to the terf4terf social network. So excited! Too excited to concentrate on all the work I've got to do. I didn't look very good in my video. I looked very tired, and, maybe it was the recording angle, but my face looked fat. Not that I'm shedding tears over it.

I know there are probably some terfs coming across my blog, so here's the info:

I was pretty nervous about applying because I had to show proof of my radfem cred. All I have is my blog, and I've done a couple of stupid things on my blog. But, I convinced myself to not worry about it. The world won't end if I get rejected.

I keep feeling hungry today. Guess I'm ready to go back to eating 6 times per day. I need to go get more food. What I've got now isn't gonna last me 'till the end of the month, and I've only got about seven more dollars' worth of food stamps. I had my oat bran breakfast, a bowl of lentil stew, a yam, and two red potatoes just now, and I'm still hungry. Maybe I'll go to Taco Bell. I'm tired of cooking. The oven does keep the apartment warm, though. Did I mention that the heater doesn't work?

As I'd feared, my neighbor came by and offered to have me over for Thanksgiving or give me a plate. She said that she knew "what it's like to be alone." Lol, no she doesn't. I've noticed the recognition of those who reach out to others, but who sings the praises of those who leave other people the hell alone???

My cloth diapers arrived today! I'd forgotten that I'll have to wash them three or four times. There are two washing machines in our storage area, but I'm not 100% sure we're allowed to use them. I mean, I guess we are, because who else would use them? But the landlord didn't mention it, as far as I can recall. And I can't trust my auditory memory. I'm gonna use one of the machines as soon as the other tenant is finished. I've only got about a fourth of a roll of toilet paper left. Oh shit, just remembered that there's no dryer here. Tomorrow's Thanksgiving and the laundromat will probably be closed. I had a similar issue last time I moved into an apartment: I moved in a few days before a major holiday and couldn't get shit done when I wanted to.
improperlyhuman: (Default)
I woke up to shouting shortly before lights out last night. The dorm rep assistant and someone else I couldn't see, whose voice I couldn't make out (and probably wouldn't have recognized). This second person had apparently called the dorm rep assistant a nigger. The dorm rep assistant was repeatedly calling her a bitch and a wetback. She said that she'd beat her ass even though she'd get herself kicked out for it. I think the other people in the dorm finally calmed her down at some point.

This morning, she woke up crying and talking about how horrible it was for one minority to call another a slur. I was like, why'd you call her a wetback then?

In the womyn's land little library, I found a book (much newer than most of the others) called Femme–Feminists, Lesbians, and Bad Girls. I thought to myself, ok, I'll finally find out what people mean by calling some lesbians femmes.

It was one of those books that is written like someone's women's studies dissertation: difficult to read. Phrases subjective to the point of meaninglessness blended with flowery verbosity. Typical pomoacademese. I couldn't find a coherent definition of "femme," but I did find the tell-tale trying-too-hard to make garden variety patriarchal stuff seem profound and revolutionary.

I wrote a little bit about it in the little booklet I tried to keep a journal with. On the spot, I coined the noun "patripomoisms." Can't remember exactly what I was thinking, but I think that refers to what I mentioned at the end of the previous paragraph: pomo reasoning and rhetoric used to pass off patriarchal beliefs and practices as non-patriarchal, revolutionary, even liberatory. Like the endless "choice" rhetoric used to justify "sex work," or the choice/anti-binary/progressive/multigenderverse (I just coined that one too) rhetoric used to describe or justify the misogyny, lesbiphobia, pro-capitalism, and physical mutilation that are part of the mainstream trans/queer agenda/ideology/lifestyle. I can't think of exact words at the moment so I use slashes.

Here's a quote I wrote down: "I think it is important for femmes, especially to learn from S/M communities about topping and bottoming." Shudder.

Here's another: "Power exchange is key to much femme-butch sex, in one way or another..."

Here it is: Any kind of relationship that involves any kind of power hierarchy is a warped relationship.

The book was a collection of articles from individual femme contributors. I was not surprised (well, I was in some way surprised that they'd admit such things) when they connected femmeness to BDSM, femininity, gender, and "sex work." Ok, got it. Just a bunch of patriarchal bullshit, as I'd originally thought. Not to mention another social science student who never learned how to write clearly. Moving along.

Half a pound of organic, fresh ground peanut butter ($2.15), tenth of a pound of salad mix (45¢), tabbouleh with too much lemon juice ($3.32), and a BPA-free can of organic cannellini beans ($1.19). That peanut butter, of course, will last for at least half a week of snacks and breakfasts.

I forgot to mention that I get ten percent discounts at co-ops because I pay with food stamps. So my final bill is less than what the above adds up to. Support co-ops and you support poor people!

I blow food stamps on junk food (that I don't photograph) sometimes, but I don't seem to be gaining weight. I get unnaturally hungry, and I buy extra snacks because I get afraid that I'll wake up in the middle of the night with low blood sugar and no way to remedy it. I'll just have to cycle extra to work it off. My calves are rock hard, which is great. Thighs have muscles in them but are still fatty :( And I swear my biceps have gotten bigger, which makes no sense because I haven't been lifting. Does gripping bike handlebars for dear life build biceps?
improperlyhuman: (Default)
I lost another bike lock today. I was suddenly very tired after lunch (and the plastic container my curry came in half melted in the co-op microwave), and the problem with my highest bike gear had finally come to a head. I had to take the wheels into the shop because I couldn't deal with the noises and strange behavior and because I don't want to take the chance that it's not in tip-top shape for tomorrow.

I must have lost the lock somewhere along that little adventure. I don't even have the energy to go look for it, and it'll probably be gone by the time I go back. I'll just have to buy another. More money this fire is costing me.

I can't figure out how to get my pictures off of this new Android Obamaphone.

While I was lying awake last night listening to the snoring shelter residents (we have a new one who has the bunk right across from me. which I thought was for veterans. I was told that female veterans had a separate area in the shelter. We don't.), I decided on a feminist activism plan. One that requires no social interaction. A flyer campaign.

Maybe now I have some idea of what people mean by "the meaning of life." Maybe they don't necessarily believe that there is some universal meaning; maybe they just want a reason to go on living despite all the bullshit. I guess my flyer campaign is going to be my reason. I will do it for posterity. It seems there is not much more I can do for myself. Or my contemporaries. Housed or not, I am so psychologically tired. The catcalling is draining me. What can I do? I'm powerless to stop it.

I have an appointment to see the apartment I found yesterday. I'll have to bike ten miles to get there. My VA social worker won't give me a ride because she's off on Fridays. I wonder, is she getting a four-day-a-week paycheck?

Another man in the dorm this morning. This one gave us about fifteen minutes notice that the entire bathroom would be shut down for construction "about a day." So I got of bed and rushed in there to take a shower. The shower head wouldn't work, and as I was about to go behind the curtain to the other shower area, someone who sounded rather upset said "please don't come in." I don't even know what that was about. History of sexual trauma? Extreme modesty?

I didn't want to bother her but I needed a shower, dammit, especially since I thought that I'd be able to go see the apartment this afternoon. But she had the only working shower head, so I had to wait anyhow. She took forever and even started to get dressed in the shower instead of the dressing area! It was past shower closing time once I finally got under the water and someone came in and gave me a stern warning. How many times can I say it: this shelter is bullshit.

On top of the aforementioned bullshit, I found out at lunch duty yesterday that staff gets more food than the residents. What the hell?

Shit. I keep forgetting to call Legal Aid about getting remunerated for asbestos damage to my stuff.

In her book about feminism, which is intended to represent "black women," bell hooks says that (female) feminists should put forth the effort to explain to men how feminism will benefit them. She also wrote that poor minority men do not benefit from abusing and raping womyn. Wonder why the hell they do it, then?! What a stupid thing to print.

Why can't people get it through their heads that men engage in misogynistic abuse because they enjoy it? Why else would they do something that *no one* is forcing or even encouraging them to do, something for which they could face prison time?

It drives me batty when people say that "society" makes men violent. It's a huge obfuscation of culpability. Society is a huge faceless abstraction, placing the blame on which has no practical use.

Society is made up of individual people. Who among these individual people is encouraging, coercing, or forcing men to be violent? Surely not everyone, because womyn aren't quite stupid enough to engineer their own abuse on a societal scale. Children aren't doing it.

Are men making other men violent? What about all the men who assault, rape, and murder when no one but their victims are around? Who's forcing or encouraging them to commit those acts? Why would men choose to associate with men who tell them to act against their inclinations, to risk imprisonment in some cases?

People cling to such obvious nonsense, my goodness. I guess they're faring better with their nonsense than I am with reality.

I read part of a book on the Enneagram in Oregon. I read about my type, type 5. The defining characteristic of type 5 is non-attachment. That at least seemed spot on, and it seemed to get to the core of what I hate about people: they are too attached to shit. Too attached to their culture, their religion, their upbringing, their shitty friends/relatives/lovers, their unrealistic beliefs, their delicate egos. Anything and everything. But that level of attachment is "normal," isn't it? Maybe that has something to do with those shrinks telling me that I'm a schizoid: I don't get attached enough to put up with bullshit, and that's abnormal.

Only when I think of the group of people on whom normal psychology is based do I see how truly bullshitty psychology is. These are people who've managed to stay relatively sane and happy living in one of the most violent, racist societies that ever existed: the United States. What kind of person comes out of that sane? A clueless person? A callous person? A very privileged person? Maybe a resilient person. Or maybe a person who lives in a fantasy.

I'm not attached to my family because they're dysfunctional and provincial. I'm not attached to U.S. culture because it's violent and destructive; I'm not attached to ADOAS subculture because it doesn't suit my personality. I'm not attached to people in general because I've rarely enjoyed myself with them and continually find them to be ugly in nature. I'm not attached to religion because it's just a bunch of lies, myths, and attempts to control. I'm not attached to sex because I'm not attached to people. I'm not attached to my career because I'm not attached to capitalism, money, or material things. Now that I can read again, I'm much less attached to computers, although they are on my list of favorite things.

In fact, I deliberately cultivate non-attachment because I'm anti-civ. Gotta walk the walk, gotta be ready for the apocalypse. And so much material shit is toxic, unnecessary, and produced through exploitation that remaining unattached to it is rather easy.

The thing to which I'm the most attached is the truth. The truth loosens all other attachments. All that other stuff people get attached to requires a lot of lying (especially to oneself), ignorance, and closing one's eyes to things. I can't do it. I'm also attached to knowledge, but that's secondary to my attachment to truth. Definitely attached to music, which attaches me to my instruments somewhat.

I bet I'll have another kitchen duty waiting for me on the chore list when I get back to the shelter. Then I'll have the night to try to convince someone to take it so that I can make my appointment tomorrow. I don't even know these people's names. I don't know whom I should complain to about the less than 24-hours notice for chores. I'm tempted to say nothing and just take the write-up. I don't have a lot of respect for this program. Obviously.

Now it's time to figure out what's for dinner. Maybe I'll blow some more money on vegan pizza. The homeless food challenge is to feel full without getting fat or too malnourished. Some malnourishment is unavoidable.

I got an automated call about eligibility for student loan forgiveness persuant to something Congress passed. I was told to stay on the line to speak to a rep, but I hung up. Forgive them or not, I can't and won't pay them, and I don't want to talk to anyone about it. Maybe I'll look up that act Congress supposedly passed. An automated phone call as a notice seems shady.
improperlyhuman: (dark Mulder)
Woo-hoo! The Women's Liberation Front has filed a lawsuit against the Dept. of Justice and the Dept. of Education regarding the violation of the Title IX rights of females.

I was reading this tumblr about detransitioning today, and when I got to those pics of butch lesbians in the lower left-hand corner...damn. I looked away from the screen and felt so uncomfortable. I asked myself why, and the answer is that I'm afraid to feel attracted. The attraction is overwhelming...I guess because feeling anything besides a level, neutral dullness and desiring something that maybe I can't or won't have is psychologically dangerous.

Feeling excited, hopeful, aroused, interested, are high feelings that I can be dashed down from, high states that I can fall from. Being on the ground floor emotionally doesn't incur the same risks. And avoiding attraction is just another aspect of the avoidance of social involvement and avoidance of social hope and expectation that I've been dealing with for a long time now. The only difference is that I rarely have to face that powerful and visceral attraction because I rarely come across any butch lesbians.

But I see that this is crazy and I need to stop doing this to myself. I'm fueling my own mental problems by trying to overcome natural and healthy urges, trading one set of psychological issues for another.

I've wanted so badly to control my own mind, but it is unrealistic. I thought that I was close to that level of self-control because I rarely have much interest in people, but the truth is that I was (am) partially being controlled by traumatic experiences having propelled me into an extensive self-protective mode, and partially just being my regular old introverted self. And maybe partially being exhausted with life, recovering from homelessness and content with the basic comforts of the stability I have so recently re-lost.

I'm not really cool with this decision because I feel like a deer that is going to be continually jumping out in front of cars. But what else can I do? I'm a deer. May as well stop pretending to be something else. I can at least allow myself to look at and admire the road.

I was looking up anxiety today because I still don't understand whether a person has clinical anxiety if her fears are justified and realistic. I came across a self-treatment that I am going to try. And I am going to implement it by joining a community for radical womyn. I found one! I just have to live through the fear, feel it, and keep truckin.

I think that I will still need to behave carefully: not as a womon and not as a political minority, fortunately, but as someone with unique social preferences (I'm still scared of saying the wrong things, upsetting people, and generally "not acting right.") I don't know how else to put it. I have the urge to frame it in a neurodivergent narrative, but that could easily be wrong or incomplete, and I think I need to chill out with the narratives. The "this is just who I am" narrative is simple and unassuming enough to be acceptable.

I haven't yet decided if I'll get up early, try to make a same-day truck reservation, spend 1.5 hours on the bus, then bike ten miles to meet the asbestos abatement team. Maybe I'll lose my gym equipment. I'm so tired. Maybe I'll just lie and say that I got into a car accident and couldn't make it. I hate this and don't have the energy to spare on it.
improperlyhuman: (Default)
I finally agreed to accompany my host on his evening walk. We went to a sort of historic/entertainment part of town after most of the stores and things had closed. Nearly EVERYONE there was walking around staring down at their smartphones (including my host). CREEPY AS HELL. It was that damned Pokémon Go.

There was a huge group of like thirty or forty people sitting around at the far end of the theme parkish place. Like, just hanging out in groups, staring at their phones, some talking about Pokémon. I only saw one person who appeared to be playing the game with a child.

It's like the Harry Potter craze all over again for me: I don't really get why so many adults are suddenly so interested in something that's for kids? It's not just for kids; as far as I can tell, the game is rather simple. Childish. I'm sure Harry Potter at least had some depth to it.

I'm never going on that walk again.

I want so badly to be out of here. I found someone subletting an apartment, but I don't think I'll be able to use my housing voucher to rent the place because the rules specify that I must rent from the owner and have some type of lease agreement. I am very frustrated with the Housing Authority because these vouchers are supposed to assist people who are low-income, but the rules do not seem to have been created with low-income people in mind.

Poor people have housing emergencies that don't always allow them the time to find traditional housing before they're out on the streets, and once out on the streets, all the bureaucracy necessary to secure housing, all the travel and paperwork and go-between, becomes harder and harder. Poor people need stop-gaps like sublets and rented rooms to help them get back on their feet. They may lack the resources to keep roofs over their heads during all the time it takes to process paperwork and inspect shit.

The procedures associated with this voucher are consistent with the housing search of someone who is in a secure financial situation.

A comment posted to Dirt's blog some time ago has stuck with me. The topic was something to do with females transitioning or not being happy to be female or something, and someone made a comment to the effect that a reason for transitioning was not being treated in a way that makes one comfortable.

I think that comment has stuck with me all these years because I never get treated in a way that makes me feel comfortable. In maybe the first couple of years after I'd read the comment, thinking about it only brought to mind the standard mistreatment that is misogyny; the common female experience of not being treated in a comfortable way.

In the last few months, however, I have begun to think about unsuitable social treatment in a more personal and specific light; particularly, not being treated in a comfortable way by other womyn. I do dislike fuzzy sex stereotypes, but I can't deny that I've noticed certain patterns in female behavior, and I've begun to wonder whether expectations that I fit those patterns is the cause of certain social issues I've had.

I was particularly motivated to post about this because of a brief conversation I had with my host last night. He asked me why I hadn't been trying to date, and I said that I didn't feel like I could be myself around people. He told me that I was "fine." I said that I was fine to him, but womyn are different, and he agreed.

It's all very fuzzy and hard to put my finger on at this point, but something that comes to mind at the moment is the sort of language I use and have used with guys. For example, my host and I cuss at each other, tell each other to shut up and go to hell, all without hurt feelings. Even when I'm alone, when I do something silly I call myself stupid and dumbass. It's only an acknowledgement that I've messed up; I don't actually think poorly of myself.

Anyways. I somehow know not to talk to womyn that way because most would get upset. One might say that this is a familiarity thing, but I don't think it is or would be with most womyn.

I have tried to tone it down when I talk to people I don't know, but I think words I used such as "hate" and saying that a town "sucked" or something were still too harsh because those womyn told me I was negative and didn't want to talk anymore.

Another pattern that seems to be emerging is a difference in the level of emotional babysitting that's expected. Not necessarily a male/female difference, but a me/other womyn difference.

When I was in Paris with astramance, for example, she became noticeably upset after we couldn't find a vegan place to eat because she was worried about me not having a good time (I think). And forever-surprised iconoclass was surprised that she was so concerned about me.

I dislike it when people are overly concerned about me; it makes me anxious. I don't consider myself to need that sort of solicitousness because I speak up when I don't like what's happening, and I expect other people to do the same when they aren't happy. And I think that has caused some problems at some point because those other people were expecting me to have a higher level of concern about them.

I asked her to hold some stuff for me before I went in to take the GRE. Later on, she told me that she was confused about my asking her that and hadn't wanted to hold it as she was going around the city. I was again surprised because she hadn't said anything about that when I'd asked her. I would have expected her to simply say "no" to my request. And I ask myself, why didn't she say "no"? Was I expected to think of her not wanting to hold my stuff and simply not ask her? I wonder about these things.

Another thing I have been thinking about is my facial expression (or lack thereof). Not a lot of times, but enough times to give me anxiety, people have told me that I "look angry" when I wasn't angry at all. I don't know what this angry look is, and when I became aware of my face on those occasions, I found that my features were situated in a neutral fashion.

The question that has recently popped up into my mind is this: what if my face only looked angry to them because they were expecting me to be bright and smiling? A bright and smiling expression that is not expected of men. A bus driver once told me to smile while I had a neutral facial expression, and the situation was so irritating because I had no reason to smile, yet I felt some sort of pressure to smile.

That was one of the occasions on which I had a particularly strong sense that I was being treated in a way that was totally inconsistent with who I really was (and am). Such occasions have a different flavor than run-of-the-mill misogyny because they are not accompanied by any clear threat or malice or even a clear goal; they're comments tossed off casually, cluelessly, and they give me a strong sense that I'm the only person who can feel their jarring inappropriateness.

But I guess that could have simply been a mild case of sex role coercion. I know I'm not the only female who's been told to smile in an inappropriate fashion.

Perhaps not related, but I've also been noticing that I've been endeavoring to make myself heard by speaking in higher and more varied tones. I have often been asked to speak up, and I've somehow got the idea that talking more loudly in my regular tone of voice sounds too angry or aggressive. Where did I get that idea from?

So I have anxiety about my voice, anxiety about the situation of my face and body, anxiety about saying the "wrong" things and hurting someone's feelings. I think I have the latter two more when I'm around womyn.

I don't know. It's all just reminding me of what a few people have said about being "misgendered." I guess it's just another narrative and maybe I don't need another one because a narrative is not truly a reason or explanation. I just get so tired of being taken by surprise, feeling like I'm on a completely different wavelength, and worrying that people expect things of me that I cannot live up to and don't even clearly understand.

I have an MBTI narrative, a neurodivergent narrative, a political minority narrative, and at least a couple of less extensively explanatory narratives, such as racism/ADOAS (I have also wondered whether my being perceived as angry had something to do with a racist stereotype). Maybe if I sew them all together, I'll have an über-narrative that explains everything.
improperlyhuman: screenshot of Apocalypse from X-Men: The Animated Series (apocalypse)
I've asked myself why I continue to spend sixty-six dollars per night for a motel room in which I cannot even sleep. I slept better outdoors, scared of being found by the cops and assaulted in my sleep. I don't want to continue to blow money on this place, so it's about time I give it up and revisit my old campsite.

For sixty-six bucks...I don't even need a tent in this weather, another tarp will do just fine.

The insomnia, I cannot even think straight. I went to my medical appointment today and completely forgot to put in for a change of primary care physician. The noise in the waiting room was driving me insane so I left the area and nearly missed my appointment.

SO much nicer to deal with someone who speaks English. I saw a nurse who quickly looked at my skin and called in the photo guy to take pics and send them off to teledermatology. In and out. The only shady part was when the photo guy said that telederm might prescribe me medicine based just on the pics (whut??), and the meds might come in the mail before the diagnosis/info letter. Drugs, drugs, drugs.

The fire investigator called and asked me some questions this afternoon. If I could just get back into that apartment I could get the book on womyn's land (as soon as I remember where I left it), get that address in Oregon, drop seventy on an Amtrak ticket and be out of here until the housing specialist finds me a new place. I don't even really care about what the place looks like, as long as it's in a small town and isn't in a poor-people area.

I'm not down with bullshitting around here in patriarchy much longer, not after that piece of human trash set the building on fire, and not now that I'm facing another sexual harassment camping trip. New apartment or not, I don't intend to stay around here for long if I can help it.

Speaking of men's violence, "Black Lives Matter" seems to be a misnamed, or misleadingly named, movement. As far as I can tell, it's overwhelmingly male lives being taken by the cops. The reason the subjects are mostly males is males' propensity for crime, which gets them entangled with the police far more often than womyn and girls encounter the police (as suspects).

certainly not worried about being shot or killed by the cops; not even when I was homeless (and regularly trespassing and out at night) was I worried about it. The only times I'd be in that type of danger are after night fall in a dark place in the few seconds before I open my mouth and speak.

The target demographic is precisely the same demographic that poses the most danger to me and has in fact perpetuated the most violence and harassment in my life. I hope the cops do gun them all down; they'd certainly be doing me a favor.
improperlyhuman: black and white icon with text "if you identify with gender, you identify with patriarchy." (patriarchy)
Got my first copy of Rain and Thunder in the mail today. So nice to have a radical feminist magazine? newsletter? don't know what to call it.

The subject matter was of course dark, but just knowing that there are other people in the world who aren't crazy and want patriarchy, capitalism, and ecocide to end raised my mood a bit.

i'm practically passing out from sleepiness

improperlyhuman: (Default)
I am making bank with my new client.

I am nearing the point of not needing to actively seek out new things to learn about editing. I am becoming An Editor.

I am still struggling with aggravating mechanical workflow problems, namely fitting my keyboard, mouse, and mousepad on the keyboard tray. I'm not even really using my standalone numeric keypad; there's no space for it.

Editing with text editing applications is too slow. I am now more motivated than ever to learn vim, but it is going to be a pain with the Colemak keyboard layout.

Last night I had a very disturbing nightmare about my sister. In the dream, I woke up and found some guy she knew at my house, along with a child of hers that was different (younger, and maybe a girl) than her actual child. I don't know what he was doing, but he was looking through my stuff and I was angry. Then he decided to leave the child with me!

The scene changed in that senseless way that scenes change in dreams, and then I was with said sister and our third sister in their home. I confronted the former about sending her boyfriend or whatever to my place, and she was irritated, tried to brush me off, wouldn't explain herself. Then she was about to leave and I began to question her more aggressively. She kicked me in my stomach and walked off! To be suddenly confronted with the fact that she would do such a thing (she is a very peaceful person) hurt at least as much as the kick.

So then our mom appeared in the kitchen and I was talking to her about the attack. She said something about my sister having been picked up, interrogated, and tortured for some information pertaining the guy who'd been at my house. She told me to look at my sister's hands, and I noticed with horror that several of her fingernails had been pried off. I awoke shortly thereafter.

The dream affected me so much, I considered calling my sister to ask if she was ok, even though I knew that it was just a dream and had nothing to do with what's happening in her life. Still in bed, I thought about the piece of trash that impregnated her and was very angry. I thought about all of the womyn who end up pregnant by men who care nothing about them and soon leave them. Yet if I tell any of the former to stop trusting men or at least stop engaging in ONE SPECIFIC ACT with men, I'm the bad guy. ("Bad guy" is one of the few sexed idioms that I don't change to a feminine form. It's an accurate phrase because the "bad" person usually is a guy, considering the worst forms of "badness.")

Sometimes I think it meet that idiots so stubbornly wedded to patriarchy suffer for their self-destructiveness. Maybe the suffering will snap them out of it, I think. But I know that patriarchy brainwashes females into self-destructive behavior, so I try to quash such thoughts. Merely a symptom of anger and frustration, they are not at all helpful. Gotta keep my eyes on the prize.

The novel Carol was beginning to irritate me because the protagonist was really becoming clingy and jealous. In the chapter I read today, the title character's husband is revealed to have put a private investigator on the trail of his wife and her new young...I hate the word "lover," it seems really seedy. I think it rubs me that way because I learned it in the context of a novel about an extra-marital affair.

Anyways, the book is set, I believe, in the 50s, and I don't think that I can stomach lesbian persecution (fictionalized, even) at this point in my life, especially not that old time lesbian persecution from which there was little or no escape.

Last week I downloaded a free Kindle book that catalogues old school lesbian-themed fiction. I suppose that I should have known how many depressing story lines were in store. All the plots consisted of some combination of nymphomania, murder, suicide, domination, womyn's prisons, and child abuse. Horrifying.

This morning, I also thought about "curing" some of my resentment by simply telling my mother that I feel uncomfortable with talking to her because I resent her poor parenting.

I read e-books during my morning cycle and I love the routine. I continue to steadily lose weight: 5 lbs. as of this morning. Give or take a pound, I've lost half of what I gained. It's so easy this time.

I've stopped eating in the evening, but night sweats are not as intense, just a damp neck is what I get. I can't even remember some nights because I'm sleeping so much better.
improperlyhuman: icon says: Radical Feminism: Females First. Always. (females first)
Someone sent me a friend request, ostensibly because we're both vegans and radical feminists. His profile read "liberal radical feminist." What on Earth is that?

I received my first work assignment last night. The first round of editing took hours and hours, and I'm only going to earn fifty-six dollars for it. Also, the document crashed my word processor four or five times and brought the whole OS to a halt at least once so far.

Someone from HUD conducted my yearly inspection this morning. The apartment failed because some of the electrical outlets don't work and because the overhead kitchen light fixture does not have a working lightbulb in it. HUD can go to hell. I'm not going to buy any damned lightbulbs. I'm doing just fine with my candles. It's not like a person can't live somewhere that's missing lightbulbs in one or two rooms. Their rules are ridiculous and the organization is more about bureaucratic b.s. than keeping roofs over people's head. After this experience, it will be just a bit easier to pull away from the protection of subsidized housing to live on wimmin's land.

Earlier this evening, I found out that the Michigan Womyn's Music Festival will no longer take place.
I was heartbroken. I didn't get many details but it seems that the trans lobby maybe had a hand in this. There was an article about performers being urged to boycott the festival because of the policy against men attending. I know that men didn't run this campaign by themselves. The lengths to which womyn will go in their prioritization of men's interests is depressing.

One of the few places on Earth where womyn could gather without men, under their own terms, gone after two generations of history. An oppressed group has lost an important safe space.
improperlyhuman: icon says: Radical Feminism: Females First. Always. (females first)
Hooray. My guide to wimmin's land arrived in the mail today with a cheering "good luck" message handwritten on the envelope. It's just under one hundred pages long and includes some articles. I was surprised to find that it lists international wimmin's land in addition to domestic.

I went through all of the West coast listings this afternoon. There are a decent number of options, but there's not much geographical choice; most are in Oregon, almost all the rest are in Arizona, and there are two or three Washington listings. I'm surprised that there are no California listings whatsoever; how could we let these other states out-hippie us?

Nice as living in an Oregon forest seems on first thought, I know that I'd have a tough time with the cold, and I want to live outdoors, sheltered only by a tent, or a cabin at most. I can easily live without indoor plumbing, and I'd even be willing to forego electricity, which some of these places lack. I've narrowed it down to two solid leads in AZ and three or so in warmer-seeming locations in Oregon. There are a few other possible places I'd have to contact to ask about the long-term residency.

I was also surprised to read how small the communities are in some of these places. It seems that they get a lot of visitors, but have few residents, a handful of womyn living on dozens, in some cases, hundreds of acres. Actually, I don't even know how large an acre is, so...maybe that isn't that small of a person-to-area ratio. Anyways, I'm newly concerned or perhaps differently concerned about the social aspect. Blending in with a commune-size community is one thing; fitting in with a circle of just three womyn is another. Easier in some ways, more difficult in others, I imagine.

So I'll probably look through the directory again in a few days and make my top choice, then prepare to contact them, eventually set up visits, check on transferring my subsidized housing (I'd rather not abandon it altogether in case things don't work out), and other preparations. In the meantime, I need some money. And my vocational rehab counselor hasn't contacted me with any more details. I signed a release for some job assistance organization, and I haven't heard from them at all.

I received an emergency text message yesterday afternoon from goddess knows whom. It was a flash flood warning. Confusing. It isn't and hasn't been raining here and there are no bodies of water nearby.

I've begun gradually increasing my caloric intake. I've added one extra teaspoon of nut butter to breakfast. I suppose I'll go up to 1200 or so, though it hardly seems, at this point, that I could lose fat on so much.

My Algorithms homework is still running, over twelve hours later.
improperlyhuman: this icon is a picture of crowd of people with text "please stop breeding" (breeding)
Yes, this is yet another brilliant holiday I've conceived, and, like Vagina Appreciation Day, it's best celebrated EVERYDAY. To erect a beacon to the many womyn struggling, suffering to get their social needs met by men who don't even have a basic level of respect for them.

And just a quick bit about the supposedly innate, unchangeable "sexual orientation." Honestly, it is kind of a disempowering construct. Is it difficult to muster sufficient psychological power to shift attraction away from a group of people that has heaped and continues to heap violence and abuse on one's own group all over the world, for untold generations? A group of people who render the most basic interactions dangerous and stressful? Who spew misogynist hate speech in all of their "art" forms? I don't even understand how womyn can stand to go on dates with men. One literally has to be on guard for one's life. Nothing they say can even be trusted because they will say absolutely anything to use womyn's bodies. What potential relationship is worth so much trouble?

But then things get slightly complicated because anyone could say (and they always do), "women do that too," and then I would have to explain the difference between the two. And I might as well do it: the difference is that involvement with men who only want sex (or men at all) is infinitely more dangerous, and they are more likely to have that attitude (along with subsidiary psychologically damaging attitudes such as entitlement and womyn-as-walking-vaginas), as predicted by their group behavior going back since practically forever. I'll take the womyn who only want sex over that any day.

And then my imaginary detractor(s) might suggest that it's preferable to view men as individuals. In theory, maybe. In practice, I hope that most would agree that safety trumps abstract ideals, and, perhaps, that there is some reasonable lower bound on the reliability of group behavior in predicting individual behavior, a limit that has long since been exceeded in this case.

Another sleepless night last night. The experiment is over and the results are in: this is caused by running in the evening. I don't know how I'm gonna continue, given that I'm so adverse to exercising during the day. Speaking of which, I had the incredible fortune of finding a pair of shoes in my size at the thrift store yesterday. Just two bucks I paid. They aren't running shoes, but they are tennis shoes, and therefore more appropriate than the shoes I have now. No holes in the soles, either.

Today I was itching to begin my search for wimmin's land and therefore barely able to concentrate on my studies. They seem almost pointless, useless to me in the future for which I hope. I might still have the opportunity to work online in this new life, however, and I hate to quit. I am, however, going to quit this MOOC sponsored or run by Google. The teachers don't lecture well; their explanations are verbose and they get caught on their own tongues too often. Worse still, there is too much hand-holding and micro-managing of the course project. Besides that, I'm not interested in coding slick applications.

I also spent the day talking to myself and doing hand motions and generally freaking out at my desk in anxiety. I am stuck on the prospect of having to rely on socializing to achieve something I passionately, desperately desire (to live on wimmin's land) and being charming or "friendly" or whatever is definitely not my thing.
improperlyhuman: (Default)
I have been noticing some very specific anxieties in myself over the past few months. I didn't want to admit them to myself, I hoped it was fleeting, but I can no longer deny it. Psychologically, I think that I managed quite well during my three years of being unconventionally housed, but I see now that there were effects of which I was unaware, or too busy with more basic survival to notice.

The first is the worry that residents are watching me mistrustfully as I walk through suburban neighborhoods. Not all residents or all neighborhoods, but the middle-class (or above) white residents of the middle-class (or above) neighborhoods. I don't like to call people "white" because it's kind of hypocritical of me, but let's just say it's an accurate description because the sort of people I'm talking about are very white-identified. I've noticed that they treat me strangely when I walk through their neighborhoods. They seem very territorial about their neighborhoods and quick to call the cops.

The second-to-last time I had to move my van, I tried to get away with having it parked on an out-of-the-way residential suburban street. It was bad enough that someone (or someones) reported it (people regularly violate the same trifling parking violation, but of course, they live in houses there, so no reports), but some guy actually came up, put his hands on my window, and peered inside. This blatant display of territoriality and lack of respect is burned into my memory. The knowledge that someone would care or think so little about another's plight to have her vehicle towed from a spot that no one even uses (which I know from parking in that area overnight) is heart-breaking, honestly. If there is one thing I can point to and say, "this is why I feel no connection with other human beings," this is it. There is a group of people who are heavily identified with the system (the law, capitalism, heteropatriarchy, etc.) and will play along with it to the detriment of those most hurt by it. I daresay there is significant overlap between this group and the middle-class white suburbanites. 

But these are things I've known in the back of my mind for years. What brought it to the current level of anxiety, I think, is the random harassment I received on the streets during the last five months I was staying in my woodlet last year. Not knowing why I was being harassed made it all the more anxiety-provoking. 

So I find myself uneasy as I walk the streets here in town. As absurd as it must sound, I worry about looking like some sort of a threat. Me, 5'0, 108 lb. iconoclass, looking like a threat. But I can be threatening despite my size, apparently. One night, down the street from UCSC, a womon was walking ahead of me on a dark, empty street. She clearly didn't want me behind her; she stopped and stood at the bus stop (way past time the buses were running). She was much bigger than I was. I figure it was one of two things: skin color, or a case of mistaken sex. Probably both. Terrible feeling, to inspire fear in someone.

The combination of all these experiences has finally come down on me. It's one of the reasons why I don't want to be around people anymore.

I'm also anxious about my safety, especially since I probably stand out more now that I don't try so hard to act normal. I was targeted a few times when I was homeless. A couple times when I was housed, I was targeted by a group of boys. They threw rocks at me, but I kept walking and didn't say anything because they were as big as, or bigger, than I was (this is the main reason why my separatism extends to males of all ages; boys are dangerous and violent as well). I think they confused me for a boy. It's difficult to convey the dynamics of the situation in text. One called me a "nerd" as he rode past me on his bike. It was a bit bizarre, being a grown womon spoken to that way by a kid. And the bizarreness makes it all the more anxiety-inducing: I've no idea what these people were thinking, so cannot predict these situations, so I'm on edge anticipating them to avoid the vulnerability of surprise. 

Since I stopped keeping up with the online queer/trans circus, I've barely read any feminist blogs. Today I happened across one that explains, better than I ever could, why the framing of womyn as masculine, and the idea that one's relationship to gender roles (conforming or not) is due to some innate thing ("gender identity") is misogynistic and consistent with patriarchal conceptualizations of womyn:

I felt a flood of relief after I'd read this. It's rare to come across agreeable political opinions online, but, more importantly, it's rare to feel any sort of...what's the word, comfort, belonging? with womyn because there is so much patriarchal identification amongst them. I'm not talking about the "sex-positive" and queer circus ideologies (I don't even know of such people in fleshspace), just garden variety hetero, pro-family, femininity-identified mindset of the average womon.

Let's see if I can remember my point. I was wondering if the female-specific vulnerabilities of homelessness are on other womyn's radars, because hetero-identified womyn will adopt the patriarchal "family first" mindset (one of the reasons why I am anti-traditional family), such that all the damning evidence in the world against men cannot stand up to their devotion to their male family members, even when they accept that other men as a group are to blame (rarely). But that guy who called me "baby" while following me around late at night, invading my personal space, was someone's family member. That guy who broke my van window and threatened me while I was sleeping in it was someone's brother or father or son. These sorts of things NEVER happened to me when I was housed.

Men will target homeless womyn because it's easier to get away with harming homeless womyn. They clearly have no friends or family who is keeping tabs on them. Sometime in the past several months, there was a craigslist ad seeking a homeless womon for sexual and domestic servitude in exchange for housing. "Homeless" was specifically included in the ad.

The examples are meant to show that, even when womyn think their guys are nice guys, they don't really have any idea what men are doing when they aren't around. There have been plenty who were surprised to find the men in their lives abusing their own children, or using prostituted womyn behind their backs. They wouldn't know if their son or husband was out murdering voiceless homeless womyn, either. The bottom line is that males cannot be trusted, and ought not be trusted; still, womyn will trust them over and over again, endangering themselves, and, it pains me to think, their own daughters, like my half-sister raising three girls under the same roof as her attempted statutory rapist of a husband. It is very hard on me to know that womyn will still put males before females. It's another source of that unsafe feeling. Who else will give a damn if not the group of people who suffer similarly?
improperlyhuman: icon says: Radical Feminism: Females First. Always. (females first)
is the same definition that can be found in any standard dictionary.

It's not some self-serving re-definition someone cooked up within the last few generations, but something that's been part of the English language for who knows how long, unlike whatever "definition" queers put forward to legitimate men claiming to be womyn and vice versa, which is a recent pomo creation that doesn't even qualify as a real definition because, for example, "anyone who says she is a woman" is circular and defines nothing. The latter is a kind of political maneuver which has no purpose in radical feminism, as radical feminism is about illuminating reality rather than obfuscating it.

Can't convince people that you are something you aren't? Just make up your own definitions of words to favor your view, pretend your definition is THE definition, and state it ad nauseum. If people still won't play along, try emotional manipulation, such as changing the subject to how many trans people are murdered every second.
improperlyhuman: black and white icon with text "if you identify with gender, you identify with patriarchy." (gender)
I received my vision therapy screening results in the mail today. I'm not quite sure what to make of it because there's no explicit indication of whether or not I would be expected to benefit from vision therapy. The scoring system is odd: there's good performance, and there's poor performance. I scored good in binocularity, near acuity, and near point of convergence. I scored poor on distance acuity (duh, I'm near-sighted), focus change, and fusion (sustained binocularity). The example symptoms of the latter two match my symptoms.

There's another scoring system based on age, but it only goes up to age 15 or 16. For example, I earned the highest possible scores on visual memory and visualization (16 yrs.), but I have the fixation speed of an eleven-year-old. I guess. I'm shocked that I scored 13 on the logic and form reasoning. Logic is my thing. The score should be perfect. It was difficult to trace the symbols across the page, however.

Once I work up the energy for more battles with the psychomedical establishment, maybe I'll try to get the VA to pay for vision therapy, but that needs to wait a while because I'm approaching overwhelmedness with my current appointments. Physical therapy today and Wednesday, VA acupuncture tomorrow, social worker on Wednesday. 

I felt sad this morning. This is notable because I rarely feel sad. Content, amused, angry, frustrated, and anxious/ruminatey are just about the extent of my regular array of emotions. Maybe I was just going through weird psych stuff because I didn't eat enough earlier today. I felt weak, but I did not feel terribly hungry. I just guessed that I needed more food. I'm going to have to keep a watch on myself if I'm going to keep up with the new lower caloric intake; my ability to ignore or not feel hunger even when I need more food could lend itself to ill health.

The thrill of my new exercise routine is gone.

There was a person being treated right beside me at physical therapy today, talking to the aide. They were talking about how exciting it was to finally birth a girl after so many boys in the family because one can dress up girls and girls' clothes are more "fun" than boys' clothes. I wanted to, I don't know, puke my organs up against the wall. It is horrifying for me to listen to people, especially womyn, say that they enjoy putting the mark of patriarchy on children's backs. That's what "girls' clothes" are; a giant X on the back for delineating who gets the female treatment. It doubles as training gear. If these people like dress-up, they don't need girls; they need dolls.

The cherry on top was when someone came in looking for a lost item with three kids in tow. At least two of them were wearing heels. All of these kids were almost certainly under ten years old. HEELS. You see, you gotta get them started early on accepting the immobilization, discomfort, unnatural gait, and the form-before-function approach to clothing. I watched one of them totter out the door, her ankle twisting a bit. I don't have any more words that would do the experience justice.
improperlyhuman: icon says: Radical Feminism: Females First. Always. (females first)
I watched Interstellar about a week and a half ago. The part of the movie in which a few hours passed from the perspective of the astronauts who'd landed on a planet that orbited a black hole while twenty-three years passed in Earth's frame of reference made a big impression upon me (although I doubt that the math added up). I certainly could not gain much of an idea of what it would be like to experience the effects of time dilation through my studies of Relativity, and I dare say the same would be true of most anyone; yet here was a moving depiction of it (completely realistic or not). The intellectual exercises constituted by absorbing and digesting theory are much different than the reality described by that theory. On the one hand, we have regarding a page full of equations; on the other, missing two-thirds of the lives of one's children.

It is the same with separatism. To intellectually commit to avoiding the company of males is quite a different experience than to reject the company of some guy you know, a sincere request from some guy with whom one used to be friends. It doesn't feel good; being away from one's family for twenty-three years doesn't feel good. It doesn't feel natural; I'm sure that neither of them feel natural. It certainly isn't natural. I don't think that living according to any ideology is natural, but I do think that it can be useful under unnatural living conditions (such as patriarchy). 

Life continues under artificial living conditions; life continues despite the ideological lenses through which we choose to view it. And so we, I, sometimes come up against ugly, complicated disparities between life as it is(particularly natural, neutral human behavior) and life according to our ideologies. In these cases, we must make unpleasant choices. How far will we bend the ideological structure(s) that we've built to order the world? How far can we bend them before reaching the point at which we can no longer legitimately consider ourselves adherents? Is it sensible, healthy, justifiable to decide the concrete, to ignore our emotions, end or begin our relationships, limit our experiences, and plan our day-to-day behaviors on the basis of the abstract principles that underlie ideology? To what extent?
improperlyhuman: (dark Mulder)
is a complete load of bullshite and probably the creation of men projecting their warped urges onto womyn via their habit of thinking of themselves as the default human beings. Look at the works of man and compare them to the works of womyn. Their nature is reflected in their works, everything from film to law.

I once read a feminist blog on which the author referenced men's horrific behavior. Some idiot commented and basically tried to compare some Mean Girl's type behavior on the part of womyn. I wish, I WISH the worst sort of behavior people had to worry about was cattiness, gossiping, backstabbing and high school-style social hierarchy. The ridiculous lengths to which people will go the attempt to silence, ignore, or invalidate the obvious about male behavior.
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