God, I suck, I forgot that as part of Ladyfest, there is a workshop going on at the center right now about "Contemporary Femme Identity" and I really wanted to attend. Dammit. Oh well, whateva, i'm just chiznillin. I hear there are two all girl music concerts occuring tonight, and I may choose one to attend. If so, i'll update you guys, and if you come and see me there completely alone, just say "Yo." I don't think I can go though because I had to switch shifts with this chick for Claudia's arrival and I have to work hella early in the morning, so I will probably go to bed early tonight to prevent looking like a tired old hag when she comes.
I want to know more about femme identity. Nothing annoys me more than when someone classifies me as a butch just because I have short hair. It's like, um, no, butches wear Old Spice and leather jackets. I'm the bionicFEMME muthaphucka. It really offends me, it's just like when assholes in the punk scene go up to other punks and say they're not "punk" enough. It's like, fuck you and your pretentiousness, you're being no better than "the man" that you rebel against, you've replaced the establishment with your OWN fucking establishment that is just as oppressive and categorical. Just let people go to the punk shows no matter how they're dressed and let them enjoy the damn music. Hell, as long as you're not wearing a shirt saying "Old Navy Rules" I don't see the problem with going however you want to. I mean, I do get upset when people go to raves just for E and not the music, but I don't go up to them and make fun of them, I just let them enjoy themselves.
But anyway...I wonder if being gay is caused by genetics or environment. I have good arguments both ways; I have a shitty, perverse father and my grandmother's sister was a butch. Apparently she had the exact same taste in women that I do now; she liked femmes with dark hair and dark features. My dad is so fucking stupid. We have had a crappy relationship my whole life because he's abusive, both physically and mentally. He's a classified sociopath. When I moved out to college, he sent me obnoxious letters in the mail until I started to return all of his letters to him unopened and hung up the phone every time he called. So we didn't talk for an entire year because I hated him so much for everything he'd ever done to me. When I went back home last Christmas, we found out he is terminally ill with congestive heart failure and he ended up crying like a baby in front of me to forgive him. I wanted to walk away, tell him to burn in hell alone, but I couldn't do it. I'm not a dishonorable woman like that. I forgave him. So now we are trying to have a pseudo father-daughter relationship that is pathetic. He tries to act sweet my 20th year of living to make up for the other 19 years he wasted telling me I was ugly and stupid. On top of this, he does not even know who I really am. He doesn't want to get to know me; he forces me to watch all of his favorite movies and read all of his favorite books and listen to him talk for hours about the war he never fought in. Not once does he ask me what I like to do for fun, what is going on in my life. He does not even get the fact that I am a raging dyke, even when my hair is so short and when telling him about my latest break up with "Nate" I slipped and said "she" instead of "he" at least three times. He doesn't even know who I fucking am, and I don't think he cares.
I don't know where all this negativity is coming from. I was just thinking last night about how i'm the big superhero, the self-made woman, the one who helps nuns with bad knees carry their heavy luggage (yes, I did this a few days ago). It's not fair, I fucking crusade and rage as hard as I can to make the pain go away, but in the end i'm alone, I live alone, with a hamster and an empty extra bed. I've done well, to put up with so much bad shit that has happened in my life. I should be completely insane by now. Yet i'm healthy, sane, and treat everyone around me with the same respect I want given to me. I made it out and am currently the only girl from my graduating class to not be pregnant or married to a youth pastor, who is still going to school with a plan for the future and ambition. I just get lonely sometimes, I guess, even if I live a hip, fun lifestyle in a huge ass city. I want someone to tell me everything will be OK and hold me at times. Is this a sign of weakness? I hope not.
I want to know more about femme identity. Nothing annoys me more than when someone classifies me as a butch just because I have short hair. It's like, um, no, butches wear Old Spice and leather jackets. I'm the bionicFEMME muthaphucka. It really offends me, it's just like when assholes in the punk scene go up to other punks and say they're not "punk" enough. It's like, fuck you and your pretentiousness, you're being no better than "the man" that you rebel against, you've replaced the establishment with your OWN fucking establishment that is just as oppressive and categorical. Just let people go to the punk shows no matter how they're dressed and let them enjoy the damn music. Hell, as long as you're not wearing a shirt saying "Old Navy Rules" I don't see the problem with going however you want to. I mean, I do get upset when people go to raves just for E and not the music, but I don't go up to them and make fun of them, I just let them enjoy themselves.
But anyway...I wonder if being gay is caused by genetics or environment. I have good arguments both ways; I have a shitty, perverse father and my grandmother's sister was a butch. Apparently she had the exact same taste in women that I do now; she liked femmes with dark hair and dark features. My dad is so fucking stupid. We have had a crappy relationship my whole life because he's abusive, both physically and mentally. He's a classified sociopath. When I moved out to college, he sent me obnoxious letters in the mail until I started to return all of his letters to him unopened and hung up the phone every time he called. So we didn't talk for an entire year because I hated him so much for everything he'd ever done to me. When I went back home last Christmas, we found out he is terminally ill with congestive heart failure and he ended up crying like a baby in front of me to forgive him. I wanted to walk away, tell him to burn in hell alone, but I couldn't do it. I'm not a dishonorable woman like that. I forgave him. So now we are trying to have a pseudo father-daughter relationship that is pathetic. He tries to act sweet my 20th year of living to make up for the other 19 years he wasted telling me I was ugly and stupid. On top of this, he does not even know who I really am. He doesn't want to get to know me; he forces me to watch all of his favorite movies and read all of his favorite books and listen to him talk for hours about the war he never fought in. Not once does he ask me what I like to do for fun, what is going on in my life. He does not even get the fact that I am a raging dyke, even when my hair is so short and when telling him about my latest break up with "Nate" I slipped and said "she" instead of "he" at least three times. He doesn't even know who I fucking am, and I don't think he cares.
I don't know where all this negativity is coming from. I was just thinking last night about how i'm the big superhero, the self-made woman, the one who helps nuns with bad knees carry their heavy luggage (yes, I did this a few days ago). It's not fair, I fucking crusade and rage as hard as I can to make the pain go away, but in the end i'm alone, I live alone, with a hamster and an empty extra bed. I've done well, to put up with so much bad shit that has happened in my life. I should be completely insane by now. Yet i'm healthy, sane, and treat everyone around me with the same respect I want given to me. I made it out and am currently the only girl from my graduating class to not be pregnant or married to a youth pastor, who is still going to school with a plan for the future and ambition. I just get lonely sometimes, I guess, even if I live a hip, fun lifestyle in a huge ass city. I want someone to tell me everything will be OK and hold me at times. Is this a sign of weakness? I hope not.
go_lately:
of course that's not a sign of weakness; if anything you are the epitomy of strength, not just for surviving this far but because you're happy with yourself and your life and your accomplishments. the hardest thing in the world sometimes (especially for me) is to realize that you're ok and that if there's any sort of a problem that involves you (read: abuse; i went through that too), it's not your fault and you're still a good person. it's ok to feel alone sometimes, i do even when i'm dating people. but i promise you that you're not alone, even i'm here for you, reading about your life and caring what goes on in it even though i've never met you. you must be someone special to have a stranger care about you. i certainly think so. *hugs* now go pick your chin up and get excited about meeting claudia again! huzzah!