citrusjava: (Default)
Oh, ugh.... so the topic of my third conference thingy is not my thesis, but another research.
And I invited my advisor because she's awesome an I like her, idk?
But now a friend more versed in the ways of academia says that might be offensive for her, and I am feeling like a cheating cheater who cheats.
ffs, how do people KNOW this stuff? How do I learn this stuff? :(
Am I not SUPPOSED to be doing this stuff? Realquestion....

Also I'm feeling like I have the flu, but that is a different story
citrusjava: (Default)
[mentions of sexuality, asexuality, sex repulsion, assault, abuse, and, well, navel gazing, but that's nothing new here....]


So I'm in this online group of people whose research has anything to do with gender studies.

And this woman comes in - she is writing a seminary paper about women's sexual liberation and is asking for recommendations for resources about how women can free themselves from the bonds of oppression and be sexually free.

And everyone's - um.... - because it's - so many assumptions, disturbing disturbing assumptions, and it's this polite group where everyone pretends to be polite and no one says "omg, you have at least forty years of feminism to go before we can even communicate!"....

So people offered her some things - a paper about rape culture that she claimed to have found and read in 12 minutes, a paper about the nature of consent, and a paper about sex not being all that horrible despite what feminists say.... which she ruled out too....

Then a few hours later, nighttime and people talk differently at night. Someone else came in, and asked whether there are, in fact, and known sex positive feminists who are straight. On the assumption that men are the worst to have sex with. So we're joking about that and kinda googling and trying to come up with people (found at least one, btw), and saying that since you can be straight and sex repulsed, you can be straight and sex positive and never have sex in actuality, just support sex.

And someone grumbles that she's not straight but she still sleeps with guys, etc etc - and the original posted pops in and says - yes - I'm sex repulsed, that is why I am writing this paper, to try and fix it....

Which is so completely different from the "why are you being mean towards men" that I'd braced myself for....



I told her that - it might be completely irrelevant for her, but thatit took me ages to find anyone like me, so just in case - that I was so relieved and happy to discover that I was allowed to just - not want sex, if I didn't want to! That it was ok to just stay that way and that I never, ever, had to do it again if I didn't want i! And that if I felt like trying - that was cool! And if I liked just tiny thing and not the rest - cool! An that wanting to change it is totally fine too, but that it really is not a must! ~jazz hands~



I was expecting her to be proper and say thanks, no - but she said - something wistful about courage - said that she just had to - first of all - want sex, find a way to get over the influences of sexual oppression like she should have already done, that only once she's sexual she'll be able to know whether she want is really, that was why she was writing this paper, because she had to want sex, for her boyfriend.... that she didn't want to be asexual, for him....

it was friggin heartbreaking!
Bubblewrap and cocoa and a bi "No!" sign in case she needs it, you know....

So we're having this conversation, she writes a question/comment and deletes it, I reply and delete it, so she knows no one is going to find out about her.... late night conversations, you know....

I'm giving her the shpeel - you don't have to be asexual to not want to have sex, influences of oppression are not our fault and we don't deserve to both suffer from it and be blamed for suffering, it's ok to want to change, no one deserve to have sex they don't want, ....

and she friggin comes out to me as ace.


So the opposite of the person I assumed was writing all of this earlier....
I tried to be reassuring and encouraging, you know....
and it was such a throwback to always always being THAT PERSON, or everyone gay, bi, then trans or non-binary (and poly, queer, family, questioning ffs) - I forgot how good it felt to be able to help someone like that.... I forgot how draining it is, too....but I forgot how comforting it is to be able to really make a difference for somebody.... to have a way to help, to feel for them and actually be able to do something good - without it causing complete destruction for me....

I am ambivalent about taking that role - it was part of my abuse back when, not to mention - things like - one of the guys who assaulted me first used me for this, things like that - and being that person was NOT always consensual....

but
it felt real nice to be able to help, made me feel worthwhile, confident, capable, and just - happy for her, comforted because she seemed to feel better, maybe....
citrusjava: (Default)
Fell asleep last night cuddling my tissues toilet roll for comfort
citrusjava: (Default)
sprinkle me and yell Diagon Alley, I have so much flu....
citrusjava: (Default)
Hey there, lovely people! :)
You are so awesome, and thank you for stopping by!


There are some posts here from long ago, that I reposted with LJ - I am not sure what they include, tbh, so sorry if there are any forgotten monsters there waiting to snap at you heels or do your nails or idk

I'm planning on posting here again, at least for a while, but haven't in ages. My About is freshly written, and probably some good things to know....
If you'd like to check out my style of rambling weird, pet peeves and tags with typos, check out LJ, Tumblr or maybe AO3 :)

Actually, maybe I'll post a thing or two here now, from there....
citrusjava: (Default)
I get to ramble, I can ramble )


My point is -
I keep remembering myself saying, pleasantly - "hey, that's not a fair way to communicate" and "I didn't say that, not cool ", like Richie Cunningham as a summer camp instructor....

which makes me laugh and smile at myself
because it is very hard to use that sort fo thing against you
(though some people will )

She ended up taking back one of the things she said -
but there will be no (exclusionary, ungratefulish) spaces for women (because women not coming at all because they are feeling unsafe around harass-y men, and NB people not participated because they are being mocked - that is not exclusionary) - not that she is against it.
citrusjava: (Default)
So for those who don't know, M and I are living together again, on the condition that I have my own space, with a door, that she never enters.

I haven't been able to use that space lately, was feeling too badly and there isn't usable furniture there (M was in charge or taking care of that before she moved back in, and didn't on time, and after I needed her AWAY from that space, and decided to take the time cause I just could not handle that. There was also a bunch of garbage there that I was gearing up to throw out, but it was taking very long, mostly because whenever I gathered some energy, I mostly had to use it on dealing with M.

So today I left the house for a few hours , and came back to find a lot of the trash that had been in the room outside in the garbage can. And I was just wishing she hadn't, that there was some sort of explanation - but no. It turns out she went into my space, and decided what needed to be thrown out, and threw it out. I feel so violated and so - just - sad.

She explained that she believed it was consensual, cause a long time ago I told her I wasn't able to do it myself. Two days ago she dropped something in my stuff and I explained (again) that her even looking at it makes me nervous, and I gave up doing my stuff to find that thing for her just so she doesn't go through my things at all. She has ALWAYS made up dumb excuse to tell herself that things I clarified beyond clarification were off limits, were not.

I can't believe she did that.

I can't believe this is my life.

Silliness

Jul. 27th, 2014 03:33 pm
citrusjava: (Default)
*Opens Facebook*
"Who's that lesbian Facebook wants me to be friends with?"
*closer look*
"Oh, Dean again".

On the flip side (heh, heh), it turns out I recognize Dean's butt. That is, in a completely unrelated search, google offered me (in a completely not stockery creepy way, google!) a picture of Dean's butt, and I didn't even stop to process it, just - computer image, computer image, Dean's butt, computer image... I showed the picture and told the story to some friends who were online, and it turns out some of them recognized it too without a blink. I guess it's just a pretty famous picture, more than the butt itself. You know it too.
citrusjava: (Default)
Studied the whole night for the test in the morning, took it, went to sleep (missed an important demonstration), woke up in the middle of the night. Went on an impromptu date with Ch, got back after dawn just in time to have an impromptu romantic breakfast with GF in the sun, people walking their dogs around and taking their babies for walks.

With all the tests and everything, haven't even found the time to watch SPN yet, though! But came by to inform you of this:

Let there be fic!


Edible Anus artisan, preservative-free Belgian chocolates are handmade in the UK. The company claims its brown star mold comes from a sphincter model whose trunk is as fine as the chocolates themselves. They believe their anus range of confections can "dissolve cultural boundaries of race, gender, class, and sexual orientation."


I miss you!
citrusjava: (Default)
You know that part of writing, the "I'm a horrible writer, no one is going to want to read this, why did I ever start writing in the first place instead of taking up something productive like video game addiction"? Not writer's block, more like writer's terror?

How do *you* deal with it? I'd love to hear if you wanna tell me your stories of fun/misery/dealing.

Me, I try to soldier on, or I take a break to complain to friends and strangers (waves), or I try to do this with someone else going through the same thing, to hold each other's hand, or I try be kind but firm with myself, remind myself it's something I go through, many writers go through, Neil Gaiman goes through, and only a few lucky unknowns don't. And I'd very much like for someone to lock them up in a lab and do tests on them, to find out how that is possible, and more importantly, to keep them from telling me how easy and fun writing is. (sorry. I seriously don't mean that, and I guess those mythical creatures people have their own issues). This is actually kinda cute, in a self-helpy sort of way. When is the part where the joy is experienced, though? Wish I could just be doing my Spanish homework instead now.


citrusjava: (Default)
This is for [livejournal.com profile] cantarina1 's prompt, and is part of the December Days meme. If you feel like it, you can prompt me too, here. Image isn't mine - linking back to where it's from.

I love podfic for so many reasons. These are only a few. First, the community around it seems to be really cool, a lot of awesome people. I had the pleasure of meeting some wonderful people through podfic, such as [livejournal.com profile] nickelmountain and [livejournal.com profile] applegeuse/ I like that the community is pretty socially aware, and friendly, and open to experimentation. I think I'd like to get to know the community better.

My early days in podfic
Last year I fell head over heels, deeply, for Dean, Sam, Jensen and Jared. With podfic, they were with me a lot of the time - some of the most amazing, best stories of the fandom going with me, holding my hand, inspiring me, fascinating, shocking, turning me on, making me fall for the characters and the fandom more, too, getting to know them better. It was meaningful, still is. It was about them and about fandom and about myself.


I react to the fic in my ears. I have laughed, gasped, stopped to just breathe with scenes that had a lot of impact. On the bus, on the street, at the shop, at uni, at the library - I'm that freak. But it's fun to care about what I'm listening to, and why not allow myself to smile or laugh or even cry, without having to explain myself to people. And it's good to have an option to have this thing going that is mine, and disconnected from where I am or what I'm experiencing. You can call it a safe word, only it's often for things I never consented to to begin with. You can call it escapism, but that's only partially true. IMO. Perhaps call it a lifeline (sometimes).

More personal reasons
Podfic is mobile home, comfort, a place to hide, something that reminds me of part of myself. A sanctuary of subjectivity. A sort of resistance, even if just for me. Gives me strength to deal, gives me a sort of armor sometimes.

There's a particular street where I'm always sexually harassed and/or harassed for being fat. When I have to walk there, I need podfic in my headphones. When I'd flee from fights with family, and just wander around outside feeling helpless, I held onto podfic - for balance, for perspective, or just to cope - for good or bad.. Something good before I had to go back and face things.

When I had to go to my mom's house, last time before we stopped talking, I was seriously scared. I listened to podfic. In my mind, I went in with fandom-Jensen, with his caring attitude and that empathic charm in his smiling eyes, holding my hand, and fandom-Jared - bouncy sweet and smart, protective and earnest and silly , holding the other. I made it through that.

A couple of months ago, uni decided to force people to show picture ID in order to get into campus. I don't want to, since it feels intrusive, and I want to be an ally to people whose ID can endanger them, and also - being genderqueer, my ID doesn't have the right gender on it. And I hate hate hate having to present it. So every time I needed to get into campus, I'd have to go through an intentionally draining and somewhat humiliating process with campus police. I started dreading going to uni. Perhaps I'll just skip this class, or I don't have the energy to go through that just to get to the library. Podfic was something to get me there, to give me the energy and comfort to still do it.

One of the reasons it works for me, is - It's an imagined ally, I can pretend to myself that those people would have understood my weird ramblings about gender or whatever, that I have that, have someone like that. It's something to hold onto, and that's meaningful, thta can make the difference. For me. It's the main reason I am still not over, still talking about real-Jensen's attitude about bisexuality.

Readers <3
With some readers, it feels intimate - sharing the love for the story or the characters. I love hearing emotion in readers' voices, and I often like it when they are "present" rather than "transparent", like that they share with me something of them. The character's feelings that they identify with, or their feelings about the story. And it's not about how bouncy the reading is - some very subtle readings convey so much beautiful emotion. And then other readers let the story be most noticeable, just give it space, clean. I don't notice their reading, they allow me to dive into the story and forget that it's just fic. Which is very generous, respectful - a gift. Those readers make space for me as a listener to be attentive to the story, the characters, the way the story makes me feel, sometimes. To listen to myself or lose the world in it.

Some readers make all the difference.

Still, I often don't know how to give feedback to readers, especially since my taste is basically my quirks. Probably shouldn't say "I really enjoyed how you stumbled over your words when the plot became dramatic, it was real, sweet, and I identified with you", "I didn't notice your reading at all! Thank you" or even "I've come to associate your voice with good things" - and I'm never sure whether people would want to hear how sexy I find their reading or voice, so mostly just I shut up about that.


On a different note - Happy birthday!
citrusjava: (Default)
This is for [livejournal.com profile] nagasasu 's promt, and is part of the December Days meme. If you feel like it, you can prompt me too, here. Images aren't mine - linking back to where they're from.
[this is personal and intimate information. Read on only if you are comfortable being exposed to that, and if you appreciate and respect me sharing that, please.]


A few months ago, I realized I have this major thing for Praise Kink, which at the time was even more mind blowing to me, because it was a non-sexual thing. It was this new realization and it really rattled me. I walked around for a while in a constant state of being mind blown. How could this move me so deeply? How could I not have known, not even have imagined needing this?



It was somewhat like the first time I was (role play only) kissed by a guy as a guy. Then I went around for a couple of days just burning with it, feeling like I owned the world, and like I wanted to gobble it all up. It was life changing. But then it was sexual. I was turned on, in love with my own theoretical dick, I suddenly understood all those jackass guys who consider their cock the best thing in creation.




This was a lot like that, but it wasn't sexual. It was this big need, revelation. I kept thinking about it, experiencing it, craving it. I was (extremely) lucky to have a partner willing to give it a try, and that was amazing. And I was also very lucky to have a friend to talk it over with (you know who you are - thank you :)) . It seriously didn't go smoothly, plenty of misunderstandings and bumps in the road. And because it meant so much to me, and because I'm apparently more sensitive than I used to be, those hurt a lot.



It's still a thing I'm figuring out and exploring, but the major need for it has subsided. It somehow became more about subbing - a need I've kinda touched upon in the past, but never got to explore, I was almost always a Dom, and while I did is partially out of curiosity, as something fun or sexy, and to a small extent because it answered some need in me - generally I did it as a nice thing for other people. That was probably not the very best idea for me, I'm not good enough at being in touch with my own needs and boundaries to be safe doing that. And the people I played with didn't realize as a Dom I still needed to be safe and needed to be cared for. It's not an easy thing to do, though, I admit.


I like not having to Dom, though I believe that I do have that drive in me. Wanting to take someone apart and find out what's inside, wanting to get them in touch with their vulnerability, to get to see all that beauty, get them in touch with their pain, and make it better, to whatever extent I can, in a session, wanting to sooth, wanting to have things my way with out having to worry about every little thing (which is bullshit, Domming is all about exactly that, in many cases), wanting to know how to do something well, to have clear rules, clear communication about what works, how and why, wanting to feel in control, perhaps, though I believe it's more about my need to please, to do well, to get things right .





Subbing is a need I certainly feel, these days. It has to do with how helpless I feel most of the time, probably. My need to be reassured, to allow myself to be weak, unable, to be loved when I'm seriously not strong. It also probably has to do with reclaiming sexual violence for my own, as something - as sort of a way to make it better, to fix it...

And it's a way to get the negotiation, communication, legitimacy to say no, mutual attentiveness and carefulness that I need in any sexual/non-sexual such encounter, but is harder for me to insist on in "regular" sex. Not that I really have any of that, anymore.



I've recently started dating someone, and though I like her and am attracted to her, I found that I seriously don't want to actually have sex. Perhaps it's cause it's just a touchy subject for me. I've been assaulted several times, and in addition, I just wasn't aware that I "was allowed to" say no to sex I didn't actively want, "just because" of my feelings. Still working on that. I feel a little uncomfortable writing about that, because it takes my experiences away from me. It's such a stereotype, and I'm not sure the cliches are right about me. I need my experiences to stay belonging to me, and not be co-opted for either side of the pro/anti sex wars. Perhaps for other reasons.




Regardless, I've been wondering whether I want sex-sex at all. I don't know, not sure. I like some things, mostly making out things, though some of them are more sensual than sexual. But not only, that I know for sure. And I like them perhaps only with people I'm very very close with. ATM, there's no one I'd feel comfortable touching me sexually beyond that. And as for penetration - I asked myself about it, and the thought of never ever having to be penetrated again made me so happy and turned on I masturbated to it. Sharing this cause it amuses me. Don't know whether I'll always feel that way, but that isn't as relevant - feeling that way now/.




I wondered whether perhaps I was asexual after all, but from what I've read on AVEN, it's not about wanting or not wanting to have actual sex, but about being o not being sexually attracted to anyone. And I am definitely attracted to people, I just don't seem to want to have sex with them. Someone on the forums described it as the difference between enjoying the smell of coffee and wanting to actually drink coffee. I get that with croissants and fresh bread and popcorn. They smell so amazing, but I mostly don't enjoy eating them. Definitely not as much as I imagine enjoying them when i smell them. Not sure I'm writing off the asexuality thing, I definitely feel I'm *something*, but perhaps for now I need to figure out more what I feel and need ...
citrusjava: (Default)
[livejournal.com profile] mashimero prompted me to write about coffee, or "what is your favourite hot drink to have on a cold winter day?" I'm a day early, but it's the sort of day to write about things like that on.
This is part of the December Days meme. If you feel like it, you can prompt me too, here.

December Days: Coffee and Favorite Warm Drinks

I rarely pick a favorite anything, but a warm drink I love is chai tea made with soy milk. I like it with or without a rosewater twist. It's just so yummy. I'd been drinking it for years, but it became my go to favorite drink for a while, during NaNoWriMo a few years ago. I'd stay up late, sometimes in the dark, in order to allow everyone to sleep, and write - I think that year it was a story about a mother who gets wished away by her kids, and sent to a magical school for the worst parents - the Hogwarts of correctional facilities. The people she meets there, the secret things going on at night, and eventually getting saved. Never did manage to finish it.

I used to drink it, when possible, in my favorite mug - a heavy, light blue, large mug I'd gotten for GF. She wanted a heavy, thick, large mug that was straight rather than cone-shaped. She had a theory that it kept the liquid warm for longer. I looked for a mug like that for her for years... got her so many mugs that weren't exactly what she was after. My light-blue mug was one of them, and it was fantastic. I loved it. It had a small chip that was part of it's charm. One day, though, IIRC, it broke a bit more. I didn't want to get rid of it, and GF ended up hurting her hand on the edge, and getting a little scar, which I still feel horrible for.

As for coffee, I mostly drink it in one of two situations. The first -just to order something at coffee places, when I need a place to work. I mostly drink decaf, with soy milk and no sweetening. It sometimes works as a treat, when I'm writing particularly hard things, like a favorite toy or having someone hold your hand. Another time I often have coffee is at uni - there's a coffee corner where it's sold for cost, trusting people to just leave the money for it there. It's pretty bad coffee, and it's kinda awesome to manage to actually have all the ingredients there, but they often have soy milk, and it's great to have something warm and comforting during break, particularly when it's hard early morning or late evening classes.

Oh! And those aren't exactly my things, but when we celebrated Christmas I used to make kickass spiced wine and apple cider :)
citrusjava: (Default)
It's so cold. It's awesome and also sucks.


It's so weird, I can't eat the vegetables I'm used to, cause they're freezing cold, and it makes my stomach ache. And I doubt my cucumbers and tomatoes will still be themselves after a round with the microwave :)
Oh well. I can't drink water cause it's so cold, and i can't bring myself to make warm things. Which makes me kinda miserable ATM.


I do love winter. Love it when it's raining, love going outside, the thrill of cold on my skin when I'm still feeling warm, love love love puddles, trees reflecting in puddles and leaves from those treas inside them, love the fresh air after it rains, and love the smell of rain. So many things.

GF got me a guava, love those so much :)

My clothes don't usually last beyond a season, and I wasn't expecting it to suddenly become really cold again, so I didn't have winter clothes ready. Yesterday I braved the rain in my sandals and tank top, and a very cute, pink, Hello Kitty umbrella I got GF last year - to try and get winter clothes. So many strangers made comments, thinking it was their place, or funny, or IDK. The store wasn't stocked, so they didn't have my size, and the other store I found wanted literally five times the price for clothes I didn't really like either. Ended up getting some shirts that don't exactly fit me, but are soft and nice and cozy. Didn't have it in me to go get socks and slippers .

Last night GF and I snuggled so much, snuggling is so great... :)

And Christmas reminds me of this song, which reminds me of this cute fic in which Snape slowly comes to terms with a deep dark desire to wear women's underwear. Adorable. Not a lot of cute, mostly-happy songs about trans things.
citrusjava: (Default)
[livejournal.com profile] applegeuse said "Share a happy, cozy memory from your childhood". Here are two. Hope you like, bb :-)
This is part of the December Days meme. If you feel like it, you can prompt me too, here.
There were some cool things about my family, growing up, but it was usually more about adventure or fun than it was about comfort and safety. I do have some cozy memories though.



I remember one day on my way back from school I got soaked in rain, I remember the white sleeves of my cloth coat being wet, and my hands being red from the cold. I didn't think much of it, but when I got home, my mom got me to get dry and bundle up in her robe, and have some soup - it was her special soup - mushroom soup made from powder with milk instead of some of water. It was this unexpected bit of care I felt weird about, and but it was nice, too.

I remember going to bed, around the same time period, I was around 7 - I had footie pajamas, which I adored, all cozy and nice inside. My heavy winter blanket was cool at first touch and very smooth, which I loved. One side of it was pink and the other blue, and it was a little shiny. My mattress had bunnies on it, and when the Disney sheets were clean and not used by my siblings, it was particularly wonderful. My mom had also gotten me to put stickers on my bed - I remember I had a few large fairies with flowers, that were the thick kind of stickers, my favorite. And I had promotional stickers given to anyone who parked at a local parking lot, which were shaped like huge red hears and had the name of the place, that I liked to visit.

I'd take a shower, and sometimes I got to go to bed with wet hair, but sometimes I had to dry my hair at least a little bit – which I I didn't like. It was fun for the "wee, wind in my face!" moment, but then it got boring and long, and the heat of the hair dryer hurt when it was too much. When I was ready for bed, my mother's husband would pick me up and bounce me into the bed from above – one of the funnest things ever IMO at the time - and my mother would tuck me in all cozy, and one of them would usually read me a good night story. I felt clean and loved and bundles up and cared for :-)

I tried to remember what stories we read at the time, and I don't, but I did remember that at six it was Doctor Dolittle, and that when I was sick I'd snagged the book and continued reading it myself - first "real" book I read part of myself :) I apologized to my mother's husband for continuing without him, thinking it might hurt his feelings, but that we'd continue from where we'd stopped together. He didn't want to (I thought he'd care about the plot too!), though he didn't seem bothered that I'd read on, and a short while after that I got a surprise - my first book - that I'd read a million times over the years - about a girl who found a fairy who went looking for adventure outside of her storybook.
citrusjava: (Default)
This is written for [livejournal.com profile] meesasometimes's prompt, on the December Days meme. If you feel like it, you can prompt me too, here.
She prompted with "glitter". It turned into a story about not having a place. And also plenty of glitter/ Images aren't by me, linking back to where they came from.


I loved shiny things as early as maybe a year and a half old. I'd announce them happily ("shiny!"), as I do these days too, actually. I remember lying in the back seat of the car, looking for glittery passing lights through the windows, following them through the windows and all the way to the wide back window. All lights were perhaps shiny – had to find out whether my mom considered them fit to be called shiny in the yay sort of way. But lights that blinked, or were colorful, or best – both! were the jackpot.

I loved glittery candy wrappers, theoretically collected them, though I didn't so much actually save or arrange them, just tended to them with care, tried not to rip them while straightening them out. I vaguely remember my mother discouraging me from keeping them right after encouraging me to do all the other stuff. We were living with her parents, she'd left my father, perhaps there wasn't much room to keep things. My grandfather sometimes gave everyone individually wrapped chocolate cubes, sometimes with animals on the extremely shiny wrappers. The chocolate was good, but the shiny... some of the colors were even unusual, some were pink!




When I was maybe 13-14, I had a dream in which I was walking through some back alley with a group of people, people like me. It was late, 02:30-03:00 at night. It was filthy, the road was wet, puddles of rain that the filth of the road melted into a bit, coloring it dark. There were backdoor metal steps, it was an area of bars and clubs. They were backdoor places, places for people who didn't fit in. Like us .

The bars had signs, lit up and colorful, and they all reflected beautifully in the puddles of soot and filth where we walked. Freddie Mercury was there, and just a group of wonderfully unusual people. And I was part it, celebrated.

It was about six years before I found anyone who understood what I was talking about, when I dared to explain my gender.



So, for years, I loved this thing, this vibe. It was strong in Ziggy Stardust. It smelled of dark allies and people wearing glitter, and illicit identities where I could find people to belong with, perhaps. It was somewhat Rocky Horror, it was in the way Steven Tyler was sexual, that wasn't the normative way, but I couldn't explain why.

When I was 18, I discovered it was something known. I wasn’t just my imagination, not meaningful just to me. It was called Glam Rock.

Pretty much.



For years, I found a home and adventures in Rocky Horror. I wore so much glitter, on stage and off. Made myself clothes, cause there wasn't anything to buy, and the very few things available were expensive, and made for thin girls.

I dressed my guy friends in my clothes and told them they were awesome the way they were, and that if anyone said otherwise I’d kick their asses.

Don't have that sort of black and white certainty about things these days, anymore.


Nail polish was a way for me to express my guy side. Putting together shelves and stuff was a feminist woman side thing, nail polish was a guy side thing. When I was feeling exposed and vulnerable, when it was hard to make myself leave the house, I put on nail polish, as a sort of ritual shield.



I wanted colorful nail polish, but it was hard to find, to get, to allow myself to have, too. When I was 17, I took a trip to visit my dad. I'd been trying very hard to get along with my dad, for years, and would return from each visit more broken up. This time, I was trying to protect myself more than before. Promised myself I'd just get a room at some motel if I had to, not stay with him. Also, a short while before I left, I extended my trip to San Francisco, I realized I *could*, there I was "allowed" to take something like that for myself. That trip ended with not talking to my dad for about seven years. I was incredibly relieved, though for years I waited for the other shoe to drop, waited to feel horrible about it.

I traveled alone. Met people there – a darling gay couple I hung out with for most of the trip. A lovely bi guy who gave me his sweater cause I had no idea San Francisco was going to be that cold. I met my first drag queens in person. I went to a gay bar and got hit on. I got lost somewhere there, hard evening and unknown streets, and happened to get to a drugstore that had a huge huge range of nail polish colors, in prices I could afford. I bought maybe tens of them. Still have them.

Years later I got my sister to play with me, and made up names for them – Lothlorien, Monarchy, Naked on Your Chain, Filthy Sheets, Clockwork Orange perhaps came later. There was a banana popsicle colored one, a metallic forest green, several liquid glitter silvers...



Pretty much right up to the Winchesters, my ideal man, and mostly, the only men I would date, were glittery men. And in every fandom, my biggest kink was cross dressing, always. With Winchesters, I don't mind it, but it's not my thing. It's a bit weird to lose a kink like that.

Glitter is still an identity and a signifier to me, of gender, and to some degree, a-normative sexuality and mostly kinks. It's often a way to find other people like me, too.


[ETA: PSA: reminding you that LJ is annoying these days, copy replies before posting, in case LJ forgets what they were along the way]
citrusjava: (Default)
Haven't posted in a couple of days, I have some real life updates but don't feel like writing them up now. So some of the smaller things.

~One of the friends who used to make faces at me for loving Wincest finally got back to watching SPN (she is towards the end of season 1), and came back with "there was one scene in which I was just sure they were going to kiss. I get it now. It was so intimate and beautiful" :D
Not that she's a shipper now, but aww.

~Cherry flavored beer is disgusting. OTOH, I am told, it's alcoholic. And not as disgusting as banana or coconut flavored beer.

~Wrote a short assignment about Melville's I and My Chimney. Main issue was trying to find ways to describe blowjobs and m/m anal sex in simple, accessible, yet academically dignified language. Had to resist the urge to write the entire paper in puns.

~I have the flu, and everything smells like cake. Cruel and unusual, as now I want cake. Oh well, there are worst things to crave as fic taught us.

~The subject of bachelorhood came up in class, with Watson as an example. Which led me to research Watson's marriages a bit - turns out there are theories making a case for any number of marriages between 1-6!

~Embarrassingly said in class I was pretty sure the Holmes stories were published 30 years before Dorian Gray, and lost credibility for the whole marriage thing. I *am* pretty sure I read that, cause I was really disappointed it was so long apart. OTOH, glad that's not the case.

~Running for student government. It turns out. I should probably put a stop to it. Remember that scene from Gilmore Girls in which Jackson is elected? ;)
*hums Walking on Air*

~Apparently, my main settings when it comes to GF being sad: "wanna talk about it?", "it'll be all right", "you're right, it's hard", acting normal, going insane or making soup. GF doesn't want to talk, doesn't want me to act normal, and doesn't want soup.

~Luckily, there is podfic.
citrusjava: (Default)
Having a nervous breakdown is a totally reasonable and in no way excessive reaction to Spanish homework, right?


On a nicer note (vague spoiler for last episode of Docor Who) )
citrusjava: (Default)
Today at Spanish class, the head of the Language Department taught us how to conjugate the Spanish word for "fucking". While getting a little flustered and giggly.

In other news, I have an opportunity to participate in a drag performance, something I've been wanting and afraid of for a long time now. It's a Russian-themed performance, and thought I'm part-Russian, I haven't really thought of that very much, just started realizing how much it affected my life... I wonder whether it's even my place to participate, not sure what I have to say, and on the other hand I feel strongly enough about it to not want to give it up, this history of mine, my dad, some of the things there and a chance to express that if I can find a way on time. In short, looking for a song I can connect to that has something to do with Russia/Soviet Union, or perhaps with feeling this disconnect.

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