I am truly stunned. First I get my Master's Degree. Then I get a job with more and more responsibility, and get noticed for doing some math everyone else was afraid to do. Then I pass the first exam. So many people don't pass it the first time! Then I get a lead on a job, and a huge raise at my current job. Now I'm interviewing Monday with eight people for six hours.
I simply cannot make all of this jibe with the girl I felt I was five years ago, or ten years ago. None of this was in my field of possibilities. I know I need to start to see myself as someone who is capable of these things, since I do in fact seem capable. But changing a lifetime of seeing myself as a failure is a long process.
Maybe it's about to get a lot shorter.
Thursday, December 4, 2008
Wednesday, November 5, 2008
Black and white
As I catch glimpses of Oprah in the crowd, her eyes clearly brimming with tears, I realize that it's not been politically correct for a long time to emphasize the difference between black and white. It's not been correct to point out the inequities that persist, because the country's taken all the official "equalizing" steps already. What could be left?
What was left was the absence of hope, and that is what I see corrected now, even from my white eyes that can hardly imagine what it is to grow up in a world where I would have to fight not to feel like a second class citizen.
I hope, for myself, that I can finally stop seeing the world in black and white, and finally perceive the shades of gray all around me. People. We're all just people.
What was left was the absence of hope, and that is what I see corrected now, even from my white eyes that can hardly imagine what it is to grow up in a world where I would have to fight not to feel like a second class citizen.
I hope, for myself, that I can finally stop seeing the world in black and white, and finally perceive the shades of gray all around me. People. We're all just people.
Monday, October 27, 2008
Unsurprised
I'm sure the United States had a good reason for killing eight Syrian civilians. Besides, Syria's got no business wanting to take Golan Heights back from Israel. How dare anyone attempt to split God's designated land?
I have been wondering for weeks what military stunt might be pulled at the last minute, inspired by a desperate Republican party. McCain's real material advantage (since it's just too hard to spin the abortion issue as an imminent national threat) is his military "experience," and the only way left to galvanize a gullible American public right before the election is to present a situation requiring a war-monger's instincts.
Even if we have to pick a fight.
I have been wondering for weeks what military stunt might be pulled at the last minute, inspired by a desperate Republican party. McCain's real material advantage (since it's just too hard to spin the abortion issue as an imminent national threat) is his military "experience," and the only way left to galvanize a gullible American public right before the election is to present a situation requiring a war-monger's instincts.
Even if we have to pick a fight.
Friday, October 10, 2008
Capitalism
At the same time as I have been whining that the United States is becoming socialist, I'm in the middle of listening to Kinzer's audiobook "Overthrow: America’s Century of Regime Change from Hawaii to Iraq." I'm nearly inclined at this point to say, "Capitalism is great in theory, but bad in practice." The examples of governments toppled, budding democracies quashed, visionary leaders imprisoned, dictators installed, and corporate interests defended at gunpoint are just too much for my sensibilities to bear. Can capitalism motivate without leading to the - yes, imperialistic - tendencies our country has demonstrated in its near-genocidal pursuit of growth and prosperity?
I have spent years being disgusted with the idea of collectivism, with the thought that those who do not work might be rewarded as well as those who do. Even as I say it now, the concept still repulses me. But pouring into a small country with guns because its native inhabitants decide they don't want to let a fruit company swallow up all their land, spinning the act as being in the name of "educating" or "enlightening" a "backward" population, and calling them communist, or saying their "souls" need to be saved, in order to make the operation more palatable to the American people - this is just too much for me to swallow.
I'm trying to imagine a childhood spent with this book, rather than the claptrap whitewash schoolbook publishers spew - with the knowledge of what my country has been willing to do in order to maintain for me this standard of living. Imagine not growing up with the vision of America as better, more noble, more principle-driven than other countries. Imagine knowing beyond any doubt that we aren't any different from any other society in history, when it comes to our willingness to lie to ourselves about true motivations.
I'm angry that I've been misled, and I'm also angry that what I saw as some sort of pure, unblemished drive for achievement and progress has been turned into a typical schoolyard bullying contest. I'm appalled that both guns and money are routinely used to extort the commodities our hungry nation has wanted for the last hundred years, at the expense of innocent lives.
I am grateful that I live in a place where books like this can be published and disseminated. And yes, I know that this happens in capitalist regimes where a bookstore is free to make a profit and doesn't have to answer to the central authorities as to what ideas are permissible. But I'm simply mortified with the way our country's exerted its will in the financial department. Present circumstances don't mollify me at all.
I don't have an easy answer for what system is best anymore. No system seems to work well when thugs are making the choices. Is there a way to be rid of thugs?
I have spent years being disgusted with the idea of collectivism, with the thought that those who do not work might be rewarded as well as those who do. Even as I say it now, the concept still repulses me. But pouring into a small country with guns because its native inhabitants decide they don't want to let a fruit company swallow up all their land, spinning the act as being in the name of "educating" or "enlightening" a "backward" population, and calling them communist, or saying their "souls" need to be saved, in order to make the operation more palatable to the American people - this is just too much for me to swallow.
I'm trying to imagine a childhood spent with this book, rather than the claptrap whitewash schoolbook publishers spew - with the knowledge of what my country has been willing to do in order to maintain for me this standard of living. Imagine not growing up with the vision of America as better, more noble, more principle-driven than other countries. Imagine knowing beyond any doubt that we aren't any different from any other society in history, when it comes to our willingness to lie to ourselves about true motivations.
I'm angry that I've been misled, and I'm also angry that what I saw as some sort of pure, unblemished drive for achievement and progress has been turned into a typical schoolyard bullying contest. I'm appalled that both guns and money are routinely used to extort the commodities our hungry nation has wanted for the last hundred years, at the expense of innocent lives.
I am grateful that I live in a place where books like this can be published and disseminated. And yes, I know that this happens in capitalist regimes where a bookstore is free to make a profit and doesn't have to answer to the central authorities as to what ideas are permissible. But I'm simply mortified with the way our country's exerted its will in the financial department. Present circumstances don't mollify me at all.
I don't have an easy answer for what system is best anymore. No system seems to work well when thugs are making the choices. Is there a way to be rid of thugs?
Thursday, October 9, 2008
Irony meter breaks!
Riots as a result of a Palestinian man driving in Israel on Yom Kippur? Isn't it convenient to have a religion double as an ethnic identity, so that any time a religious act is questioned, the perpetrator gets to be called a racist? Given the world's inherent respect for religious behaviors and beliefs as completely outside the realm of critical analysis, almost anything can be whitewashed.
Day of Atonement? I hope it occurs to those people to atone for this.
Day of Atonement? I hope it occurs to those people to atone for this.
Friday, October 3, 2008
No change I can see
I'm back on the fence after the Vice Presidential debate. It's a combination of several things. First of all, when I heard Biden follow up his very Democrat-worthy comments about gay rights with a blatant statement against gay marriage, I lost track of how this party differs anymore from the Republican party on social issues. And this followed immediately after my first sense of Palin ekeing out a tiny bit of her own opinion, for once, actually offering a greater sense of open-mindedness on "alternative relationships" than I expected of this purportedly dyed-in-the-wool social conservative.
Maybe I'm wrong, but I do think that it's possible Palin has her own opinions and will be allowed to express them at some point. Furthermore, I think it's possible she might change her mind about some things.
That being said, she was unable to address most questions directly without veering off into a platitude about McCain or some permutation of "Alaska," "energy independence," and "corporate greed." And her inability or refusal to discuss her lack of experience or to name a single example of a position she has ever changed her mind on was deeply disturbing.
Biden is well-grounded and apparently well-respected for his foreign policy. Palin gives at least a sense of flexibility that I don't hear from McCain, but what good is it in a Vice President? The prospect of her being President is still too frightening to consider, although I'm less terrified of it than I was.
The bottom line is that I can't tell the difference between Democrats and Republicans, not even on the issues that used to divide them. McCain talks fiscal conservatism while Palin goes on about the corruption of Wall Street with the gusto of a Greenie. She's talking "infrastructure" and "cutting spending" in the very same breath. Biden caves to the anti-gay-marriage crowd, and Obama won't give a very straightforward answer about abortion, presumably because he doesn't want to alienate the Religious Right. And worst of all, both parties persist in making statements of unequivocal support for Israel, regardless of the methods our "great friend and ally in the Middle East" employs to devour ever-increasing amounts of Palestinian land in the name of their Divine Empire.
It's all the same garbage from both camps, I'm afraid. I know that Obama has strong views on foreign policy that I respect, but I think our political system has made it impossible for him to stick to them and still have a chance of being elected.
The country is a juggernaut of superstitious, reactionary people terrified of any kind of change. The change we need? Nobody seems to have it to offer.
Maybe I'm wrong, but I do think that it's possible Palin has her own opinions and will be allowed to express them at some point. Furthermore, I think it's possible she might change her mind about some things.
That being said, she was unable to address most questions directly without veering off into a platitude about McCain or some permutation of "Alaska," "energy independence," and "corporate greed." And her inability or refusal to discuss her lack of experience or to name a single example of a position she has ever changed her mind on was deeply disturbing.
Biden is well-grounded and apparently well-respected for his foreign policy. Palin gives at least a sense of flexibility that I don't hear from McCain, but what good is it in a Vice President? The prospect of her being President is still too frightening to consider, although I'm less terrified of it than I was.
The bottom line is that I can't tell the difference between Democrats and Republicans, not even on the issues that used to divide them. McCain talks fiscal conservatism while Palin goes on about the corruption of Wall Street with the gusto of a Greenie. She's talking "infrastructure" and "cutting spending" in the very same breath. Biden caves to the anti-gay-marriage crowd, and Obama won't give a very straightforward answer about abortion, presumably because he doesn't want to alienate the Religious Right. And worst of all, both parties persist in making statements of unequivocal support for Israel, regardless of the methods our "great friend and ally in the Middle East" employs to devour ever-increasing amounts of Palestinian land in the name of their Divine Empire.
It's all the same garbage from both camps, I'm afraid. I know that Obama has strong views on foreign policy that I respect, but I think our political system has made it impossible for him to stick to them and still have a chance of being elected.
The country is a juggernaut of superstitious, reactionary people terrified of any kind of change. The change we need? Nobody seems to have it to offer.
Thursday, October 2, 2008
Palin, no mere tactic
The Republican party has not traditionally championed women's rights. The simple positions of "pro-lifery" (woman as receptacle) and "marriage is between one man and one woman" (woman as subservient) demonstrate this. Their feat in finding a candidate who so enthusiastically and cheerfully embraces these points of view was astounding.
People keep asking, though: couldn't they find someone more qualified as a Vice Presidential nominee?
I think not. Palin exemplifies everything the Republican party admires about womankind. Perky, yet insubstantial. Gorgeous, but dull and repetitive. Seemingly important, but - when it comes down to it - in second place.
On the surface, her nomination does indeed seem to epitomize the failure of strategy over tactics in this political party which would keep women, at least, in the Dark Ages. But in the long run she will vindicate their views. Even by going out in a spectacular failure, she will continue to represent all that is good about women, in their eyes. Warm, inspiring, and always one step behind.
People keep asking, though: couldn't they find someone more qualified as a Vice Presidential nominee?
I think not. Palin exemplifies everything the Republican party admires about womankind. Perky, yet insubstantial. Gorgeous, but dull and repetitive. Seemingly important, but - when it comes down to it - in second place.
On the surface, her nomination does indeed seem to epitomize the failure of strategy over tactics in this political party which would keep women, at least, in the Dark Ages. But in the long run she will vindicate their views. Even by going out in a spectacular failure, she will continue to represent all that is good about women, in their eyes. Warm, inspiring, and always one step behind.
Wednesday, September 17, 2008
Israel, part I
It seems simple now, perhaps too simple to me. The United States unconditionally supports Israel because it represents the "Judeo" part of our so-called Judeo-Christian culture. Since, to the rest of the world (if not to the average American clueless citizen) the war we're fighting is fundamentally a religious war, why would Israel's tactics, or willingness to abide by international law, make any difference? We support them because they're fighting for the same God we are.
Sunday, September 14, 2008
Abandonment
This is probably the first time in a long time that I have not been terrified of abandonment. I didn't realize that I have spent a great deal of time, maybe the last year or more, afraid of being deserted, forgotten, wiped out of the minds of the people I care about. I have kept myself at an emotional distance, protecting myself, staying wary of the amount of exposure I have to potential betrayals, seeing specters around every corner.
I'm not saying that there isn't a risk of being abandoned. There is always some risk. But for once in a very long time, I'm not simply expecting it. I'm expecting tomorrow to be very much like today, for many tomorrows to come. I'm not even sure that, if I knew for certain I'd be abandoned in the future, keeping a distance would be the best course of action. I don't think I can be happy by avoiding connection with others. I do know that I can continue to find the things that I enjoy, so that I know and like myself more every day. So that I always have the resource of me at my disposal, to face whatever comes.
It's nice not to be scared. Maybe I don't have to go through life like a wild animal anymore.
I'm not saying that there isn't a risk of being abandoned. There is always some risk. But for once in a very long time, I'm not simply expecting it. I'm expecting tomorrow to be very much like today, for many tomorrows to come. I'm not even sure that, if I knew for certain I'd be abandoned in the future, keeping a distance would be the best course of action. I don't think I can be happy by avoiding connection with others. I do know that I can continue to find the things that I enjoy, so that I know and like myself more every day. So that I always have the resource of me at my disposal, to face whatever comes.
It's nice not to be scared. Maybe I don't have to go through life like a wild animal anymore.
Monday, September 8, 2008
Baggage
I have to wonder about myself sometimes. I find myself behaving in the same way in one relationship after another, over a period of decades. What is it that drives me? Is it mere female genes exerting their inexorable sway over my personality? Or am I scarred somehow by some aspect of my childhood?
I can define it, but what I struggle with is stopping it when it's happening. I know what does stop it, from the outside. I know what has given me the only peace of mind about my nature, at least in the short run. But that frightens me and unnerves me. And I can't help but think that it only reinforces my tendency to view the world from a child's perspective.
Why on earth would things only feel "right" to me when I have nearly succeeded in driving a man to frustration? Why can I only stop and hear myself when I feel ashamed, when I'm afraid of having damaged a good thing, when I'm walking a thin line?
Can it mean so much that the only touch or emotion I got from my father was in anger? Why did I idolize him, when he was incapable of affection or loving words? Can I really just be another child who grew up thinking her parents were infallible and that their approaches to life were inherently better than everyone else's, only to realize later on that this was a complete illusion? It hardly seems possible. It was so real.
What would be the alternative to my minor tantrums and emotional upheavals? Some kind of calm acknowledgment of emotion, some assertive statement of my needs or wishes, made without fear of denial? I can only imagine what other modes of relating to the world might look like, having rarely engaged in them myself. I know it when I see others do it. But the words that come to my mind when I am hurt or upset are so horribly manipulative that I'm driven to silence rather than risk the awful and possibly permanent damage they might inflict on a person I care about.
I need tools. I need alternative ways to think. I will not be a slave to my habits. I will not allow this auto-play litany of garbage to infuse my brain at the slightest hint of neglect or distance, real or imagined. And I will not bait the world in hopes of a well-intentioned smack that knocks sense into me. I have to be my own parent now, and behave in ways that I think an adult would, and allow my feelings to exist without having to take action in the throes of them.
Little girl, it is time to grow up.
I can define it, but what I struggle with is stopping it when it's happening. I know what does stop it, from the outside. I know what has given me the only peace of mind about my nature, at least in the short run. But that frightens me and unnerves me. And I can't help but think that it only reinforces my tendency to view the world from a child's perspective.
Why on earth would things only feel "right" to me when I have nearly succeeded in driving a man to frustration? Why can I only stop and hear myself when I feel ashamed, when I'm afraid of having damaged a good thing, when I'm walking a thin line?
Can it mean so much that the only touch or emotion I got from my father was in anger? Why did I idolize him, when he was incapable of affection or loving words? Can I really just be another child who grew up thinking her parents were infallible and that their approaches to life were inherently better than everyone else's, only to realize later on that this was a complete illusion? It hardly seems possible. It was so real.
What would be the alternative to my minor tantrums and emotional upheavals? Some kind of calm acknowledgment of emotion, some assertive statement of my needs or wishes, made without fear of denial? I can only imagine what other modes of relating to the world might look like, having rarely engaged in them myself. I know it when I see others do it. But the words that come to my mind when I am hurt or upset are so horribly manipulative that I'm driven to silence rather than risk the awful and possibly permanent damage they might inflict on a person I care about.
I need tools. I need alternative ways to think. I will not be a slave to my habits. I will not allow this auto-play litany of garbage to infuse my brain at the slightest hint of neglect or distance, real or imagined. And I will not bait the world in hopes of a well-intentioned smack that knocks sense into me. I have to be my own parent now, and behave in ways that I think an adult would, and allow my feelings to exist without having to take action in the throes of them.
Little girl, it is time to grow up.
Thursday, September 4, 2008
Republicans... still the same after all these years.
It's been a long time since I heard my first Republicans spouting religious dogma, in the early 1980s, and knew that I could never support that political party. Last night's speeches were in many superficial ways a far cry from the nonsense these people used to toss around so casually. Nobody hit hard with the God card. They didn't even go on at length about reproductive rights. Even though their views on the subject are exactly the same as they used to be, could it be that they're a little ashamed to broadcast them too loudly? Or is it just the specter of Palin's own choices, and her daughter's, holding everyone's tongues for the moment?
No matter how many entrepreneurial women and black men they brought to the podium, no matter how strenuously they pleaded for protection of the environment and the achievement of racial blindness in this country, I was not distracted from the core belief which has always set these people apart from the Democrats. To Republicans, women may be many things, but first and foremost they are vessels for the next generation. Best taught as little as possible about sex, and imbued with the shame/objectification paradigm with respect to their own bodies, they can always be forgiven for accidentally given birth. Just don't give them any self-determination on the subject.
I never appreciated what a maverick my father was for getting me on birth control in high school, so I could go to college and make my own choices about having children. I don't have sexual shame, and I do have a college education. The mishmash of confusing and paralyzing dogma was never inflicted on me, except perhaps by various and sundry traditional men I have met in my travels. But what about the rest of American women? Just how polluted are their minds? Just how little sense do they have of their own ability to direct their lives?
I hate these clueless politicians and their sheeplike adherents. Women are people, not breeding stock. When will we leave the Dark Ages behind, once and for all?
No matter how many entrepreneurial women and black men they brought to the podium, no matter how strenuously they pleaded for protection of the environment and the achievement of racial blindness in this country, I was not distracted from the core belief which has always set these people apart from the Democrats. To Republicans, women may be many things, but first and foremost they are vessels for the next generation. Best taught as little as possible about sex, and imbued with the shame/objectification paradigm with respect to their own bodies, they can always be forgiven for accidentally given birth. Just don't give them any self-determination on the subject.
I never appreciated what a maverick my father was for getting me on birth control in high school, so I could go to college and make my own choices about having children. I don't have sexual shame, and I do have a college education. The mishmash of confusing and paralyzing dogma was never inflicted on me, except perhaps by various and sundry traditional men I have met in my travels. But what about the rest of American women? Just how polluted are their minds? Just how little sense do they have of their own ability to direct their lives?
I hate these clueless politicians and their sheeplike adherents. Women are people, not breeding stock. When will we leave the Dark Ages behind, once and for all?
Wednesday, September 3, 2008
Pain
Last night I watched an episode of Angel, "Billy." Wesley turns evil in that episode, attacking Fred. I had a strong, positive reaction to it a year ago. I remember back then feeling aroused by it and thinking it was "hot." When I watch it now, I can't remember what I thought was hot about it anymore. It was frightening and disturbing.
I've been thinking about what makes it possible for one person to hurt another. Having engaged in a relationship where consensual sadism was a feature, and the other person experienced sexual arousal from causing me pain, I'm in some position to expound on the idea. I can see that a strong emotional connection can occur when one person hurts another. It's not the kind of connection most people pursue, but it is intimate and it does invade the psyche. For a long time I saw the fact that it was intimate, that it felt like being known deeply. But that was only one side of it.
There is such a thing as love in which one party exerts control over another - parental love, or teacher love, or authority figure love. Love that wants to change and mold is a perfectly legitimate feeling in many contexts. I used to want to have that kind of love directed toward me. I used to feel that I was imperfect and that someone else could "fix" me. For this purpose, it was particularly useful to find someone who didn't like certain qualities about me - who very strongly disliked them, in fact. At the time, the attention distracted me from thinking this through. Now that I look at it from a different angle, negative emotions are just bad. Hostility is bad. Dislike is bad. It's not complicated, it's simple. If someone "loves" me because they want to change me into something else, it's bad.
Wesley hated Fred in that episode. He insulted her, he degraded her, he hurt her physically. I do not remember what I felt was arousing in it. I do not think about anyone having control over me anymore. I do love the feel of a good fight. I love to spar and I go until I'm totally exhausted. I never seem to want to give up. But the idea of a person truly wanting to change me or dictate my actions is totally unappealing. The thought of someone using manipulation or degradation to connect to me emotionally is horrifying.
I am glad I experienced what I did. But I found out that going into it consciously is not much better than falling into it accidentally. The fallout is the same. The only difference is that I can say I did it on purpose, that I wanted to know what it felt like, when I chose it. It still feels like pain, it still feels like control. I know there are people in the world who want it and who thrive on it. I can't speak for them. But it's just not for me.
I've been thinking about what makes it possible for one person to hurt another. Having engaged in a relationship where consensual sadism was a feature, and the other person experienced sexual arousal from causing me pain, I'm in some position to expound on the idea. I can see that a strong emotional connection can occur when one person hurts another. It's not the kind of connection most people pursue, but it is intimate and it does invade the psyche. For a long time I saw the fact that it was intimate, that it felt like being known deeply. But that was only one side of it.
There is such a thing as love in which one party exerts control over another - parental love, or teacher love, or authority figure love. Love that wants to change and mold is a perfectly legitimate feeling in many contexts. I used to want to have that kind of love directed toward me. I used to feel that I was imperfect and that someone else could "fix" me. For this purpose, it was particularly useful to find someone who didn't like certain qualities about me - who very strongly disliked them, in fact. At the time, the attention distracted me from thinking this through. Now that I look at it from a different angle, negative emotions are just bad. Hostility is bad. Dislike is bad. It's not complicated, it's simple. If someone "loves" me because they want to change me into something else, it's bad.
Wesley hated Fred in that episode. He insulted her, he degraded her, he hurt her physically. I do not remember what I felt was arousing in it. I do not think about anyone having control over me anymore. I do love the feel of a good fight. I love to spar and I go until I'm totally exhausted. I never seem to want to give up. But the idea of a person truly wanting to change me or dictate my actions is totally unappealing. The thought of someone using manipulation or degradation to connect to me emotionally is horrifying.
I am glad I experienced what I did. But I found out that going into it consciously is not much better than falling into it accidentally. The fallout is the same. The only difference is that I can say I did it on purpose, that I wanted to know what it felt like, when I chose it. It still feels like pain, it still feels like control. I know there are people in the world who want it and who thrive on it. I can't speak for them. But it's just not for me.
Thursday, August 14, 2008
Friends
I was going to whine, but really what I need to say is: I'm in completely new territory. I'm losing or unable to attain what I always assumed "love" looked like, and it's replaced with a very peculiar type of friendship. There are strong, maybe unbreakable, bonds, everywhere around me. Even when I'm at odds with someone, there isn't anyone I currently love that I think would actually vanish from my life, or from whose life I would entirely vanish. But I live in constant fear that these people will have "real love" with someone else - that they're basically holding out on me, that I'm not well-suited for love, blah blah blah. Basically I'm afraid that someone else is going to get the "real thing" and I'll be out in the cold.
But is it really the men of the world (or bisexual women, for that matter) who long for that one perfect romance? Thus far, even the ones I knew who used to feel that way, seem to have gotten over it. Is it just female-hormone driven?
Whatever it is, it still takes up too much room in my brain. I'd like a Relationship-Obsession-ectomy, please. Just remove that whole portion of my brain, thanks. What the fuck do animals do? Eat, poop, screw, run, kill, die. It's frigging language that's the problem. Labels, calendars, the illusion of control and mastery of time and ideas. Nobody knows what is going to happen, and especially nobody knows whose gonads are going to surge in the next minute and fly off into "true love," abandoning everything they knew before. If it's really like that, then why on earth count on love as some kind of absolute?
As near as I can tell, the closest thing to an absolute is a really, really good friend. Maybe that's good enough.
But is it really the men of the world (or bisexual women, for that matter) who long for that one perfect romance? Thus far, even the ones I knew who used to feel that way, seem to have gotten over it. Is it just female-hormone driven?
Whatever it is, it still takes up too much room in my brain. I'd like a Relationship-Obsession-ectomy, please. Just remove that whole portion of my brain, thanks. What the fuck do animals do? Eat, poop, screw, run, kill, die. It's frigging language that's the problem. Labels, calendars, the illusion of control and mastery of time and ideas. Nobody knows what is going to happen, and especially nobody knows whose gonads are going to surge in the next minute and fly off into "true love," abandoning everything they knew before. If it's really like that, then why on earth count on love as some kind of absolute?
As near as I can tell, the closest thing to an absolute is a really, really good friend. Maybe that's good enough.
Thursday, August 7, 2008
Unattainable
I have to admit, I have never been contented with anything that came easily. Grades, love, sex, material things falling my lap - I worked as hard as I could to destroy them. It is only the things I could not reach, did not have handed to me, that I struggled to attain.
It's fatal to relationships, I need to acknowledge that. I think at this age, this feature of my personality probably isn't going to change much. I may have been able to shift things some, so that the quality of what I do get, while I'm not really getting what I say I want, has improved. I don't engage with truly backstabbing people, I don't get bad sex, and I seek out objective standards to measure myself against. But the fundamental aspect of myself is not much different than it was 25 or 30 years ago. I still hunger for the same feeling of longing and denial. I still fight what is handed over to me and search for what is difficult to get.
I want to want. Maybe I want to be forced to exert effort. Maybe I want to be put into situations where I have to find resources I did not know I had. Consistently I have returned to the scene of the crimes against myself, sought the demons from my past, to conquer one by one. Doing math. Living alone. Moving to a strange town. Losing people. Being assertive. Taking leadership. Lots of life skills I never felt quite competent at before.
Do I just want to suffer, or do I want to build myself from the inside, by forcing a sort of deprivation on myself from the outside? I do not act in a way to keep people close to me, to encourage them to shower me with emotion. I drive away love wherever I find it. I prefer friendly rivalry, and companions who are more battle-ready than most. I prefer them a little distant. If they aren't, I eventually defeat them, not through maliciousness, but simply through my own repulsion of vulnerability.
I need to accept what I am, try to find happiness as I am. I look less and less like other people, and am forced to admit my aloneness more and more. But there has to be a way for me to be who I am without disliking it.
I don't think I want to seek out opportunities to be denied anymore. Seeking anything simply communicates to others a drive I don't really have. I don't want to mislead. I do want people in my life, yes. But I don't want to be loved too much.
It's fatal to relationships, I need to acknowledge that. I think at this age, this feature of my personality probably isn't going to change much. I may have been able to shift things some, so that the quality of what I do get, while I'm not really getting what I say I want, has improved. I don't engage with truly backstabbing people, I don't get bad sex, and I seek out objective standards to measure myself against. But the fundamental aspect of myself is not much different than it was 25 or 30 years ago. I still hunger for the same feeling of longing and denial. I still fight what is handed over to me and search for what is difficult to get.
I want to want. Maybe I want to be forced to exert effort. Maybe I want to be put into situations where I have to find resources I did not know I had. Consistently I have returned to the scene of the crimes against myself, sought the demons from my past, to conquer one by one. Doing math. Living alone. Moving to a strange town. Losing people. Being assertive. Taking leadership. Lots of life skills I never felt quite competent at before.
Do I just want to suffer, or do I want to build myself from the inside, by forcing a sort of deprivation on myself from the outside? I do not act in a way to keep people close to me, to encourage them to shower me with emotion. I drive away love wherever I find it. I prefer friendly rivalry, and companions who are more battle-ready than most. I prefer them a little distant. If they aren't, I eventually defeat them, not through maliciousness, but simply through my own repulsion of vulnerability.
I need to accept what I am, try to find happiness as I am. I look less and less like other people, and am forced to admit my aloneness more and more. But there has to be a way for me to be who I am without disliking it.
I don't think I want to seek out opportunities to be denied anymore. Seeking anything simply communicates to others a drive I don't really have. I don't want to mislead. I do want people in my life, yes. But I don't want to be loved too much.
Monday, August 4, 2008
Change
I have made changes in my life before - obvious, easily defined changes. I set a goal and I stuck to the path. I changed what I put into my body, I changed the types of people I spent time with, I changed my career pursuits, I changed my upper limit for what I thought was possible for myself. But something still needs to change, and it's much harder to visualize.
Change always begins with what is unpleasant for me. Sometimes it has been physical discomfort, but more often it's a sort of psychic discomfort where I feel like I'm just "not right with myself." That means I'm not completely contented with my own level of effort at something. This is what I'm experiencing now. I know why, of course. I'm finally up against an objective standard. That's something I've been after since I went back to school seven years ago. But, particularly for the past two years, I've been faced with favoritism, squeaking by even though I wasn't performing well compared to the competition.
That kind of experience, perhaps a dream come true for some people, is deadly to me. In some ways it wiped out the confidence I felt going into the experience. But I'm starting fresh now, with a new goal which I set completely for myself, with no inspiration from anyone else. And frankly, there's no guarantee I'll succeed at it.
However - my success depends completely on my amount of work. And my amount of work depends on what I'm willing to sacrifice. That's where the change comes in. I have to sacrifice time spent having fun, time spent feeling warm fuzzies, for time in a quiet room studying math. I have to do this to a degree most people would balk at. And yes, I balk, too. But the rumbling in my guts is getting louder. It's saying, "You can do more, but you will have to give something up."
I'm the only one who knows what this means to me. Nobody else has been with me since the beginning, since I initially disappointed myself, through the years of slowly realizing the damage I'd done to my self-esteem by slacking. Nobody else can completely understand what drives me.
There are many fears operating in me - fear of loss, fear of abandonment. And things are happening in my life right now that are forcing me to face them. But it's not enough. I have to run headlong into fears I have not conquered. I'm still terrified of saying "no" or making someone wait. I'm still scared of someone just leaving me because I'm not around enough. But the bottom line is that I have to know my priorities, and I can't have two highest priorities. There can be only one.
I know I'm getting closer to realizing my dreams for myself, but I'm not close enough yet. The crunch is coming and I need to be prepared. I need to integrate these changes into my personality permanently.
I need to know exactly how it is that I want to be, what are the actions that would define this state of being, and what are the actions that are hostile to it. I need to keep the list in my brain and refer to it at frequent intervals. I need to have an objective standard for myself and stick to it.
Am I going to become a robot? I might. There is no way to do this without obliterating some of the natural workings of my mind. Progress is always from resisting the pull of inertia. It's just like Dawkins defines "aliveness" as resistance to falling into equilibrium with one's environment. I need to get out of equilibrium and be alive.
Change always begins with what is unpleasant for me. Sometimes it has been physical discomfort, but more often it's a sort of psychic discomfort where I feel like I'm just "not right with myself." That means I'm not completely contented with my own level of effort at something. This is what I'm experiencing now. I know why, of course. I'm finally up against an objective standard. That's something I've been after since I went back to school seven years ago. But, particularly for the past two years, I've been faced with favoritism, squeaking by even though I wasn't performing well compared to the competition.
That kind of experience, perhaps a dream come true for some people, is deadly to me. In some ways it wiped out the confidence I felt going into the experience. But I'm starting fresh now, with a new goal which I set completely for myself, with no inspiration from anyone else. And frankly, there's no guarantee I'll succeed at it.
However - my success depends completely on my amount of work. And my amount of work depends on what I'm willing to sacrifice. That's where the change comes in. I have to sacrifice time spent having fun, time spent feeling warm fuzzies, for time in a quiet room studying math. I have to do this to a degree most people would balk at. And yes, I balk, too. But the rumbling in my guts is getting louder. It's saying, "You can do more, but you will have to give something up."
I'm the only one who knows what this means to me. Nobody else has been with me since the beginning, since I initially disappointed myself, through the years of slowly realizing the damage I'd done to my self-esteem by slacking. Nobody else can completely understand what drives me.
There are many fears operating in me - fear of loss, fear of abandonment. And things are happening in my life right now that are forcing me to face them. But it's not enough. I have to run headlong into fears I have not conquered. I'm still terrified of saying "no" or making someone wait. I'm still scared of someone just leaving me because I'm not around enough. But the bottom line is that I have to know my priorities, and I can't have two highest priorities. There can be only one.
I know I'm getting closer to realizing my dreams for myself, but I'm not close enough yet. The crunch is coming and I need to be prepared. I need to integrate these changes into my personality permanently.
I need to know exactly how it is that I want to be, what are the actions that would define this state of being, and what are the actions that are hostile to it. I need to keep the list in my brain and refer to it at frequent intervals. I need to have an objective standard for myself and stick to it.
Am I going to become a robot? I might. There is no way to do this without obliterating some of the natural workings of my mind. Progress is always from resisting the pull of inertia. It's just like Dawkins defines "aliveness" as resistance to falling into equilibrium with one's environment. I need to get out of equilibrium and be alive.
Saturday, August 2, 2008
Feelings... or not?
On the other hand, since all those feelings I'm "ignoring" are very much coloring my mood and posing enough of a distraction to wake me up at 3am, maybe a little exposure is ok.
I basically had a small window in which a married man I'd been seeing for three years (with the knowledge, if not the sincerest blessing, of his wife) was willing to move in with me - without any warning, and while he was an emotional wreck. I passed on it, and not in any kind of graceful way. I wasn't sure at all that I wanted to *bang* live with someone, even someone I cared about and had often wished I'd be able to see more often. So I thought (and distanced) myself right out of an impulse decision.
Did I know the window would close within a few months and that he'd find another woman to move in with? Uh, not really. I think I was assuming he'd eventually move out on his own and try to piece his life back together - something he'd said he needed to do. Something I certainly thought he needed to do. Was he lying, or did he just overestimate his ability to live alone? I'll never know.
My feelings? It's still hard to identify them. It might be worse because the other woman is a good friend of mine I introduced him to early in our relationship. It might be still worse because she lives a couple thousand miles from me. On one hand, if living with someone is so vitally important to him, it's better that he found someone quickly. On the other hand, I guess he didn't experience a particular internal development I was counting on to give me time to think about what I wanted. And does anyone ever experience internal developments just because someone wants them to? I am a little dismayed that I feel I am essentially replaying a stupid relationship faux pas I committed twenty years ago: trying to manipulate someone into changing by withholding my attentions. Bad idea! Can't believe I fell for that temptation again, when it worked so spectacularly badly before.
I have behaved much in the same way that he has, in the past. Operating on feelings, needs, desires, willing to cast moderation and propriety to the winds as I forged my way into a new life. In fact it was one of the best things I ever did. How can I fault someone for that? But I have changed in one way. I have a clear sense that, in the scheme of my priorities, love is actually rather low. It'd be nice to have the amount of feelings I have on the subject correspondingly low as well, of course, but I think with proper actions that will happen in time. I'm aligning myself with perhaps the strongest feelings I have had, for most of my life: the desire to push my mind as far as humanly possible, to drag myself out of this financially trapped dead-end situation and give myself a new way of existence.
Maybe many women are still content to do this through marrying well. But I feel sick to my stomach at the prospect of sharing finances with a man again. And I feel so very hostile to the idea of getting money from a man purely because of being in a relationship with him. So I'm pursuing financial independence with a vengeance, and remembering the one piece of advice I got on the subject from my father, many years ago. "You don't need a man."
Since the time I was 18ish, when those words were spoken, I had never given an ounce of credence to them - until last night. Then I realized that my father was right. I don't need a man. And I don't want a man to need me, either. So apparently I'd rather heartbreak myself right into self-sufficiency than experience "need" again. Dive right in, endure repeated exposure to not having romance work "the way it's supposed to" (which is probably horseshit, and a fine topic for another blog) and have the one and only thing remaining to me to focus on: myself.
Guess I'm still not sure that spilling out emotions is the best use of my blogging. I seem to think before I feel. I'm just going to go ahead and call that a good thing.
I basically had a small window in which a married man I'd been seeing for three years (with the knowledge, if not the sincerest blessing, of his wife) was willing to move in with me - without any warning, and while he was an emotional wreck. I passed on it, and not in any kind of graceful way. I wasn't sure at all that I wanted to *bang* live with someone, even someone I cared about and had often wished I'd be able to see more often. So I thought (and distanced) myself right out of an impulse decision.
Did I know the window would close within a few months and that he'd find another woman to move in with? Uh, not really. I think I was assuming he'd eventually move out on his own and try to piece his life back together - something he'd said he needed to do. Something I certainly thought he needed to do. Was he lying, or did he just overestimate his ability to live alone? I'll never know.
My feelings? It's still hard to identify them. It might be worse because the other woman is a good friend of mine I introduced him to early in our relationship. It might be still worse because she lives a couple thousand miles from me. On one hand, if living with someone is so vitally important to him, it's better that he found someone quickly. On the other hand, I guess he didn't experience a particular internal development I was counting on to give me time to think about what I wanted. And does anyone ever experience internal developments just because someone wants them to? I am a little dismayed that I feel I am essentially replaying a stupid relationship faux pas I committed twenty years ago: trying to manipulate someone into changing by withholding my attentions. Bad idea! Can't believe I fell for that temptation again, when it worked so spectacularly badly before.
I have behaved much in the same way that he has, in the past. Operating on feelings, needs, desires, willing to cast moderation and propriety to the winds as I forged my way into a new life. In fact it was one of the best things I ever did. How can I fault someone for that? But I have changed in one way. I have a clear sense that, in the scheme of my priorities, love is actually rather low. It'd be nice to have the amount of feelings I have on the subject correspondingly low as well, of course, but I think with proper actions that will happen in time. I'm aligning myself with perhaps the strongest feelings I have had, for most of my life: the desire to push my mind as far as humanly possible, to drag myself out of this financially trapped dead-end situation and give myself a new way of existence.
Maybe many women are still content to do this through marrying well. But I feel sick to my stomach at the prospect of sharing finances with a man again. And I feel so very hostile to the idea of getting money from a man purely because of being in a relationship with him. So I'm pursuing financial independence with a vengeance, and remembering the one piece of advice I got on the subject from my father, many years ago. "You don't need a man."
Since the time I was 18ish, when those words were spoken, I had never given an ounce of credence to them - until last night. Then I realized that my father was right. I don't need a man. And I don't want a man to need me, either. So apparently I'd rather heartbreak myself right into self-sufficiency than experience "need" again. Dive right in, endure repeated exposure to not having romance work "the way it's supposed to" (which is probably horseshit, and a fine topic for another blog) and have the one and only thing remaining to me to focus on: myself.
Guess I'm still not sure that spilling out emotions is the best use of my blogging. I seem to think before I feel. I'm just going to go ahead and call that a good thing.
Character
I seem to have moved out of the blogging phase of my life. It's been months now, I think, since I regularly put my thoughts on the screen. Not only that, but it's been months since my primary source of human contact was computer-based in any way. Truthfully, I don't want to go back to what I had. Knowing people in real life, talking to them with words, face to face, or by telephone - this is how I enjoy relating to the world now.
I don't feel lonely most of the time like I used to. I take up the entire bed now, after a long time of sleeping on "my side." When I putter around the apartment, I don't seem to feel an aching longing to have someone here. I don't catch myself brooding about an unhappy future very much anymore. I appear to have hope and direction.
There are things I still want to change - big time. Those are things I am working on now: spending less time thinking about "relationship" things; feeling more confident about taking time I need to study; dispelling the mental "distractedness" that eats up my productivity when I'm trying to work. These are things I'm only making small headway on, but all things are a work in progress.
I have more self-discipline than I thought was possible for me. I have actually done many things I thought were not possible for me, so I am now able to actually visualize doing something I think is not possible. The current dream I have for myself is so far outside the realm of attainability I originally imagined for myself that it's particularly difficult to maintain the mental picture. But I'm still doing it every chance I get.
The biggest lesson I have learned is that spending my life worrying about who is in it is fruitless. Connecting to people is good, but people also do what they want, go where they want, sometimes with little warning. It's not as if I haven't done the same thing myself. The only thing I really possess is my own ability to make myself happy. That's either in good shape, or it isn't. The list of things I can do to make myself happy without waiting for someone else to do them is increasing. This, of course, makes me generally happier. It goes against the view of life I used to have, that dependence is right and good, that women ought to be a little more dependent than men. I have sexist views and I often find them pretty tenacious. But I do see headway.
More than anything, I am trying to learn to make my emotions less important in the grand scheme of things. Becoming a stoic? I don't think that's really possible. But ignoring my emotions and getting stuff done - that's a worthy goal. Why? Purely for the sake of my own well-being. Emotions have been my bane, and it's time to put them in a place they belong.
Once in a while I realize I have made progress in my ability to step back and be objective. I feel really good when that happens. But honestly, the last two years have kicked my ass in a way nothing had before. This is probably a good thing, and a byproduct of my own willingness to throw myself out into the world just to see what happened. Sure enough, hard things happen, changes happen. The world never looks the same again. But for once I want to be in control of how it looks, for myself, because of my own choices, my own determination, my own character.
I don't feel lonely most of the time like I used to. I take up the entire bed now, after a long time of sleeping on "my side." When I putter around the apartment, I don't seem to feel an aching longing to have someone here. I don't catch myself brooding about an unhappy future very much anymore. I appear to have hope and direction.
There are things I still want to change - big time. Those are things I am working on now: spending less time thinking about "relationship" things; feeling more confident about taking time I need to study; dispelling the mental "distractedness" that eats up my productivity when I'm trying to work. These are things I'm only making small headway on, but all things are a work in progress.
I have more self-discipline than I thought was possible for me. I have actually done many things I thought were not possible for me, so I am now able to actually visualize doing something I think is not possible. The current dream I have for myself is so far outside the realm of attainability I originally imagined for myself that it's particularly difficult to maintain the mental picture. But I'm still doing it every chance I get.
The biggest lesson I have learned is that spending my life worrying about who is in it is fruitless. Connecting to people is good, but people also do what they want, go where they want, sometimes with little warning. It's not as if I haven't done the same thing myself. The only thing I really possess is my own ability to make myself happy. That's either in good shape, or it isn't. The list of things I can do to make myself happy without waiting for someone else to do them is increasing. This, of course, makes me generally happier. It goes against the view of life I used to have, that dependence is right and good, that women ought to be a little more dependent than men. I have sexist views and I often find them pretty tenacious. But I do see headway.
More than anything, I am trying to learn to make my emotions less important in the grand scheme of things. Becoming a stoic? I don't think that's really possible. But ignoring my emotions and getting stuff done - that's a worthy goal. Why? Purely for the sake of my own well-being. Emotions have been my bane, and it's time to put them in a place they belong.
Once in a while I realize I have made progress in my ability to step back and be objective. I feel really good when that happens. But honestly, the last two years have kicked my ass in a way nothing had before. This is probably a good thing, and a byproduct of my own willingness to throw myself out into the world just to see what happened. Sure enough, hard things happen, changes happen. The world never looks the same again. But for once I want to be in control of how it looks, for myself, because of my own choices, my own determination, my own character.
Wednesday, March 12, 2008
Exposure
I spent very many years sexually unsatisfied. I tried going along with whatever men wanted, and even tried telling them what I wanted, to no avail. I left men behind, frustrated beyond belief at their inability or unwillingness to pay attention to my desires. I would almost say that I was driven by my desires, because I put my own fulfillment as a higher priority than security at times. I was determined to experience my own pleasure and to become unapologetic for it.
There have been moments where I was challenged on this - times when my desires clashed with someone else's and I found that they were incompatible. Unfortunately, many of these someones were only able to communicate this fact through inducing guilt and shame in me. Over time I have become able to detect guilt and shame, and it takes less time as I get older. But I am still susceptible to it.
I don't like this about myself. Slowly it is changing as I meet more and more people who want to understand my desires, rather than pigeonholing them. It is becoming easier to see what curiosity and acceptance look like, versus condemnation or oversimplification.
What I want more than anything is to be fearless about presenting myself to others, having no investment in whether they accept me or not. That's a long way away. But I think I have learned one important thing recently: hiding my weaknesses is not the way to be strong. I have plenty of weaknesses, and the better acquainted with them I am, the more I can watch that I don't get hurt in those weak spots. I can defend myself at need.
I do not believe there is anything I can do about the people in the world who would find ways to harm my self-image. They are abundant and their reasonings are beyond my ability to comprehend or fix. But I can learn to see them as they are, to immediately find ways to protect my weak points from their intrusion. And I know that the only way to do this is to expose myself to more people.
I have tried to protect myself by avoiding exposure for too long. It's not always going to be pleasant to find out what people will say to me. But it's the only way to find out more about my own weaknesses and how to compensate for them.
There have been moments where I was challenged on this - times when my desires clashed with someone else's and I found that they were incompatible. Unfortunately, many of these someones were only able to communicate this fact through inducing guilt and shame in me. Over time I have become able to detect guilt and shame, and it takes less time as I get older. But I am still susceptible to it.
I don't like this about myself. Slowly it is changing as I meet more and more people who want to understand my desires, rather than pigeonholing them. It is becoming easier to see what curiosity and acceptance look like, versus condemnation or oversimplification.
What I want more than anything is to be fearless about presenting myself to others, having no investment in whether they accept me or not. That's a long way away. But I think I have learned one important thing recently: hiding my weaknesses is not the way to be strong. I have plenty of weaknesses, and the better acquainted with them I am, the more I can watch that I don't get hurt in those weak spots. I can defend myself at need.
I do not believe there is anything I can do about the people in the world who would find ways to harm my self-image. They are abundant and their reasonings are beyond my ability to comprehend or fix. But I can learn to see them as they are, to immediately find ways to protect my weak points from their intrusion. And I know that the only way to do this is to expose myself to more people.
I have tried to protect myself by avoiding exposure for too long. It's not always going to be pleasant to find out what people will say to me. But it's the only way to find out more about my own weaknesses and how to compensate for them.
Saturday, March 8, 2008
Peace
I still have a source of shame inside me. I know where it comes from. I can hear the voices of men in the past who were angry at me for the places my sexual desires took me. I had a very strong interest in sex from the time I was 14, and exposed to my first book of erotica. I was never held back from witnessing sexual scenes in movies by my parents; my father felt that sex was good and violence was wrong, so he censored my exposure in the opposite direction of what most young girls experience.
But it didn't take long for my first boyfriend to shame me. We talked on the phone all the time, since he lived far away. He masturbated, and I read to him out of my fantasy book (which my best friend had lent me). We had a ball. I didn't know about orgasms, but I touched myself too, and I enjoyed it. But then one day he said that masturbation was a sin, and I could only think, what a bummer! He had been so much fun.
Then came the time my second boyfriend picked me up from a girlfriend's house, took one look at me, and knew I'd had sex with another man. I never denied it when he said so. And there was the time he had to pull his friend off me when he left the room for a few minutes. I just wanted sex, and I didn't want to have to make promises to refrain from sex with other people, to get it.
Finally the last nail was sunk into the coffin when my third boyfriend shamed me for wanting to have sex with my best friend, a girl. He could hardly stand me looking at another person, male or female, and his disgust was palpable. I still have clear memories of the times he would call me names. The experience of having to choose a person over my desires was painful to me.
Society is collectively on their side. As far as I could tell, they were right, and I was wrong and bad. I did not meet anyone to tell me differently until L. came along, and he responded to the stories of things I had done, or wanted to do, with arousal. He encouraged me to pursue my pleasure wherever it took me.
But still I have thrashed a bit, as recently as four or five years ago, dealing with other men whom I did not vet carefully enough before leaping into bed with them. Even at 38 and 39 I was listening to men threaten me and tell me what a horrible person I was for my desires.
I am fortunate in that I made up my mind after that not to let anyone near this body without an abundance of evidence that they were not going to shame me for my desires. And not one person has, in several years. But that is also partly because I cut myself off from meeting new men for a long time.
Now that I am meeting men, all the old fears have surfaced. Am I capable of making completely sensible decisions about whom I allow close to me? Will I be brave enough to state my boundaries clearly and not leave any room for misunderstanding?
But even after conversations in which I made myself abundantly clear, I realize that my greatest problem lies in myself. My shame runs deep. I know it from my fantasies, which often involve several men, all encouraging me in their own ways to experience pleasure, all helping achieve it, somehow working in harmony instead of at cross-purposes. But even when I eliminate sex from the equation, I can still apparently feel a sense of shame about wanting to spend time with more than one man.
No amount of hearing approval from outside sources is going to help, at least, not all the way. I have chosen a life that is socially unacceptable, and there is plenty of harshness available to me, if I look out at the world for validation. I think the mistake is looking to the world at all. It's time for me to find peace within myself, answering to my own conscience, and not leaving my opinion of myself as a topic open for debate.
I want peace inside. It's time to find it.
But it didn't take long for my first boyfriend to shame me. We talked on the phone all the time, since he lived far away. He masturbated, and I read to him out of my fantasy book (which my best friend had lent me). We had a ball. I didn't know about orgasms, but I touched myself too, and I enjoyed it. But then one day he said that masturbation was a sin, and I could only think, what a bummer! He had been so much fun.
Then came the time my second boyfriend picked me up from a girlfriend's house, took one look at me, and knew I'd had sex with another man. I never denied it when he said so. And there was the time he had to pull his friend off me when he left the room for a few minutes. I just wanted sex, and I didn't want to have to make promises to refrain from sex with other people, to get it.
Finally the last nail was sunk into the coffin when my third boyfriend shamed me for wanting to have sex with my best friend, a girl. He could hardly stand me looking at another person, male or female, and his disgust was palpable. I still have clear memories of the times he would call me names. The experience of having to choose a person over my desires was painful to me.
Society is collectively on their side. As far as I could tell, they were right, and I was wrong and bad. I did not meet anyone to tell me differently until L. came along, and he responded to the stories of things I had done, or wanted to do, with arousal. He encouraged me to pursue my pleasure wherever it took me.
But still I have thrashed a bit, as recently as four or five years ago, dealing with other men whom I did not vet carefully enough before leaping into bed with them. Even at 38 and 39 I was listening to men threaten me and tell me what a horrible person I was for my desires.
I am fortunate in that I made up my mind after that not to let anyone near this body without an abundance of evidence that they were not going to shame me for my desires. And not one person has, in several years. But that is also partly because I cut myself off from meeting new men for a long time.
Now that I am meeting men, all the old fears have surfaced. Am I capable of making completely sensible decisions about whom I allow close to me? Will I be brave enough to state my boundaries clearly and not leave any room for misunderstanding?
But even after conversations in which I made myself abundantly clear, I realize that my greatest problem lies in myself. My shame runs deep. I know it from my fantasies, which often involve several men, all encouraging me in their own ways to experience pleasure, all helping achieve it, somehow working in harmony instead of at cross-purposes. But even when I eliminate sex from the equation, I can still apparently feel a sense of shame about wanting to spend time with more than one man.
No amount of hearing approval from outside sources is going to help, at least, not all the way. I have chosen a life that is socially unacceptable, and there is plenty of harshness available to me, if I look out at the world for validation. I think the mistake is looking to the world at all. It's time for me to find peace within myself, answering to my own conscience, and not leaving my opinion of myself as a topic open for debate.
I want peace inside. It's time to find it.
Friday, February 29, 2008
Taking a stand
I have lived so much of my life by the mantra, "Don't tell them about it." There have been things I believed that I have kept hidden since I was very young, probably since I realized that people would hate me for my atheism. But then I found other things for people to hate me for. I don't know when I got used to hiding my true self, but I have become a secretive person, and I go around envious of those who are able to say what they think without fear. I admire people like that. I don't want to risk things like my livelihood making a statement that could get me fired. But someday it would be great to be fearless and stand up for what I think.
When I meet someone who is fearless and will face persecution to say what they think, it just reminds me of how far I fall short of my own ideals. There is so much in the world that I feel strongly about. But saying and doing nothing about it makes me indistinguishable from those who would fight on the other side. By doing nothing I only allow the status quo to continue.
This has given me a lot to think about.
When I meet someone who is fearless and will face persecution to say what they think, it just reminds me of how far I fall short of my own ideals. There is so much in the world that I feel strongly about. But saying and doing nothing about it makes me indistinguishable from those who would fight on the other side. By doing nothing I only allow the status quo to continue.
This has given me a lot to think about.
Thursday, January 24, 2008
Little girl with a big brain
My brain is too pooped to study tonight. More tomorrow. Exactly 36 hours until the test.
But I have been filled with profound, philosophical thoughts.
Something has changed about how I see myself. Or, rather, something has returned to how it used to be. Long ago, I was a short girl with eyeglasses who always knew the right answers to questions in school, and scared away all of the boys. I did not lose this image until my teens, when I forcibly derailed my mind with drugs and superficial inanities, in the company of pathological underachievers. Then - joy! - I finally felt attractive and female and desirable.
I resented not having the innate confidence those cheerleaders and socialites seemed to have. I longed for love so badly that I took it in whatever form it presented itself, never screening out a single soul who showed interest in me. I met some pretty ragged souls in that way. And when I realized the million things we did not have in common, and got disgusted with them, they were always bitter and angry with me. No surprise there.
I was smart, but I fought who I was, tooth and nail. I turned about-face from anything intellectually demanding. I alienated the few smart friends who had high hopes for me. I disappointed everyone, most especially myself. I just wanted love.
But love that never made demands on me left me cold in the end. I was never happy with a person who could be happy with me as I was. I wasn’t happy with me as I was. So if they were, I thought they were stupid for it. Pretty impossible situation to put someone in, but it certainly explains the appeal of kink, of having expectations which I routinely fail to live up to completely. Far better to have someone wanting more of me than I feel I can live up to, than less. The former keeps me hungry for approval. The latter finds me bored and listless.
I’m about to start a Ph.D. program. Hopefully. I’m taking all the right actions, and hoping. But I want to take the actions; there is no longer any doubt. The field I have chosen is fascinating to me. I know exactly which professor I want to work with, and he has already told me the topic that he is ready for me to start on.
I do not expect to attract ever more men, as I plunge headlong into three more years of this agony... as I increase my supply of socks to wear with my Birkenstocks... as I continue not to invest money in makeup or professional haircuts... as I stock my wardrobe with modest and unassuming neutrals, showing no cleavage. I expect to become ever more eccentric, and incapable of remembering what it was to conform to anything. I expect the range of people with whom I can discuss my work at length to become progressively smaller. I expect the number of raised eyebrows at hearing what I'm researching to become progressively larger. And I expect to go through life as a little girl with a big brain, constantly filled with amazing ideas and insights and potential discoveries.
I thought I didn’t know myself anymore, but I do. I am “Shorty” and “Four Eyes.” That was how I was born. That’s how I am going to live.
But I have been filled with profound, philosophical thoughts.
Something has changed about how I see myself. Or, rather, something has returned to how it used to be. Long ago, I was a short girl with eyeglasses who always knew the right answers to questions in school, and scared away all of the boys. I did not lose this image until my teens, when I forcibly derailed my mind with drugs and superficial inanities, in the company of pathological underachievers. Then - joy! - I finally felt attractive and female and desirable.
I resented not having the innate confidence those cheerleaders and socialites seemed to have. I longed for love so badly that I took it in whatever form it presented itself, never screening out a single soul who showed interest in me. I met some pretty ragged souls in that way. And when I realized the million things we did not have in common, and got disgusted with them, they were always bitter and angry with me. No surprise there.
I was smart, but I fought who I was, tooth and nail. I turned about-face from anything intellectually demanding. I alienated the few smart friends who had high hopes for me. I disappointed everyone, most especially myself. I just wanted love.
But love that never made demands on me left me cold in the end. I was never happy with a person who could be happy with me as I was. I wasn’t happy with me as I was. So if they were, I thought they were stupid for it. Pretty impossible situation to put someone in, but it certainly explains the appeal of kink, of having expectations which I routinely fail to live up to completely. Far better to have someone wanting more of me than I feel I can live up to, than less. The former keeps me hungry for approval. The latter finds me bored and listless.
I’m about to start a Ph.D. program. Hopefully. I’m taking all the right actions, and hoping. But I want to take the actions; there is no longer any doubt. The field I have chosen is fascinating to me. I know exactly which professor I want to work with, and he has already told me the topic that he is ready for me to start on.
I do not expect to attract ever more men, as I plunge headlong into three more years of this agony... as I increase my supply of socks to wear with my Birkenstocks... as I continue not to invest money in makeup or professional haircuts... as I stock my wardrobe with modest and unassuming neutrals, showing no cleavage. I expect to become ever more eccentric, and incapable of remembering what it was to conform to anything. I expect the range of people with whom I can discuss my work at length to become progressively smaller. I expect the number of raised eyebrows at hearing what I'm researching to become progressively larger. And I expect to go through life as a little girl with a big brain, constantly filled with amazing ideas and insights and potential discoveries.
I thought I didn’t know myself anymore, but I do. I am “Shorty” and “Four Eyes.” That was how I was born. That’s how I am going to live.
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