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.

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.

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.

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?

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.