Those little boxes aren't my friends.

Recently, very recently I realized I don't actually need to put myself into one of those little boxes that says I'm heterosexual, or homosexual, or bisexual. I've honestly struggled with those little boxes my entire life. They are not my friends. I remember 'coming out' to my best friend in high school that I thought I was bisexual, I remember a lot of discussion about it and confusion on her part.

How could I be bisexual? I never acted that way, I didn't chase girls, I wasn't like the other bisexual girls we knew, was I sure, how did I know etc. It was impossible to explain to her my own sexuality, because, in all honesty I really had no clue if I was bisexual or heterosexual or whatever, at all.

I've left it alone with for a number of years now and let people assume I am heterosexual, until I recently realized nobody requires my sexuality to be put into a neat little box, I can be attracted to women some days and men others. I don't need to justify or explain this. My beliefs and feelings about sexuality are based on my own experiences with it.

The best way I can think to describe it is like this:

Generally, I am sexually and romantically attracted to men, but, on occasion I will be sexually or romantically attracted to women (I call these guy days and girl days, not sure if that makes sense or not, but sometimes I'm just more attracted to girls than guys, basically). Part of this has to do with an ingrained assumption that all women are attracted to men and therefore not attracted to me so I shouldn't bothering being attracted to them, but all men are attracted to women and therefore could be attracted to me so I have a shot and can be attracted to men, I realize and acknowledge how completely wrong this is, but it is an unconscious assumption my brain makes.

I have come to the conclusion, that since sexuality is fluid, mine is just really really fluid, like it slides around a lot. I also know that generally I have a harder time making emotional connections with guys which makes it very hard to have a proper relationship, I just generally prefer the company of women. I also find women more physically and aesthetically pleasing then men, even (especially) naked, I just don't find guys bodies as attractive as girls... but I'm usually sexually attracted to guys... So you can see why this is so confusing for me.

I have come to the conclusion (this was my initial conclusion when I started thinking I was bi) that I would probably prefer a relationship with a man, but due to the fluctuating and fluidity nature of my sexuality, I can't rule out relationships with women, because I might be more comfortable emotionally with a woman.

I'm also almost always attracted to guys that have more traditionally 'feminine' traits (whatever that means), basically I usually get along with the guys that have tons of female friends, because they just get along with women better.

The girl thing is entirely different, I've had so many close, very close, emotional relationships with women that don't even compare the the relationships I've had with guys, but they've never been of a romantic or sexual nature, but I just prefer them.

So you can see why sexuality has always been very confusing and impossible to define for me, I still don't even know where I'd start with dating girls, the idea is so completely foreign to me, but not really unappealing.

I feel like in saying all this I should briefly address some of the backlash I've experienced (and I'm sure others experience) when I've tried to explain my sexuality in the past.

"It's just a phase": yes, I'm sure 'phases' last for 10 years, that's totally normal. I'll start growing out of it, like, tomorrow or something. Geez.

"You don't actually like girls, you just want to be different": wait, what? I 'want' to be 'different' because I haven't always struggled with this and it hasn't left me feeling very confused and left out my entire life, yeah I totally want the stigma and unhappiness that can come with been queer. Totally.

"You'll probably end up with a man so it doesn't matter": not sure how anyone could know who I'd 'probably end up with' since I have no clue at all who I'd end up with. Also, why the fuck does it matter if I end up with a man or woman that has absolutely nothing to do with what my sexuality is and how I prefer to identify.

"I think you're just straight, therefore you must be straight": I don't care what you think about me, I say I am queer, therefore I am queer.

"But how do you know you aren't straight": I don't. That's the bloody problem and somehow nobody can wrap their head around that. I'm also not required to identify as straight if I don't feel comfortable with that, which I don't. So bugger off.

"But you've never been with a girl...": that is so totally and completely irrelevant to how I define my own sexual identity. Being or not being with someone does not mean I can't want or not want to be with someone. Gosh.

I think that's all the ones I've heard. Some of them are things people have said to me, and others are just things I've heard that bother me.

This was on my mind because I hang out all afternoon in the Pride office (room, place, whatever) all afternoon Friday and my friend asked me why I thought I wouldn't be welcome there when I identify as queer and I was like oh, wait, I don't really know... I guess I constantly think of my self as heterosexual and never really address any other thoughts/feelings I might have because it's just way easier to not worry about it and get all confused, but at the same time I feel like I'm being very untrue to myself and I am missing part of me. Like, I need to learn to accept this and not dismiss it myself, which I've essentially being doing for years.

Soooo now that that's all straightened out (haha), what do you identify as? Do you have issues with people dismissing your sexual identity or sexual orientation and saying it isn't valid or not understanding it, etc?

Do you have a confusing sexual identity as well? Let me know! I'd love to hear about other peoples experiences.

Awkward Conversation.

I can't get a conversation I recently had with a professor out of my head.

It honestly just keeps replaying there over and over and it's starting to drive me mad.

I couldn't figure out why the conversation bother me so much, except that I felt like he was lecturing me with out any actual grounds, or for that matter, right.

Why do older, 'paternal' figures put themselves in that spot where they think they can tell you what to do. I've been worried about some many things I've chosen to do since this conversation, he's an intelligent man and I do not doubt he has guessed at my part in, shall we say, the tumblr 'body positive' community, then again, maybe he was just trying to get me to look at patriarchal power structures in society, either way it fucking well worked.

I think I need to give a little context for this conversation before I go any further. So, context. I'm a tumblr blogger, I run an almost popular, rather interest, personal/all-interests/feminist blog on tumblr called A History. You probably haven't heard of it unless you're a follower or you've seen the username 'faomosgirl' pop up anywhere.

Anyway I decided for a sociology project to do research into why people join tumblr and what sort of participation they have in body positive blogging because, in all honesty, it interests me to no end. I put some thought (but apparently not enough) and a lot of time into writing a research proposal for this research for my class.

The research requires that I interview two willing participants (to be kept confidential) about their body positive blogs. Well there were a few issues to overcome in this situation, but I managed to work most of it. I honestly did not consider my own participation as a major part of my research until I started thinking about the implications of body positive blogging and the amount of nudity it involves (or doesn't involve, depending on the type of blogger you are).

The conversation I had with my professor didn't really surprise me, we were discussing my research project and how I should approach it, now this the part that bothers me and I can't stop thinking about. He sort of asked at one point, with a bit of bewilderment and surprise if women were actually posting pictures of themselves nude on tumblr and their identities and when I said yes he seemed surprised and went on to tell me, no lecture me, about the dangers of this and how he would feel if he found nude pictures of his daughter online... it was horrible. I honestly felt humiliated. Ashamed of myself for a moment as I imaged my own father finding my photos online, this wasn't really what bothered me the most though. He said that even if the images weren't meant to be sexual others could use them for sexual means or in a degrading way and that is were everything starts becoming clearer.

This man, this professor of mine, he is not afraid for the women posting pictures of themselves nude, he is not worried about the harm that comes to these women if this do this, he is worried about what society thinks of these pictures. What will happen to this women in the work force (yes, he brought that up as well), how the 'internet is forever' how anyone can find these pictures and see them, but mostly, how they can be sexually exploited by men.

So everyone who doesn't see it here, this is rape culture, this is body shaming, this is slut shaming. I will not stand for such nonsense. I am tired of being such a  fucking push over and never feeling like I have my own beliefs and yes, maybe these ideas aren't originally mine and they might not have come from a very positive place (trying to impress a body, no less), but I know when bullshit is being spewed at me.

Be afraid of your body little girl, be afraid of what it can do, be afraid of sex little girl, be afraid of your power, be afraid of yourself little girl, be afraid of you.

Fuck that. I am done.

I know he made some good points, yes, the internet IS FOREVER, yes nude pictures can be exploited for sexual purposes, yes it is RISKY. But if we all just sit back and say oh, keep your clothes on because that's what society says you should do, well what the fuck nobody would ever see any naked body and how miraculous and wonderful they are. Honestly. I am so fucking done with shit like that. MY NAKED BODY DOES NOT GIVE YOU THE RIGHT TO SEXUALLY OBJECTIFY ME. JUST BECAUSE PEOPLE SEXUALLY OBJEFY NAKED BODIES DOES NOT MEAN I CANNOT BE NAKED WHENEVER THE FUCK I WANT (err within the law of course).

I am sick and tired of rape culture, I honestly spent all week wondering what was bothering me about that conversation and it took me until now to realize it because I was reading an article about rape culture and I realized that this was rape culture. That entire fucking conversation. I will show him.

I realize that he might not have realized it was rape culture permeating his every word and thought in that interaction, I realize he was picturing his own daughter sexually objectified, I realize he isn't a stupid man (you don't become a university professor being stupid), but that conversation, well making some valid points, was ultimately offensive and, well, pretty awkward.

Yes, I know the internet is forever, I know future employers will look at how you've portrayed yourself via social media to see if you can work for them, which I think is frankly stupid. The fact that we are STILL having scandals about women who post nudes online or participate in porn is completely ridiculous. You never hear that shit about men. Ever. I mean maybe it will come up, but nobody ever seems to question it or stop them from hiring those men, no it is almost always women and this is just another way our bodies are controlled by society.

I am sick and tired of apologizing for myself. Feeling nervous and self conscious, hating myself, not believing in myself, lacking the confidence to just go out and do things I know that I could actually do. I am honestly done with all this. I am so done with bullshitting around and wasting time not doing or saying what I want. I have told myself to change so many times, told myself to grow the fuck up (what does that even mean?) but here's the thing, the thing I always ignore. THERE IS NOTHING WRONG WITH ME. I don't need to change, I just need to believe in myself. I'm an amazing person, smart, interesting, funny, beautiful and kind. I don't need to do anything differently.

End rant.

A List of Awesome things about living on your own

1. Nobody eats your food when you're not home (unless you say they can)
2. You can leave the house as messy or clean as you like it.
3. You have complete control about furniture and artwork placement
4. You can walk around in your underwear (when there is no roommate)
5. Having a live in 24hr/7 days a week bestfriend!
6. You can stay up as late as you like watching TV in the living room!
7. You can play music in any part of the house and nobody will care.
8. You can cook your own meals and never have to worry about sharing (unless you want too)
9. Your stuff doesn't randomly move around.
10. Keeps me busy with responsibilities and shit like that. Which I like, cause I need to be constantly busy with something or I go a little loopy and get super restless. 

30 day writing challenge I did.

So I did this 30 day writing challenge thing. I thought I'd post all the drabble things I did here, for fun.
Enjoy them everyone! :)


Beginnings:

Cassy Smith was moving out of her dingy little apartment her best friend and her shared for the past 4 years of college. Her best friend Hanna was going to Europe to travel and fuck around. Cassy was moving in with her boyfriend Charlie because he had a big, old-fashioned house he’d inherited. Cassy was sad to see Hanna go because she used to stay up and listen to the noises she made in her room since they were both insomniacs, but Cassy would never admit this. Cassy  was afraid Hanna wouldn’t miss her cause they fought too much. 

Accusation

Murray started to masturbate as the young woman jogged by his car. Her large breasts bounced despite her tight black sports bra. She slowed as she reached the car and surprised him by coming over and tapping the window. It was too late. She saw where his hand was and her face grew angry and hard. She began banging on the window yelling obscenities. A near by officer hard her and came over to see what the problem was. She pointed at Murray and shouted ‘perv’, ‘sicko’, and ‘staring’. Murray slowly turned up the radio and slouched down lower. 

Restless: 

Suzy lay on the couch watching Moxy crouch behind the stump. She'd tried to take down one robin already, but failed. Suzy attempted to adjust her blanket, but it was stuck under her cast and she couldn’t free it. She gave up and continued watching the cat; her small furry face scrunched in concentration as she prepared to capture the bird. Finally, Suzy heard a door open and loud voices echoing through the house. Darrel and her mother rushed in “Suze! You’re okay! I’m sorry, I’m so sorry!”. Without looking away from the cat Suzy asked,

“Adjust my blanket, please?” 

Snowflakes

Every winter my sisters and I made paper snow flakes. Despite the heat, despite the rain despite the fact it would never ever snow here. We’d cut them and paste them onto various presents and cards. For hours and hours we’d make them until there was nothing left to do. It was pathetic, yet it never really felt like Christmas until we’d made enough snow flakes for our house as well as the entire village. This year, my sister was sick. So we made enough snow flakes to cover the hospital window with there whiteness. We never gave up then. 

Haze

Sarah stood by the grave stone staring across the field with her note pad in one hand and a pen stuck between her teeth. She was watching a progression of people walk between the grave stones. Coffin, black clothes, a priest: a funeral. She watched and wondered who had died. She knew in a moment they would reach her and she’d have to ask the hard questions. She’d have to deal with the disapproving stares and unhappy faces. The tears. They’d judge her for not responding, or knowing or caring. She wanted to. So much, if she could remember.  

Flame

It was hot and the faint smell of smoke hit my nostrils before I could comprehend what was happening. I went to take a deep breath to calm myself, but I only inhaled smoke. I could here shouting now. “She’s inside, on the top floor, to the left.” 

“I’ll get a ladder. Stand back” There was yelling outside. The sound of something hitting the window. I pulled myself up in time to see a face appear. I could also see the flames climbing up the ceiling. Luckily, I was saved. 

Formal

Jason selection consisted of a gray suit, a pale pink button down, black and white striped tie and black shoes. He’d wear his favourite fedora and a matching pocket square too. He quickly combed through his neatly side swept hair. He remembered he should trim his mustache soon. “Jason! You’re already late for school. Lori is waiting outside.” 

“Sorry mom.” Jason dashed out of his room. 

“Sweetie, why are you dressed up? You’re wearing your formal suit.” 

“He’s gay. Just hasn’t come out yet” his brother stuck his tongue out at him.

“And what would be wrong with that?” 

Companion

‘Rory stood on tiptoe and kissed the Doctor’s cheek. Amy watched from a safe distance, glaring at the pair…’ Lindsey paused, lifted her hand’s from the keyboard and started to read out loud. There was a loud thump on her door and some yelling. “Lindsey? What are you doing in there? Come eat dinner now.” 

“In a minute mom, just finishing something…” 

“Lindsey, you come this second, get off that creepy gay porn site you like so much.”

“It’s not a gay porn site mom it’s a blogging site and it’s called tumblr. Geeez.” 

“Come eat your dinner, Lindsey!” 

Move

A long line of elementary school children walked along the side of a busy road-way. Their teacher seemed unconcerned with the traffic and kept yelling “move along duckies, come on now! Move along!” A particularly short stout boy at the back dawdled and dragged a small stuffed bunny in the dirt. He also sucked his thumb. Two of the bigger boys in front of him kept turning and yelling taunts and coming back to kick him. 

“Tommy! Move along, come on duckie! Move along!” Tommy only responded by letting his head fall deeper into his chest.

Silver

A young handmaid polished cutlery by the door. She kept her eye on it impatiently. Finally, a young man appeared outside and lifted his cap at her. She glanced around the kitchen and slipped a couple forks in her apron pocket then exclaimed “Charlie’s back marm! May I go say hello?” 

“All right Cynthia” the old cook still didn’t turn around. Cynthia ran out to Charlie and they embraced, all the while she was slipping the cutlery down his trousers. 

“Cynthia! That’ll be enough of that now my dear, get back in the kitchen child!” Cynthia returned to her work. 

Prepared

Girl guides had prepared Lanny for many things. She knew to take bandages with her everywhere as well as lip chap and a piece of string. Unfortunately Girl Guides hadn’t prepared Lanny to get stabbed in the back by her best friend. Literally stabbed in the back. She felt a sharp, hot pain, dampness, the scent of metal and laughter, then nothing. Silence. She was suddenly looking at her own body as it slumped to the ground. Carly laughing, her face unrecognizable. Shocked stares of other students in the halls pointing and outrage. Girl guides hadn’t prepared Lanny for death. 

Knowledge

As Loreeli grew older she began to see ignorance was bliss. It was bliss because the library of Alexandria didn’t exist and people enslaved other people and women were still oppressed and the poor still starved and there were still poor. She wanted to turn her eye to the world and pretend it didn’t exist. Instead, she Lay in bed with her computer on her lap reading news articles for hours that made her own problems look so small. The depression was starting to eat away at her life little by little. Soon she wouldn’t leave the house at all. 

Denial

I lay and stared at the ceiling. It really wasn’t late for him. Only 12:30. He usually got back around 10, but he got back later every week. The front door creaked and heavy foot steps fell on the stairs. My breath caught and I counted as he made his way too me. The door slowly opened, “Jared?” my voice echoed off the walls. 

“Beth!” there was a thud and the light went on. “You’re still up…?” he glanced around in confusion. 

“Where have you been?” 

“Out. With friends” the scent of perfume hung between us and unsaid truths.

Wind

Margery could control the wind with her mind. She’d ask it to rock her to sleep at night and gently blow the clouds away to have a sunny day. She’d get it to whip around at night blowing all the leaves away from the yard. She’d push ships out to sea and bring them safely in. She’d let it kiss and touch every inch of her body. Her enemies would fall at its feet. Their homes crushed and their blood would run. Margery destroyed an entire universe in a breathe then she’d kiss her prince, then let him fall asleep. 

Order

Lily lined up the pebbles in a row carefully counting them as she went. She, stopped, stared at the pebbles for a moment, gathered them all up and laid them out again while counting. She’d done this three times when her mothers voice faintly called her. She paused mid stone-laying then she continued. There were 36 stones and she did this 36 times every day. 36 x 36 = 1296 meaning she’d do it for 1296 days which would be about 3.5 years. She halfway through the years with 1.75 years to go. She heard her mother’s voice again. 

Thanks

Margo grabbed a hand full of candy from the bowl then quickly darted back to her seat. She glanced around the clinic and quietly began munching on them. Her head bowed and her body tucked in. A small girl sitting beside her watched quietly, eyes like saucers. Margo glanced at her several times as she ate, then finally offered her a couple of watermelon flavoured candies. The girl’s face lit up with delight. She carefully unwrapped one candy and popped it in her mouth, then handed the other to her mother who quietly rejected it, but smiled gratefully at Margo. 

Look

They met at a jazz concert. He was filming it and she was there with her fiance. He saw her across the room and wondered about the beautiful young woman with the elderly man. He zoomed in on her face throughout the show. He saw her alone in the lobby later. “Enjoyed it?” He asked. 

She didn’t speak, shook her head, then held up her right hand. He nodded, smiled, “with the old man?” 

She laughed. “He’s rich. What’s your name?”

“Jared… yours?” 

“Claudia” Jared handed her a business card, 

“If you change your mind” raising an eyebrow he left.

Summer

I buried my head deeper into Jeramy's chest and felt him gently kiss the top of my head. His hand slipped inner my chin and I lifted my head to look at him. "I'll be back next year, promise."
Gently he kissed each cheek. 

"I know, it still sucks."

“I know.” 

“I really like you.” 

“Ditto babe.” 

“So don’t forget me okay?” 

“Promise.” He kissed me gently, then harder then finally pulled away to look me in the eye again.

“And you don’t forget me, lady.” I giggle a little and crack that crooked smile I know he loves.

“Promise.” 

Transformation

She’d cut her hair short and wore no makeup now. Her nose was pierced and she had tattoos. It wasn’t Lilly any more. Not the Lily she’d grown up with, she’d taken to prom and had her first kiss with. She smiled and said nice things veiled with sarcasm and rejection. She held her new girl friends hand in front of me and whispered in her ear and laughed and teased. I could pretend well enough, I could. I just didn’t want to. So I left, just as she leaned over to kiss her cheek.

“Amy? Where are you going?” 

Tremble

Lindsey’s hands trembled as she reached for the sheet. She didn’t want to see, or know.  She closed her eyes and whipped it back. Freezing there hands trembling above the sheet, eyes shut she breathed deeply. “Lindsey, can you identify the body please.” The voice was far away, like it was coming through a wall or underwater. Blood rushed to Lindsey’s head as she opened her eyes. 

“Yes, that’s him.” Blackness. She opened her eyes to the glaring fluorescent lights. The cops head blocked them out, glowing. 

“Lindsey, you okay?” She looked behind her. “She’s okay, this happens a lot.” 

Winter

Winter was coming. Arya could feel it. She was from the North so it was normal. She hadn’t lived there in years. She’d lost count how many. Amongst the fighting, sneaking around and killing she hadn’t bothered to count. She thought only of the revenge of her family. Taking back their honour one member at a time. One enemy death at a time. She only had one left to kill and it’d already taken her years, yet he eluded her. That one tiny Lannister. So small, but clever. He eluded her. She wondered if she’d find him before the snow. 

Outside

Lana leaned against the wall watching people walk by. They kept their heads down, walking quickly, ignoring each other. She took a drag. Some men would glance at her, then back at the ground. A couple of cops appeared. “Ma’m smoking isn’t permitted after 10 pm and you’re violating the neighbourhood dress code. 

“So?” Lana took drag, staring past the cops. 

“You get a $500 ticket and you’ve gotta change.” The cop held out a ticket. She tore it into pieces and tossed them away. 

“See if I care. You can’t send me to jail. You can’t send anyone there.”

Mad

I couldn’t believe this. Couldn’t believe her. We’d agreed. She would meet me there, pick me up and drive me to the funeral. It wasn’t like I knew Marion well, it was her grandmother not mine anyway. I know I’d promised, still. She was late for her own mother’s funeral. Finally the old cadillac pulled up with smoke poring out of the driver side window. “Hey Sandy, we’re late, get in loser!” always such a charmer. “I’m the one waiting. If you hadn’t been late…” my voice trails off because i see her tear streaked makeup and her red eyes.

Thousand

Mark trudged along the pavement in the cool evening. It felt hot and rough under his bare feet. He awkwardly tugged two large, overstuffed suite cases behind him. He watched tourists pass by chuckling lightly. He couldn’t help mumble under his breath. Why’d she have to kick him out like that? Just because he was poor? Maybe he shouldn’t have bought that trip to Vegas… Or lost half his savings. Maybe if his debt was less she’d have been kinder. Maybe. Still, there he was trudging along in the warm evening, tourists laughing, alone with only clothes and no money.

Sunset

Sunset is my favourite time of day. I spent one summer babysitting two younger cousins at our family’s summer cottage. Every evening we would sit and watch it together. They talked over the day, laughing and sharing stories. Sometimes bickering too. This summer was different. They sat together alone watching it silently, arms around each others shoulders. “I bet Carley would really like this.”
“Yeah, she would’ve.” both children glanced at my usual spot.
“sometimes I feel she’s there watching us, protecting us…”
“Jordon that’s silly.” I sat alone there watching them, but never really there again.

Diamond

“Diamond’s come from the backs of African children. Then the expenses: cake, flowers, food, the dress! Some go for $20,000! It’s preposterous!” Larry ignored Jessica, staring at her breasts. Her dress was too tight. The waiter appeared with dessert. Chocolate mousse. He winked at Larry. Jessica spotted the ring. A large pale pink diamond. “What the fuck Larry? You’re joking, right?” 

“Jessica,” Larry was on one knee. “Will you marry me…?” 

“Are we on candid camera?” 

“I love you…” 

“One week is too soon you creep!” 

“Sir, you need to leave. You’ve made too many proposals here this month.” 

Letters 

She’d saved all the letters. Every letter. There are thousands. She kept them in boxes stacked in the basement and spare rooms (there were 37 in total). She wasn’t even sure where all the letters were any more. The rooms liked to move around in the night, going from one end of the mansion to the other without telling her. She was getting too old to watch such a massive collection. One day there was a knock at the door which usually remained silent and she opened it to find a small girl with a suitcase. Her time was up. 

Promise

Lyra sat in the Garden waiting. She kept glancing at her watch. Couples passed by her silently, mostly older, in their 70s or 80s. She smiled to herself absentmindedly. She imagined what would’ve been if she’d chosen him over her family, her career, instead she rejected love. Maybe she wouldn’t be alone now, sitting there at the designated time waiting. The phrase ‘time will tell’ applied here. Time would tell if he’d really loved her, still loved her, if he remembered. She watched for anyone familiar. She saw a man looking at her curiously and he approached. “Lyra? It’s Will…” 

Simple

They sat knitting and drinking tea together every evening. Sometimes the television was on, sometimes they sat in silence. The room was dark and cold and mold grew around the windows. Still, they sat. Watching and waiting. The items they knit were not distinguishable and disappeared as they finished a row. Sometimes other people were there, silently watching TV or laugh and talking. They sat in or beside the three women. Never knowing their presence. They never missed an evening. Not for their entire existence, whatever happened away from that spot went unspoken for they never spoke to each other. 

Future

We could have a future together, you and I. I see it so clearly. The house, the children, the cat, the garden. The colour and the warmth. The young woman looked down into his tired eyes; his sunburnt, etched face; his hands like soft wrinkled leather. There was no future for them any more. He’d be dead soon. She gripped his hands tightly in hers, silently planning the future. Imagining flowers and every shade of black. His watery blue eyes, pale with age, but full of wisdom stared into hers and that was the only way he could hold on. 

Writing brain function: Normal.

My writers block seems to be gone!
Yay!
I've been making up stories about every second person I see and even writing some of them... in a very lazy fashion, but nonetheless it seems I want to write again because for awhile there I almost felt like not writing at all. It was a terrible moment for me. I questioned whether I even wanted to bother any more then started crying and had a little mental panic attack which suggests it is quite possibly rather important to me that I continue... rather.

I've also decided I don't care how good a writer I am. I just give up. I'm never going to be as good as I want to be. I'm never going to write perfectly. The only thing I can do is continue writing and improving cause it makes me happy and it's like my fucking therapy.

I'd also like to state that these blog posts (and anything I post on tumblr) DO NOT COUNT! These are effortless (usually) and just for fun I suppose (most of the time) I don't really count them as 'serious' writing. Serious writing is sitting down and taking a lot of time and effort to create some kind of perfection. Basically you torture yourself a lot (and this is what I love?).

Anyway. I actually edited a story I've been working on for like, a year or so which made me feel better and I have another one I want to start, so yay!
It's also nice to have my brain back in this place where I feel inspired all the time (that sounds cheesy, it totally is). It's nice. It makes life sooooo much less dull and more bearable. Not that it was really dreadful before, but I'm happier here. So much happier.

Okay. That is all. 

Some things I've learned (or almost learned)

No matter how much good advice you give to your friends for or against something they are never going to fully listen and will always go with what they want.

Negative thoughts and actions DO effect how you think and feel about yourself. They are unhealthy and should be crushed.

No matter what, even if I stop writing for months, the writer in me can never die.

Friends come and go, but there will be a few that you truly love like family and will never leave you no matter how far apart you grow.

Lust or infatuation is never a good biases for a relationship, but it's still necessary to a small degree.

Everybody (including the absolute worst of us) is a human just like you. Unless they are aliens dressed up as humans and trying to run the UK. Then they are those instead.

Making yourself happy should come first or else you won't be able to please anyone else. Self denial may be necessary for longer term happiness.

Nobody has a right to tell you how to dress, what to like or who to like. Ignore anyone that tries. (although they will try and you will listen and possibly be swayed from time to time, but ultimately it'll always be in your power to choose what you want to).

Nobody can ever tell you what to do with your body or how you should feel about it or whether it's awesome or not. If they try, crush them.

Being a door mat is never fun, or sexy, or interesting or healthy.

Gender roles are completely constructed. Ignore them.

Never ever let society pressure you into having sex or your friends or a partner. Especially when you aren't ready or really don't want to. It's a terrible feeling.

Empathy and sympathy are not the same thing. Both should be used with caution, but not ignored. They are sometimes necessary.

Don't judge or hate strangers when you don't know their story.

Don't hate on rude people because they can't behave respectfully. Just be as fucking nice and cheerful as possible to put them at shame for their unseemly behaviour.

Don't think you can't do something because it becomes true and tortures you.

Okay, so maybe some of these I'm still working on. But I've got the ideas in my head and I'm working on them all! I swear. Also some of these are still really recent... so maybe even a few months ago I didn't think quite like this... I don't really know. 

Working on me.

Okay so I probably watched one too many Sex + videos, but now I can't get ideas about sex, body positivity, feminism and friendship outta my head.

Also standing up for myself.

I need to lay it all out. Here. On my blog.

So I'll start from where my own train of thought began:

I had this realization that I really like it when people touch my waist area. Now, I know y'all is like, so what Terri, I'm sure lots of people enjoy that, but let me finish guys! In general, I think I just like waists and waist touching (that almost sounds dirty, but I don't mean it like that!) because I think that inherently I've got an obsession with them because my own isn't perfect. Not my waist to be clear, but my stomach area, in appearance. I honestly didn't understand why I had a scar when I was a kid and I hated when other kids asked me about it because I found it confusing, like, why the fuck are they so fascinated by this thing? It's always been there. I mean I'm fascinated with it, but I'm fascinated with my entire fucking body, so like, da fuck is wrong with them? As I've grown older I've realized people find scars really unattractive or interesting and they must know how you got it (cause who doesn't like a cool story, right?).

I have a really close friend who pointed out to me one day that my scar is kinda unattractive. At the time I just agreed with her and now I'm like WHAT THE FUCK WAS I THINKING? I love my scar. I think it looks really neat. I mean, nobody else in the entire world has a stomach that appears as awesome as mine does. Like, sorry guys. So I'ma stop hiding it under those lose shirts I like to wear and not be afraid of a tiny dress (cause I have been and that's silly). Also to the friend that made me feel rotten about it, well fuck you cause I don't and I don't care how 'unattractive' anyone finds it I will flaunt it till the end of the fucking earth.
Done. I feel better now.

I was gonna write a bunch of other stuff about sex, but I'm honestly too lazy and tired to edit and research it like I should so that'll be a different post. Sorry lovelies. Have a good night! :) 

Post school writers block

So apparently I've been suffering from some post-school writers block or something cause (as is always the intention) I have not been writing at least every other day... only some days, when I'm not being lazy and I have even been writing anything worthwhile, which seems to happen with me a lot. I need to get on writing some worthy articles, stories or poetry goddamn! Tonight was especially bad because I was browsing around the web and found this chick  whose poetry and writing style I really enjoy and I got excited and was yeah! I'm get on that writing thing and write some new poetry! Yeah!

I honestly have been the worst with poetry lately (actually for the last year or so, but there's not much to say there). I think I mentally decided at some point that all my poetry is terrible and I shouldn't bother with it. Which is not actually true. I have written terrible poetry, but I've also written some okay and close-to-good poetry (or at least people seem to sort of like it! which is cool) so I shouldn't sell myself short so much. I'm really tired of selling myself short actually. I do it too much and I've had enough. I'm stop it. I'm own it.  I'm also gonna try actually writing some new poetry cause like half the stuff I've posted recently (on my tumblr blog) has been old stuff that I've just like edited or reworked from other poems that I didn't like. I need something that is actually new. I also think my last English class ought to be a poetry class. I think I chose something else, but registration is still like month(s) away so I can change all that!

Yeah, poetry writing is happening right now.
Be proud of me lovelies. Be proud. I'ma try and finish at least one poem, then sleeeeeeeeeeeep.