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dumblemopWell, the decision about 24-hour Plays is out of my hands...or not?
Holy fuck. I was about to say that I wouldn't be able to do 24-hour Plays because I had a math exam from 6-8 on the 20th, when 24s goes from the 19th at 8 to the 20th at 10...but I just checked the final exam schedule again and my math final is from 6-8 on the 19th. So I could do it.
Also. Something Johanna commented made me think: would I be so worked up about it if I were doing it because Ulrich or Tiff or Sara had brought my attention to it or were also doing it? Of course not. So why am I worked up about it because Liz brought my attention to it and is really excited about it? Because I'm in a relationship, and I have this terrible fear of invading her space, being too clingy, of only being in the way when she needs to get things done, when she needs to shine. I don't want to create eddies where there should be smooth sailing. If Liz had not been graduating and had decided to be on the Freedom board again, I wouldn't have run; shouldn't I also give her that space in her chosen field?
Well. Vanessa needs actors and techies. I have no tech experience and I just decided I'm not an actor. I'm going to email her anyway and say "Hey, I want to do this."
Just realized I should probably cut this here 'cause it's hella longer than I realized.
It's funny how we hold parts of ourselves tightly and don't even realize we're doing it. Kaitlyn showed us a chart of her "type." Liz, obviously, fits most of it. I, obviously, don't. I knew that. Why did it feel so wrong when she pointed pretty far to the right of androgynous on her femme/butch slider? --Am I really that butch? I asked. --Can I even be butch if I'm not much of a lesbian? I thought.
I'm a terrible lesbian. Part of it has to do with not really feeling my "womanhood." I think easily three-quarters of being a lesbian has nothing to do with who you sleep with but who you are. My mother used to talk sometimes about what a nice young woman I was growing up to be and it grated on something. I love two lesbians--why is this so hard for me? I asked Liz whether, "being as you are a lesbian, you have a problem with the whole...genderfucked...thing?" that second night, the first night we really talked about it. She said no. Is it me that has the problem?
I watched Go Fish with Liz this morning instead of doing my math homework (but the test wasn't so bad), and 90% of that movie went over my head. Part of that is because I did nothing with being a lesbian. Freshman year: I started to consciously notice how attractive girls really were, I crushed hard on Garance, I read a lot of stuff online and from the library, tried to track down The Well of Loneliness, decided I was a lesbian. Sophomore year: I finally joined a GSA, I met Kristi, I went out with Kristi, I really really liked Kristi, I lost Kristi, I harshly and stupidly deserted Kristi, I crushed hard on Lindsay, and then I fell into the black hole that was the rest of high school. I had so little experience with being a lesbian that I remember Kristi mentioning that she hadn't known at the beginning whether I was really into girls or whether I was just a confused straight girl.
Well. At least we know I'm not just a confused straight girl. But what am I? In the morning I'll wake up and I'll be fine and I'll be back to gender-who-gives-a-fuck. Right now, I have no idea what to make of that evaluation as butch. Kaitlyn changed her mind--did she change her mind because I expressed weirdness or because that is her honest opinion? Her first evaluation was easily more than half butch.
The obvious next question: Is this a matter of identity or of definition? I've already said I'm a terrible lesbian. What is Kaitlyn's definition or impression of "butch"? What is my definition or impression of "butch"? I have weak gaydar, but according to Kaitlyn I can be read super easily--but is that because she thinks I'm butch? Am I really that butch? (Reader poll, anyone?)
Regardless of whether I am butch or not on the grand lesbian scale of things, does it matter? I'll use the same reasoning I used up there: why do I give a fuck? Why do I care what someone else thinks I am, even someone that I care about as much as Kaitlyn? Isn't my ID my ID? Isn't that the point? Why should I care whether sorority chicks and their dates who are never going to see me again think I'm a boy or a girl? I guess I show up on gaydar because dressed like I do, I'm either a boy (and probably gay), or a girl (and almost definitely a dyke). If I'm in a relationship with two out and avowed lesbians, guess which I'm going to get more often?
So why did I take this androgynous/butch thing so hard? Because it was vocalized. I don't get to know what evaluations strangers are making in their heads, so I usually end up not caring on good days. When I asked I already knew that I wasn't going to be on the line. My hair is light, not dark; I'm skinny, not curvy. I didn't know about my gaydar reading or my creativity, but I figured I at least had the androgyny down.
When did "*shrug* whatever you want to call me is honestly fine" turn into "*twinge* am I really that butch?"? I don't know. I do know that I need to chill the fuck out. If I say it doesn't matter, it shouldn't matter. I can't control other people's perceptions of me. All I can do is be me, be brave enough to be me even when I don't know what other people will think of it, be honest to myself and to other people. If that means my genderqueerosity needs a rattle every now and then so I don't become set in my ways, so be it.
And damn it. I came up with a beautiful phrase in Liz's room last night and I wanted to remember it and I've just remembered that I forgot.
I think knowing I'm loved makes it harder, not easier, to go home alone in some ways. I wouldn't have enjoyed myself anyway. That is Liz's space and Kaitlyn fits into it and I don't for several reasons. I need sleep so I can deal with CMD tomorrow. They'll get home, they'll have been drinking, and they'll crash, and three people were not meant to sleep in that bed--I'd have had to go back to my room anyway, and better I go when Liz is just stressed from the show and the heat and Kaitlyn is exhausted with cramps than when they're both tipsy on top of that. These are all logical reasons why I should be happy to be here right now...but all I can think is that the vending machine is out of apple juice again.
It's not the first time I've been sent home for Kaitlyn/Liz time, but the other time I went to the boys' room to watch people play drunk Jenga, didn't I. Now I'm just sitting here with my bottle of fruit punch writing in my livejournal about how I know I shouldn't feel left out but somehow do.
I ask myself why I was about to walk down that hill without a hug, and I can't answer. I don't hesitate to ask for hugs from Ulrich, Tiff, Sara. I hugged Spaz and Collin goodbye last night and I'd only met them a few hours before. Why do I start to walk away from two people I love without so much as a goodbye, let alone a hug or a kiss? These two amazing women that I do love, if awkwardly and with confusion, I almost leave without a word, because I don't feel that I have a right to be there, I know I don't have a right to be there, but I want it so much that I can't have it. They kissed in the doorway and I looked at the wall, because I didn't know whether I should have left with Ulrich and Collin or tagged along at least as far as the path.
Je veux me perdre dans vous parceque je ne veux pas être seul.
I told you I was crazy. I know I'm being crazy. That and I just haven't had enough sleep this week. Why do I write huge entries when I'm in these weird moods and only post quizzes when I'm doing well?
It's 2:15. The text that was originally in this space was "it's 12:30 and I promised myself I would go to bed now fifteen minutes ago." Then I went back and wrote some more, and I've been talking to Ayush for awhile.. Good conversation. I'm glad I have such good friends, I really am. Can't wait to add cuddling to talking in the fall. :) I'm in better headspace to sleep now anyway, the talking and writing evened me out. I think it's time I wrote another poem, but the phrase that would have seeded it is floating around in Liz's room somewhere. I'll have to move on to the next one if I want to write one.
It was nice seeing the show again. The actors stumbled a little but maybe they're getting tired of doing it over and over again. I really want to know what kind of sign language was going on down there in the corner, because it wasn't ASL. It was all on one hand, all in the fingers close to the face. Maybe syllabic instead of manigraphic? English is hard to do syllabically though.
Half the reason I like watching the show, which I was noticing tonight, is that some of the actors use their voices really well. Like fall-into-their-words well. Gedalya, Erin, Karen (not Short Skirt and Hair this time because I'm actually looking at the program), McKenzie. Listening to those voices on stage is like the smell of suede. Helena's Day of Arrival monologue just drips with it, the white dresses and the wordless mystery play and when she just oozes her words out after the Flint and the Siren are finished. James just has a nice voice. Gedalya, McKenzie, and Hobbs use their bodies.
The play didn't make much sense the second time around but I definitely appreciated the images better. The audience tonight laughed a lot more. I don't understand how Jub-jub's surgery is funny except bitterly, one of those things you acknowledge the horrible irony of but can't produce a giggle for because it is horrible. I don't understand how Helena and the parrots would be funny and not tragic. Gedalya in a dress is not funny. The kilts are funny, as well as tragic; is there something inherently funny about kilts in the African desert? Nothing more inherently funny than the coffee can story-thread--it's Hobbs presentation of the event that makes it funny. The same with the alien; Hobbs and James' dynamic is what makes that funny, there's nothing inherently funny about a man being strangled by an alien and then shot with his own bullets. Is it weird of me to think that people laughed when they should have been paying attention? Or was I the one not getting it.
Anyway. That's enough insomniacking for tonight. Love to all.
Holy fuck. I was about to say that I wouldn't be able to do 24-hour Plays because I had a math exam from 6-8 on the 20th, when 24s goes from the 19th at 8 to the 20th at 10...but I just checked the final exam schedule again and my math final is from 6-8 on the 19th. So I could do it.
Also. Something Johanna commented made me think: would I be so worked up about it if I were doing it because Ulrich or Tiff or Sara had brought my attention to it or were also doing it? Of course not. So why am I worked up about it because Liz brought my attention to it and is really excited about it? Because I'm in a relationship, and I have this terrible fear of invading her space, being too clingy, of only being in the way when she needs to get things done, when she needs to shine. I don't want to create eddies where there should be smooth sailing. If Liz had not been graduating and had decided to be on the Freedom board again, I wouldn't have run; shouldn't I also give her that space in her chosen field?
Well. Vanessa needs actors and techies. I have no tech experience and I just decided I'm not an actor. I'm going to email her anyway and say "Hey, I want to do this."
Just realized I should probably cut this here 'cause it's hella longer than I realized.
It's funny how we hold parts of ourselves tightly and don't even realize we're doing it. Kaitlyn showed us a chart of her "type." Liz, obviously, fits most of it. I, obviously, don't. I knew that. Why did it feel so wrong when she pointed pretty far to the right of androgynous on her femme/butch slider? --Am I really that butch? I asked. --Can I even be butch if I'm not much of a lesbian? I thought.
I'm a terrible lesbian. Part of it has to do with not really feeling my "womanhood." I think easily three-quarters of being a lesbian has nothing to do with who you sleep with but who you are. My mother used to talk sometimes about what a nice young woman I was growing up to be and it grated on something. I love two lesbians--why is this so hard for me? I asked Liz whether, "being as you are a lesbian, you have a problem with the whole...genderfucked...thing?" that second night, the first night we really talked about it. She said no. Is it me that has the problem?
I watched Go Fish with Liz this morning instead of doing my math homework (but the test wasn't so bad), and 90% of that movie went over my head. Part of that is because I did nothing with being a lesbian. Freshman year: I started to consciously notice how attractive girls really were, I crushed hard on Garance, I read a lot of stuff online and from the library, tried to track down The Well of Loneliness, decided I was a lesbian. Sophomore year: I finally joined a GSA, I met Kristi, I went out with Kristi, I really really liked Kristi, I lost Kristi, I harshly and stupidly deserted Kristi, I crushed hard on Lindsay, and then I fell into the black hole that was the rest of high school. I had so little experience with being a lesbian that I remember Kristi mentioning that she hadn't known at the beginning whether I was really into girls or whether I was just a confused straight girl.
Well. At least we know I'm not just a confused straight girl. But what am I? In the morning I'll wake up and I'll be fine and I'll be back to gender-who-gives-a-fuck. Right now, I have no idea what to make of that evaluation as butch. Kaitlyn changed her mind--did she change her mind because I expressed weirdness or because that is her honest opinion? Her first evaluation was easily more than half butch.
The obvious next question: Is this a matter of identity or of definition? I've already said I'm a terrible lesbian. What is Kaitlyn's definition or impression of "butch"? What is my definition or impression of "butch"? I have weak gaydar, but according to Kaitlyn I can be read super easily--but is that because she thinks I'm butch? Am I really that butch? (Reader poll, anyone?)
Regardless of whether I am butch or not on the grand lesbian scale of things, does it matter? I'll use the same reasoning I used up there: why do I give a fuck? Why do I care what someone else thinks I am, even someone that I care about as much as Kaitlyn? Isn't my ID my ID? Isn't that the point? Why should I care whether sorority chicks and their dates who are never going to see me again think I'm a boy or a girl? I guess I show up on gaydar because dressed like I do, I'm either a boy (and probably gay), or a girl (and almost definitely a dyke). If I'm in a relationship with two out and avowed lesbians, guess which I'm going to get more often?
So why did I take this androgynous/butch thing so hard? Because it was vocalized. I don't get to know what evaluations strangers are making in their heads, so I usually end up not caring on good days. When I asked I already knew that I wasn't going to be on the line. My hair is light, not dark; I'm skinny, not curvy. I didn't know about my gaydar reading or my creativity, but I figured I at least had the androgyny down.
When did "*shrug* whatever you want to call me is honestly fine" turn into "*twinge* am I really that butch?"? I don't know. I do know that I need to chill the fuck out. If I say it doesn't matter, it shouldn't matter. I can't control other people's perceptions of me. All I can do is be me, be brave enough to be me even when I don't know what other people will think of it, be honest to myself and to other people. If that means my genderqueerosity needs a rattle every now and then so I don't become set in my ways, so be it.
And damn it. I came up with a beautiful phrase in Liz's room last night and I wanted to remember it and I've just remembered that I forgot.
I think knowing I'm loved makes it harder, not easier, to go home alone in some ways. I wouldn't have enjoyed myself anyway. That is Liz's space and Kaitlyn fits into it and I don't for several reasons. I need sleep so I can deal with CMD tomorrow. They'll get home, they'll have been drinking, and they'll crash, and three people were not meant to sleep in that bed--I'd have had to go back to my room anyway, and better I go when Liz is just stressed from the show and the heat and Kaitlyn is exhausted with cramps than when they're both tipsy on top of that. These are all logical reasons why I should be happy to be here right now...but all I can think is that the vending machine is out of apple juice again.
It's not the first time I've been sent home for Kaitlyn/Liz time, but the other time I went to the boys' room to watch people play drunk Jenga, didn't I. Now I'm just sitting here with my bottle of fruit punch writing in my livejournal about how I know I shouldn't feel left out but somehow do.
I ask myself why I was about to walk down that hill without a hug, and I can't answer. I don't hesitate to ask for hugs from Ulrich, Tiff, Sara. I hugged Spaz and Collin goodbye last night and I'd only met them a few hours before. Why do I start to walk away from two people I love without so much as a goodbye, let alone a hug or a kiss? These two amazing women that I do love, if awkwardly and with confusion, I almost leave without a word, because I don't feel that I have a right to be there, I know I don't have a right to be there, but I want it so much that I can't have it. They kissed in the doorway and I looked at the wall, because I didn't know whether I should have left with Ulrich and Collin or tagged along at least as far as the path.
Je veux me perdre dans vous parceque je ne veux pas être seul.
I told you I was crazy. I know I'm being crazy. That and I just haven't had enough sleep this week. Why do I write huge entries when I'm in these weird moods and only post quizzes when I'm doing well?
It's 2:15. The text that was originally in this space was "it's 12:30 and I promised myself I would go to bed now fifteen minutes ago." Then I went back and wrote some more, and I've been talking to Ayush for awhile.. Good conversation. I'm glad I have such good friends, I really am. Can't wait to add cuddling to talking in the fall. :) I'm in better headspace to sleep now anyway, the talking and writing evened me out. I think it's time I wrote another poem, but the phrase that would have seeded it is floating around in Liz's room somewhere. I'll have to move on to the next one if I want to write one.
It was nice seeing the show again. The actors stumbled a little but maybe they're getting tired of doing it over and over again. I really want to know what kind of sign language was going on down there in the corner, because it wasn't ASL. It was all on one hand, all in the fingers close to the face. Maybe syllabic instead of manigraphic? English is hard to do syllabically though.
Half the reason I like watching the show, which I was noticing tonight, is that some of the actors use their voices really well. Like fall-into-their-words well. Gedalya, Erin, Karen (not Short Skirt and Hair this time because I'm actually looking at the program), McKenzie. Listening to those voices on stage is like the smell of suede. Helena's Day of Arrival monologue just drips with it, the white dresses and the wordless mystery play and when she just oozes her words out after the Flint and the Siren are finished. James just has a nice voice. Gedalya, McKenzie, and Hobbs use their bodies.
The play didn't make much sense the second time around but I definitely appreciated the images better. The audience tonight laughed a lot more. I don't understand how Jub-jub's surgery is funny except bitterly, one of those things you acknowledge the horrible irony of but can't produce a giggle for because it is horrible. I don't understand how Helena and the parrots would be funny and not tragic. Gedalya in a dress is not funny. The kilts are funny, as well as tragic; is there something inherently funny about kilts in the African desert? Nothing more inherently funny than the coffee can story-thread--it's Hobbs presentation of the event that makes it funny. The same with the alien; Hobbs and James' dynamic is what makes that funny, there's nothing inherently funny about a man being strangled by an alien and then shot with his own bullets. Is it weird of me to think that people laughed when they should have been paying attention? Or was I the one not getting it.
Anyway. That's enough insomniacking for tonight. Love to all.
