the strangest things are difficult
Nov. 11th, 2004 06:27 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
rmSo that post I wrote yesterday was really hard to write. Very uncomfortable both because of issues in the relationship described, moments of childhood shame, and generally trying to get some complex ideas across without them coming across the wrong way. So thanks to everyone who was gracious about it, both in the things said and not. There are a billion tangeants off of it, including issues of precision and surety.
I am glad I wrote it though, it was freeing, and it makes me feel like there are a lot of other compliated stories I can start telling now, mostly only tangentally related to this one. I may make it friends-only again at some point, because it is the type of thing my ex- would go ballistic over, and in the end, he was a device in it, not its subject and it's not a discussion I feel like having, as you can probably understand.
As per usual with parades, people massed on the block of my office today, so there were lots of vets and a high school marching band and flags on my block all morning. And it made me smile, although it was also emotionally overwhelming. I'm really engaged in so many things about the war in Iraq, and I'm not entirely sure why (although I could list about twenty reasons off the top of my head). It's very strange, having a reaction other than "war is bad, my mommy told me it hurts growing things" which I wouldn't say was my prior attitude in its entirety but certainly speaks to the level of detail it got from me, even if I've probably never been so annoying naive.
*shrug* It is what it is, but I will tell you this -- there are three categories of people I've ever felt weird to meet the eye of on the street -- firefighters since 9/11, soldiers, and gay couples expressing affection in public. It's like, I'm happy to see them, I admire them, the nature of my personality makes me want to hang around until I know all sorts of trivial details about them, but I'm so terrified I'll be mistaken for staring, and mistaken for staring unkindly.
My, we're learning a lot about me lately. I'm normally so comfortable with the ways in which I expose myself. So not comfortable right now. But really, comfort is not a luxury I believe in right now, artistically, politically or personally.
Anyway, I'm sending Christmas lights, chewing gum, granola bars and random holiday goodies to a group of Marines on their second tour in Iraq. Which means I have to go to the post office Saturday morning, which means I can also mail out those fabric scraps I promised to people then... emails forthcoming.
I am glad I wrote it though, it was freeing, and it makes me feel like there are a lot of other compliated stories I can start telling now, mostly only tangentally related to this one. I may make it friends-only again at some point, because it is the type of thing my ex- would go ballistic over, and in the end, he was a device in it, not its subject and it's not a discussion I feel like having, as you can probably understand.
As per usual with parades, people massed on the block of my office today, so there were lots of vets and a high school marching band and flags on my block all morning. And it made me smile, although it was also emotionally overwhelming. I'm really engaged in so many things about the war in Iraq, and I'm not entirely sure why (although I could list about twenty reasons off the top of my head). It's very strange, having a reaction other than "war is bad, my mommy told me it hurts growing things" which I wouldn't say was my prior attitude in its entirety but certainly speaks to the level of detail it got from me, even if I've probably never been so annoying naive.
*shrug* It is what it is, but I will tell you this -- there are three categories of people I've ever felt weird to meet the eye of on the street -- firefighters since 9/11, soldiers, and gay couples expressing affection in public. It's like, I'm happy to see them, I admire them, the nature of my personality makes me want to hang around until I know all sorts of trivial details about them, but I'm so terrified I'll be mistaken for staring, and mistaken for staring unkindly.
My, we're learning a lot about me lately. I'm normally so comfortable with the ways in which I expose myself. So not comfortable right now. But really, comfort is not a luxury I believe in right now, artistically, politically or personally.
Anyway, I'm sending Christmas lights, chewing gum, granola bars and random holiday goodies to a group of Marines on their second tour in Iraq. Which means I have to go to the post office Saturday morning, which means I can also mail out those fabric scraps I promised to people then... emails forthcoming.
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no subject
Date: 2004-11-11 04:00 pm (UTC)If it's a girl in uniform, it's usually taken as a feminist's "you go girl", or possibly a polite flirt.
Gay guys think you're maybe a fag hag or the sort of girl who thinks two guys together is hot, but still, at least you're not scowling or throwing Bibles. Or they'll take it as a "you go, fellow queers". Dyke couples usually take it as "you go girls" and maybe a flirt.
But smiling at a stranger usually makes them happy.
And thank you for sending stuff to the troops.