Personal

Thoughts

The closer I get to my feelings, the harder I shut down. When I read a trans article, I often feel like I should put it aside because it cuts too close and I don't want to confront it. That must be why I shut down so hard so fast after seeing that series of trans films (Boys in the Backyard) at the "Lesbian and Gay" Film Festival this year. And then fighting with Star - more intense feelings - WHAM! AND it was the Solstice... and when I approach my spirutality and want to go deep, feel the Goddess, feel a part of myself, I get to a point where I make excuses and run away from the ritual. Which must be tied in with why I am cut off, and so upset at being cut off, from my deeper spirituality - why I can't conduct special rituals for myself. and what did it take to realize this? I drew energy up through my chakras, pretty easily, sitting against a tree by Lake Merrit, and then I could tell how separated from my feelings I was... and I tried to use the energy to feel myself, and totally lost the connection.

You know, as long as I cna't feel my feelings OR my body, I don't have to deal with anything.... aha.

From Timelady@aol.com Tue Aug 25 22:57:58 1998
Date: Fri, 21 Aug 1998 17:25:49 EDT
From: Timelady@aol.com
To: danica@mills.edu
Cc: Timelady@aol.com
Subject: i'm drowning

i feel like the little plants outside our apartment building's front door. they're little baby bushes, and they have starbursts of long light-green chubby oval leaves, and they're cheery and strong but they only have a tiny pot of dirt to grow in and it's not enough at all. they need a whole earth to plunge their roots into. i know none of us gets a whole earth of dirt, but some groups are cordoned off more than others and it's really fucked up. it's the tightness in my chest that does it. this fist of convulsing muscles that pulls against my heart and lungs like a taut net. mixed metaphors there. well, it's a wide fist. it's because we don't have a place to live and this isn't our home and i have to pack and i can't find us a place and star doesn't have time or energy to find us a place. and it would be okay if she'd just do a little tiny bit more, even just to go to the house showing with me or to fill out the application for me. i slip a LOT too. i don't call this woman back in time, i forget to return that phone call, but i feel like the proportions are different. the mean part of me says "what has star done in the past week to find us a home? she's come to a few showings with me and that's all, while I've looked on craig's list and sent her stuff to read and called everyone in homefinders and pursued people who need to house us from way back when and bussed out to lapham and searched all over the net and looked for even more options at the 11th hour. and she can't even call three numbers in the express instead of leaving on the floor for days." i told you it was a mean voice. it's desperate and lonely and therefore it gets mean. my wrist hurts. so much typing. i transcribed the 12th chapter of jan morris' _conundrum_ the other day, for sphere. cause she talks about living between genders. and the tension doesn't help. i hate the nights when i can't sleep till i can get my left wrist into a place where it doesn't hurt. that's not even the wrist that crackles and pops! i think it's because i don't take my glucosamine tablets often enough and then i take like 9 or 12 at once and my wrists are like "what the fuck!!!"
vanna told me i could call her at any hour. i love vanna. she's one of those people who's just nice and loving and generous right out to the end of her neurons. i know so many people like that. i'm really lucky. i try to be like that too but i know i hit the wall instead of the mark sometimes. but then everyone does.
i wish i had someone else in the deep end of the drama pool to call sometimes. mary or g.i. jen maybe. i know i could call mary at any hour IF I HAD TO, but i'm definitely saving that for the night when it's the *only* thing between me and suicide. you know it'll come eventually. i don't want the conversation that night to go "not again! i told you to call me before ten! goddamnit! i'm trying to sleep here! i have to get up at 5!" :)
you know, i'm torn between enjoying how neat everything gets when jovida or kate goes on claustrophobic cleaning fits, and the REST of the feelings. like "where the FUCK is my folder full of credit reports and my diary?" and "oh, the guilt... i was in the middle of cleaning up, i swear" and "i feel like i'm being judged rightfully for being a pig" and "now how am i going to sort all those papers out?"
crack, i tell you.
now i feel less like i'm drowning. i hate the uncertainty of whether thinking about This Stuff will make me feel like i'm drowning or whether it will put it all back into a perspectiveful place. like when i'm on bart and i start writing a trans story or essay and i choke. or when
goddamnit! where is that bus schedule with my diary entry about trans stuff choking me??
there's this tiny, bitchy, inappropriate thought running through my head saying "if i'm going to have to leave the house alone in the middle of cleaning and packing because your girlfriend won't come with me to fill out applications to move with, at least don't touch anything until i come back!" not that i don't understand the claustrophobia feeling, because i DO. that's why i was packing. i want my own space, i want to be able to justifiably be like "don't TOUCH that!!" actually, i'd settle for just being able to SAY something out LOUD, with /no/ effect and /no/ repercussions. like, um, okay, now I can't think of anything. I get like that with Star sometimes. like when i told her to shut up tonight because we were looking at on our backs and i said tirza's hot for the eightieth time and she said tirza was yucky for the eightieth time. and i was like, do i WANT to hear you say no-longer-true things about how tirza's a classist little rich girl or whatever grand mental image you have based on a whole sentence out of her mouth again? i think NOT. because it doesn't matter how much evidence you give her, star will not let go of an image like that. i love her like a brother, but sometimes i just want to say SHUT UP. and sometimes I just want to say FUCK YOU! and sometimes I forget that people hear the words and not the feelings behind them. so they hear "fuck you" and think that i'm being really rude and offensive instead of hearing the feelings behind it and thinking that i'm being sort of apathetic and mostly teasing.
anyway. sometimes i just want to say "i don't CARE if my fruit was rotting! i was going to take care of it! stop acting like i'm the pig to end all pigs! it's not like you're perfect either! you can't even take the trash out on time! you make me feel like i'm a useless slovenly freak and you didn't do your chores last week! fuck off! fuck the hell off!" but reading that over, it sounded a lot angrier than it did in my head. it should sound more stressed out and frustrated than angry.
what scares me is when i look for something like a really personal diary entry on the back of a bus schedule, or a notebook i left out that had infant poetry in it, or whatever, and realize that it's been moved to clear the space up. and usually i know that nobody would read any of it, cause we respect each others' privacy around here, but like today there was an awful lot of my papers and things out, and some of them were even around the phone area and i can totally see someone picking something up and having to read it to see where to put it or whose it is. i know, if it's that important it's assumed generally that it would be under lock and key, not on the living-room floor, but i'm really, really unprivate. ever since i came to mills, i've almost lost the ability to hide anything about myself. plus i get interrupted in the middle of writing things a lot, and i'm usually in shared space when i'm doing it. well, that's the risk you take.
write, write, write, and what, maybe two or three paragraphs about stuff that was really hurting me? i dunno, the first two paragraphs were, and then some of the stuff about star not helping enough. it's one of the things that would be okay if we could have a conversation like "star, i feel like i'm doing all the work and you're hardly helping at all." "i'm sorry, what can i do to help?" but who ever really has those conversations with star? that was way out of line; one of the things i love about star is that she's one of those miraculous people who will actually correct herself if you come to her and say "please stop doing this it's really bothering me." i don't know. i can't have that conversation with star, there's always other people around or she's running off somewhere or in a stressed out mood. it's really hard to interact with either star or jovida when they're together, too, because i have such a different dynamic with either of them. with star, i'm like an antagonistic little brother, and with jovida, i don't know, like a friend who really respects her, i hope. harder to analyze that one. but it's totally difficult to behave in BOTH those ways at once. and flipping back and forth between them is much harder now that they're together too because now they're each watching me interact with the other. so there's that element of trying to edit what i say so that it's okay with everyone, and the element of interacting with starandjovida, the unit, which is totally confusing. and i say, "fuck it all, where's my damn cat! i can interact with my damn kittycat!"
JESSseeeee, heeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeere kittykittykitty! HEEEEEEEEEEERE,
jessSIIIE!
kate's never around, i can't comment on her :) i love katie, she's totally fun to interact with and hang out with. she's a good, solid, butch, loving person, and that's nice.
i guess i should go to bed. otherwise, santa claus will never come. um, yeah.
-d