Butterfly Cauldron
Thursday, February 28, 2008
My mother is trying to find me a boyfriend
*sigh* I talked to her tonight, to tell her the good news about my upcoming raise (7 percent!), and she said she thought she'd found me a boyfriend. I was all -- but I don't want a boyfriend. *sigh* She means well, but....I've got an Emmy. Don't need a boyfriend. Of course, she doesn't know I've got an Emmy. She wouldn't like that I've got an Emmy. *sigh*
I love my mother and I know she means well. She doesn't want me to be lonely. But, how is she going to deal with an Emmy instead of an Emmett? I don't know. And she's not so pleased about me wanting to move to Atlanta either. But then, I pointed out that I could be moving to another country, and suddenly Atlanta seemed pretty good.
In other news, this post by Thoughtracer has me thinking. Actually, most of her posts get me thinking. She may be my long lost twin. But anyway. . .I share her feeling of not quite fitting in the queer community. In fact, I pretty much have no association with the queer community at the moment, but when I did, I still felt...not quite right.
Despite the fact that I joke that I'm the stereotypical bisexual woman -- fat, non-shaven, burks and a buncha cats -- no one looks at me and thinks "Ayep, she's queer." I'm just a girl, not particularly butch nor femme. Sometimes I wear makeup, usually I don't. Sometimes I wear dresses, mostly I don't. Sometimes I'm more 'queer' than other times, but there's no rainbow stickers on my car, ya know? So, I'd like to be part of the community, but I don't know how.
Thoughtracer says: Not being able to be identified as a member of the group, being “stealth,” being, basically, invisible, really demarcates you from that group, in a certain way. Aside from allowing the “stealth” to claim the privilege that the oppressing, opposing, or other group claims, it also allows the group to which you really belong, the group you’d like to identify with, separate you from its ranks. Can you really be a part of a group without appearing or taking the image of one of its members?
I don't know the answer to that question. I'd like to belong. Goddess knows, my politics and sympathies are firmly in the queer camp. I've been out as bi to my friends for a few years. I haven't ever had a serious girlfriend before, but there have been flirtations and whatnot. And well, the biphobia in certain queer corners is legendary, so it's pretty easy for me to be excluded. And honestly, I feel too uncertain in many situations to be comfortable. So, what am I supposed to do?
I know, of course, that I'm under no obligation to be part of any community. Because sexuality isn't a club you join. And whether or not I get involved has no bearing at all on my orientation. But....my family is not going to react well when everything is out in the open. Having somewhere I can go, people who understand. Well. That'd be nice.
I love my mother and I know she means well. She doesn't want me to be lonely. But, how is she going to deal with an Emmy instead of an Emmett? I don't know. And she's not so pleased about me wanting to move to Atlanta either. But then, I pointed out that I could be moving to another country, and suddenly Atlanta seemed pretty good.
In other news, this post by Thoughtracer has me thinking. Actually, most of her posts get me thinking. She may be my long lost twin. But anyway. . .I share her feeling of not quite fitting in the queer community. In fact, I pretty much have no association with the queer community at the moment, but when I did, I still felt...not quite right.
Despite the fact that I joke that I'm the stereotypical bisexual woman -- fat, non-shaven, burks and a buncha cats -- no one looks at me and thinks "Ayep, she's queer." I'm just a girl, not particularly butch nor femme. Sometimes I wear makeup, usually I don't. Sometimes I wear dresses, mostly I don't. Sometimes I'm more 'queer' than other times, but there's no rainbow stickers on my car, ya know? So, I'd like to be part of the community, but I don't know how.
Thoughtracer says: Not being able to be identified as a member of the group, being “stealth,” being, basically, invisible, really demarcates you from that group, in a certain way. Aside from allowing the “stealth” to claim the privilege that the oppressing, opposing, or other group claims, it also allows the group to which you really belong, the group you’d like to identify with, separate you from its ranks. Can you really be a part of a group without appearing or taking the image of one of its members?
I don't know the answer to that question. I'd like to belong. Goddess knows, my politics and sympathies are firmly in the queer camp. I've been out as bi to my friends for a few years. I haven't ever had a serious girlfriend before, but there have been flirtations and whatnot. And well, the biphobia in certain queer corners is legendary, so it's pretty easy for me to be excluded. And honestly, I feel too uncertain in many situations to be comfortable. So, what am I supposed to do?
I know, of course, that I'm under no obligation to be part of any community. Because sexuality isn't a club you join. And whether or not I get involved has no bearing at all on my orientation. But....my family is not going to react well when everything is out in the open. Having somewhere I can go, people who understand. Well. That'd be nice.
Labels: bisexuality, mothers, parents
Tuesday, February 19, 2008
Body ramblings...
I have a love/hate relationship with my body. And this week, I'm coming down solidly on the side of hate.
I'm starting my third week of physical therapy tomorrow. I'll be back in the pool, exercising away, relearning how to walk and balance myself. And I enjoy it, honestly. But I'm so exhausted and in such pain, I'm wondering if this is working or not. I know, at least I believe, that it is working. I know it's got to get rough for a bit. But I didn't count on it being this rough. Last night, I was so exhausted, I came home and stretched out on the couch to watch tv. I thought I'd do that for half an hour or so, then get up, do a little cleaning, fix dinner, take a shower, whatever. Ha. I didn't move off that couch for hours and I lost track of time, didn't even realize how long I'd been there, watching tv and petting the cats.
I'm so stiff that my joints are popping and I'm groaning when I move. I'm so tired I'm in danger of falling asleep at work. My co-workers are worried about me. *sigh* And I'm not really sleeping at night.
So, this weekend I go home to visit my family and find out my dad had diabetes. It's really mild at this point and the doctors are pretty sure that he can control it with diet and exercise. He also just had to have some more splints put in his heart -- two of the arteries were 90 percent blocked, again. So the doctor has told him he has to exercise for half an hour every day and lose -- get this -- 100 pounds. I have no idea how he's going to lose 100 pounds. It's not like he's sedintary as it is. He hardly ever slows down. He's gogogogogogogo. He's always in pain too, which is undoubtably part of the reason he's gaining weight. He doesn't sleep much either. And well, it's comfort-eating, self-medicating. But Dad has never been very small, at least not as far as I can remember. He's on lots of medication for his blood pressure and cholesteral and now he's got the diabetes. Frankly, I think if they could control his pain, a lot of his problems would clear up. (Okay, not the heart blockages, but the blood pressure and even blood sugar are elevated by pain.)
And my mother...*sigh* She says to me that my excess weight will make me a diabetic by the time I'm 50. And she says this like it's a given. And then she goes on with about 'our family history'. Well, I couldn't let that go -- since we have exactly TWO diabetics in the family, and that's counting my newly diagnosed dad. So, I asked her "What do you mean? The only diabetics we have is Dad and Grandma." Which shut her up, because really? We do NOT have a history of diabetes in the family. She's just so bought into the propoganda about obesity that she's just accepting it as gospel.
She's obsessed with weight loss. She's got high blood pressure that medication can barely control and she's always, always trying to lose weight. And the thing is, she's maybe a size 18. So, yes, she's not small, but she's hardly huge. And frankly, she's a total Type A personality -- she doesn't know HOW to not worry or stress out about things. She's always reacting strongly to things. That doesn't help her blood pressure. I don't know if she reallly knows how to relax.
And I'm feeling a bit out of sorts about my body lately. When I put on my bathing suit, I don't know. I don't like my huge belly. I mean, I'm okay with having a belly. I'm okay with being a big girl. I just...I don't know. I'm looking at myself lately and going....really?
And I don't know why. I mean...it's not like my body's gotten any bigger lately. I think I just want things to be a bit firmer. I think I just want to be stronger. (Today, I'm all trembly and shaky. It's very annoying.) I think I just want to be certain of going into a store and being able to find anything I want in my size. *sigh* I think I'm having a very very very bad body image weak.
I'm starting my third week of physical therapy tomorrow. I'll be back in the pool, exercising away, relearning how to walk and balance myself. And I enjoy it, honestly. But I'm so exhausted and in such pain, I'm wondering if this is working or not. I know, at least I believe, that it is working. I know it's got to get rough for a bit. But I didn't count on it being this rough. Last night, I was so exhausted, I came home and stretched out on the couch to watch tv. I thought I'd do that for half an hour or so, then get up, do a little cleaning, fix dinner, take a shower, whatever. Ha. I didn't move off that couch for hours and I lost track of time, didn't even realize how long I'd been there, watching tv and petting the cats.
I'm so stiff that my joints are popping and I'm groaning when I move. I'm so tired I'm in danger of falling asleep at work. My co-workers are worried about me. *sigh* And I'm not really sleeping at night.
So, this weekend I go home to visit my family and find out my dad had diabetes. It's really mild at this point and the doctors are pretty sure that he can control it with diet and exercise. He also just had to have some more splints put in his heart -- two of the arteries were 90 percent blocked, again. So the doctor has told him he has to exercise for half an hour every day and lose -- get this -- 100 pounds. I have no idea how he's going to lose 100 pounds. It's not like he's sedintary as it is. He hardly ever slows down. He's gogogogogogogo. He's always in pain too, which is undoubtably part of the reason he's gaining weight. He doesn't sleep much either. And well, it's comfort-eating, self-medicating. But Dad has never been very small, at least not as far as I can remember. He's on lots of medication for his blood pressure and cholesteral and now he's got the diabetes. Frankly, I think if they could control his pain, a lot of his problems would clear up. (Okay, not the heart blockages, but the blood pressure and even blood sugar are elevated by pain.)
And my mother...*sigh* She says to me that my excess weight will make me a diabetic by the time I'm 50. And she says this like it's a given. And then she goes on with about 'our family history'. Well, I couldn't let that go -- since we have exactly TWO diabetics in the family, and that's counting my newly diagnosed dad. So, I asked her "What do you mean? The only diabetics we have is Dad and Grandma." Which shut her up, because really? We do NOT have a history of diabetes in the family. She's just so bought into the propoganda about obesity that she's just accepting it as gospel.
She's obsessed with weight loss. She's got high blood pressure that medication can barely control and she's always, always trying to lose weight. And the thing is, she's maybe a size 18. So, yes, she's not small, but she's hardly huge. And frankly, she's a total Type A personality -- she doesn't know HOW to not worry or stress out about things. She's always reacting strongly to things. That doesn't help her blood pressure. I don't know if she reallly knows how to relax.
And I'm feeling a bit out of sorts about my body lately. When I put on my bathing suit, I don't know. I don't like my huge belly. I mean, I'm okay with having a belly. I'm okay with being a big girl. I just...I don't know. I'm looking at myself lately and going....really?
And I don't know why. I mean...it's not like my body's gotten any bigger lately. I think I just want things to be a bit firmer. I think I just want to be stronger. (Today, I'm all trembly and shaky. It's very annoying.) I think I just want to be certain of going into a store and being able to find anything I want in my size. *sigh* I think I'm having a very very very bad body image weak.
Sunday, February 03, 2008
Your weekly dose of Torchwood
Enjoy, if you will, a collection of clips featuring (mostly) our favorite office boy, Ianto Jones. The phone bit is particularly amusing. Plus, you gotta love a man whose not afraid to wear pink.
