what i wrote between the lines of the "girls will be boys will be girls will be..." repetition coloring book cover today:
i forget that i'm supposed to be a boy and i forget that i'm supposed to be a girl andi forget that all of the time i've spent forgetting has been filled/spilling/overflowing by others' remembering, placing their words upon my body/clothes/skin/hair/nails/eyelids/name/shoes/tattoos/down to the drugs i use as if i am a specimen inside a jar on a conveyor belt; one more mass production line; a factory of farce and foolery. they put everything from "tomboy" to "faggot" on the labels they paste onto my existence, but meanwhile the machine hasn't paused to understand how many times i've forgotten. and no, no, i don't forget the violence. i don't forget the force-fed invisibility cloak that trumps every form of drag. i don't forget the pain that cuts through menstrual cramps and the back aches of binding; the pain of brain cells connected to entire organs which feel no connection but their wrongness for each other. i don't forget about my body - i forget that it's supposed to mean something. i forget what it is that it supposedly means. i forget that when i look in the mirror i have myself staring back at me and when they look at me all they see is their socialization staring back at them. i forget that they still remember. i forget that they've probably never forgotten.
okay, i know my journal (the book one) has disintegrated into lists lately, but seriously. as i'm a page from the end of this one, i wrote them all out, and counted. not counting the daily symptom checks i was doing after day treatment, the grand total: 104 lists. the list of lists (best of), in chronological order:
intentions accomplishments of late names i'd like to give myself a list (past tense) a list (future tense) things i'm afraid i'll hear possible action items i need help prioritizing thoughts that have occured to me tonight (but that i haven't yet done) if i looked like i felt things i would be trying to communicate whenever asap things i have learned about and enjoyed self-determination brainstorm top 20 colleges for lgbt students top issues for therapy time-sensitive ideas for drs: +s and -s reasons i write assorted thoughts dinosaur tally six-word memoirs (mine) possible words to use ideas running around my brain ways i can be heard, metaphorical or not infj careers infp careers sylvia plath quotes to do by end of fri possible causes of sensory processing disorder gay phrases in french names may 16th birthdays properties of fire warning labels pronouns i might be okay with if i go by endever helpful ideas for well-being to do for life success text messages notes on celiac secondary signs of dyspraxia labs to pack six-word memories (other people's) directions for use diagnoses by memory
(...the main pattern is that as time goes on, i'm less and less likely to give them titles, and more likely to force my future self to figure out the subject independently.)
Flintlike, her feet struck Such a racket of echoes from the steely street, Tacking in moon-blued crooks from the black Stone-built town, that she heard the quick air ignite Its tinder and shake
A firework of echoes from wall To wall of the dark, dwarfed cottages. But the echoes died at her back as the walls Gave way to fields and the incessant seethe of grasses Riding in the full
Of the moon, manes to the wind, Tireless, tied, as a moon-bound sea Moves on its root. Though a mist-wraith wound Up from the fissured valley and hung shoulder-high Ahead, it fattened
To no family-featured ghost, Nor did any word body with a name The blank mood she walked in. Once past The dream-peopled village, her eyes entertained no dream, And the sandman's dust
Lost luster under her footsoles. The long wind, paring her person down To a pinch of flame, blew its burdened whistle In the whorl of her ear, and like a scooped-out pumpkin crown Her head cupped the babel.
All night gave her, in return For the paltry gift of her bulk and the beat Of her heart, was the humped indifferent iron Of its hills, and its pastures bordered by black stone set On black stone. Barns
Guarded broods and litters Behind shut doors; the dairy herds Knelt in the meadow mute as boulders; Sheep drowsed stoneward in their tussocks of wool, and birds, Twig-sleeping, wore
Granite ruffs, their shadows The guise of leaves. The whole landscape Loomed absolute as the antique world was Once, in its earliest sway of lymph and sap, Unaltered by eyes,
Enough to snuff the quick Of her small heat out, but before the weight Of stones and hills of stones could break Her down to mere quartz grit in that stony light She turned back.
+ scrabble board, old style: the 3rd one i found in the space of 1 week + cool envelopes: 1 black sparkly, 4 vellum, 1 sepia-toned with old timepieces and calligraphy-style pens as decoration, and 4 or 5 deep copper/gold color, also very sparkly + small brown/purply star bead + 2 uniball blue pens + 4 uniball black pens + 2 artist quality blue markers + half-used small bristol pad + 2 blank "day planners" seemingly intended for diabetics: each day has room to fill in time and description of breakfast, lunch dinner, and 3 snacks, hours of sleep, servings of water, fruit, and veggies, stress level low/med/high, time and description of exercise/appts/meds, and blood sugar and insulin, with a few more details if you want to get really into it. picked up with a friend in mind who i've been talking with about self-care recently. + red tape for the old-style label-maker i got a while back + fun paper with a border of all different kinds of people around it + two small blank canvasses (sp?) + still-in-package fairy patch/applique
total = $2.85 USD w/ membership discount = *smiles*
*laughs and laughs* according to the oh-so-scientific quiz known as "how will you die?", there is a 0% chance that i will die from a burn. i'm so glad my phobia is going to pay off in the end.
and now:
You are the Crow. You are able to discover your own character and help others find themselves as well. You are very creative in the field you are in and tend to be the intelligent one of the bunch.
Cultural Creatives are probably the newest group to enter this realm. You are a modern thinker who tends to shy away from organized religion but still feels as if there is something greater than ourselves. You are very spiritual, even if you are not religious. Life has a meaning outside of the rational.
* Grab the nearest book. * Open the book to page 56. * Find the fifth sentence. * Post the text of the sentence in your journal along with these instructions. * Don't dig for your favorite book, the cool book, or the intellectual one: pick the CLOSEST.
..."Some of my students have been wounded as children." --thich nhat hanh
actually, much better than the quote was discovering two soulcollage cards between the pages of the book. win!
-sliced mango -fresh rhubarb with sugared grapefruit-lychee yogurt -spring salad with violets, dried currants, roasted sunflower seeds, and lemon-garlic vinegarette -quorn brand "chicken" and dandelion greens sauteed in elderberry wine -orange-cinnamon honey cakes -water and orange juice
this was a brilliant endeavor. of course, it involved too much money and too many dishes to be regularly feasible. however, for tonight, i am proud of myself for feeding my body with intention and care.