So my packer/strap-on. I told you I'd tell you about it, so here we go.
Packing it isn't all that fun. I mean, it's a pretty visible package, especially in my nicer pants. Jeans it's better. Also it's just not that comfortable, maybe because I'm not dysphoric about my bottom half. Usually. More on that later.
As for playing, I have no basis of comparison, nor does Emily. But I will review via anecdote and we'll see what we think.
In psych today, we each were given five sticky notes. we had to write a different thing on each one- sex, name, religion, ethnicity, what we're passionate about.
Then we were asked to take away part of our identity- "kill it," our teacher said, "remove it from who you are."
Nothing felt as satisfying as pulling "female" off of my desk and crumpling it up.
1. when i sing a song badly, we shelve that song indefinitely. when you play guitar badly, the rest of the band keeps doing our thing and doesn't say anything.
2. if you are going to miss our anniversary, call me before making that decision. even if you change your mind and DO make it to the anniversary, I'll still be upset.
3. I will put together an entire literary magazine and tell you to make the table of contents. I will expect you to pull that tiny bit of weight. this is why we are CO-head-editors.
I let Shannon borrow my binder today. She was over to study for AP Bio (the test is tomorrow I'm almost done almost done almost done), and when we got bored of that, she tried it on and just seeing the smile on her face as we talked and smoked cigarettes on the roof, seeing her glance down at herself and beam, seeing her comfort in motion, it made me so happy. I love seeing people become themselves.
...heh. it's funny because I got a pack and play packer and harness. see see i got a package. in the mail. xDDD
yeah that's really all. back to homework.
Quick entry- I'm leaving to babysit in about 15 minutes. I just got a call from the kid who I'm taking care of tonight (he's 8). The conversation:
Kid: Hey, it's Kid.
Me: Hi kid, what's up?
Me: so are you calling to say anything specific, or are we just saying hi?
Kid: I just wanted to make sure you were bringing your Yu-Gi-Oh! cards.
Me: of course I am!
Kid: good. well i'll see you in like... 32 minutes.
ohmygodcuuuuuute. I want one.
So life today. There are children in my house because my mother, the second grade teacher, is taking care of two little girls while their parents go out of town. They are cute. But a tad bit annoying. But cute.
I am reading the Sandman comics and studying biology. I am going to review the urinary system after I write this, mostly because I want to be able to explain it flawlessly to my girlfriend when we talk later tonight.
It's my last day of spring break, which could only mean one thing... TWO WEEKS OF HOMEWORK IN ONE DAY GOOOO.
And by gooo I mean "sit on oasis and contemplate people's sillinesses." Like seriously, folks. Let's play a game. The game is called "If somebody says something you don't agree with, walk away." We humans are so obsessed with getting our two cents in. Let's play a game called "your two cents don't really matter that much."
I sometimes forget how much I'd rather just listen to people discuss something than butt in.
PROM IS SO EXPENSIVE.
Like seriously: tickets are $70 (and I have to buy one for my girlfriend, too.)
Then I'm going to my friend Bonnie's prom, and that ticket is $45
and since the two proms are two weeks apart, I got charged double for the tux rental: $247
AND my girlfriend is coming into town (andit'sonlytwoweeksfromnowandi'msoexcited!!!!!) but we had this whole prom plan involving me buying a pack and play cock and a harness (and plus condoms and lube) so that we could have strap-on sex for the weekend that she's in town: $83.95 including shipping.
Sometimes I legitimately wonder if my purpose in life is to take genderqueer people shopping.
((sexual content to follow))
She wants me so much more forcefully than I trust myself to be. She wants me on top of her, taking her, fucking her. And a big part of me wants to do those things, but I am held back by years of hearing stories from my straight friends about the way their bad boyfriends treated them, by oversimplified explanations of what it means to "respect a woman."
Yes hello I'm here still, alive at functional maturity and quite regretful for my long absence from the internet. I was super-busy last week- work was shoving hot pokers up my ass (metaphorically, more on that later), school got busy out of nowhere, it was Passover so my family all came into town, and then I had to go to Minnesota. I mean, I got to go to Minnesota. I'm in Minnesota now, quietly observing as my girlfriend works the espresso machine at the student-run coffee shop where she works.
Today I licked a lot of elbows.
Because they don't have nerve endings in 'em, see. So when you sneak up on somebody and lick their elbow they don't notice, unless of course you erupt in a fit of giggling, which they do notice.
Work today was interesting. It began with me out front, helping Hot Dyke Coworker fetch dogs. She was grumpy, clicking around on her facebook. There was a video of one of her trans friends getting his first shot of T. We started talking about trans stuff, and she was... surprisingly hostile, for a lesbian. We talked about it more, and what she ended up saying was that she understands, on an objective level, but she doesn't really GET it. We talked about socially constructed gender and whether trans would exist without the societal expectations. I'm really not sure, myself.
I was so tired today my teeth felt numb. Still am. I'm going to bed at nine thirty tonight. *yawn* stupid skypesex keeping me up at all hours of the night.
My life is going to be so busy for the next week... and then and then and then i'll be in Minnesota with Emily and then it's spring break and I'll get a pause from all this madness and stress.
I have work tomorrow. I'm nervous to go back since my boss was so mad at me on Saturday...