Regularly (hah) scheduled updates will continue as far as I'm able, but I need help on the staying alive front. If you can contribute, even just $20 goes pretty far to keeping me fed. (even more and I'll love you forever, if I already don't.)
Here's the "SAVE ME" jar...if you can help out I'll really appreciate it.
IT DID A BARREL ROLL.
Long story short, I need surgery.
Also I got to see my TMJ on an X-RAY
It made the dentist say "holy crap"
The tooth has an infected by abscess. Every once in a while I hear a fizzle and a pop in that side of my head, shooting that weird nerve sensation through my face. We're waiting it out, but it's pretty far gone—even my sinuses and one ear are in on it, and I'm spinning where I lay. The fact that we evolutionarily outran wisdom teeth is a sour fact right now considering one of them is kicking my ass.
For the past few days—probably because it's been close to the anniversary of the dumpage—my ex has been on my mind.
Don't worry, I'm OK, nothing drastic is about to happen nor is it in any way shape or form risky. What's been on my mind are the things about me that probably would have gotten me out of the “relationship” even without the circumstances that there were.
For one: the sexual incompatibility
We weren't exactly sexually compatible, and he just assumed we would be based off of things that he heard about me—and let's face it, that's kind of shitty. He'd heard about my writing and assumed off the bat that I would be some kind of hyper-sexed animal when, in reality, I could take it or leave it for...oh, most of the month. And he was a greedy little punk. So greedy that it the relationship started with—well, you know by now.
STOP MEANS STOP. NO MEANS NO.
After it was all said and done and I found out how he used to complain about my lack of desire (in a tone of “oh poor me,” of course) to mutual friends, I REALLY got disgusted with him. Well, more than usual.
I'm probably somewhere around grey-sexual, if I were to put a name to it. I don't COMPLETELY not experience it, but it is so rare that I'll sometimes
Then there's my gender
And his issue with my attempts to explore it. There were many attempts, and there were attempts at talking, but he would shut me down at every attempt about it. And then there was this attempt at policing what I wore by stopping me from buying argyle socks. Seriously. Argyle socks. He bitched at me for wanting argyle socks. Said they would make me look like Ellen. At the same time he would try and manipulate my wardrobe to make me look more to-his-standards-femme—which wasn't me. I just wasn't allowed to figure things out for myself—which should have been my first warning, but I got into that relationship when I was getting out of another one and that one was coming from a deficit of touch…there's something to be said for bad decisions.
After I got out of that thing I had time to figure out what was going on with myself, especially since there was no one telling me what was isn't or is 'proper' for me to do and be.
He would have had suuuuuuch a problem with me being queer. He pretended to be so progressive but it was obvious there was a problem. I wasn't allowed to explore in any way.
I'm free now, though. Free to be queer me.
That's the other thing, the freedom
I never thought I'd enjoy it as much as I do. I find that I don't care about what people think of me (well, as long as they don't misgender me) as much as I used to. Now that I have the chance and space to be who and what I am, it's a lot easier to just be than it used to be. It's just so much easier, not having to worry whether I'm “enough” to one person.
I just have to be me. Me enough for me. And that's freeing.
- Current Mood:rambly
Last notice? When the miso-glazed fuck were the first ones? I thought, taking the notice out of my door and calling my boss about the unexpected day I'd need off. The date came and went, with a lot of hangups on organization—theirs, not mine. It took an hour of work to do what should have taken maybe twenty minutes.
The verdict: starting in March, I will have a lower rent than I paid all of last year.
But this month I still pay that teeth-itchingly high $200 for this tiny thing, meaning I still have to stretch and scrape and and unashamedly shake the bucket</a> to get by in this economy.
THANKS, TRUMP. I HATE YOU.
Yes that was out of nowhere but it had to be said. It'll probably be said a lot. I'm doing a lot of self-care between my activism to make sure I don't go starkers in this new world of lies, propaganda, and gaslighting. I have an idle game on my phone where I feed and pet adorable hamsters that get into shenanigans. Two of them are lesbians. (Lesbihams?) Two of them seem to be starting a polyamorous thing. (Polyhamorous?)
Some are dignified. Some are...not.
(Follow me on Instagram for more hamham shenanigans and my dumb face, btw)
I'm playing a browser game where you raise dragons and humanity is APPARENTLY NO MORE #misandry
When I get meager little tips I splurge on customizations for them and make them pretty. You can have as big or as small a collection of dragons as you want. At the same time this one is inspiring my writing. (there are dragons, but humans also exist but the dragons don't trust the humans, and a dragon falls for a human man because OF COURSE HE DOES and it's totally fluffy romance.)
(this isn't the dragon in the story, it's one of my game dragons, isn't she pretty?)
These tiny little things keep me from ripping my own head off these days. That, and tea. I need more tea. Good tea.
- Current Mood: cranky
Until now I have refrained from commenting on the state of American politics. It isn’t because I don’t have a position (I do).
It’s because I’m completely terrified of where it’s going.
The nation managed to elect a wholly inexperienced, morally and multiply financially self-proclaimed billionaire to the highest office in the land, a man who bragged on national television about the enormity of his sexual member and bragged (on a hot mic) about how his fame and fortune lets him do anything that he wants to women, up to “grab[ing] them by the pussy” if the notion struck him. There have been incidents of this happening around the nation now, with the only excuse given that “this is Trump’s America now, we can do that.”
As someone who is equipped at present with the aforementioned anatomy, that’s terrifying.
Further, all of his picks for cabinet positions all are unqualified for the positions he’s put them in—it’s like he’s playing a matching game and the only matching he’s doing is to match the least qualified to the office position. But that’s not even the scariest thing about it. There’s a pattern and until recently, it went unnoticed.
Enter Jeff Sessions, a Dominionist Christian who doesn’t believe in the separation of church and state and wants to bring the church’s system into every decision that is brought down. Suddenly, everything is on the table. The governnent is in the bedrooms again, the operating room, the OB-GYN clinic…and this man is even worse than the usual of this sort because he’s been on the side of racists before, having been caught saying he was ok with the KKK until he found out they smoked weed. I don’t care if he said it as a joke…that isn’t a joke that you make in today’s America, when half of America is looking over its shoulder for someone wanting them dead for the color of their skin or the god they pray to.
The next four years will be truly terrifying for me and other People of Color, gender minorities, the disabled, the infirm—and those like me who lie on the border of all of these axes.
All we can do is raise our voices and march, give this new government the “hell no” it needs to hear while we still can.
- Current Mood: uneasy
An ice storm is barrelling down on the area. I've hunkered down with an absurd amount of bread and milk, as Midwesterners tend to do when these things happen. I'm prepared for the worst but hoping for the best. Any kind of help is appreciated; being in the dead of winter in a hotel? It's no way to make a living.
Hours...hours...well, those are a little less on the sunny side of life. It's the slow season, though, and that's to be expected. The slow season is always kind of ugly. It's going to especially be ugly on bills.
To top it off, the freeze is going to keep me from going to this place I've been told to go to by my therapist: it's out of the way and right in the way of the freeze area. I've also been told to start getting my legal in order: their disregard of my pronouns is officially illegal and I can now officially call them on it. Them being work. There's a lot of things to take care of. (Help. Lol.)
- Current Mood: cold
I'm for makeup. I'm for the otherworldly look. I'm for the natural look. I'm for the somehow-blending of the two (How does Bayonetta do it and is it obvious I've got the girl on my MIND). And I can read between the lines when someone expresses an appreciation of that otherworldly aesthetic, that it is NOT ripping the other looks down and tearing them down.
Of course I got to see that point wildly missed the other day.
I could see clearly just how it could misconstrued, though. I could see both sides. I could also see how far it had been blown out of proportion. My perspective as a womanshaped not woman gives me an interesting perspective on the topic. As a teenager I had to sneak in my make up and I had no interest in the natural look. I would put it on at school, and make it otherworldly as possible. Of course this meant carrying Noxzema with me or else wrath as well. So what if I got looks. It was my aesthetic.
It didn't require validation from anyone—man, woman, or other. It's intriguing that others sign my aesthetic, but that's all it is—intriguing. It does give me a little confidence booster to carry out the next resolution I've got. Last year's was getting more comfortable with my self image via selfies—and that got me more fans than haters.
I definitely don't require validation from anyone for my makeup choices, but it will be an adventure.
Now I know that sounds like a HORRIBLE THING but it means two good things:
— I can take official action against the asshats and
— I can get things going on an official basis... Starting with what they call me at the doctor. :)
In fact while they were doing it my new counselor corrected someone in earshot and I thought she was calling me.
We got a lot done. Like, A LOT a lot. Like I didn't even realize how far back this started until we got started.
I feel lighter today.
Having my food stamps cut so low means that I'm going to have to see if my income qualifies for trips to the food pantry. Bills and stuff will be triaged.
It's scary. I'm sitting here in what is officially a safe apartment, but the money is thin. My job has been threatened thanks to my injury. But, they do this every week. I'm still not sure if they're just trying to scare me or what...
Dinner is almost ready. A one meal system at least works better if you got the food that your body doesn't reject, unlike over the summer. Tomorrow I use my tiny "allowance" to get cheap things to stretch meals with.
...Time to settle in to my sandwich. At least it's a good one, right?
Pain, Fever Dream…
It's 3:10 AM. I lay down in the evening thinking that I was going to be out a mere half hour but the next thing I knew I'm waking up to the same pain I fell asleep to. I've slept through my meds, and the only reason my temperature is as low as it is sits in my grade fridge—a high quinine rasberry-cranberry tonic water I mixed myself.
…different reason. I like the bitter bite of tonic.
I woke with pain a few hits minutes ago. My pills are hours late.
I hope I don't oversleep…