Wednesday, July 14, 2004

I'm freshly returned from dance class. Apparently I was the only one in my age group socially outcast enough to sign up for summer classes. This means I just spent an hour with rythmically-challenged prepubescents. I will be frank with you: I think the teacher's name is Zucchini. She happens to be the worst choreographer I have ever encountered, and that includes the time I ended up in a funk/jazz class where the class was required to 'sexy walk'. She gives the whole dance-including outlandish flailings that launch from the wrong foot or involve awkward arm accompaniments-- then stands very close to whoever is furthest back (me), so one is in danger of kicking her with the more absurd of her movements.

Of course, I have secured for myself the status of 'scary androgyn' through constant silence and oversized shirts, so I'm rarely bothered, and I do love the looks of terror on their faces.

I walked very calmly through the rain to the car and spent the ride home singing 'Bohemian Rhapsody' at the top of my lungs (complete with Wayne's World headbanging, thank you v. much), so the evening was salvaged ater all.
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Wednesday, June 2, 2004

   Friendly Conversation
redcrayon237: thank god for dictionary.com
Cahoots34: You're welcome.
redcrayon237: no, catie, as ethereal as you may feel deep down, you are not god
Cahoots34: ....I'll smite you for that, woman.
redcrayon237: yeah well...YOU DONT EXIST!
redcrayon237: SO THERE!
Cahoots34: You know, Nietzche said that too, once. Guess who doesn't exist now!
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Sunday, May 23, 2004

   Weekend Happenings
Managed to borrow/beg/steal/'liberate' copies of both Lolita and The Virgin Suicides, and am enjoying them with great gusto. Am beginning to suspect that I'm slightly more of a deviant that originally suspected.

Bought womens clothes yesterday; two dresses and skirts, (respectively) one strapless and one from Juicy. (Shock! Scandal!) Had to not only speak to salespeople, but also to admit to them that I had no concept of female sizings; as far as I am concerned, I am a boy's size fourteen. I then had my proportions estimated in three different colours, was told that I had 'a good figure for dresses' and was persuaded to agree to the purchase of said garments. My mother, completely oblivious to the inner torment caused me by this moral compromise, now claims to be looking for 'skirt opportunities', which almost included this morning's annual round of Coming of Ages. COAs are somewhat like Bar/Bat Mitzvahs or Confirmations in that the adolescent makes a commitment to their faith (in COA's case, that of Unitarian Universalism), although unlike the other ceremonies it isn't simply a recitation of dogma so much as it is (intended to be) a profession of personal faith. I had mine last year, which makes it even more dissappointing to see this year's class spouting the most inspid of cliches. And wandering about barefoot in the sanctuary, but that's considerably more tolerable for Unitarians.

I have the feeling that I've left at least five run-on sentences and the smothered segue into another paragraph in there, somewhere.


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Sunday, May 16, 2004

   A (Strenuous) Exercise in Futility
How many things to do tonight? The play and monodrama (accepted into the school performance! ...Yaay.), the final paper (50% of marking period grade!... Hardly yaay.), the science poster (Gods preserve me), the maths essay (Gods preserve us all)... All I really want to do is draw a bit, then type up about 5 fanfics that I've been mentally writing for the past.. 11 months? I no longer know. I've lost all sense of time. And excitement. And reality. The thought of my own death has become indredibly amusing.

I've also become rather fond of that little smiley with the slightly dazed blinking. It's an apt mimickry of the utter apathy that I'm currently wallowing in.

Hatching's going well at the Weyr. Still have time for that, even though I'm losing (gladly relinquishing?) my proverbial grip on reality. The best 'player there (better than me, and named after an anime character to boot. I feel inadequate.) seems to have spontaneously adopted/stolen some other 'player's character, who shouldn't even be at the Hatching at all. My Weyrleader is missing. My Jr. Weyrwoman and Weyrhealer do a more efficient job of running the place than I do.

The only person who I felt to be my similarly-aged mental equal yesterday became defensive under my insults and attacked me personally. It wasn't anything particularly scathing, nor even imaginative; it was simply a maligning of my drawings, which I know are sub-par. The thing that most disturbed me was thatI had never seen this pettiness in him before, and I realized that that was my eventual destination. I was, on some level, as weak as the next human, and progressively becoming more so with my need for speech and contact and acknowledgement. This journal feels good, worthwhile. I would never before have physically needed something like this; my mind, however troubled, would internalize. I've lost that power. I've become open. I am no longer capable of donning my self-depreciating mask to attempt to coexist with society; I _am_ society, with my chatty idiocy and unwarranted superiority complex.

And that disgusts me.

That was futile proof of my point.
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   Not _That_ Coke
It's official; I have a caffiene addiction. The entirety of my French lineage cried out against the consumption of carbonated caramel colouring, especially at breakfast. I mean this literally; my father is till teasing me about it, more than 12 hours after I put the Coke bottle beck into the fridge.

Do you have any idea how irritating it is to try to tell someone that you have a Coke addiction?
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Sunday, May 9, 2004

   The Amputation of A Relationship
I broke off a four-year relationship with my boyfriend this morning. It was literally swift and painless; it had become so awkward between us that we were barely able to conduct a five-minute conversation to end months of mutual avoidance. I'm not overly regretful, nor am I unrealistic. He'll find some nice girl capable of human interaction, who dresses nicely and can hold a conversation without pondering the plethora of sins she must previously have committed to deserve such a fate. I certainly envy him that.

At least I no longer feel obliged to fret about whether or not it's ethical to keep him uninformed about my bisexuality. I wonder if that would that have changed things.
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Sunday, April 25, 2004

   No, no, let's not bring logic into this.
My mother, once again, proves that she is not only a being that lacks rationality but also basic sentience. At dinner, she cooks, sits down, waits for the rest of the family to assemble and begin eating, then gets up and begins to cube two huge melons on the counter, apparently for no reason at all . She then proceeds to berate the rest of us for eating without her.
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Tuesday, April 20, 2004

   I Am Unused to Being Concerned For Others
I'm beginning to suspect the girl I am enamoured with of having truly chronic self esteem issues. It isn't a simple, "I'm so (insert derogatory statement here)" at random intervals, as society encourages, but a constant anxiety about her weight (which I assure you, and her, could not be less of a problem, especially as she can claim an amazingly free spirit, cheerful countenance and brilliant mind in addition to her pleasantly slender frame). She is depressed. I do not like to see her depressed; the only smiles I recieve are from her. I am beginning to worry.

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   Rage Against the Tiny Pleated Skirt
I wore a tank top today, and at least three people told me that I looked 'like a girl'. (As I am female, I fail to grasp the surprise that I look like such.) Perhaps my usual lack of femininity could be attributed to my refusal to wear one of those liliputan pleated miniskirts that look as though one is wearing the bottom five inches of someone's curtains.

It's not as though I'm complaining about the view provided. Far from it. I just object to indecency (however... 'entertaining') suddenly equalling femininity. ... Alright, perhaps 'suddenly' isn't the most accurate description. But I'm still angry.
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Wednesday, April 14, 2004

   At least I Still Create Carbon Dioxide
Of my 6 things to do today, I've gotten about 2.85 done. I feel very unfulfilled for not having read one chapter of _Dirk Gently's Holistic Detective Agency_ and one chapter of _A Beginning to Sartre_. These are the times when I begin to feel that I would be more productive--indeed, productive at all-- if I had absolutely nothing to do.
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