Post-ramble followup, and other updates…

First, for those of you who read all of my previous post without scrolling or leaving the blog and vowing never to return again, bless you. Rape or sexual assault are topics that upset me more than they make me mad, and that leads to a lot longer rambles, which usually means they have even less directness to their points. And hey, those of you who skipped it, I totally understand. Hell, I was ready to skip it after the third round of edits.

Today, I had another one of those weird moments that makes me feel broken. I was laughing with hubby on the subway, and this girl started staring. Okay, a lot of people stare at me, but she's got this wide-eyed, mouth partway open look, like I'm really, really interesting. I don't make eye contact, and I keep joking with hubby. But as he's talking, the girl gets up and moves right behind hubby, and then she really tried to get me to notice her.

How can I tell? Because she checked where my eyes where pointing, and then ducked down under hubby's arm to try and meet my gaze. So I looked elsewhere again, and she moved to get in my range. She finally caught me on her way out, and then she smiled. And…that's it. She just wanted to smile back, I think because my smile was so infectious. But of course being a broken freak, it wasn't until later that I realized why she'd made the effort to reach me. I couldn't make eye contact, because I had to assume something bad would happen. Yes, that's really how broken I am.

Sometimes I think the best description to fit me is an antique vase. I'm the vase, and when I look at my reflection, I see something old and broken. I see all my cracks and flaws, and I think, I'm so ugly. How can anyone want a broken ugly thing like me? But when others look at me, they say, "Look at this classic work of art! There are fine lines of age running through the shell, but the design is still great!" And while they gush, I think, Why don't they notice my flaws? It's all I can see, and it's rare that anyone else notices. So maybe it is just me.

[image error]I know a lot of people would prefer if every few months I didn't break down and do this spontaneous confession thing. But there's too many ways that I can be triggered to blabber, and lately in my former home state, there's a lot of reminders that things have not gotten better. I never thought they did, but whenever I've complained, people have told me I was wrong, and improvements were being made. So either those folks were in denial, or they were just trying to shut me up. I believe it's probably option B, but the optimist in me wants to go with A. Because with option A, there's a chance of convincing them to do something about the problem. If it's B, they are the problem. Makes it difficult to solve when "the problem" amounts to a bunch of uptight people who won't mind their own business, and who go out of their way to hurt other people. How do you solve a problem of a few hundred thousand douchebags who take joy in ruining other peoples' lives?

The thing is, I want to be able to speak out, even if it risks causing offense. I want to be able to say, "I did these things, and I still don't feel right about them" without fear of the men in white coats coming to take me away (haha). And I hope that at some point, it encourages someone else to come forward and talk about what they've been through.

And also, if and when the people from my past decide to step forward and say, "This happened, and I'm not comfortable with it," I don't want people to be shocked and talk about how I led a "double life." I used to live a double life, back when I was presenting as male. And that role is what society demanded of me. Which is sad, because the role I was being pushed into was "future pedo-prison bitch." But now that I'm out of the closet, unfortunately, I didn't shut the door, and my skeletons keep falling out.

But ultimately, when I start confessing, people feel like I should have a goal or a reason for doing this. I do, but it's always hard to articulate, even for someone who's put down two million words in the last four years. (No, really, I did the math, including all blog posts, books, and short stories. Two million, motherfuckers. Rawr.) I want for people to stop treating sex like a crime. I want to get rid of these stupid lifelong sex offenders lists, except for keeping the most violent and dangerous offenders on there. As it is now, the list even includes the names of minors who were engaged in consensual acts with other minors. Which makes no sense. Those lists were made so a dangerous child molester could be tracked legally and allow parents to know where those dangerous people lived. Now the list has names of people who never were a threat, but who may be after a few years of shame have built up. The list makes more problems than it solves.

The answer to these problems is not going to be found in tighter control of people. It won't be found in rules or moral hand-wringing either. I've ranted before about how people condemn infidelity, how we still try to hang scarlet letters on adulterers. I've talked about gays, and how a whole lot of straight people can't stop pushing gays away from normalcy with the use of popular referendums. (Hey, let's have a referendum and make blacks into slaves again! Oh, that won't fly? But making queers into second-class citizens will?) I've talked about how hard it is for a transitioning person to do so safely without someone in their personal or professional life stirring shit and making drama. Despite everything I've ranted and rambled on, I've barely scratched the surface of polite society's sick fascination with judging people based on their sex lives.

I don't care if people think I use divisive language on this topic either. If you spend all your time wondering what other people do in private, you're sick. Get help, you fucking control freak. And don't tell me to get help. I already tried to take a whack at therapy multiple times. You're the one who's never gone in for a consultation about your issues of paranoia and your superiority complex. And if you think you talk to God? You don't. You're hearing voices, in which case, you're just as nuts as me. Now, do you think that was divisive? No, that's just the truth. And the truth hurts. So if the truth is now regarded as "divisive language," society has an even bigger problem than who's fucking whom in the ass.

I don't even think I can make any progress in reversing this trend toward sexual paranoia. But I know that if I don't speak up for myself, some other asshole is going to speak and put words in my mouth anyway. So if I have to have an "insidious agenda," I want to make mine clear. My agenda is that one day, no person, man or woman, boy or girl (or someone in between like me), will feel ashamed to talk about sex, good or bad, in public. Furthermore, I want a society that encourages speaking out, instead of dropping a big bundle of shame on people for talking about "offensive topics."

Sex is a part of our nature, and it isn't just biological reproduction. It's an important act between two (or more; usually one is less interesting, although still good for a few hours of experimentation) people, and when it's good, there's no more important connection we can make. But when it's bad, it can be devastating for many reasons. And when it's bad and we need to talk about that, we shouldn't have to feel ashamed for saying "I don't want to do that again." (By the same token, we shouldn't be shamed for saying "That was great sex!")

And, I'd like for teens and kids to both be able to talk more openly about sex without somebody having a heart attack and screaming "early sexualization!" Some kids grow up faster and start sex sooner. They shouldn't have to feel like freaks just because they're maturing faster, and yet, even consensual sex between minors is a crime. Sex; a natural, consensual act, in which no parties are harmed, is a crime. In states where there's an offender's list, they will now be marked for life as a threat to kids. And that is bullshit. You cannot come up with even one good reason why kids should be punished just for exploration of their own bodies and feelings with each other.

So if it's insidious that I want to get more people talking about "dirty laundry," I accept my role as a provocateur in the battle of sex.

Moving along to other things, my garden suffered a tragic loss with a sun shade was blown across my pot of marjoram and parsley. The pot flipped and all the seedlings were crushed to death. I started new pots today. This weekend, I planed a long box full of strawberry seeds, and two planters full of tomatoes. Also, my first batch of strawberries are still sprouting seedlings, which I've been transferring to other pots to spread them out. They seem to have survived the transplant procedure, and if this works, I'm going to have at least enough berries for one or two jars of preserves. Which would allow me the change to learn preserve-making, and jarring. (Probably hot water jarring, since I know a little how that works from watching mom do it.)

In writing news, I'm still doing Bran of Greenwood, but at a very slow pace. I don't feel a need to rush on the writing anymore, as I have the paid job to cover first, and then there's guitar practice and language studies. Writing has to take a back seat to make room for other things in my life, and it's not like the world is waiting with bated breath for this book.

In guitar news, I got Lili to the shop and told them about adding the third spring to lock the tail down. The asked if the guitar played okay with the third spring on, and I showed them by playing a couple chords. So they said that I'd done the right thing putting the spring on, and not two worry about taking it off. I tested the tremolo bar, and I can still use it if I needed. But as I'm still learning the basics, at this point I've only used the bar three times, and once was to demonstrate how it worked to my sister-in-law. (Who plays piano, but thinks guitars are "more artistic.")

I'm making some great progress now. I know because when I played a chord progression, both hubby and Mili were amazed. It's only been a few weeks, and I still can't get smooth transitions from chord to chord. But I can form almost all the chord shapes, and my scales are getting a little faster. I can alternate pick, although I have a tendency to reverse my intended pattern, going up down instead of down up. I'm just learning hammer on and pull offs, though I need to be careful with the hammer ons, as I think I'm using too much force and risking a finger injury just to get a faint "ting" out of the string.

Right, I guess that's it. Okay, not quite. Folks, I'm crazy. I never make excuses about that, and I never make apologies either. I probably put off a lot of people who might have read my stuff by rambling about "offensive topics." But I don't really mind if people leave because I offend or upset them. Because I write about similar things in my books, so if my blog posts offend, my books are really sure to have the same effect.

BUT, more an more of you appear to be reading and sticking around, even after my nuclear explosion. And for your patience and your presence, I want to thank you.

Oh, and one last, last thing: to the person who found my blog with the search results "zoe whitten is bitter," I just want to say thanks. Last night I was in a funk, but after reading that query, I laughed until my belly jiggled. Someone on Facebook reminded me of it today, and I laughed again. So thank you. I really needed that. ^_^

Okay, now I'm done. So get out of here, already.