Think about what it means to be ladylike and all of the adjectives that go along with it: elegant, cultured, classy, sophisticated. To be successful at being feminine means being successful at being private, keeping your body’s natural functions behind closed doors and never letting anyone know they exist. It means to be constrained, that you do not let your legs spread wide in public transportation and you do not make noises that are harsh on the ears. It means presenting a polished, shiny surface to the world at all times, one that allows others to project whatever they wish onto you while never showing too much of your true self.” —Women’s tennis and the gender politics of grunting « Fit and Feminist (via sexisnottheenemy)
I’ve developed a terrible attention span. I guess I’ll get up off my ass and start ranting more fully on here, maybe soon.
Konami will be holding an event celebrating the ZOE franchise this coming May 25th with a huge blowout on the upcoming ZOE HD Collection. At the event will be Kojima and several members of Kojima Productions who have worked on the ZOE series. So fans of high speed mecha combat with dazzling particle effects may want to keep an eye out around the 25th for new footage of the game and an announcement of a Collector’s Edition.
I keep thinking about people who say that they don’t realize what they’ve lost until it’s gone. I guess maybe it’s one of those things that feels really real when you’re on one side of it and feels like complete bullshit from the other side. I’ve definitely said to people that I wished them the best after we weren’t really in each other’s lives any more. I definitely meant it. I’ve had it said to me before. I’ve definitely believed it at times and thought it was complete bullshit other times. Sometimes I’ve been right in the middle and couldn’t decide how to feel.
I guess it’s just the fact that it’s super easy to give a fuck about someone when it’s on your time. How genuine is it if you weren’t there for someone when they needed you but suddenly are after some months or years? Is that love or nostalgia? If time is the only thing that makes you realize you messed up, do you really still deserve the person you lost? Because the only way that works logically is if you were taking them for granted while you were with them. Which means you couldn’t possibly have been treating them right.
I guess the question is, is sharing a feeling like that really for the person you’re trying to reach back out to, or is it for you? Guilt moves certain people way more than love does. Acting on guilt is another form of self-interest, though people don’t realize it. Are there situations where it’s actually better to reach out?
I donno. I’m thinking about things I’ve put people through in the past and things people have put me through. At this point in my life, I run more on love and anger than on guilt, so it’s hard for me to understand some of this. But I can’t imagine treating someone like shit and expecting him/her to believe me when I say I still care. I’ve been on both sides of it enough to know that sometimes one action can erase everything people have been through, especially combined with space and time.
It’s funny when I read about men being annoyed by women who lie and say nothing is wrong when something actually is wrong. By funny, I mean mostly infuriating, but that’s another post for another time. Something about “men do it too” and “how is ignoring social cues ‘logical.’” But anyway, it just baffles me that this is so utterly misunderstood. Yes, direct communication is almost always the best ay to go. But sometimes, something is so wrong that it’s sitting there burning in your lungs. That’s what causes the seething that causes you to ask if something is wrong in the first place. And sometimes, it burns so much that allowing it to flow out just does extra internal damage, to the heart, to the mind, to the lips. Sometimes, it’s not about figure it out because you’re wrong and you should know—sometimes, it’s about figure it out otherwise I will stutter myself into flames trying to express this to you—it took long enough to contain it in the first place. There is a bottom line here, and that is that it is not always about you. Sometimes, is no conspiracy to baffle and confuse you, no secret trap to get you to confess terrible things, no test to be passed or failed. It is not always about you.
Have you ever smoked? Sometimes, if you inhale too fast before the smoke cools, it burns everything on the way down
and then someone calls you a pussy. This is the same principle in reverse. Letting things out too quickly or at the wrong time can cause everything to combust, and if I’m on fire, I’ll be damned if we can reach a calm and cool solution. And sometimes, it can take a WHILE, longer than is healthily possible within the bounds of a relationship, for things to cool down enough. We’ve all probably experienced this, even if we don’t realize it. So yes, as amazing as direct communication is, sometimes we need to act like human beings with feelings and figure things out instead of being on our “cater to me” shit.
So, I’m having a lot of trouble writing poetry. The thing is, most of my poems have been about the same few things lately, and I’d like to move away from that. Anger and bitterness and random memories have been attaching themselves to every poem I’ve written like parasites and it feels like there’s a bunch of decay and rot piling up in my chest every time a poem happens. I suppose I convinced myself that I was writing everything out before, but it’s just made a pile of words and muck and holy fuck it’s like everything I try to say I have to dig under a big ol’ pile of hate and resentment and gunk for. I realized recently that the best poems I read tend to be about resolved things—not necessarily resolved situations, but resolved emotions and and an understanding of what you’re going through. And even though I’ve reached that understanding, it feels like there’s a bright ass red ink stain on everything I’m writing because being justified in an emotion and feeling justified in anger doesn’t make it any less corrosive. And really, I’ve been writing less about me and more about situations, and my ability (or maybe willingness) to empathize becomes more and more clouded as people reach a higher and higher degree of fucked-upness. Which is maybe why I haven’t written anything sufficient enough to clear all of this out of me. It’s difficult to relate to the monster when the monster is haunting your shit—it becomes a horror story instead of a case study or a way to understand people. Or maybe it’s more of a redemption narrative, something about someone hunting for vengeance for lack of clarity. Either way, everything is sort of fucked when you’re the protagonist, whether you’re some terrified chick about to get picked off by the end of the movie or some badass angry-ass motherfucker looking for an opposite-of-mercy kill out in the middle of the desert.
I’m entirely off-topic now. I’m just going to start writing things out until I get somewhere. Hopefully that somewhere will be far, far away from the past. I’ve already stopped wanting apologies (not, if I’m honest, for having forgiven anyone), but my words have still been violent and angry and vengeful and I’m trying to escape from that. (I guess maybe part of it is some scorpio nature thing. Cut-a-ho mentality and shit.) I’ve realized that there are certain people I can never look in the eye again—now I just need to stop imagining their faces and move on before all the art in me just bursts in the flames. Which, who knows, could be awesome, but I’m trying to have more left inside my heart than dust and flames I guess.