Trying to find Cultural Heritage

 I am obsessed with Native TikTok. I love watching the dancers show off their regalia and dances, I love the history lessons, the bannock/frybread recipes, the sharing of culture, and the comedy? The comedy is pure fire. I soak it up and want more. I think I glom onto things like this, and other platforms where people share their culture, because I feel like, as a white person, I don't have that cultural connection. I did a 23&me kit as part of a mental illness study and it just confirmed what I already knew: largely British Isles and French/German (I always used to say French but the borders have been ever-changing throughout history) with my mother's people emigrating from Canada to the United States within the past century or so. And I cling to that French-Canadian side because it's something. I've even written about my French-Canadian heritage before and felt a great connection to it when I went to Quebec a couple years ago.

But while I claim my French-Canadian heritage, what do I really have to celebrate it? Tourtiere pie and a family recipe for molasses cookies. A specific way of saying French last names and some words. But... that's it. And it still feels hollow. I don't really know where I'm going with this, in my head I was thinking this would be a much more thought-out and detailed post but... I feel like I'm grasping, the same way I'm trying to grasp a cultural identity. 

Does anyone else have this problem as a mixed-heritage white person in the United States?

Accepting my Demons, One at a Time

 This is one of my favorite pictures of me, despite it being about 5 years old now and I have since grown my hair out and retired the piercings. Most of my selfies are taken from a strategic angle from above, but this one, I am actually looking down. And I think that's it. I think that's why I like it. But why? 

For a little back story, I took this in my first year of graduate school. I had actually done the makeup because I was doing a presentation in a class and (I think) going out with classmates after. At that time, I was newly single, and had started doing domme work for extra money. My specialty was humiliation and verbal abuse; I never touched a single submissive, it was all done via text, with the exception of a few sessions with a local guy that was into feet. I had always identified myself as being a "switch," someone who was okay being dominated or dominating, and I based this on my limited experience being dominated by a man, and being dominant to the point of being pretty sadistic with a woman that I neither liked or was attracted to. Being a domme taught me a lot about myself. A big thing I learned is that I do not like being dominated outside of a little light ropework and some spanking. I am too dominant and aggressive a person-- albeit introverted-- to submit to anyone, let alone a man. I like dominating men and treating them like shit. I've gotten a lot of compliments on my style and take pride in getting to know my submissive to make their session personal and extra painful. 

But this blog post isn't about me as a domme or sex work (but reminder that sex work is legitimate work) but about how I view men. It took years for me to examine my feelings, wrestling with it through the shambles of a long-distance relationship, and as I carefully constructed responses to decline advances from men when I really wanted to decline them in the most condescending, abusive way possible, I had an epiphany: I don't respect most men. It's a hard thing to admit. When men try to white-knight me, when they send unsolicited dick pics, when they position themselves as "nice guys," (spoiler alert, self-described nice guys aren't nice at all), when they apologize unnecessarily, all I can think of is grinding them under the proverbial heel of my cruelty, and I see, in my head, the picture of me that is above, looking down, cold, indifferent to the viewer, beautiful and untouchable. They are pathetic, and I have power over them. 

As you can imagine, this does not lend itself well to meeting people, especially when you're lonely. It is, however, something I am constantly mindful of when interacting with people. It's not all men, as I said, just most feel so pathetic and unworthy of any time or effort beyond charging them for it. I do make an effort to make meaningful connections, and I can typically tell within a very short time frame if someone falls into category A or category B. I know this is something that seems horrible, why would I admit this, let alone publicly? Because I am, and have always been, a firm believer in introspection, understanding oneself, understanding the why behind the feeling or thought, and either making a modification/learning from it, or accepting it as a facet of who I am. And here we are, the learning and acceptance phase. I once wrote in a long-defunct online journal that people can't hurt me with what I know and accept to be true, and I still believe that.

Ghosted

 Exactly a month ago today is the last time I heard from someone I considered a romantic partner. Someone I was making plans for the future with. Someone I thought might finally be The One. We had a very brief discussion about European metal festivals being scheduled for next year and then... nothing. My messages weren't even opened. My texts have gone unanswered, and while he hasn't unfriended me on any platform, he's been hiding his presence on online spaces we used to spend time with. I'm hurt, but mostly because he's ending a 5 year friendship, and I have no closure as to why. That's what hurts the most. I'm a big girl, I can understand and know when I'm not wanted, and move on from that, but friendships are so valuable and hard to make when you get older that I feel... lost. I see something cool and I can't send it to him. An announcement for a long-anticipated game, movie, or concert? Nope. Because I've been completely ghosted and cut off, and I don't know why. We're 40 years old, we're too old for that shit. I've cycled through a range of emotions, I want to rage, I've cried a little, but mostly, it's hurt. And loneliness. I just want a conversation between adults, I can handle it.

I don't want anyone to vilify him or call him names or give me any of the meaningless, unhelpful platitudes people give at the end of a relationship. I'm focusing on me. I've rebounded with the same person I rebound with every time a relationship dissolves. I'll be fine. I'll double down on saving for a house. It'll be me, and my cats, and it'll be fine.

But my advice, if you're with someone long term, whether friendship or romantic, don't just ghost them unless it's an incredibly toxic, harmful relationship. Be adult enough to have a conversation with them about why things are hanging. Give them some closure.

On Strong Female Friendships

I am a woman that has a hard time forming meaningful female friendships. Not to sound like one of those cringey "I don't get along with women, they're all drama," people, but my issue is having a hard time relating to other women. I'm a middle-aged woman that neither has not wants (or likes) children, I'm happy being alone, and like to talk about stuff that other people find uncomfortable (death and dying, anyone?). I have interests that women my age typically don't. I also have this toxic tendency to fall quickly and madly into (platonic) love with girls that sweep me off my feet with how fun and spontaneous they are. I usually find these girls and befriend them when I am manic, and when the high of the shopping trips, dinners, and platonic cuddling wears off, I realize that they are really bad, toxic people for me. The last such friend like this I had ended up selling prescription drugs and fucked up my taxes to the tune of $1200 that I had to pay back during a period of unemployment. 

Making and maintaining friendships as an adult woman is exhausting and sometimes very frustrating, when I feel like I'm the one always trying to make plans, make connections, so I'm grateful when I can find that rare unicorn of a friend that reaches out, checks in, accepts and appreciates me for who I am, and is content to sit in silence instead of filling the void with useless chatter. A rare friend, indeed, that I can have fun with, hang out with, and not feel exhausted by. I feel like I don't express my appreciation for those few friends enough, and today I realized, as I went on a "cemetery crawl" with my friend Kate, that she is one of those friends that I can always count on, and because we both have our issues, we can be flexible with each other if one is having a bad mental health or physical health day. We can have long meaningful conversations over coffee at Starbucks and have mutual interests we can explore together, but we can be silly and irreverent too without leaving our encounter feeling exhausted by the other. I am so grateful for our friendship, especially at times when I sorely needed distraction from the pain of everyday life. Thank you, Thing 1, for being a unicorn.

September and October are Manic Months

I realized today, and I'm not entirely sure what made me realize it-- perhaps a Facebook memory triggered the thought-- that I am typically manic in September and October. I have no idea why, since I hate Fall, but it's a recognizable pattern in me. Even today, although I spent most of the day on the couch, my mind was going a mile a minute with ideas of things I could do (sexy photoshoot in my room! cleaning! exercise! baking!) and ultimately doing none of them (okay I did go for a run). I can look back at old Facebook posts and there it is, some tell of a manic episode. And maybe it was spending all morning scrolling through online shopping sites for Halloween accessories that made me recognize this. I've been extremely hypersexual which is honestly frustrating since I haven't seen my partner in almost a year and sometimes a vibrator just doesn't cut it. Why am I so hypersexual this time of year? Is it because September 1st is the start of Halloween for me, and it makes me think of demons and vampires, which makes me thinking of biting, which is one of my fetishes? Inside I feel like a succubus needing to sink her fangs and claws into her partner. I've been spending money and impulse shopping (and again, buying sexy things). All I want to do is shop, lately. And I've been listening to electronic music more, which isn't a manic thing per se, but in the Fall months I usually listen to metal more than anything. I've also been experiencing the more negative side of my mania, which is irritability, but thankfully no rage. Recognizing my manic periods (and patterns) helps me to self-regulate. Understanding that I'm manic can help me not act inappropriately and also keep myself out of situations that would trigger a rage episode. I can't do much about the hypersexuality but at least I don't use a vibrator that uses batteries any more.

The Story of the Cabbage-- An Allegory for Obsessive Thoughts

Taken from a post I made to my Facebook back in March that I had planned on writing about but forgot to, due to classes/COVID-19/life happening. If you're my friend on Facebook and also read here (and honestly, probably the only ones who read my blog come here from my Facebook), I apologize for the repost:

***

Let me tell you the story of the cabbage, a real-life allegory of obsessive thoughts and how they affect day-to-day life.

As I have mentioned, I am at the end of my first class in my graduate certificate in aging and applied thanatology. I have a paper and a written exam due tonight at midnight. I had started my paper earlier in the week and had been picking away at it. After going to the gym yesterday morning, I worked on it, went to a hair appointment, enjoyed the day a little, and submitted it just before 6pm.

I focus better in the evening, so I figured I'd take a little break and start working on my exam.

Rewind to Friday, when I start planning my grocery shopping for the week. I look at sales flyers, store apps, and cash back apps to get an idea of what to make. And there it was, Shaw's was offering green cabbage at 7 cents a pound through the app. Cabbage is nutritious and I've been on a cabbage kick lately (I love it raw) so I planned to buy one.

I thought, maybe after my hair appointment I'd go buy the cabbage. Nah, I'll just wait until I do my shopping on Sunday to run and get one.

The cabbage dominated my mind yesterday, to the point that I realized I would never be able to focus on my exam if I didn't have it. So I went to Shaw's at 9pm, selected my cabbage, grabbed a couple other things, and went home to work.

I know it's silly and irrational. I laugh at it myself, but obsessive thoughts are just one more facet of my disease. I've had much, much worse obsessive thoughts that have been bad enough to damage relationships, but thankfully those are rare.

For those that are wondering, my cabbage only cost 25 cents and it feels like a financial victory. And the obsessive thought is gone.

***

I can't remember if I suffered from obsessive thoughts back when I first started this blog. Maybe they're a newer manifestation of my mental illness, or one I just wasn't aware of. They don't happen super often, and they're almost always (okay probably always) completely irrational, like the obsessive thoughts about the cabbage. The cabbage was fairly innocuous, but it was still all-consuming and disruptive to my daily activities until I could satisfy the though. They're not all so innocuous or easy to quell, and one obsessive thought I had after my trip to Illinois had the potential to severely damage my relationship because my mind took a situation and spiraled so out of control that I even made myself physically ill from it. Even more recently, as I have written about the reopening of the state, I was fueled into a panic attack at work by obsessive thoughts. I even took something I love and have a goal set for-- hiking, specifically hiking 100 miles this year-- and had obsessive thoughts over, when I found myself sitting on the couch on a day off and not in the woods getting miles. I obsessed over it, fell into a shame spiral, and eventually went for a local hike (which turned out nice, and relaxing, but ultimately the hike was due to obsessive thoughts).

I don't know what my point is. I started this blog to bring transparency and honesty to people who suffer from mental illness. I think irrational, obsessive thoughts are something that is largely not discussed in general, because it's something incredibly internal, and sometimes ridiculous, like my obsession with the cabbage. So here it is, I occasionally have obsessive thoughts that can be intrusive, but recognizing the thought when it starts and using healthy coping mechanisms (going for a walk, writing about it, etc.) helps me manage them when they arise. 

Apathy in the Face of Catastrophe

It is very hard to admit to something that makes you sound like a bad person, but after all, the purpose of this blog is and has always been to examine and understand my mental illness, especially as I move through life and the challenges that come from it, whether under my control or not. People keep checking in on me during this pandemic (gentle readers of the future, I am referencing COVID-19), asking me how I'm holding up, and I just shrug and say "I'm fine." I feel apathetic, maybe a little annoyed. Yes, I am worried. I'm worried about my immune-compromised mother who also has lung issues, my aunt with COPD, my father with heart disease. I'm worried about my partner who is a healthcare provider in a hospital with confirmed cases. I am not particularly worried for me. I am not working from home, as I'm an essential employee, and my annoyance springs at all the hand wringing in the office and the whining about not being able to work from home. My staff are contractors and the concerns they have about the stability of their jobs are valid, but they've gotten all the information I have at this point.

And maybe that's it. I get multiple daily emails from my governing agency (remember I have my master's degree in Public Health and work for a department in my state's CDC) and sometimes the guidance is contradictory (Work from home! No, we want you all in the office! Here's how you can work from home!). Between that, and the media saturation, I am just so... apathetic. I'm tired. I come home from work exhausted just from the atmosphere at work. Right now I'm in a holding pattern with it; we have had no fatalities yet due to COVID-19 so I have no guidance to provide to healthcare providers or funeral homes in how the death certificates should be filled out (when it happens, I am prepared), so it's just been business as usual for me.

Why do I feel this way? Why do I feel apathetic and annoyed in the face of global pandemic? I've been reflecting on this for a few days, and I think I'm falling back into patterns of coping strategy I used to employ when I was going through what I affectionately call the Great Depression of 2012, back when I started this thing. Back then, everything was terrible and catastrophic, so when something new happened, my first response was to process, analyze, dissect, and compartmentalize. I allowed myself an emotional response after, usually more of a release, and then I was done. I had processed everything, knew what I needed or needed to do, and was done with it. And this is how I think I'm responding now. As a public health worker, I've been reading about COVID-19 for months now, I've digested the available information, examined it in relation to my job, identified the vulnerable people in my life, and compartmentalized it away neatly in my mind, and am done. I know what needs to be done, what my role is, and what should happen. And now I just don't care (but I really do, this is such a difficult thing to explain).

I'm annoyed that travel is uncertain.

I'm annoyed that I can't get a tattoo as therapy.

I'm annoyed that my birthday plans have all been canceled.

I'm annoyed by all the inconveniences, like having to order out and that the grocery shelves are empty.

I'm annoyed that the gym is closed.

And if I hear one more (online) impassioned plea that "We'Re ALL iN tHiS tOgEthEr!" I may scream. My particular disdain for that phrase comes from a time that someone used it in an attack against my sister for not closing her daycare (yes, she is complying with all guidance from the CDC and yes, I went off on that person). I don't have a sense of community. I don't want to participate in virtual karaoke, I don't want to "come together." I just want to sleep through it all.

2019 Retrospecticus

Last year, I set out on the new year with some goals (not resolutions) in mind, mostly around exploring the world around me. And I did a lot of that. I actively started trying to lose weight in February because one of the things I really wanted to do in Iceland was ride the Icelandic horse, so I started walking, even when it was cold or I was grumpy, I went out and walked, and even a mile was so hard and my legs were so sore at first. But I kept at it, and changed the way I ate from less Western diet to more flexitarian and whole food based. When the local hospital's class booklet came out and I saw one of my old coworkers was leading a Couch to 5k class over a 12 w

eek period starting in April, I signed up, and it was hard at first, but as I lost weight and gained muscle and endurance, I found that I really, really like running; it's great stress relief. I still can't run a solid 5k but I have kept up with running, even now in the depths of winter on a treadmill. As of this writing I've lost about 52 pounds.

One of the goals I had written in my failed bullet journal (I need to stop doing those, I'm too lazy to keep up with it) was to explore more trails in Maine. I started small and local. I was already running on the Rail Trail in Augusta, and with the help of Pokemon Go (yes, really), Maine TrailFinder (PLEASE make an app!), and Alltrails, I had the incentive and opportunity to visit new places. There was nothing more liberating than researching a trail, putting on my gear, and hopping in my car for a new adventure in the woods. This was also monumentally helpful not only for my mental health, but my spiritual health. While my bullet journal page only lists the trails in Maine I hiked, I did several more outside of the state, including a 9.5 mile loop in Illinois where I got to meet so many beautiful burr oaks, and Þingellir National Park in Iceland.

 

Y'all.

I climbed three mountains this summer, including a 1,700 foot mountain I had always gazed at from the car as a child. I also hiked the rim of a volcanic crater. This has only fueled my desire to hike more and challenging peaks.

Travel was really the big goal I had this year, and I managed to visit two countries and visit a state I had never been to. My dream vacation of Iceland was finally a reality, and as you can see in the (terrible, horrible) picture of me, I did get to ride the Icelandic horse, as uncooperative as he was sometimes during the ride. My sister and I did the typical tourist trip: Golden Circle, Reynisfjara Beach and Vik, and so many waterfalls. We only had a week but we fell completely in love with the country and we're tentatively planning the next, longer trip for 2023. Before the adventures in Iceland, however, I embarked on my first solo international travel to Quebec, which, in my entire 39 years living in Maine, had never visited. I blogged about that trip after I returned, because I came back filled with emotions. You can read about that trip here. My final travel of the year, which was a little bit last-minute, was a trip to Illinois not only to visit my heart, but to go to finally see my favorite band in concert: motherfucking Tool. I'd waited over 20 years to see them live and it was worth the ticket and airfare. Illinois was quite lovely and I want very badly to go back, for multiple reasons.

I've worked really hard to improve myself. I'm proud of my weight loss, I'm proud of myself for traveling solo, for learning to be okay by myself. I've worked hard on being less negative (it's still difficult, sometimes, when I have a bad bipolar day) and am continuing on working on being a better person (my jealousy was rightfully called out). I took the leap and applied for a post-graduate certificate program, and am working toward paying down debt so that I can plan for the future.

In 2020 I will turn 40. It's never too late to do the thing, to challenge yourself, to make changes. I welcome all that comes in the coming year.

Downward Spiral

Sometimes I need to remind myself that I originally created this blog for a reason, and that was to unpack and examine the feelings and thoughts that arose as I dealt with my disease. I talk about being well-regulated and pride myself on the fact that I am fully functional living with bipolar disorder unmedicated. Some days though, some days I slip into a downward spiral, and instead of unpacking, I let the obsessive thoughts overwhelm me and I instead sit in a puddle of despair. I realized today that I've been edging toward that downward spiral, and it became apparent when I was really rudely blunt to my coworkers over something I could have addressed in a more mature way (and I also could have realized that the irritation I was feeling at the repetitive noise was definitely a byproduct of my disease, as I get easily irritable when I'm cycling). So here it is, and I need to unpack some feelings that have been nagging at my mind for a while, and some I have only brought up in a passive-aggressive way. List form, because lists are comforting to me.

1. I feel isolated and lonely. I am a 37 year old childfree Paganish woman who doesn't know anyone with the same interests I have. All of my friends have kids and their own lives. I largely avoid the local Pagan community because I don't take them seriously yet I crave that feeling of spiritual community.

2. I feel like an afterthought to people. I try and try to reach out to people to do stuff, to no avail. Then I get invited to something last minute, like an afterthought. That sucks.

3. What even is my relationship right now?

4. I don't think I really have a best friend. And I've realized I'm really envious of women who have a best friend that they can always hang out with and talk to. I used to, but as people's live take them in different directions, friendships change. And I get it, I'm a shit friend that pushes people away and avoids people once they have kids. That's my fault.

5. I feel... stuck? That's not quite the right word. But I had grand ideas of getting tech certifications and I just wonder if it's even worth it. I was going to look at job opportunities in other states but I haven't managed to save like I wanted to. And I doubt my own capabilities.

I ate dinner alone at a restaurant tonight. I was thinking about going to the movies alone. I want to go to Iceland in the summer but I don't want to go alone. I hate being alone. I just want to be able to do shit and have fun with people. I kind of wish I was manic. I'm so much more sociable when I'm manic.

A Year Alone

A year ago, I finally met the man that would steal my heart. After months of talking almost every day, he came to see me. I've been keeping busy all day, but just now, I looked at the clock and realized a year ago today, at 9pm, I got in my car and headed to New Hampshire to pick him up from the airport. We got back to my house around 2am and didn't fall asleep until after 6am. We spent 5 amazing days together. I tried to plan a trip to visit him in October, but those plans fell through due to his demanding work schedule and being in graduate school, that was the only viable time I could have gone. I start a new job Monday, and that leaves me once again with no option to travel.

It's been a year, and that realization has hit me hard.

I ask you, my friends and family, if you see me this weekend and I seem a little sad, don't pry. I don't like crying in front of people which is what I do whenever someone asks "so, when do you get to see him again?"

Distance is hard.

My "I think about him all the time and I miss him and I'm sad so I'm going to sit here and cry" song is Tove Lo's "Habits (Stay High) Hippie Sabotage Remix." Funny, when I first heard it I thought it was glorifying drug use (well... kinda. Inappropriate coping mechanisms) but listening to it more and more, it became my on-repeat song for missing him.

I'm probably going to listen to it a few times this weekend.

Bi Erasure, Biphobia, and Treating People Like a Fetish

Pride month is wrapping up, and I've had a few thoughts that have been stewing at a rolling boil just below the surface, and it started with The Babadook. I am not "babashook" about people elevating a horror movie character (from a fairly good movie, mind you) to the New Gay Icon(tm) and proclaiming that the B in LGBTQIA+ stood for Babadook. I am not here for that at all. And neither are other bisexuals.

Other? Yeah, about that. I'm bisexual.

Apologies to my family who find out via my blog. I never felt a "coming out" was important or necessary, because all of my relationships have been with men and let's face it, we all know I'm too huge of a catty bitch to have a functional relationship with a woman. It's not a big deal. I don't even particularly care about labels, but if you want to put one on it, there you go.

Back to the Babadook and why it's a big deal. Bi erasure is a huge problem not only in mainstream media but within the LGBTQIA+ community. Bisexuals are faced with stigma, exclusion, and treated like they're too gay to be in straight spaces but too straight to be in gay spaces. At the best, bisexual people are ignored. At the worst, they're either treated like a fetish for straight-identifying people or instantly categorized as inherently unfaithful and untrustworthy partners.

Let me tell you why the way bisexuals are treated is bullshit:

1. A bisexual person is perfectly capable of being in a committed, loving relationship with someone without being "tempted" to cheat, without feeling like they're "missing out" on the other sex. I am a ridiculously faithful person, even with a partner 1,200 miles away that I haven't seen in a year. Don't tell me I'm a cheater because I'm bi!

2. If someone tells you they're bisexual, your instant response shouldn't be "wanna have a threesome?" Please. That gets old really quick, and I can tell you, threesomes are kind of overrated, awkward, and boring. I'm not here to be your unrequited fetish fantasy.

3. It's not that I can't choose. I am attracted to both. It's how I am. Penises are awesome. Vulvas are awesome. It's not a phase. If it is, it's a 20 year one.

4. Bi people aren't bi for attention. If I was bi for attention, I would have... come out?

I'm sure so many others have written about the topic of bi erasure and biphobia much, much more eloquently than I have. But the whole point of this blog was to work through my feeling and thoughts as I wandered through my day-to-day life. So to sum up: I'm bi. No I don't cheat. I'm not attracted to you, don't worry. No I don't want a threesome. Yes I belong in queer spaces. No it's not a phase/for attention/because I can't choose. Yes I am valid. Yes I am visible. Yes I belong.

Oh and P.S., stop being shitty to asexual, intersex, gender noncomforming, nonbinary, trans, and other erased members of the community. They're just as valid.

Bad Bipolar Days aren't always Mania

I've been attempting to read and write a brief summary on a CDC report on mental illness surveillance for two days now. I've become easily distracted, frustrated, and today, I wanted to cry for no reason. Here I go, sliding into that depression like...

Usually my bad bipolar days are days where I'm manic in a very negative way (rage and anger) but it's not always that way. I'm slipping into apathy, hopelessness, and an inexplicable sadness. I have nothing to be sad about. There is someone amazing in my life that I get to talk to every day (unfortunately long distance), and in a month, he'll be here. In my heart I'm ecstatic, but my bipolar disorder wanted to remind me it still exists, no matter how well-adjusted and self-aware of my own disease I am, or how well my life is going right now. It'll pass, but it's the worst time to slip into apathy. Aside from the report I'm reading and have to summarize, I have my first paper of the summer semester due tomorrow and I haven't been able to focus on that, either.

Do you think I can get course credit for snuggling my cats?

What Turning 36 Has Taught Me

Taken a week before my birthday

March 22nd marked my 36th year on this earth. I have learned a lot in my 30's. One of the things I've learned and embraced is that age is merely a chronological measure of your existence and is by no means a definition of who you are as a person. Leaving your twenties isn't a death sentence. Getting closer to 40 isn't either. There's so much rigidity in society with how we should be at a certain age, and I fell prey to that myself when I had my quarter life crisis at 25 because I wasn't married (actually, I had that crisis first at 24, because my sister had gotten married at that age and I felt I should be by that time, too). I felt some panic last year as I turned 35 because I was in a long term relationship with no sign of marriage in sight. Today I turned 36. I'm single, and I'm okay.

I've seen so many articles online that say "Things you should definitely stop doing/wearing once you hit your 30's" and I just wonder who made these arbitrary rules? A lot of them have to do with how a woman looks and that's just utter bullshit. Ladies, regardless of your age, be you. Do what you like, wear what you love, and if you want glitter and loud makeup, fucking go for it, girl. Why, all of a sudden, when we enter our 30's are we expected to shrivel up into dull beige beings with matching pantsuits? I rock business-casual Goth on the regular.

I honestly don't understand the phrase "act your age" either. What does  that even mean? If I acted my age I'd... have kids? No thanks. A former friend of mine told me on the eve of my (I think) 32nd birthday when my ex and I were trying to plan a trip to New York City with the express intention of clubbing (because I love techno and had never experienced a club before) that I shouldn't be concerned with going out and clubbing at my age. What? So wither on the couch and watch reality TV like you? No. Thanks.

One valuable thing I learned from my mother is "you're never too old." While there are times I feel like the oldest person in my degree program (I'm not) I'm at the right place in my life to go back to school. I started thinking about graduate school in 2009 (I couldn't believe it had been so long, I honestly thought 2012) but never made the leap. I wasn't ready, mentally or emotionally. I had work to do, and lessons to learn. Entering graduate school at 35 with a goal to graduate at 37 is right for me now. I certainly wasn't ready in 2003 when I got my Bachelor's when I didn't even know what I wanted to do with my life since I realized I didn't want to be a teacher 4 years into my degree. Now I know that in my heart of hearts, I am an educator, but not teacher material. My opportunities are limitless and opening up in front of me. I am in the right place, at the right time, for me.

So if we take anything away, remember that it's okay to be in your 30's and single. Wear the thing, have the fun, and live life. You're never too old to go after a dream.

You Are Not Entitled to a Wedding Invitation

By popular request, my wedding invitation rant, straight from my Facebook. Cut and paste for your pleasure! Nothing has been added.

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I know of a few people planning weddings right now. Wedding planning is stressful as hell, and weddings are expensive. So when people post about their happy day, whether it be the initial "we're engaged!" announcement, or progress on their venue, etc., the appropriate response is "congratulations!" Appropriate responses do NOT include "I had better be getting an invitation!" or "I'm invited, right?"

What the fuck makes you so entitled? You're not. The couple is under no obligation to invite people to avoid hurt feelings, whether they be friends or family. Weddings are EXPENSIVE. Not only is the couple paying for venue, photographer, officiant, etc., they are paying FOR YOU to be there. You're getting a free ride on them, and if they decide not to invite current or former coworkers, distant relatives, YOUR CHILDREN, or not allow a plus one, that's their decision, because you know what? It's THEIR day, not yours. Nothing about it is about you actually.

And demanding/asking to be invited is rude as hell.

I know someone who was asked CONSTANTLY about an invitation to her special day, someone she didn't particularly want to invite, and it made her uncomfortable. Wedding planning is stressful enough to begin with, don't be the asshat that adds to the stress because YOU, as a special motherfucking snowflake, HAVE to be invited or the world ends.

If someone does you the honor of inviting you to their wedding, be gracious. And for fuck's sake, dress up. Nothing says "I don't really care" than showing up to a wedding (or a funeral, for that matter) in jeans and a t-shirt.

Valentine's Day is a Load of Bullshit

I don't think I've ever ranted about Valentine's Day before, but I'm kind of glad I waited until now, because my thoughts are a bit more cohesive about why I intensely dislike this "holiday." And because I like lists, let's do this in list form!

1. If you love someone, show them every day, not just on one arbitrary day a year. Let's start off with one of my biggest gripes about Valentine's Day in general, and that's the fact that it seems like a "catch up" day, the day you really have to prove to your significant other that you really, really love them, and here's a stuffed bear and chocolate to cement that proof! I'm sorry, no. If you really truly love someone, you should treat them like  gold every goddamn day, not some arbitrary saint's day in February (surprise, it's another Pagan holiday turned Christian feast). You should want to spoil them with affection all the time. Getting your partner little "I love you" gifts shouldn't be reserved for one day a year. If they matter, show them every day that they do.

2. It's sexist as fuck. Yes, it's sexist. Let's think of the marketing. Everything about marketing Valentine's Day is about getting her gifts. It plays into the stereotype that women are shallow, greedy princesses and if you don't get her just the right gift, everything is ruined. Where are the advertisements aimed at gifts for men? Where are the gifts for men in that aisle that is a sea of pink and red and teddy bears?

3. It's terribly heteronormative and exclusionary. What about homosexual couples, transgender couples, and nonbinary individuals? Why don't I see people of color in advertising? Valentine's Day marketing tells me that it's a holiday for middle class, heterosexual, white people. And don't even get me started on how shitty it makes single people feel to see all this emphasis on love and being part of a couple and having it shoved down your throat at every turn. I'll even admit, it gets to me a little, and I'm happy being single.

4. Speaking of marketing... it's just a holiday for sales boosting anyway. I mean, think about it. It's February. Between Christmas/New Year and Easter (and I understand this is theocentric as far as Christian holidays) there really isn't a major holiday. Something needs to stimulate economy. In the winter, flower shops don't do as much business, retail locations are down. Why not market giving flowers and chocolate as a solution? It's big business. It's an $18.6 billion holiday.

These are my big 4. I'm sure there's more reasons floating around in my noggin about why I think Valentine's Day is bullshit. But for now, that's it. Monday, I'm going to enjoy the marked down chocolate from this commercial day.

Also: Valentine's Day engagements are tacky. So are weddings on Valentine's Day. Sorry. Be original.

Open Letter to a Scumbag

Dear Scumbag,

You recently posted on your Facebook (yes, I can still see everything you do, motherfucker, and no I won't tell you how) that your grandmother would have a lot to say to you right now if she was alive. Let's talk about that, because I'm sure as hell she didn't raise  you to be unfaithful or to be such a liar. If I accuse you of cheating to your face, you will lie, you will backpedal, just like you did years ago when all I wanted was a casual fuckbuddy and you swore it was over with your girlfriend. But it wasn't, and I realize this is a pattern with you. You weren't done with her when you were asking me to send you nudes, and you weren't done with her when we started fucking. And you swore, during our 5 year relationship that you weren't the type to cheat on a woman. You swore you'd work on our problems and not cheat on me. The fact that so many of our fights were about my lack of interest in sex and that you would repeatedly say "I haven't cheated on you yet because I love you" should have been a red flag. But I was blinded by love. I took the blame for my lack of libido and clung to hope. But you know what? Fuck you and the fucking boring sex we had for five years. Fuck you and your excuses when I'd tell you the sex was boring. "I'm too tall for that position to work" "we just don't fit that way" (maybe because you were too fucking fat and unwilling to change, maybe your dick is too small). And when I got suspicious of that coworker you started talking a lot about? Fuck you. I had a right to be suspicious, and I was right. A month after you dumped me, I found out about her. And I did the math. And I tell you what, an emotional affair is still an affair, even if you're not getting your dick wet. But most off, how dare you lie to my face on the day I sit crying on your couch as you dump me and I straight up ask "is there someone else?" How dare you lie to me and say "no, I just need to be alone for a while." I can take the cheating. But how dare you insult my intelligence by lying to me. Did you think I wouldn't find out? I'm more Internet-savvy than you. You knew this. Did you want to get caught? There was a short time I thought we could remain friends, but not any more. You fucking disgust me. I realize after 5 years I wasn't anything to you. You didn't dedicate Facebook albums to me. You made excuses every time I talked about moving in together or marriage. You didn't care. You're the most disingenuous, disgusting scumbag for wasting my time for so long. You knew my stance on children 5 years ago when we met, went with me when I got my tubes tied, so suddenly you're a family man? Fuck you. Fuck you and your cheating, lying, fake self. You've freed me by breaking up with me. You've freed me to go back to the person I was, who I always was in my heart, and I've gone back to living my life for me. Oh, and I've had more amazing sex since you dumped me than we probably had in the last year. So thank you for that. Thank you for showing me I should never have trusted, should never have committed to a relationship, just like my instinct told me. You took a bird and caged her. Now I'm free. I'm on the prowl for men better than you, even if for a casual fuck. Because there's an honesty in being a slut that you don't get. You didn't play the game right and I hope she cheats on you like you did to me and the one before me. I hope you feel pain and betrayal. I hope you're lied to and your trust shattered, like mine was. I hope you hurt. Have fun with your downgrade, asshole.

Cordially,

Your Again-Slutty Ex

You Don't Have to be Sexual to get the Attention of People That Matter to You

The Internet is a huge place full of people and information. I love the Internet. I love social media and the global community it creates, but I'm going to get real fucking serious here, and pretty damn honest. Yes, I flirt with guys online, and sometimes it leads to an exchange of pictures. I'm a consenting adult, in full control of my own sexuality. It's harmless fun, "spank material" if you will, with other consenting adults. Imagine my surprise tonight when I got a private message from someone I have a hell of a lot of respect for (we'll call him "L" for privacy reasons, since he is a public figure) telling me that one of my spank material guys often inappropriately messages minors. I was horrified (even if my initial response seemed flippant) and grossed out. I stewed on it for hours. I messaged L back asking "how the hell do we help young girls protect themselves?"

I completely understand what it's like to be an insecure teen, having a mad crush on a gorgeous, unattainable guy (or girl, whatever). Suddenly, after weeks or months of yearning, that person looks at you, or, in the world of the Internet, likes your Instagram photo, likes your Tweet. Inside, your heart flutters, and you think "they finally noticed me!" It's elating. Even as an adult I get that way sometimes, everyone gets a little star-struck. But when you're a teenager, it can be problematic when your obsession is a legal adult and you are not.

So where does it go from there? Adults on the Internet have a certain responsibility to interact with people appropriately. When someone is clearly under age (especially if their profile says their age) it is incredibly inappropriate to leave comments of a sexual nature. Bottom line. I don't care how much older a person looks than their age, they're still a kid and unable to provide consent. I liked L's response to how he handles responding to his fans online:

"You'll notice I only ever respond to people on IG [ed: that's Instagram] with a none (sic) romantic reply. I never leave hearts or sex stuff.. ever. I want the fans that interact with me to know that you don't have to be sexual to get the attention of people that matter to you."

 Emphasis on that last line is mine. It may seem hypocritical, coming from someone outwardly sexual like myself, but that statement is so, so important. I get the lack of confidence, I get the elation at being noticed, I get it, but by putting yourself out there sexually, as a minor, you're not only attracting negative attention, but the wrong people. Because there are, sadly, people out there that will exploit the vulnerabilities of insecure teens and that leads to a downward spiral of potential sexual abuse. No. It is sexual abuse. Teens can't consent, and if you exploit them when they're vulnerable, knowing that you're attractive enough to get what you want from an emotionally fragile, naive teenager, you're a sexual predator of the worst kind, and I don't have any more time for you.

So what the hell do we do? Well, let's get rid of this bullshit patriarchal idea that girls are only worth how their bodies appear, and that they must always present themselves as desirable to get attention. I was that ugly, fat girl, and as an adult, well, I look pretty on Instagram but I'm pounding away at my keyboard right now with a horrible pimply mess on my face and hair that's gone too many days without washing. Men still find me desirable, even when they see me gross as fuck. It's because I'm intelligent, confident, and assertive. Confidence and assertiveness I had to learn, they didn't come over night. I figured this out on my own, but that was really pre-Internet and social media, so it  was a different time.

The question is, how do we help girls now find their confidence, to attract the right people into their lives? A lot of it is education and parental involvement. We hear sensationalist news reports about online predators, but are we having actual two-way dialogues with kids about how they present themselves online? Actual, true conversations that don't involve shaming? A true predator can easily identify and exploit a vulnerability. There are a lot of resources online, and a few links I found interesting to start with:

How To Have "The Talk" With Your Kids (About Internet Safety, That Is)
Raising Confident Daughters in a Changing World
Talking to Kids and Teens about Social Media and Sexting
A Girl's Nude Photo, and Altered Lives

I don't pretend to have answers on this. It's a tricky, complicated subject that needs to be approached with sensitivity, and honestly, the best way is to start a dialogue with each other and also step back and look at our own interactions online. I welcome any conversation or additional resources.

I Love Social Media

When I look at memes to the right, I can only think that they were made by technology-fearing old people. I know they're not, but when some people bitch and moan about "kids these days always on their damn phones" and how everyone is looking at a phone and tapping a screen, I tend to disagree with them. I'm one of those always-connected people. My phone is typically within visible range at all times, or in my pocket. Or my hand. My phone delivers my emails to me from my university, messages from my mother, texts from my friends, calls from my brother when he's drunk and waxing a bit maudlin. I love my phone. People who know me in real life know that I'm kind of shy, I take time to warm up to people and in general have a hard time making friends. So when people want to say that social media culture, Internet culture is ruining how we interact with each other, I'm going to heartily disagree with them.

I made a new friend today, all thanks to social media. It started with getting a follow on Twitter, then an exchange of tweets. Then realizing we had some stuff in common. This is what is wonderful and special about the Internet and social media. I remember back in the early 2000's when I first started using the Internet. One of the first places I visited was a Yahoo chatroom, where I made friends with people from all over. Then I moved on to message boards, where I made some long-lasting friendships on a Wicca/Paganism board. I still interact with those people to this day.

So fast forward to present time. Thanks to Facebook, I can keep in touch with my brother in Canada. I can keep up with my old college roommate and her adventures. I can see how my friends from computer club are and share their happiness and successes. I can network with former coworkers. And speaking of networking, via LinkedIn, I can keep my resume updated and build a network of professional connections. I can search jobs, and see how my old coworkers are doing professionally. If I want makeup inspiration, I turn to Instagram and Youtube, which is also a wealth of information for other things; I've often used it for Excel tutorials when I need to see how things are laid out. When I want quick updates on a celebrity, I turn to Twitter. In fact, I have gained a ton of admiration and respect for a band that is easily becoming my second favorite band of all time (Tool will always be number one) because of their interactivity with fans on social media. It's probably a huge time sink for them, but in turn they have an incredibly loyal fanbase. And you know what? I discovered that band when someone I follow on Instagram posted a picture of the lead singer and I got curious. If not for that, I probably wouldn't have discovered them.

Before  you judge someone for staring at their phone, ask yourself-- are they Skyping a family member oversea? Are they getting updates on a friend? Are they looking for a job or applying to school? Smartphones connect us in a way we have never been connected before, and social media enhances that experience by creating a global community. 20 years ago I would never have thought I'd have friends all over the world that were a Kik message or Facebook post away. If you told me then that I'd be able to talk to my brother in Canada for free through a social media app, I wouldn't have believed you. Sure, there's a lot of oversaturation of media that does come from social media and the Internet, and Pinterest culture has lead to a lot of people with identical tattoos (I won't rant about my loathing for Pinterest today, but that's one social media platform I don't use) but I feel the good outweighs the bad. As a global society, social media has given us insight into the plight of the peoples of other nations, social injustices and victories. Social media has brought us all together in a wonderful, beautiful way.

If you're interested in my social media presence, I'll pop some links below. Facebook is private but all else I welcome followers. All the links should open in new windows/tabs.

Instagram
Twitter
Tumblr
YouTube (there's not much on there)
Yelp
And of course, you're already on my blog, so I needn't post that. :)

Are You Seriously Tryna Holla At Me?

I'm going to get my personal vanity right out of the way right now: I'm hot. I know I'm hot. I don't look my age and I'm really skilled at using makeup to highlight my features (mainly, my eyes). And I have huge tits. I may be chubby but I have confidence and I've been told that's sexy.

I recently signed up for VampireFreaks.com because Jesus, look at me. I'm practically a vampire myself, and that's what I tell people. I tell them I come from a family of non-aging vampires and that's why we all look vastly younger than our actual ages. Plus, I have natural fangs. Anyway, I thought VF would be a good place to meet other Goths because I also live in Maine, and while I love my home state, it's very... rednecky? I don't see a whole lot of Goths around, and the ones dabbling in the scene are kids. So I thought joining a website dedicated to Goth culture would be neat, maybe I could have conversations with people and learn about events in my area, get exposed to new music and just overall drool over beautiful people.

What I got was a lot of lame attempts to hit on me. The most WTF-inducing was this one:

Can you kidnap me take me home and BBQ me for dinner?(:

...What? I didn't even respond. A majority of the initial messages I get are "heyy." How are you about to start a conversation with me with that? Jesus, as I write this blog now, another fucking bizarre message pops up in my inbox:

Would you eat an ant sized person for a billion dollars

...What? What the actual fuck?

Guys, seriously. I get that you see a pretty girl and you want to talk. Maybe get in her pants. But "heyy" will never get a response, and jumping into something weird and sexual also won't. I'm not looking for any sort of relationdateship right now, so if you want to get to know me and use that information to flirt, awesome. If you're lonely and need human contact and someone to talk to, awesome, because so does anyone else, and if you're relatively intelligent and polite, I'll give you my Kik user name. But sending "heyy" and then in the next breath asking for nudes? Rude. Now, I have met some really cool people on there and we have actual conversations. It's fun! It's stimulating! But man, am I disappointed in the lame attempts to get attention. I'm not going to cyber you, dude. Go away. Thanks for telling me I'm hot, I appreciate it, but the conversation is over. Go 'way.

Does that make me a bitch? I  don't think so. I hate to sound like one of those people that blames technology, but "heyy" seems to be the commonly accepted icebreaker these days, and honestly, I don't even give them a second glance. It's a burden of being pretty, that people want your attention, but I have a brain! Try harder! There's substance under this pretty exterior!

Don't Apologize for Being a Sexual Person

Recently, a single friend posted a meme about dating other singles, and I, as a recently single person (yes, it's true) suggested "just sleep around, that way emotions never get involved." I was promptly called "whoreish" by a pile of human garbage (a former coworker I've never liked and don't understand why people like her at all, but that's beside the point) but instead of rising to the bait to start a flame war, I replied "you do you" and left it alone. But honestly, that's why I have a blog, and I can't leave it alone. It's no one's right to make a judgement call on another person's sexuality and sexual identity. Gather 'round, kids, it's story time.

Here's a brief timeline of my own sexual growth (this will be TMI for some, so I understand if you don't care to continue reading):

Age 10: First discovered masturbation, completely on accident. Decided this was a good thing.
Age 16/17: Still a virgin, started thinking I might like bondage some day.
Age 21 (22?): First kiss.
Age 27: Lost my virginity (yes, a very late bloomer), first serious relationship.
Age 28 (almost 29): First serious relationship ends
Age 29: I buy my first sex toy (and worth every penny)
Age 29-30: I engage multiple partners and pithily give them Borg designations. I think I had as many as 5 going at one time
Age 31: My first (and only) bondage/flogging experience
Age 31: Second serious relationship
Age 32ish: My libido TANKS
Age 35: My libido is back after eliminating hormonal birth control
Age 35: Single again

What does this timeline show us? That I was a virgin until late in life and had to "catch up," that I am/was a raging slut, that I was a bit socially retarded with sex? Not really. Just because I lost my virginity at 27, doesn't mean I haven't always been a sexual creature. I discovered masturbation early on and the excitement of the lingere section of department store catalogues, R-rated scenes on HBO late at night. I read my friend's mother's romance novels as a teenager, opening them at the creased spine to the steamy parts. I was sexual, I was awakened, but I was shamed. It's a hard thing to express, and I think Pamela Madsen sums it up pretty well in her Huffington Post article:

What we are is fragmented and that is what we are conditioned to be. We are conditioned from the earliest of ages to successfully sever the core of our sexuality, that most basic of human behaviors, from the rest of our lives. 

I don't blame my parents. Ours is a family that doesn't talk about stuff, in general (it's a generational thing) and while my older sister I think tried to give me a sex talk (at which time my brother-in-law butted in an gave me the sage advice of "don't do it") I really relied on media to teach me. And I figured out a lot of things on my own. A lot of the things I figured out taught me that the media lied to me about sex, that society prioritizes and prizes the myth of female virginity, and that I should be ashamed that I masturbated and thought about sex:

We learn to feel ashamed of sexuality in general by being constantly exposed on the one hand to images and messages that say that sex is great and that happy, successful, popular people have sex and on the other hand to messages that say that sex is indulgent and sinful and wrong, and that it leads to disease and betrayal and death. We learn to feel shame about our own particular experience of sex and sexuality by being hit with a steady stream of messages that tell us the only sexuality that is okay is a very narrowly defined one (heterosexual, young, white, non-disabled, skinny, middle class people who do it to make babies and then once a week as an expression of their undying love for each other). The truth is that even if you are some of those things, none of us are all of them. Sexuality can't fit into such a narrow frame. In other words none of us meet this ideal.

Around age 30, I had something of an awakening. I had a "fuck it" moment and realized that at that point, I had been living my life for other people and not myself, and that included my sexual expression. I had come out of a serious relationship with my very first sexual partner and realized that there were other shapes, sizes, and flavors of men to experience, and there was nothing wrong with wanting to explore that. At first, I had to overcome the internal conflict; overcoming three decades of socially-induced sexual shame isn't easy. I had to rationalize a lot of things, and decided that, if I wanted to play and have multiple partners, I needed to take a more business approach to things and define a set of rules not only for them, but for myself. This held especially true when I set my sights on a married man. Yes, a married man. I won't say that I was right or wrong in it, but it was just sex, transactional, emotionless, tension-relieving sex, and a small bit of a power trip (okay, a big one) knowing that I was pretty enough and sexual enough to get a man to stray. I won't apologize for it. 

I won't apologize for any of the sexual experiences I've had, whether society finds them morally reprehensible or "unladylike" or what the fuck ever judgement society wants to pass. I treat every experience as a learning experience, and during the time that I had 4 or 5 guys on retainer, I learned a lot about sexuality, about what I like, don't like, how I am selfish, and how my partners were selfish (I had one that refused me oral sex but demanded it of me). I'm not going to apologize for being a woman who expresses her sexuality. I will not apologize for being a woman who has sex.

And neither should you. Never apologize for being a sexual person. Don't let others tell you you should be ashamed, that "women don't act that way," that you're not being "classy" (again, whatever the fuck that means). The sexual double standard holds that if I was a man, I'd be getting high-fives from my dudebros right now for my sexual past, but, as a woman, I am labeled a "slut" and "whoreish." 

Fuck. That. Noise. 

Do what you want to do and be proud. Fuck who you want to fuck. Explore. Try something new. Stop being ashamed that you masturbate. Stop lying to yourself that you don't enjoy sex when you do. If you want someone, approach them; what's the worst response, "no?" Be proud of your breasts, get to know your vagina and your clitoris. Explore. Be happy. But in no way, in no form, does anyone have the right to pass judgement on how you, as a person, are a sexual person, to impose their own moral belief-set on how you live your life. It'll be hard at first. Take baby steps.