Hetero-phobia

Yes, I admit it. I'm heterophobic. Phobic denoting fear. Not of heterosexuals, but of heterosexuality. It suited me not to have to contend with issues of gender normality. Gender tradition. It's been convenient that my relationships till now have not been bogged-down by the thousand years history of supposed female submission and male violence. It suited me not to have to contend too closely with the sensetivities that hetero-normative socialisation impresses on even the most left-wing/progressive boys. Yes, I had to contend with it in life, but it had been a while since I've had to contend with it in the bedroom, and in an intimate setting.

I can no longer choose to just dismiss these issues, to theorise them right out of my life and leave their navigations up to others. Love may well come to me in a form tainted by the scourges of masculine ego, corrupted by masculine pride and pride-driven violence.

Consider Romeo and Juliet. The boys are always fighting, out of a sense of pride. They express their grief and anger with violence, and work to a shedule of rules of honour and principle. Being a pragmatist I do not support violence in the name of honour. Action, yes, but not violence, unless it is very carefully executed and not allowed to get out of control.

But, the actions of the boys doesn't bother me nearly as much as the separation between girls and boys. The assumption that females are outside of the order of honour and principle, cannot understand violence or pride, and are submissive and passive by nature. A society where this distinction is not artifically enforced, and where the "nature" of each sex is not reified and naturalised, is a society where communication and compromise can determine action.

Bascially, I don't accept that "boys will be boys" and girls will keep them in line.

But if I am going to date boys, then this is a historical hangover that I'm going to have to deal with in very personal contexts. I hope that I can work on/deal with my "heterophobia", and potential partner's masculinity with patience and sensetivity, rather than ex-student politics, articulate feminist rail-roading.

I suppose the secret is shutting up and listening for long enough to allow a dialogue. That tends to be the course of action I most need to take, and most often fail to.

Hmmmmmm. PS: Boys can be so cute! Hot, even!

Hooked on Love

I've done it again. Thrown myself into a feeling. Wriggled my way into the beautiful fucked up heart of another inappropriate but irresistable freak. Life was going so well, and it still is, but I took a holiday from it. Spent a few days in someone else's world. And fell in lust and longing with A. An artist, a junkie, a ratbag, gentle, damaged and yet brilliant, funny, talented, aching to learn and love, caught up in a rollercoaster ride of trying to be happy, trying to find a way to live that can hold him, can keep him stable...

I know now that this is a drug for me, and more than any other it is my drug of choice. I see the beauty in people, and I want to be close to them. I love the thrill of breaking down the barriers and sharing a connnection - even if it's just for a short time. I love it. I crave it. I will "pay" for it. I sacrifice myself for it, I will chase it and seek it. I will take all that I can, and give as much of myself as they will receive, and then when I have to go home, to let it go, I will mourn it, I will comedown from it so hard that I can't sit still! I can't breath, I feel lost and hungry, like I am dying or starving. My life at home looks dull, TV seems dead, food's lost it's flavour, and all I want is him. To be raging through the world together, laughing, crying. To show him my life, and make him happy.

But I have gained valuable insight from my relationship with Josh. I now know that my own safety is important. I know that own soul must be fed first, that I must be stable and safe, or a love is not worthwhile and is doomed to fail. I know that only when I am happy in my own life and moving in the right direction can I express the beauty and energy that makes people fall in love with me. And I know that I don't want to ever be made to feel insecure again, I'm better than that.

So now that I can see it as a drug, I can control my relationship to it. Yes, Ill fall off the wagon sometimes. I'l let myself slide into the arms of some or other lostboy, I'll outstay my welcome, stray from my path, and let myself down in the pursuit of love. But I'll get back up, and this time, I'll not lose myself. I'll never fool myself into thinking I want to live that crazy life. I'll not lose sight of my path this time. My focus, my task to complete.

I have a thesis to write. One day love will come at a time, and in a form that doesn't pose a threat to my well-being. In the meantime, I'll try to cope with the cravings, stay healthy, enjoy the occasional romp with my one true weakness, and try to get by.

The future! Fuck! What does it hold? More pertinantly, what do I want to it look like???

IPOD

J and My New IPOD!

God! The journey I have taken. So far from myself, and back again. Into the fire, and out half-burned, limping, haunted by shadows. I loved him. I really did. A wild and untameable thing. And the difference even he acknowledges, is that I never wanted to tame him. Other’s wanted J, wanted to possess him, tame him, understand him, change him. Make him stay. Make him truthful. I knew always that he was a liar, a thief and an opportunist. The way he lived his life was interesting and beautiful to me. A child shut out from love and normal human touches, who had bred his own love of the world, his own set of childish rules and beliefs. An idealist with big dreams, big hopes that mostly somehow got lost down the barrel of a tina pipe. Together we were something. Really something. A team. Fabulous. Meaningful. Real.

A life of chance and excitement. Something new around every corner. The love was always real, he feelings were always real – and as beautiful and pure as a child’s, with a child’s idealism. And he navigated the gutter better than anyone. Truly the Girl From The Gutter, GFTG, I take my hat off to you. You have survived. You have stolen, betrayed, lied and deceived, to try and be happy, to procure love and care. To look after yourself. The only way you know. In the mess and danger of the scene, the only mother you have.

But J can handle that life. It is the life he knows. A life of uncertainty and opportunity. Can we really blame him for not wanting to look back and see the mess he leaves? (He never meant to… He doesn’t know what to do, so he denies, tries to forget…) For not understanding how to care for others, when no one ever cared for him?

Yes, I suppose we can. The only way to be a man is take responsibility for your past. He wants to be a man. He wanted to be a man. He took me to the casino, in a suit and tie, after caberet – I wore a pretty dress and feathers. We could pretend for just a while. And it was poetry. J was poetry. And I did love him. And I have set him free.

And set myself free.


Listening to Decoder Ring!
On my new hot pink IPOD! Given to me by Charlie (Marnie’s boyfriend) and Marnie, and the universe – from whence it sprang. I paid my respects – flushed a thank you note down the toilet.

House! House House!

And NCIS. I know this is a silly thing to post about, but too bad! Tonight's episode of House was incredible! Amazing! Fabulous. OMG! I love House!

In other news, my birthday celebration will be on Friday 29th Sep. Dinner at my place in Wollongong. I hope that some of my friends in Sydney will make the trip down, and that way they'll get to see my place. People can get the train down together and eat at mine, then we'll hang out for a bit, get ready for Kooky and all catch the train up together.

Then it'll be Kooky, maybe ARQ, or maybe just chill out.

I'll also be going out sunday afternoon and maybe sunday night, but maybe not.

Anyway. Mwa.

PS! My phone comes back on tomorrow. You've got the old number.

PPS! Don't forget the new season of House starts next wednesday!

Throw a Coin

The Tiffany Eckhardt song expresses the anxieties of a woman who has a new baby and is struggling with her life, her home and her concept of herself. She says

Somebody come and clean my house.
I've fallen behind.
Everything is mounting up.
I don't know what
happens to the time.

Somebody tell me who rules this life.
And am I a good mother? And am I a good wife?

Throw a coin into the fountain for me
I'll sit here where I can see you play.
I know that girl is in here somewhere.
Where, oh where, can she be?

Somebody tell me where did it go?
Time it flows like a river to the sea.
And there's a lady standing here that I don't know.
Don't recognise her at all.

I love you so you know I'm filled to overflow.
And what I'd do without you, God, I don't know.
It's just that somehow I have left myself behind.
Am I really here, or did I disappear?

Somebody come and clean my house.
I've fallen behind.
Everything is mounting up.
I don't know what happens to the time.

Will somebody tell me

Am I a good mother?
Am I a good wife?

Throw a coin into the fountain for me
I'll sit here where I can see you play.
I know that girl is in here somewhere.
Where, oh where, can she be?

They are simple, country lyrics - it is a beautiful and very simple country song - but they express a complex and very common experience. Common, I'd imagine to both women and men, but perhaps more so for women, who often feel as though they lose themselves in marriage or in caring for children.

I find it beautiful and moving.

I have cleaned my room and organised my clothes. Many of them are even on hangers. I have put thesis papers into folders with labelled sections, I have hung all my earrings up on display to make it easier to choose the right pair. I have started a collage on an antique mirror board (the mirror broke!) from a dressing table. It will be of the little match girl. And I have decided that the zine I'm doing will about more than just the Little Match Girl I had become. That will just be one story it tells.

I have so many more stories than that to record. I have so much more to say now that the clouds have cleared. I can see the past year in all its glory and saddness. And best of all, I can laugh.

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Spring Again!

Funny how Spring always feels new even though I've already had 25 of them. The feeling is undeniable. I feel alive. A contagious enthusiasm. A feeling of health and well-being. A positivity. I think it is some great earthly and natural physiological chemistry, similar to the effects of drug use on the brain; euphoria, comedown, etc. But because of the relatively long duration of the highs and lows, I cannot use psychology to control my response to these fluctuations.

When I'm feeling low after a big weekend out, I can tell myself "it's chemical, it will pass", but it is much harder to survive the colder months on the mantra "it's Winter, it will pass". I really do feel the Winter deeply.

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Marnie and I went to a party in Wollongong on the weekend. It was a fundraiser for a charity, something like "Australian Youth India Program". A friend of Danny and Cara's is going overseas to work with them. Twas a good evening out, but I had the worst hangover the next day!

On Sunday, I got some really cute silver heeled sandals for twenty dollars! So cute!

Writing 2000 words for Melissa for friday meeting, then off to Imperial to do drinks and pool with Liz S, also catching up with Liz P! Yay! And whoever else happens to join up at the pub. Devi should be coming too.

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