dawnderer the wanderer: 2008

04 June 2008

I have a Facebook and a Myspace page. Lately, I've spent more time on Facebook playing one of their application games. There are way too many. My latest addiction is a fairly new application called Mob Wars.

Mob Wars (MW) is a game where you start off as a street thug and you steal and fight your way to become a powerful mobster. MW has a gray screen with menu items and you select certain items to either buy weapons, buy property, commit crimes (called "jobs") or fight another mob. The results of those actions are shown on screen in written form: so, you kill another mob boss, it reads, "You killed Al Capone!" or if another mobster puts a hit one you: "You died, losing 50 points." You don't see blood, money, or anything. You respond to written messages.

Now here it gets better. It's an interactive game. So, if you decide to fight another mob(boss), it is another person playing the game. I've played with people all over the world. Many mob bosses have formed "syndicates" to protect their members and war against others. I won't reveal the name of the syndicate to which I belong; suffice to say that it is a powerful syndicate. Right now we are warring with another "family" and we interact with one another through our group's discussion board, inbox messages, and sometimes instant messaging. There is trash talking, joking, vendettas...forgive me, I am having fun.

Here in real life though, I've lost my energy. I don't think I'm having a depressive episode, but I'm close enough to it that if I succumb, I might need to increase my meds. I'm worried about paperwork for my foreign student exchange to France in the fall, I need to clean my extremely dirty apartment, I'm short on cash, and I sleep way too much. I live in Decatur, GA and the weather is fine but I spend a lot of my time inside. I don't know, it seems that the only joy I have is MW even though better things are coming along. I just had a birthday and I feel like people didn't care to wish me a happy birthday (even though several did). I'm not dating, I feel unattractive, fresh fruits and vegetables are waaay to expensive and really, I like junk food. I have a strange pain in my ear right now and bugs are biting me; I have thoughts that each bug bite is poison and I'm gradually succumbing to the poison. I've been slacking off at my job- I'm a student assistant who doesn't do much work and can do pretty much whatever I want, so you know it's bad.

Right now I can't sleep, so I'm watching Forever Knight on Netflix Instant Watch. I forgot some of the cheesy effects on this show. I didn't forget that Geraint Wyn Davies was fine as hell, though!

I'm taking a break because there is this really bad episode- I mean, so bad that I started cursing at the screen. I mean, Geraint is awesome and some of his wigs and hairpieces are a hoot, but some of these female characters...ugh.

I have to be at work by 9am this morning. I'm not sleepy and I doubt that I'll get to sleep before 4am. I have to leave my apartment by 8am. I sleep too much and can't sleep when I need to. Or maybe I don't need sleep yet. I signed back on to Facebook to play MW again, but I realized that I was too tired to do that. Hopefully I'll get tired enough to sleep.

11 May 2008

First things first: I totally stole this blog title from a short story written by Anthony Grooms. Before you Google the story, this blog has nothing to do with the story. I'm just a title-thief. Same intentions as Grooms, perhaps.

I know that you read my first blog on this site. If you didn't, go ahead...take a minute. Done? Good. I've been thinking about how I became this rah rah feminist and radical. I sure as hell didn't grow up this way. I've been apathetic to liberal to even more apathetic to conservative to conservative liberal to liberal to very liberal to radical.

Makes sense? Ok. Hang on.

I am the oldest of four children from my mother. My father has a fifth child, but he's only eleven. We don't know each other well, but he's a sweet kid. For most of my childhood, it has been me and my brother B. My parents divorced when I was 18. Friends used to compare my family to the Cosby show. We were middle class (much much lower than the Huxtables), well behaved, and had conservative styles. My parents made me aware of racism and proud of my heritage. They were quick to intervene; Mom tells people about how I was angry getting a Kissing Christie doll (black) instead of a Kissing Barbie (white, of course). Apparently, that's when they decided to move to the city...where there were more black folks. My parents instilled black pride and the need to perform better because of the color of our skin. Though I was racially aware (and I believe few black children can avoid this) I didn't understand about class differences or homophobia.

My mom was a "feminist." She hated using blue for boys and pink for girls. My brother and I both played with He-Man, Barbies, Star Wars, baby dolls, etc. However, I wasn't allowed to call boys on the phone. She loved dressing me up in pink dresses and pink ribbons. Yuck.

My father is very conservative. I mean, he knows when he is being screwed as a black man and he's still bitter over stuff that happened when he was a kid (and adult). But Dad didn't allow us to wear shorts or T-shirts to school. I couldn't get my ears double pierced until I was 18. As adults, my three brothers and I have pretty conservative looks; my brother Stephen and I tend to be more experimental with our looks. I didn't realized how this all tied together until I was thinking about this blog and talking to people about some of the baggage from my past. Some people have the luxury (?) of not worrying about traditions or what people think of them. Expectations were naturalized in my family (as they are in many other families). My parents expected me to make honor roll every semester, get all A's (that's mostly my dad), and behave perfectly. My outward image needed to be spotless. Everything else stayed home and was family business. Unfortunately, many of you understand what I'm talking about.

As a teenager, I began to be intensely disgusted with my family's image. Why couldn't we let our hair down? Why couldn't we be as free as other people? Why was it that my parents told me that in order to be successful I had to hang out with successful people? My parents still look down on other people (and though they are divorced, they are still very much alike in this). Like many other parents, they consider themselves "good parents" because none of us are drug addicts, served time in prison, or had children out of wedlock (yet). I am working on a master's degree, two of my brothers have decent jobs, and the youngest adult brother is mature beyond his years. My thing is this: you can still be a good parent if your child is an addict, a(n) (ex)convict, or an unwed parent. People make mistakes. Parents, please give yourselves a break...you did the best you could.

Did I consider myself a liberal? No. I didn't really believe in God, but I considered myself agnostic (not really understanding what that meant at the time. I meant that I wasn't an atheist). At the age of sixteen I had a boyfriend for two weeks. That boyfriend is now one of my great friends and gay. I knew he was gay in high school (who else would wear a bustier in school???) I loved my friend and other people who were gay. Up until my mid-twenties, I was very open to gay (men) and transwomen. Before my late teens, I hadn't really thought about my own sexuality. Looking back, I had always lusted after women. I snuck my father's Playboy magazines to private places and gazed at the women. I also read the comics. Hey, some of them were funny!

I liked Penthouse too. Funny, I wasn't really into seeing naked men. I didn't look at a Playgirl until I was 18. I did like looking at naked hairy men holding animals. That was hottt.

I came out for the first time when I was 20. I had an outwardly gay (male) friend and his outness helped me to come out. I switched back and forth because I wasn't sure if I was gay or bisexual. The problem I have to this day (or blessing?) is that I still like men. Maybe not as much as women, but consistently enough to disprove the lesbian thing. So...I'm a bi-dyke? Queer? Half-dyke? Weekend Lesbian? Whatever- I like both. I still expected to marry (a man) and have kids. I never thought deeply that my desires would radically change those expectations. Of course, my parents divorce soured me on marriage, but I still went out with men. Women not so much. Too shy actually. So here it is: unsatisfying (sexual) relationships with men (because they were jerks, not because they were men) and longing for women. Either way, I was a free one with typical political apathy. Then my best friend died before she turned 23 and I started looking for God.

It's hard to be bisexual and a wannabe Christian. People always call you on it. In 1999 I was thinking about changing. I threw out my cheap lesbian porn (for men) and began to look for something different. Forget about the fact that I spent the better part of the year goggling at a redhaired waitress (I LUVVV REDHEADS!!!) Forget about me spending time in gay bars- for mostly men since my friends were usually gay men. I moved to Atlanta, GA in November 1999.

By April 2000, I became a member of the Atlanta branch of the International Churches of Christ. Don't know about them? Look at this and this. I went through my most conservative phase ever. I kind of wrote off my old life and embraced a false spirituality. Basically, in a nutshell, I was so afraid of hell I made sure I behaved. Feared punishment and disapproval. I began to embrace the teachings in which men lead the women (and that it was the right way), that my life had to be consumed with saving the lost, and my main friends were people in the church. If you were a member, you know exactly what I mean. If not, you'll have to wait for a later blog.

I was a member for four years. Though I struck out and suffered in different ways, I was not a "problem." I also had to become straight. Didn't do much for my desires, but hey, the fact that I liked men and wanted to get married took some pressure off, but not much. I went back to school for a second BA to teach high school. I started counseling (I've had a history of stop and starts when it comes to therapy) and my counselor helped me develop the courage to leave. This was serious; if you left the church, you were in danger of going to hell. Some of us former members say that no one held a gun to our heads, but the threat of being hell bound was frightening for many of us. I had no backbone; I felt bullied by my parents and allowed that same control by the church. When I left the church, I swore that no one would control me again.

It took several years to change my mindset, letting go all that religious stuff. I left in 2004 and it's now 2008. Before I graduated with my second BA (in secondary education in English), I took an expository writing class with a feminist teacher (who made me sigh every time she ran her hand through her mop of hair). Our final project was to film a documentary. I chose to focus on single women over 30. She suggested I read Backlash by Susan Faludi. That book changed my life! My feminist awakening began that year. One of my college instructors (a GTA actually) told the class that graduate school would change us. I scoffed because I am an asshole and gave this poor man too much trouble. He was right, kinda.

I started graduate school in fall 2005 as an English major. Unfortunately, I also had my first major depressive episode this year. This was one of the scariest and most difficult years of my life. I have had minor episodes since then (and, it turns out, on and off all my life) and my experiences revealed much about the state of healthcare and the resources available for people who suffer from mental illnesses. In fact, I was lucky. Even though I had sucky insurance at one point (wouldn't pay for my primary physician visits because I was diagnosed with a "nervous" condition so I had to pay for my visits out of my pocket. And paid close to $100 a month for my medication. As a full time grad student.) and then no insurance so I had to use Grady because I couldn't spend $100 (and it gets higher with dosage) a month on medication I seriously needed. Are you from Atlanta? Then you know what I mean by needing Grady and some of the shit that goes with it. Grady is a hospital that "serves poor people." And doesn't really serve us well.

In my second year of grad school I decided to add a women's studies certificate to my degree. Georgia State University had a wonderful and pretty radical women's studies department. As my ideologies have changed, I recognize that social change can occur when others come to understand what I have learned. Some people tend to write moderate and conservative people off, but I just don't see things that way. I'm more of a "Let me show you" kind of person, hoping that you will respond.

I wonder if this is leftover from my evangelistic church days. I think it is but in a good way. I was never really enthusiastic and zealous for Christianity the way I am for anti-globalization, anti-racism, anti-feminism, and socialism (and Marxism). For me, I believe that this is good news- that the stuff we weigh our selves down with is actually bullshit. Gender, family values, crime, and patriotism are not "natural" but constructed to serve detrimental purposes. Yes, I am anti-capitalism. Race, class, and gender with a hot shot of family values feed the capitalist machine. I am reading more than I ever had before (and I read all the time FOR FUN). The more I read and talk to people, watch the news, and think about what is happening, the more I want to become an active part of changing the world. It's kinda weird. In 2000 I signed up to make Christians and now in 2008 I want to mobilize people to fight for their rights.

I'm not anti-Christian, but I don't like Christianity. I have no problems with Jesus, but the other stuff? No fucking way. Don't want any part of it. I do not deny spirituality and I'm not denying the existence of God. I describe myself as a former Christian.

The ICOC is now on Facebook (warning to ex-members). I have friends in the church- you know, those who will still speak to me even though I refuse to go back. I read their posts and though a lot of stuff has changed (considering) it sounds like the same crazy shit to me. I have allowed myself to connect with a couple friends on Facebook but I am really edgy- they are using it for evangelistic purposes. It makes me sick to my stomach. I still have emotional wounds and fear joining large organizations. Kinda sucks for an activist, huh? Heh. It's also scary trying to get close to people. Trust issues, you know.

But I still live my life. Sometimes I sleep too much because of my meds, sometimes I tend to be a hermit and hide in my apartment. This summer I want to go out and have fun!

Right now I'm reading The Prison and the Gallows: The Politics of Mass Incarceration in America. I'm interested in prison abolition so I'm trying to educate myself. More on that another time.

I'm almost done with my master's degree. I'm fulfilling my foreign language requirement during an academic year-long exchange in France. I've been accepted through our program to attend the University of Versailles at Saint-Quentin-en-Yvelines (UVSQ). I have so much paperwork and shit to do. It's ridiculous. I have to put out so much fuckin' money. Hopefully the experience will be worth it.

I need to date. I dated in the church but that was weird. I had some brothers ask me out to "encourage" me. These were not dates that led to romantic relationships and we were usually double dating to preserve purity. Ack. I really haven't had a boyfriend or girlfriend in forever and sex? dude not since 1995. Sexual brief contact (men and women) but not enough to say I did anything. I mean, New Year's Eve in 1997 (?) I'm making out with one chick and groping another while she's dancing. She dug it. I've had frustrating non-sex with guys- as in no penetration but I did that sad pathetic thing where I allowed two of them (at separate times) to come while being stroked between my tits. Grossss. I think I was grossed out by most men that year (1999). The purity of the church was a welcome thing. Depressed and no sex as a single woman? Cool. Now I can't seem to get out of that celibacy. So I'm horny and scared, insecure because I have gained A LOT of weight and I have huge breasts and chubby cheeks. Maybe I'll get lucky this summer?

I am interested in a guy right now...I know, I'm supposed to be going out of the country in a few months. I like his energy and I hope to get to know him.

At long last this blog is over! I thought all this was necessary so you will understand where I'm coming from and where I'm going. In this blog, I'm gonna be personal, political, graphic (sometimes), I will curse (though I will try to keep it to a somewhat respectable level. And if you believe that...), I will talk about random shit (oops!), TV shows and movies, and whatever. Sometimes I will not be politically correct. And then sometimes I'll insist on it. As Walt Whitman says in Song of Myself:

Do I contradict myself?
Very well then I contradict myself,
(I am large, I contain multitudes.)

Ha! Well then...

À bientôt!

dawnderer the wanderer

Long Time, No See...Er, Write

19 August 2008

Too much Mob Wars and not enough energy

04 June 2008

No, not Moonlight!!!

17 May 2008

How I Got My Personal Politics

11 May 2008

A new beginning

09 May 2008

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