The truth is, if we look for it, we will find it.
To remember love is to love. I would go further, and say, in some ways: to love is to remember. To remember is to love. Love is not a verb. Love is a signal.

How do you love when you can't remember consciously? You remember unconsciously. Your fingertips remember, the small of your back remembers, your breath remembers, quickening. Memory permeates love as a lingering scent permeates a flower, clinging to it long after it's plucked.

I appreciate those who say love is an action, a verb, but then too, memory is a verb. Breath is a verb. We may love as we breathe: memory without awareness, in silence, as a reflex.

If memory is the lingering of oneself, so too is love. It gives me hope to say that those who can remember but cannot love, are still loving. Those who love others while losing memory of the past-- those, I fear, are no longer loving. Being alone long enough, it seems memory acquires a special importance. An act of stubborn imagination, recreating the remaining dregs of magic left to oneself. It begins to seem an all right sort of eternity, a fair trade: being an ageless undead creature who cannot love or die, but can still remember, and conversely, it begins to seem that the casual encouragement of forgetfulness by the well-meaning is nothing but an act of desecration. It begins to seem that pain is as solid a marker of love as joy, and perhaps more so. That memory may feel carved on your skin, to the point of absurdity: beat (ow), beat (oww), beat (ahhh). Even those who longer love may bleed.

As long as the emotionless, the walking dead may remember love, they are bathed in an echo of its light. That too is love; like Morse code, like the light of a long-dead star, the memory transmits its signal, and so long as someone remains to see that light, to decipher that code as they sit staring intently, pitilessly, at a set of abstract signs: it is real enough. More than real enough. That is what I want to believe: 00011000101011000....
Things:
- I suck at time management, to the point where my biggest fantasy right this second isn't that I wake up in faerie, but that I wake up being good at time-management. Is that how you know you've grown up? Um, I hope not.
- Washington State legalized same-sex marriage! YEAH! I am suddenly proud of 'my' state. In fact I've never thought of it as 'mine' before, but NYS sure as hell ain't mine. I disown it, anyway. More importantly, we rock.
- I'm getting used to going to HS to intern/practice sitting quietly/etc, wtf. I'm so not cut out for hardcore urban schools, though. Even my nice, tiny, alternative HS makes me nervous till I relax. Seriously. Hardcore urban? Not my bag.
- We're reading a fantasy YA novel about historical African-American gods/characters/folklore in my class, and some of my group are like, 'fantasy is what turned me off literature in middle school'. O___o for realz! They are having flash-backs, and are like, really struggling to relate to black people's mythology, etc. Even the ones who've got fantasy-reading experience. People comfortable with this book make up a huge minority in our 10-or-so person group. Meh.

...I dunno. I feel let down but unsurprised. I just feel sad, maybe? I dunno. I just have to repeat to myself 'I am different, I am weird, I am different', 'cause like, I forget sometimes. Ok, so all the dialogue being in Ebonics kind of annoyed me (but I got used to it), and the plot was a little boring (but it got better), but they just had this huge resistance, and it was all because of this social/racial gap, and it's just depressing, man. I mean, really? REALLY???

And I can't blame them 'cause it's a visceral response, not an incorrect belief or misguided feeling. Fundamentally, the way I use literature and the way most people (probably) use literature are not the same, and the way I relate to new worlds and cultures is also fundamentally not the same. I mean, like I said, I wasn't thrilled about the Ebonics, but neither was I alienated. I was annoyed, a little bored, but not alienated. Black? Chinese? Rich? Poor? American? Japanese? Realistic? Fantastical? Gay? Straight? God? Human? Other? I don't care. Most people do, apparently. Is that okay? I guess it's neither ok nor 'not ok'...??

Depressing. These are supposed to be future teachers, interested in YA lit. I dunno, I don't blame them. I don't. The need to connect viscerally with literature is a real thing, and it's why these super-personal 'niche' books get written-- because black teenagers don't see themselves reflected in the literature. But I like to think that's not a majority feeling, across the board. I like to think literature can reach you regardless of your culture, and that universal meaning isn't a stupid pipe-dream, but maybe I just have to believe this book isn't good enough, and that's it.
It is my ambition to write a normal-- yet epic-- romantic relationship sometime. Like, a romance-- not the beginning and not the end, but like, a love story that is epic and yet believable. It was my ambition back when I tried to write 'One Good Reason' (my first H/D attempt, back before I even read the books), and it's my ambition in a broader sense still-- but that was the first time I thought it sucked that I could read so many romances and yet never write one except in the 'poetic fragments of an angsty affair' sort of way.

The thing is to reach that pinnacle where relationships feel epic yet believable.
   ...wherein I make way too many references to Old Fandom and. stuff. )
All these years later, I'm still not sure if this is true: are people's preferences for bottoms in slash pairings directly correlated with which character they'd want taken care of? And if so, what does this say about feminism, ideas about gender roles, etc.

I totally get that feminism gets some stuff wrong-- stuff to do with stuff women do feel rather than should feel. It can be overly prescriptive on issues that are too hormonal/biological rather than simply cultural. This is also the case with other social movements (the didacticism), but only veganism and environmentalism seem on par with feminism in this sense. Somehow, believing in 'the right thing' becomes outrage at like, human nature, too easily. Not cool with me. But still.

It's never been natural for me to associate the character I'd like to bottom with infantilizing or identification, even, and I don't know how to judge my own freakishness. Reading (and enjoying) bottom!Kirk fics has especially brought this home to me. I prefer top!Kirk because I like the dynamic with Spock better, because it exposes aspects of Spock I find interesting (his emotional yielding to Kirk becomes manifested physically, yet also problematized). I find I'm ok with bottom/switch!Kirk if the fic explores similar issues with Spock anyway, though in my mind I also simply don't like the issues bottom!Kirk has (not interesting to me psychologically). Other people seem to focus on who's more 'in-control' emotionally (tops), who's more of a woobie (bottoms), who's prettier or skinnier (often bottoms), even. It's just kind of problematic in both characterization & feminist ways. Ironically, yaoi manga plays with these cliches a lot of times where the point is having a pretty-boy top or whatever, though I'm not sure that's ideal, but it's more than slash seems to do.

The 'realism' angle seems irrelevant, btw; like, I don't care if most gay men don't do penetrative sex, or if the focus on top/bottom itself is 'wrong' (and everyone should switch). That's too didactic/prescriptive. But there's so much predictability & rigidity in most people's preferences that that itself seems problematic somehow-- gender-roles, etc-- except I myself am so hardcore about top!Harry. Though honestly, this is definitely partly rooted in just the horrid characterizations of almost all top!Dracos. Honestly, he's just not dommy at all. The whole thing where he wants to take care of Harry or thinks Harry is a woobie in any way is just so groan-worthy it's embarrassing. And I mean, having Draco be 'cool' enough to top a badass Harry is just silly. I mean, if someone wrote a pathetic Draco topping a badass Harry, ok (if unsatisfying), but that pretty much never happened. Which is probably evidence for the psychological basis thing. *sigh*
Dear Random Guy by the Garbage Today:

I really didn't mean to back away from you as if you had some horrible disease. No, really. It's just I was shredding my mail, and I thought you wanted my garbage space. So I backed away. Without saying anything. It's not that I really thought you were beneath the dirt on my shoe. Actually, I was just concerned that I was infringing on your space somehow, but because I was irritated at having to move with shredding half-done, I maybe took too many steps back. Ok, I took 3-4 steps back while staring balefully at you. Sorry.

All I can say is, my punishment is that I've been thinking and groaning about this for most of the rest of the day, whereas you've almost certainly forgotten me. Maybe that just underlines how awkward I am and you're (probably) not. Sorry, I don't mean to make judgments about you, Random Guy. You were kind of cute. And then you looked at me like I was a freak. Which, well, was true. Anyway, I still don't know what you were doing. Maybe you wanted to throw away your garbage but then I traumatized you and you moved away. If so, my apologies again.

Sincerely,
Freaky Garbage Girl.
You know, I never quite realized that as a tutor, I could be either helpful or, conversely, a Tool of the Oppressor. Ok, well, I realized it, but I didn't quite realize it would be because of discipline, a shameful discipline, according to this article on the uselessness of MFAs and the Writer's Workshop culture: "The workshop’s most famous mantras – ‘Murder your darlings,’ ‘Omit needless words,’ ‘Show, don’t tell’ – also betray a view of writing as self-indulgence, an excess to be painfully curbed in AA-type group sessions. Shame also explains the fetish of ‘craft’: an ostensibly legitimising technique, designed to recast writing as a workmanlike, perhaps even working-class skill, as opposed to something every no-good dilettante already knows how to do. Shame explains the cult of persecutedness, a strategy designed to legitimise literary production as social advocacy, and make White People feel better (Stuff White People Like #21: ‘Writers’ Workshops’)."

It's true, insofar as I support discipline, though not because I'm ashamed or especially think of writing as more self-indulgent than visual art (which is my other outlet). I do find that some visual artists (that is, illustrators) have a much more healthy and pleasant outlook on their work than most writers that work for the paycheck. If I had to do art for money, I'd prefer illustrating Marlboro ads to writing their copy, for instance. I think illustrators have a great gig, mostly because they seem (on the whole) to not have a complex about it and to just cheerfully do it (and many seem to enjoy it without too much defensiveness). High art people may look down on illustrators, but the illustrators themselves generally don't care; conversely, fan-favorite writers have a sort of sordid relationship with their writing, all wrapped up in audience response, ego, and guilt. Or maybe I'm just too familiar with it. Conversely, the MFA 'literature' people have their own (very embarrassing) set of inadequacy/arrogance issues. *sigh* In the end, I think illustrators are redeemed by the fact that the audience response to commercial visual art is less personal; you can be popular, but most illustrators are generally seen as very much secondary to their works. Further, most illustrators are not paid through individual sales (that is, due to individuals buying X copies of their work) but through commissions. All in all, a system much more conducive to sanity.

Though the fact is, run-ons should probably be edited out, you know, but it's not like it's such a Big Deal, either. Just get over it. Ahh. I guess I'm saying that regardless of whether a given example of craft is Art, all art is Craft: is that really so hard to accept? I mean, it's not something to fixate on, or to use as a screen for ego: it's just a fact. Writing is a craft, and editing is needed. Duh. At the same time, I think that people clearly have some sort of ego issue where writing is both exaggerated as 'craft' and as 'art', so that sentences such as this one (from the article) may be composed: "Pretending that literary production is a non-elite activity is both pointless and disingenuous." I mean, really... someone should point this guy to fandom.... Though I mostly agree with his basic point re: the incestuousness of 'high art' lit and the need for a 'room of one's own' for fruitful writing to take place. I will say, though, that writing can take place outside privilege... it is more difficult, surely, but the idea that writers are potted hothouse flowers that require just the right balance of air and moisture and funds to thrive is another ego-feeding legend that needs to die.
My ovaries think a former football player -- now Texan research scientist at A&M who works with "flame-resistant materials" -- is dream guy material, for sure. I could live with the sideburns, even.


It's just. Looking at this guy, technically I know that romance novels are fiction, but for a moment one forgets. I mean, really? Really??? He's got to be like, really dull at parties. Well, he's just an engineer. Engineers are like the jocks of the sciences anyway, right... :>

And in bigger, better science news, a physicist at a DARPA conference came up with an engineless starship. I, of course, find this a lot more hot, even if he's also not my type.
Ok, I feel like this should be self-evident, but it strikes me again that confidence and intelligence don't combine to equal correctness, even in questions where a 'correct answer' exists. This guy in our work-group was clearly confident and clearly did understand a lot of the material thoroughly and could easily synthesize the knowledge, but the answer he gave was way too broad (even if insightfully constructed and well-condensed), so that he didn't hit on the simple and straightforward information necessary but rather took the oppotunity to demonstrate his own insight. I must underline that I am comfortable and happy with highly intelligent people whether or not they're brusque or arrogant, it's just that I don't think the arrogance is supported when the answer isn't well-pointed. Most scientific/factual questions have simple answers that are narrow as well as clear. A broad answer is rarely best to narrow questions.

Another guy in our group answering the question was more amiable but even more fuzzy; he admitted his own fuzziness but merely prodded at the edges (of what was essentially a simple answer) and showed no great discomfort with his lack of precision. Note, I think this is better than a pre-supposed precision: Brainy Guy thought he was precise (that is, it all made sense in his head) but instead wasn't. I prefer at least knowing your flaws. However, Fuzzy Guy's lack of focused pressure to gain more precision made him, too, an underperforming scholar. Granted, he is eighteen.

My favorite responder was a girl who was neither 'fuzzy' nor arrogant, but rather clear and precise about everything she did and did not understand.

Granted, I myself am not very good at giving precise and focused answers, but neither am I (usually) arrogant, nor am I normally content to be fuzzy. I like helping people with writing because some fuzziness is ok, and 'clear' means somewhat different things in the context of writing, though I often have people who are naturally concise/straightforward get frustrated with me. I never want to be transparent (like, lowest-common-denominator or mass-appeal level clarity), but as intelligent as someone is, if they are too broad or imprecise verbally, I definitely think it's a sign they don't understand as much as they think.
So here is something I don't know: at what point does narrative shift from 'story-telling' to 'self-definition', and how does one become more conscious about navigating the realm in between fiction, ideals and 'self-talk', or the ongoing narrative we all have with ourselves that often gets so degraded. That is, there seems to be a range between idealism (impersonal self-talk) and the sort of thing that cognitive-behavioral therapists work with. Figuring out where is a good place to park one's idea of 'values' is kind of complicated, in that context. 'Personal values' seem to exist in some weird shifting no-man's-land between the realm of psychiatry, religion and fiction. And I would certainly include one's ideas about romantic love in 'personal values', and that's particularly thorny especially since some would say romantic love is itself a form of fiction (even in real life). That is to say, they'd say it's a combination of hormones and fiction.


I obviously disagree-- or at least, I'm obviously a romantic, so disagreeing would seem congruent with my basic idea of self or personal value-system. At the same time, when I see a woman write an advice columnist that she's given up on love, except she can't imagine a life "without romantic love", or a self-described idealistic man write a personal ad saying he wants to "fall in love", I pause. Whatever the value-system behind their brand of romantic idealism, it's not mine.

I want love, and I love Love, but the idea of looking for it seems beyond grotesque to me. Companionship, sex, connection, understanding-- yes. But looking for love? Further, looking to be in love? Never. I guess it's just that love is my favorite thing, the closest idea I have to faith, to grace, or to virtue. But to seek it seems too close to wanting to own it, to define it as an experience to be attained, sort of like some watered-down happiness or organized religion. I don't know, it seems diluted, forced.

Of course, this is my self-talk, in part because I explain away my rejecting people and their equally valid choices. To them, love is a practice (much like religion may be), whereas to me it is almost sullied by practice, being an abstract faith, a fiction. What I love, ultimately, may be fiction itself.
Oh man. Normally I don't read the NYTimes for slash, but here it is: an article on a book about boys' friendships. It's got quotes like, "for boys, the perception of a betrayal by a buddy is absolute because they feel 'their intense vulnerability' has been exposed. 'And they have no way to talk about it, to work it through. For boys, that's terrifying.'" Oh man. Dr. Way, the psychologist, watches "her son's friendships with pride and poignancy" because she's so "aware that this will go away. He's aware of the expectation that eventually, a boy has to choose between a boy friend and a girlfriend." Alas! The drama! The angst! THE HOMOEROTICISM.

Granted, I feel bad; I mean, this sense that there's something 'off' about being close as a guy to another guy is why there's frequently homophobia amongst macho-type male teenagers. So I don't want to like, contribute to what's a serious problem, etc etc. But I'm human. Ok, more like, I'm a fangirl, I can't help it. I definitely feel like a pervert, but ummm, when you have her say this: "They are overtly saying, 'I want him, I need him, I miss him — no homo!' And then they grow up and become depressed"... basically there's only so much I can do not to scream HAVE SEX ALREADY!!! even though... I know that's wrong... woe. D: I know the 'solution' is not sex but acceptance of platonic relationships and stuff. I KNOW. It's just. Ahhhhh. D:

Also, I was actually reading some posts by RL-bisexual guys online, who were saying they have difficulty coming out 'cause girls distrust them or assume they're just closeted, whereas they don't get that they're really only in love with and want serious relationships with women, and the men are 'just for sex', and it's like, I have seriously mixed feelings. D: It's like, my honest feeling was, '...I just want to go back to yaoi, 'cause these guys are NOT SLASHY OMG' haha. *headdesk* Maybe it's related, though, the reason straight guys pull back from their male buddies and why these bi guys can't seem to fall in love with guys-- LET'S BLAME SOCIETY. The lack of slash is YOUR FAULT, society. Yes. D:
Ok, so I'm reading 'Wuthering Heights'. As anyone who knows me could probably guess, this is my kinda novel. Heathcliff is also my kind of character. To be honest, I even warmed to Catherine. Give me a flawed character with Feelings, and eventually-- oh yes, I'll be theirs.

Anyway, so I was wondering. Leaving aside the question of my sanity, how would one meet someone like Heathcliff? Also leaving aside the question of whether he's remotely realistic; let's assume 'as close as one can get' and leave it at that.


If one liked a certain ordinary trait-- intelligence, looks, geekiness/hobbies, kinks, dominance or submission, niceness or even assholishness-- all that is easy. But Heathcliff captures me for things I can't even describe properly. Certainly not because he's an asshole, and not because I deny it. That 'pitiless, wolfish' nature-- coupled with intense devotion-- I am not deluded about it, and do not find it pretty, or easy. I am not Isabella.

That said... of course, neither am I Catherine. But regardless. Outside sheer luck and circumstance, how would you look for that sort of man, and is it a sort at all, as opposed to an utter outlier?

Silly questions probably get silly answers, though. )
So I'm reading Les Miserables, which is overwhelmingly overwhelming, and it's made me more optimistic, more open, more myself again. I once again hear the long-ago song in my heart as if I first heard it yesterday. I remember that I think of myself as a person full of faith in humanity. But. It seems I'm like Marius, and maybe like Hugo, or maybe like most secretly purist idealists, in that anything I believe, I believe whole-heartedly. It follows that belief for the sake of comfort (rather than faith that accepts and embraces pain to the point of being self-sacrificing)-- well, it pisses me off.

One of the main reasons I accept religious people is that there are some among them who are pure in that sense-- truly altruistic, self-sacrificing, not dramatically in love with self-immolation but quietly willing to face hardships every day. I think that it is a form of love, the purest form. This is to mean that the only religious impulse I admire is the one that gives love and comfort rather than seeks to receive it. Hugo was great for pinpointing the difference in that as in many other things.

So I was reading this comment saying that the person was agnostic except for an intermittent desire to comfort themselves by half-believing in Creationism... and I felt a bit ill. God as a fix for a 'cold and lonely' universe! What! How dreary! How small-minded! How bourgeois!

    And so, I'd like to quote a long passage from Les Miserables, a book written by an unapologetic Deist, in praise and horror at the beauty of our suffering, the endless joy of creation, the painful endlessly knotted with the sublime. The misery of our small, short, beautiful lives! To call the universe cold is to call the human heart small.
   So here, Les Miserables: )
Sometimes I can feel it-- getting old, I mean. It seems that I'm a lot more apathetic than I was at 20, a lot more cynical, though in other ways I'm a lot more open to possibility. Back then, I thought everything was possible, but none of it applied to me. Now, I want to do what I can, but I see the limits and sometimes enjoy them. Life needs some limits-- that's what getting older has taught me. Without limits, I'm just bored. It's odd, for sure. I still don't accept enforced limits, but I'm less likely to insist on things based on pure faith. I try to walk myself through some rational basis for decisions more instinctively these days.

But sometimes, in the oddest things, I'm still pretty hardcore teenager-level in my responses (unfortunately?). Reading a NYT article about the increasing drought in Texas-- could last decades historically, they say-- well... I'm kind of glad. Thinking, y'know, Nature's Revenge.
    yeah? )

One more sign of age: I'm not as rabidly pro-choice or as militantly atheist as I was at 16; that is, I am both these things, just not rabidly. I even had thoughts like, 'well, maybe they're right, but still, they can't force people to agree to live under their moral supervision'. But then I read an article on what's going on in Texas and I remember why I used to be enraged. Just imagine if I was pro-life, and these people would still turn me off. That is to say, even if they're right, they go against my idea of separating moral issues and gov't ethics. It's simply unethical to manipulate funding to force underprivileged members of society to believe (not behave) as they 'should'. Of course, I'm not surprised; I think it's human nature for people to construct society to be run as if it's a kindergarten. This is one reason I don't hold much faith in socially-based solutions alone to questions that involve the planet or future of civilization.

Ultimately, people's instinct is to run society as if it's their society, or their family. Emphasis on social control understood as support.
    blah. )

Trying to be positive, what-- if any-- definition of progress do I have? I do think things are improving, overall. The big things that are improving is science and medicine, due to recorded knowledge affording us the ability to utilize precision over cultural memory. These things allow for stuff like increased life-spans, ability to have children less/later on, less reliance on physical labor, etc. This can tighten the gap between classes and allows women room to do something outside child-rearing, as well as furthering individual growth through education. The opportunity to explore things we didn't have time for before isn't the same as change though, not exactly. Culturally, we're not any more advanced-- it's more like we don't need the extreme measures we once took to survive. The big problem is that we take nature for granted, so we as a species need to learn progress within limits. I guess I'll say this: we are the way we've always been. I hope one day we find a way to be who we are more sustainably. Needless to say, supporting overpopulation isn't one of those sustainable practices I think we need to survive. If I'm totally honest, outside of feminist rage, that's the thing that worries me here.
My hobby: talking to myself about aspects of things people wouldn't care about even if they'd watched/read the same stuff I did.

Anyway, Shion (from Please Save My Earth), the manga for which I barreled through against my better judgment. I think I just read an 'analysis' of him on a web shrine that basically says 'he's a bad guy' as if that's an obvious thing to say about him. Why am I always such a sucker... and yet, I am. Come to think of it, really only Spock is an exception for my tendency to only truly-madly-deeply like dark characters. (I made Harry darker and darker in my head just to compensate, I think.)

Shiiiion. I don't think he's a sociopath. Isn't that word just overused? What the hell? Then again, others have even called him 'evil'. I really dislike people who look at others that way. I think my attachment towards Shion and one-time self-perception as Mokuren-like led me to identify with her and fixate on Shion even if he isn't that unique as a character. I used to really think the most romantic love involved 'saving' people; as much as I talk about the exception of Kirk and Spock, there's a reason I basically fell for their platonic relationship-- they're weren't my romantic ideal. Still aren't. Now, it's not that I think I'm Mokuren-like or especially pure or loving or what have you, but many others are just too bitter and limited. I dunno, is that better?

...babble )
For some reason, it pisses me off when people say 'you are all you need to be happy'. This is... odd. I mean, this is regarding a question in ask.metafilter about whether it's 'ok' to be alone forever (after dumping one's SO). Most people were like, 'yeah'. I was like, 'yes and no, because when we grow as human beings, ultimately we grow towards possibility and openness, which by nature includes the possibility of connection with other people'.

mrar. )
What does it mean to want magic so much it hurts? Can you write an escapist novel about escapism? Do you really have to grow up, and what does that mean, anyway? Can you deconstruct wonder and have it mean anything when you face its loss?

That's the sort of thing Lev Grossman's 'The Magicians' tries to take on. It seems a lot of fantasy readers have extremely touchy reactions to the book, which shouldn't have surprised me, but did. As someone quite used to dark fantasy, to piling on the angst in my fics, and to generally seeing how far I can deconstruct everything I love, it startles me to remember this is kind of a limited-appeal hobby even in fandom. It startles me to realize people mean escape when they say escape. This is the one way I truly differ from the hero of Grossman's book and from these genre fans: they read fantasy to be happy in a completely straightforward, uncomplicated way, the way you take a shower 'cause it feels good.
    etc )
So. This comes as a surprise to me, but I've decided I want to be published. It's still a feeling in the very early stages... it needs to be backed up by actually writing original fic more seriously, obviously. But. One reason I never seriously wanted it is that I thought none of my work was good enough/finished enough, but this is something I can fix if I have a desire to. After all, when I was writing a zillion fanfics, even if I didn't finish 30-40%, I did finish the other 60%. So I can do it if I just have a burst approach. The other reason is more thorny: I didn't respect the industry and didn't think being published when so much crap is published would distinguish me much, especially when so much crap is also self-published online. This latter idea is not at all motivating 'cause it's so gloriously easy to put off. No deadlines for self-publishing stuff.

    D'oh! )
So I'm avoiding studying (...again) and so surfing OKCupid for people-watching (what does it say when you're too lazy to people-watch by actually going to watch people in a cafe? haha). It's sort of sad/scary to me how so many people I like are way more open emotionally than me (which is how I interpret the fact that like, 85% of the geeks on OKC in Seattle are poly). Those are the open-minded folks I'm probably most similar to (other than the poly thing, which I'm starting to feel is a deficiency somehow). Then there's people who're more organized/rule-oriented, so I'm sure we'd have more interpersonal conflict, but those are the types who're single and non-poly in this small sample size. I mean, um??

...rambleramble. )
Every time I see reference to something that's 'typically female', my brain draws a (resentful) blank... to the point where I feel I should write something just to remind myself what that is. I can probably tell you what's 'typically male' easily (rational, dominant/aggressive, hierarchal, controlled), but even thinking that the opposite is 'typically female' drives me into the preliminary stages of rage (it seems). The more I witness people monkeying with definitions any way they like, the more I think those people who think they're reincarnated anime characters aren't insane-- merely at a point further on a typical human spectrum.
    I'm tempted to decide I'm secretly a tomato... after all, my lips are red. )
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