notes from the thresholds

vaguebooking for ostara

2013-03-20T13:56:08Z

Maybe it's just me, but imo if you claim to worship the Goddess out of one side of your mouth and you're reinforcing the patriarchy out of the other side, you're doin' it wrong.

don't be a can of mystery meat

2013-01-18T17:07:37Z

Random on OKCupid: I would love to meet you

Me: Empty profile, empty pic, what would make me interested?

Random: the mystery should make you interested :)

Me: Hahaha no. I get a dozen OKC messages a day from guys. So do most women on here. You have to figure out how to market yourself, buddy. Would you buy a can on the supermarket shelf just labeled "food" in black & white with no idea of what's inside when there are thousands of tasty, clearly-labeled cans next to it? Admit it, you messaged me based on my profile and pics, didn't you?

Women join dating sites to *narrow down* the thousands of men out there and find actually compatible ones. Every guy we meet in daily life is an unlabeled can of mystery meat. Try harder.

somewhere around a week ago...

2012-12-10T22:00:37Z

...I passed the 2 year mark with my S. We've had some difficult conversations and awkward moments, but I don't think we've ever had a serious fight.

I feel so fortunate to be with him. He's smart, compassionate, thoughtful, creative, smart-assed, honorable, fun, generous, devious...he's my big scary teddy bear in shining armor. He's not perfect - he's forever showing up late and he has trouble with those 3 little words, although he says the same thing in a hundred other ways. But I'm far from perfect myself, and in every way that's ever really counted, he's been there and done the right thing. And every time we're out together, I'm reminded how many people know and love him and would like a piece of his time - and yet, so often he chooses to spend it with me. I never take that for granted, and it humbles me.

He also gives me the freedom to be me - he may not share 100% of the things I'm into, but he's never made me feel silly or wrong or freakish for liking what I like. He's never given me grief about seeing or playing with other people either.

Our relationship is an oddly-shaped little arrangement, and it wouldn't be to everyone's taste, but it seems to work. Long may it continue.

miss anthrope

2012-12-07T15:59:07Z

The more I contemplate what I'm taking in and putting out in the world, the more I realize how many of my blog posts and anecdotes boil down to, "Other people are stupid and/or wrong."

I don't want to be that person.

super fast loaded potato soup

2012-12-05T22:18:34Z

Made this for lunch today and it disappeared. Super easy and I had it all on hand.

3 c. mashed potatoes (I used instant)
1 can Campbell's cheddar soup, condensed
1 can milk
1 stalk celery, diced
1 green onion, chopped
4 slices bacon, fried crisp, chopped
a squirt of Ranch dressing (sour cream would work too)
generous pinches of:
salt
black pepper
garlic
pimenton (Spanish hot smoked paprika)

Saute celery in a little butter or margarine until tender. Set aside. Fry bacon crisp, drain, chop, set aside. Prepare 3 c. mashies as directed or use leftovers. Add can of condensed cheese soup, can of milk, stir over low heat until mixed, adding enough water or no-salt-added broth to thin to desired consistency. Add celery, green onion, bacon, Ranch, season to taste. Serve with some crusty bread - sourdough works nicely.

if you don't have anything nice to say, say nothing

2012-11-15T15:55:02Z

I keep thinking I should post, but all my posts would be complaints. Complaining about my kids, my love life, my SAD, my perennial lack of funds, the fuckwits at my job. And so I keep silent. But I am still here and reading every day.

dreamwidth

2012-10-31T14:37:46Z

Strongly considering moving everything over there when the friends page change is forced. My username over there is currently my old one, bifemmefatale.

happy october!

2012-10-01T15:58:17Z

A Vagabond Song

There is something in the autumn that is native to my blood—
Touch of manner, hint of mood;
And my heart is like a rhyme,
With the yellow and the purple and the crimson keeping time.

The scarlet of the maples can shake me like a cry
Of bugles going by.
And my lonely spirit thrills
To see the frosty asters like a smoke upon the hills.

There is something in October sets the gypsy blood astir;
We must rise and follow her,
When from every hill of flame
She calls and calls each vagabond by name.

William Bliss Carman

poetry - how to make love to a trans person

2012-09-23T13:26:49Z

This is just beautiful, and true.

How To Make Love to a Trans Person

by Gabe Moses

Forget the images you've learned to attach
To words like cock and clit,
Chest and breasts.
Break those words open
Like a paramedic cracking ribs
To pump blood through a failing heart.
Push your hands inside.
Get them messy.
Scratch new definitions on the bones.

Get rid of the old words altogether.
Make up new words.
Call it a click or a ditto.
Call it the sound he makes
When you brush your hand against it through his jeans,
When you can hear his heart knocking on the back of his teeth
And every cell in his body is breathing.
Make the arch of her back a language
Name the hollows of each of her vertebrae
When they catch pools of sweat
Like rainwater in a row of paper cups
Align your teeth with this alphabet of her spine
So every word is weighted with the salt of her.

When you peel layers of clothing from his skin
Do not act as though you are changing dressings on a trauma patient
Even though it's highly likely that you are.
Do not ask if she's "had the surgery."
Do not tell him that the needlepoint bruises on his thighs look like they hurt
If you are being offered a body
That has already been laid upon an altar of surgical steel
A sacrifice to whatever gods govern bodies
That come with some assembly required
Whatever you do,
Do not say that the carefully sculpted landscape
Bordered by rocky ridges of scar tissue
Looks almost natural.

If she offers you breastbone
Aching to carve soft fruit from its branches
Though there may be more tissue in the lining of her bra
Than the flesh that rises to meet it
Let her ripen in your hands.
Imagine if she'd lost those swells to cancer,
Diabetes,
A car accident instead of an accident of genetics
Would you think of her as less a woman then?
Then think of her as no less one now.

If he offers you a thumb-sized sprout of muscle
Reaching toward you when you kiss him
Like it wants to go deep enough inside you
To scratch his name on the bottom of your heart
Hold it as if it can-
In your hand, in your mouth
Inside the nest of your pelvic bones.
Though his skin may hardly do more than brush yours,
You will feel him deeper than you think.

Realize that bodies are only a fraction of who we are
They're just oddly-shaped vessels for hearts
And honestly, they can barely contain us
We strain at their seams with every breath we take
We are all pulse and sweat,
Tissue and nerve ending
We are programmed to grope and fumble until we get it right.
Bodies have been learning each other forever.
It's what bodies do.
They are grab bags of parts
And half the fun is figuring out
All the different ways we can fit them together;
All the different uses for hipbones and hands,
Tongues and teeth;
All the ways to car-crash our bodies beautiful.
But we could never forget how to use our hearts
Even if we tried.
That's the important part.
Don't worry about the bodies.
They've got this.

thought for the day

2012-09-14T13:17:13Z

How many times do I ask a beloved to change their behavior when really, it's my thoughts that are making me unhappy and it's *them* I need to change?

Been catching myself doing that a lot lately. Fortunately, I've usually been noticing it *before* I open my mouth. Progress of a sort.

Lazy vegetarian dinner win!

2012-09-13T20:38:51Z

Make 1 box Spanish Rice as directed with crushed tomatoes. In the last few minutes of cooking, add 1 can corn, drained, 1 can black or pinto beans, drained, some diced bell pepper (optional), and 1 packet taco seasoning. Serve with shredded cheese on top, fill veggie burritos, etc. The kids asked for this 2 nights in a row. :)

kunstliche welten

2012-09-06T12:36:20Z

Most of the time I adore fiction for the countless ways it has enriched my life. But sometimes I hate it, for making me fall in love with places I can never visit and people I will never meet.

oh hell yes this exactly

2012-08-31T22:53:03Z

klgaffney sums up my feelings on the New Age:

"New Age stuff puts me off. I keep getting hit with this particular brand of patchouli-scented sentiment: the fake-y-ness, the random, greedy, grabby-handed mixing and matching of "ancient! indigenous! knowledge!" (read: various customs and bits of religious and magical traditions yoinked completely out of their original contexts), mixed up with bullshit Victorian-era superstition and purely invented and poorly-thought-through asshattery all slap-dashed together in molded plastic and glitter and hemp and rainbows by indigo dolphin crystal children who sell fucking terrible art based on non-existent scholarship and total disregard of advances in actual real life biology and ecology and astronomy that has happened since 1965. Listening to people talking about this stuff (or reading about it) for any length of time reduces me to mentally screaming YOU'RE WRONG SO VERY WRONG OH WHY DO YOU KEEP THROWING WRONG THINGS AT ME."

happy pride weekend in the us!

2012-06-23T16:18:40Z

Wise and beautiful words from Sarah Sloane.

Things I'm Proud Of

oh, canada.

2012-04-10T17:25:40Z

Even your criminals are so...Canadian.

Someone in Toronto got a copy of my credit card and used it on a shopping spree at...
Wal-Mart and the thrift store. To the tune of a whopping $200.

poetry month: the adamantine perfection of desire

2012-04-05T16:02:40Z

by Jane Hirshfield

Nothing more strong
than to be helpless before desire.

No reason,
the simplified heart whispers,
the argument over,
only This.

No longer choosing anything but assent.

Its bowl scraped clean to the bottom,
the skull-bone cup no longer horrifies,
but, rimmed in silver, shines.

A spotted dog follows a bitch in heat.
Gray geese fly past us, crying.
The living cannot help but love the world.

note to self

2012-04-05T13:31:09Z

When has worrying about love ever brought you more love? Only letting go ever has.

poetry month: one of morgan's

2012-04-04T16:25:01Z

OK, so maybe this is an excessive amount of motherly pride, but this is the poem Morgan won the 2nd Annual DeKalb HS Poetry Slam with. (she also won last year. *preens*)

Lately I feel fit to burst
Like the first of spring's swollen magnolia
Wafting heady scented
Tendrils heat ripple rising from the asphalt
And spiral through nostrils
When your whole brain lights up
An interconnected web of synapses
Aflicker with sudden recollections of distant fuzzy springtimes
Each a world on the tip of a sparkler, encased in grey matter
Which is actually rather pinkish, and swollen
Like a magnolia about to bloom

april is poetry month

2012-04-02T18:58:19Z

This is the poem Lawrence Ferlinghetti read at The Band's last performance, as seen in the movie, "The Last Waltz".

Loud Prayer

Our father whose art's in heaven
hollow be thy name
unless things change
Thy wigdom come and gone
thy will will be undone
on earth as it isn't heaven
Give us this day our daily bread
at least three times a day
and forgive us our trespasses
as we would forgive those lovelies
whom we wish would trespass against us
And lead us not into temptation
too often on weekdays
but deliver us from evil
whose presence remains unexplained
in thy kingdom of power and glory
oh man!

fun with okcupid: an occasional series

2012-03-28T17:20:32Z

Today's winner in the inbox:

"I write real good. Same with spelling and grammar."

fun with okcupid: an occasional series

2012-03-20T23:01:54Z

Spelled and punctuated exactly as the OP posted it:

"i am easy going , laid back , single ,adventurous ,told i' can be funny and whitty..."

5 things make a post

2012-02-26T23:52:27Z

Reading: Sex, Sin and Zen: A Buddhist Exploration of Sex from Celibacy to Polyamory and Everything in Between by Brad Warner

Wearing: red & black ruboff 8-hole Docs, red/black/gray striped socks, Levis 515s, threadless charcoal babydoll with this design, charcoal men's button-down stolen from Gavin when he outgrew it

Scent of the Day: Starborn Alchemy's Orlande's Salon - "A light, sophisticated scent, the sorcery of a strange shop wafting under the door: green tea and sweet cream swirl over smoky nag champa, patchouli, and rich cedar woods."

Planning: a new DeKalb Munch tonight at 7. :)

Listening to: see below

a single gal's manifesto

2012-02-14T21:14:57Z

This piece was written by a friend of mine, wicked_smile_4u, although this link was copied from elsewhere and isn't her blog. Well worth a read for all you folks without a primary out there today.

http://runzwithknives.wordpress.com/2012/02/07/a-single-gas-manefesto/

the invitation - post 1 in a series

2012-01-23T13:55:52Z

It doesn’t interest me
what you do for a living.
I want to know
what you ache for
and if you dare to dream
of meeting your heart’s longing.

It doesn’t interest me
how old you are.
I want to know
if you will risk
looking like a fool
for love
for your dream
for the adventure of being alive.

It doesn’t interest me
what planets are
squaring your moon...
I want to know
if you have touched
the center of your own sorrow
if you have been opened
by life’s betrayals
or have become shriveled and closed
from fear of further pain.

I want to know
if you can sit with pain
mine or your own
without moving to hide it
or fade it
or fix it.

I want to know
if you can be with joy
mine or your own
if you can dance with wildness
and let the ecstasy fill you
to the tips of your fingers and toes
without cautioning us
to be careful
to be realistic
to remember the limitations
of being human.

It doesn’t interest me
if the story you are telling me
is true.
I want to know if you can
disappoint another
to be true to yourself.
If you can bear
the accusation of betrayal
and not betray your own soul.
If you can be faithless
and therefore trustworthy.

I want to know if you can see Beauty
even when it is not pretty
every day.
And if you can source your own life
from its presence.

I want to know
if you can live with failure
yours and mine
and still stand at the edge of the lake
and shout to the silver of the full moon,
“Yes.”

It doesn’t interest me
to know where you live
or how much money you have.
I want to know if you can get up
after the night of grief and despair
weary and bruised to the bone
and do what needs to be done
to feed the children.

It doesn’t interest me
who you know
or how you came to be here.
I want to know if you will stand
in the centre of the fire
with me
and not shrink back.

It doesn’t interest me
where or what or with whom
you have studied.
I want to know
what sustains you
from the inside
when all else falls away.

I want to know
if you can be alone
with yourself
and if you truly like
the company you keep
in the empty moments.

By Oriah Mountain Dreaming, from the book The Invitation

I first ran across this poem years ago, and it spoke to me then. Last week I was perusing the bookshelves in the thrift store, and this book wanted to come home with me. It's the right thing at the right time.

I think I'm going to post a series of reactions and meditations on the book. It's mostly for me, but if it is your will, I invite you to come along with me and add your comments, insights, arguments...whatever you're moved to share. I'll be tagging these "the invitation".

2 interesting posts on "choice feminism"

2012-01-18T15:05:07Z

http://www.xojane.com/entertainment/choice-feminism-isn't-a-choice
http://disabledfeminists.com/2010/02/28/feminism-objectifies-women/

Discuss!