(no subject)

Oh, hey, some lighter aggravation.

When I was looking thru good will, I was griping about the lack of decent off-the-rack suit trousers that fit someone with my proportions. Talking about how it's very hard to be dashing when your clothes are a size too big.

My mother's commentary? (regarding my height) 'I don't think "dashing" starts until 5 feet'

This continues my mother's opinion that I can't pass for masculine, that I can't self-identify as butch (or futch), etc, etc. I didn't get mad, but man, it hurt. Sometimes, I consider going on T just to prove to her (and others) that yes, I can fucking pass, thank you.

This could also be connected to how many people referred to us as 'ladies' on the trip. I wish people would stop assuming 'it has tits, it's female'. I would love to be mistaken for a 12 year old boy compared to a 'lady'. Fuck you, I am not a lady. Maybe a woman in my femme moments. Maybe a grrl. Not a fucking lady.

(no subject)

Bitch from middle school wasn't there. Actually, I don't see her often, come to think of it. Which isn't surprising, if she hasn't changed much since middle school. So there's no chance (until Tuesday) that I'll run into her, and even that may not happen. This is a good thing.

Man, mass comm paper, why so hard to write?

Also--belgian white chocolate cocoa from Disney? Why so much nastier than you sound and smell? Of course, it could be the fact I had to make you with water instead of milk.

I can't believe tomorrow is Friday. This weekend, I need it. I shouldn't need to recharge from my vacation, but I really do.

I am obsessed with this song right now. And yes, I mean this particular version. I think I'm going to be listening to it on loop while doing some ficcing over break.