Colored Ink
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miss something? check the archives about me name: n/aaliases: kit (and various iterations thereof) age: 25 location: oakland, ca hobbies: reading, writing, doodling, video games likes: reading, writing, doodling. being lazy, mushrooms, animals (especially dogs), food, laughing loudly in public, sushi, long walks in the sunshine, cycling along the San Francisco Bay dislikes: nuts, stinging/biting insects, religious fanatics, violence, olives, teenagers that let old people stand on the bus contact: coloredink(at)gmail.com wishlist a good night's sleepmoney stress-free life hardon-kardon speakers world peace realistic wishlist transmetropolitan vol 5-6, 9-10new shoes long-term obsessions comicsslash writing reading music animals life and living current obsession(s) writing a novelcurrently reading nothing, actuallycurrently playing epic mickeycurrently watching top chefmad men |
Wednesday, May 16, 2012 [link] 06:38 p.m. listening to: nothing I'm a Unitarian Universalist. There. I said it. I'm going to seminary. There. I said it! - get letters of reference stuff in order (including bulleted list of things I want certain people to address) - start personal statement (and maybe review essay questions) - research financial aid (call the UUA) - write, write, write - read a goddamn book Wednesday, May 2, 2012 [link] 01:00 p.m. listening to: nothing Today is an excellent day for feeling insecure, for some reason. What does this mean? What do I need to do? How do I get past this point? There's still so much to learn about myself, my needs, my wants, my fears. Monday, April 16, 2012 [link] 02:27 p.m. listening to: The Other Guys - Kiss the Girl After my epiphany, after I quit my job and made a vow to pursue my calling(s), I spent a great deal of time and effort organizing my priorities. Nothing, I decided, was going to come before writing. I was never going to be so unhappy ever again. Then I developed this stupid, stupid crush, and I was afraid of a great many things, rejection among them, but most of all I was afraid that if I allowed this to happen, then something would become more important than writing. That won't happen, my friends assured me, because you put time and effort into these priorities. I've been off my regular writing schedule for a week now. I put in a few feeble attempts at writing, here and there. But for the most part the parts of my brain that are normally occupied in thinking about writing are occupied in thinking about boy, and the worst part is that I don't even care. I could think about the boy all day long and forget to eat and forget to sleep and it's madness and bliss and dopamine and oxytocin. I'm terrified. Friday, April 13, 2012 [link] 08:57 p.m. listening to: nothing Oh my God, having a crush is horrible. How do people do this??? Sunday, February 12, 2012 [link] 03:36 p.m. listening to: anime music Really excellent morning in church today. I participated in the Interweave (the QUILTBAG group at my UU church) service, which was on the theme of love. Ostensibly it was the Valentine's Day service, but the service itself was not especially queer. It featured speakers talking about love from a variety of different perspectives, ranging from two older women who found each other quite late in life (they're both in their 80s, if I recall correctly) to a woman who spoke about her experience with her lesbian daughter's coming out. And myself, who talked about singlehood, the asexuality movement, and how I am not defined by my relationships and have a lot of love in my life despite not having a partner. I was really surprised by people's response to my talk. I'd really just wanted to entertain and educate, but several people told me that they found it very moving. One woman said it meant a lot to her, as someone who is currently not partnered, to hear me speak. Another told me that she almost left halfway through the service because she thought it was going to be about romantic love the whole time, and she's just not in that place right now. And yet another said she was sorry her mother missed it, as her mother has lived alone for 30 years and loves it that way. Another three people asked me if I'd ever considered stand-up comedy. I guess there's another vocation I can pursue if any of my current ones don't work out. Wednesday, January 25, 2012 [link] 01:27 p.m. listening to: Mountain Goats - Woke Up New Another year, another archived page, another day that I'm frankly amazed that pitas is still up and running. One of these days it's going to disappear without warning, and my years and years of self-indulgent whining, pondering, and musings will just disappear into thin air, accessible only in part on the Internet Archive. And it will probably be for the best, really. I feel like I should at least give pitas some money, though. Today's one of those days where I suddenly feel sad and hungry--not hungry in a physical sense--without reason, and on such a day I inevitably become resentful. This happens without warning and often without reason. Today it's about touch, which David Jay talks about much more eloquently than I do. I grew up in a non-touching household in a largely non-touching culture (Chinese-American). I spent my formative years convinced that touching was for weirdos and desperate freaks. In college I fell in with a very touchy, huggy crowd that basically sat on me until I gave in, and from there the lines between appropriate/inappropriate touch became blurred, especially when it came to consent. (My friends sat on me without my consent, after all, which gave me the impression that this was okay behavior, which it's not, even if people have good intentions.) Then for some years I was extremely depressed, during which I craved touch constantly, because I felt miserable and alone and I wanted to be held. Now I've got my head on straight, and now I want to be touched. Some days it's stronger than others. Some days I have fantasies about curling up with someone on the grass outside, or my breath chokes in my chest because I really just want to hold someone's hand. Some days I just really want a hug. I think about Rev. Kathy telling us, "Some people come to church because this is the only time anybody touches them" and I think about what a sad and lonely existence that must be, to go the whole week without human contact. Then I realize that that's me. I have friends. I have family. But I can easily go an entire week without a single hug except for when I get to church and someone says to me, "It's good to see you!" and wraps their arms around me. When did we decide that touch was for children? When did we decide that the desire to be touched was a sign of weakness? Why does everything have to be about sex? Why can't I have a conversation about this without being derided as a freak? Why do my desires have to be seen as juvenile? Why? Why? Why? |
blogs better than mine a better oakland angry asian man dailykos feministing freakonomics neil gaiman oakland living sociological images places to go friends book of genismshike.org pirates' alley yaoiville non-friends casualvillain.comcharming dandy jenwang.net mooncalf quirkybird shadowscapes twoflowerian fiction verabee comics 9 chickweed lanedoonesbury frazz foxtrot something positive pictures for sad children achewood penny arcade three panel soul hark! a vagrant other sites i visit with some frequency explodingdoggamefaqs livejournal orisinal postsecret wikipedia i owe my stress to pitas.com |