MOOP!

So, uh.

I have failed in my duties. Horribly. This is unfortunately, a thing I am used to saying of myself. But this year, it was impressive just how far past the deadline I have ambled.

I am talking, of course, about pornography. The Less Than 31 Words Porn Contest to be exact, which is a contest meant to run throughout the month of February. We're almost halfway through March. My only possible excuse is "I was away for a while", which frankly doesn't hold an ounce of water, since I had plenty of time and internet in California.

BUT!

I do get around to a great many things given a long enough time frame. This year, that time frame happened to involve fourteen days that it shouldn't have, but whatever. Mistakes were made. Let's get over them, and onto the important part of this post:

Ahem. ( This post contains written pornography of a hardcore and softcore nature. Read at your own risk. )

Vital Stats:

Number of Porns: 45, plus 2 over, plus 1 I didn't post because it wasn't written by the person submitting it (and I don't want to use other people's words without their awareness.), plus 1 bonus I wrote while making this post.
New languages: ASL. I GOT A PORN IN ASL! My friends are FECKING AWESOME!
New fandoms: Surprisingly none! Fanfic free year, weeeeird.
New forms of poetry: More limericks! More quatrains! I LOVE YOU ALL!
Is this project still awesome: You tell me, but my opinion is oh gods yes.

If you like them, please comment and say --I know authors love hearing that their work is appreciated! And next year, I'm gonna try and promote the hell out of this thing, because the alternative is to just accept the sad confirmation that livejournal is dying and I refuse to let that happen to my favourite social media.

~Sor
MOOP!

So, apparently I continue to have a crush on every boy. Inspired in part by blintzes, xxxenophile, good conversation, and a directness that refreshingly mirrors my own.

I'm interested. The last time I specifically mentioned this tag, the boy in question was rather intended for light and fluffy and friendship and sex, and rapidly became some strange form of love and trust¹ and intimacy that makes me consider perhaps parts of my life could maybe ought to be restructured to ensure he's always in it.

And indeed, the boy in question this time is rather intended for light and fluffy and friendship and sex. My dance card is plenty full, and I don't think he's actively looking for further commitment, so he's quite likely to stay that way. But still.

This is a note to watch eight months and see what's happened. Because I love testing my ability to identify the people I want in my life within only a few hours of meeting them.

~Sor
MOOP!

1: I trust Sparr not to leave, in a way that I have never before trusted any boy with that particular part of myself, and indeed, I think being able to trust him with that has made it easier to trust the rest of my darlings. It's maddening on multiple levels that he can do that to me. It's maddening a lot of what he can do to me, and it's all good. In answer to that post, I love you too.

...and for completely unrelated reasons to him, it is scary to publicly declare my love for a boy. I like that I am sometimes able to do it again.

So, the other day I was going through old 750words posts and stuff, and pulled out a bunch of things that I thought were worth saying in public.

A lot of them are kinda depressing, because I think words often flow better when they've got a pinch of melancholic to them. But here. It's like a sundries post, only just with things I've written.

Author's notes are in italics

---

There is a boy.
Who likes me and other girls.
And likes me more _anyways_.

***

Being loved by someone sweet and devoted to me is nice, and I love them all for it.

But being loved by someone sweet and devoted to me over other girls is just a whole different realm of exciting. And of course, we don't actually have much of a romantic relationship at all, but still.

I've never been the girl who wins before. It's the scariest damn thing, but gods help me, I like it.

Yeah, this was really startling when I realized it for the first time, and I still kinda refuse to believe it's true.

And of course, there is no "winning" in poly (except maybe making everyone involved in your relationship scheme happy) but there's also not quite a word to express what I mean here. I am perfectly content to be right where I am in all the relationships I'm in --hence the reason I'm in them-- but sometimes it's nice to realize all a sudden that someone thinks you're special enough to set aside a girl who is clearly hotter and more interesting than you are.

---

...then it just hurts more and I am tired of it hurting _more_. Things aren't supposed to keep hurting more. Shouldn't pain level out at some point?

Yes. Yes it should. I think this particular pain might've gotten close to level for now, the problem is just that level is a lot of pain, and so I can only lock it away for so long before it rages at me again.

What, no, I'm not emo, nope.

---

I hate because the only other option is to hurt, and this hurts so bad I'm not sure I can deal.

I don't remember who or what I hate here. Very plausibly myself.

---

And really, if you don't have all your words sorted out beforehand, if you don't know what you're going to say, what's the point of trying to say it anyways? I'm a fucking writer, if I can't put a problem into words, there's probably not much of a problem in the first place.

...and even if I can put it into words, I'm a cynic, and a victim and extremely clever. If I can put it into words, I can figure out arguments against the problem until it no longer exists, or boils down to just me being a tiny idiot. And no one but me can fix me being a tiny idiot.

And this is why I am not very good at speaking up when there is something wrong in one of my relationships. If I can sort it out on my own, because I was just being silly, why would I bother my partner?

Yeah, I'm _really_ not good at this relationship thing. Anyone who says otherwise is lying.

---

And when the going gets tough, I am presented with one option -to overwhelm myself in sensation.

Tense certain muscles past any reasonable point, shut my eyes tight, or stare meditatively into something lovely, or run and run until the body runs out of energy, or most used of all, drown my internal monologue in music.

I drown myself in music all the time. Hell, let's be honest here, it's one of the most useful coping mechanisms I currently have in order to fight bottom. I get sad, I pump on the Next to Normal, or s00j, or Vienna, or whatever else I've got, and I make the sad, if not go away, at least have to struggle past the noise to actually get to me.

It's a really really nice coping mechanism. It also means that I'm going to be deaf before I turn thirty.

My made up mind was not put here for you to try and change. Cheers, s00j.

---

But the best part of today is that I've hit upon two separate things that make me incredibly _incredibly_ happy.

The first is pretty logical. Giving Blood. Me donating a pint makes me both incredibly pleased with myself, and punchy as fuck due to the light-headedness. I am okay with this state of affairs, especially if it makes me unlazy enough to go give blood more often than the twice yearly I've been doing.

Speaking of which, I'm almost eligible again. Anyone want to go to the red cross with me this weekend?

---

I am amused by Hyde, protecting me from the ghosts that lurk for hours after I read anything creepytastic, no matter how far I remove myself from the immediate.

"Don't worry dear. There is nothing in this house as scary as I. Except maybe for you."

Oh, excellently played you delightful fucker.

y'all do know who Hyde is, right? He lives in my head and gives me not terribly good advice. Because I am, say it with me folks, a little bit broken.

---

I am, for the first time in my life, willingly sitting out while actively at dance.

I just...don't feel like dancing. I'd say maybe I'm tired, except I know I've danced in physically worse shape before --and that's not even counting on the sprained ankle!

No, I just can't cope with the idea of doing more dances tonight. There is apparently a point where the pain of dance overtakes the pleasure --I know, I didn't realize it could happen either. But there is, and I've finally hit it.

***

I don't want to sob in the middle of the dance hall, in the middle of a waltz. I don't know that I could explain why if I did. I do know that I don't ever want to have to. I hate crying, I hate the pain, and I hate people giving me sympathy, because I hate being weak enough to need other people.

All I want is to just be strong enough to survive independent of outside forces. Maybe that means I need to break up with everyone, not have outside forces that affect me any longer. GO LIVE IN A CAVE AND BE A HERMIT, SOR!

I am such a whiny cunt¹. It is beyond me why anyone at all gives a damn about me in the first place. :P

Cunt explained below. No, you don't get an explanation for the rest of it. But this is a pretty common mental path --emo -> yelling at myself for being emo.

---

Dog and I get along well, and that's really really important.

I need to remember that having friends who I can bitch about the odd parts of my life to are a really crucial thing for me to have. I also need to remember how much I appreciate having friends who will slap me down when I am using inappropriate language, or otherwise being an elitist jerk. (see also, Jesse glaring at me when I used bitch. I want to give him a cookie and a hug for that alone)

Dog is awesome. I really want to hang out with him more this fall, when I'm back in Boston.

---

(I don't know how to feel about the fact that I'm using Amanda right now for a little extra bit of stability. She is a fucking idiot. But her art, when it's good...

It's good. It's the best. Right now I am angry and hurt and sad and scared. And that is the perfect mood for listening to Amanda, because she will reinforce the parts that are okay to be reinforced, and she will eradicate the parts that need to just Go Away.

I use music to blank myself out. She's really really good at that.

Hate the artist, love the art? I don't even know anymore. It is so hard to be a good person sometimes.)

Can we have an Amandadebate-free space in my journal comments? I'd appreciate that.

Yes, this is all just because I handle arguments extremely poorly, and I can't freak out and walk four miles in this state.

---

I find it telling that I've had two boys in a row who were just for sex. And I'm in love with both of them.

Sex is a bit of a misnomer --I have what the Shakers² call an "unsullied cunt", which is apparently terribly valuable and should be protected at all costs. But boys who I am into with the kissing and such, and not the romantics. And...yeah. My traitor of a heart has started to sigh wistfully, and doodle our initials together on my school notebooks.

---

The emotion involved, this is more than sex. Sex is just endorphins and dopamine. Waltzing is...joy.

So, I almost just wrote "fucking _this_" as my author's note. Which means that I just tried to emphatically agree with something I wrote. So, uh, yeah, I'm a bit of an idiot.

---

~Sor
MOOP!

1: This is not a word that I should use. It's a slur, flat and simple, and I should not use it to refer to myself (which I do, occasionally), or any other woman (which I don't.)

That being said, there are a lot of things I call myself that no one else may touch, and yes, cunt is one of them. There's a hardness to it, all edges and corners and sharp, and in some moods, the words I feel that fit best are the words that fit this hardness.

2: See also, Shakesville here, and the specific origin of the term unsullied cunt here.

Things that I have determined:

*They found a self-replicating design for Conway's Game of Life, something that they weren't expecting to achieve for another decade or so.

*Seanan McGuire's Red Roses and Dead Things is one *hell* of a good album. (Yes, my music is rapidly approaching a type, shuddup)

*Girls wearing labcoats and little else are pretty hot, just on principle.

*I might be boy-crazy

*Being hyper-flirty-silly is an awesome mood, especially when I can actually get things done through it.

And now I go sleep, so tomorrow I can accomplish things for mom and drive to Origins. BYE GUYS, BE GOOD WHILE I'M GONE!

~Sor
MOOP!

Hokay

So

OtherKat sent me the link to what may have been the BEST MEME EVER!

I am so serious about this.

Basic story was that this chick was bored. So she demanded threads of swoon worthy pictures. Each comment has a name, and a picture, and replys to that comment have other pictures.

And then anyone who reads it, swoons a lot. Happilly. Like I've been doing since yesterday, when Katters linked me to the David Tennant thread.

But yeah. Original entry is right Here.

Some swoonthreads that I pulled for people I especially love:

*Orli-love for Veronica.
*A certain lesbian witch from Buffy for Ksatyr
*A certain blonde vampire from Buffy for mom
*Ewan McGregor for my absative favourite barkeeper
*That stubbornly unravished pirate chick for ShadowKev
*Frodo for Aly
*My second favourite Captain Jack (And MAN is it close) for Elise
*And, of course, My Doctor For me. Me, me, me, me, me, me, ME!

(and why aren't there more pictures of The most beautiful actress in the world?)

Some comment along the way said it best -- "Best use of the 'Track This Comment' feature ever."

~Sor
MOOP!

PeeEss: I love you OtherKat. *grin*