Being Amber Rhea

Not sure where to start or what to say… but alas most of life isn’t a nice consistent narrative. But then, when I was going through my archives to tag old posts (I gave up ’round about 2004) it reminded me that I used to blog more freely before I didn’t feel the constraints of titles, tags, potential audience, and a million other things. (I’ve told you a million times not to exaggerate!)

Been having a weird week so far. Sometimes I have these “lapses”… not sure what else to call ‘em. Oh and first of all, if my mom reads this (which I don’t think she does lately, she’s been so busy with other things) DON’T GET ALL WORRIED ABOUT ME. It’s a characteristic of depression, unfortunately; sometimes, even though I’m taking my meds and doing everything I’m supposed to do to take care of myself, I have bad days or weeks. Often I can’t put my finger on a particular “trigger,” but that doesn’t stop me from trying.

I really need to find a therapist that doesn’t suck. Truthfully, I haven’t had a good therapist since I lived in Texas. She was one of the only good things about living there. Her, and my apartment. And being driving distance from Niki. That was basically it.

Anyway, one thing that I’ve identified that has been bothering me is that I’m just so ready to find our house and move out of our apartment. For the longest time I was not at all worked up about home-ownership (unlike a lot of other people who just seemed to jump into it because it was “the thing to do,” even though they hadn’t done any proper planning) but I always figured when the time came for it to be right for me, I would know. And now it’s here, and I know. I’m not living paycheck-to-paycheck anymore (fingers crossed that it stays that way!), Rusty and I are together, I don’t want to leave Atlanta, etc. - it all makes sense. I think being mentally ready to move on - mentally already having moved on, in some ways - heightens my frustration. I feel like things are breaking all the time. Like this week, our garbage disposal broke twice (and as of now isn’t fixed for good yet). I try not to complain because I know about having it better than a lot of people, blah blah. But this is my blog so deal.

It’s very important to me to have a “home base” where I truly feel at home, and where things are clean, organized, in their place, and feel comfortable. For a long time that place was our apartment, but increasingly I don’t feel that way about it - I just feel annoyed. I want furniture that isn’t made out of particle board. I’m tired of concrete floors. I hate that there are marks on our walls from where the movers banged shit around when we moved in. All these things didn’t used to bother me (well, the marks on the walls always did), but now they do, and I can only conclude it’s because I’m ready to move on to the next stage. I’m annoyed with nothing feeling “settled.”

I’m sick of: strange noises coming from the upstairs neighbors’ apartment, as if they’re running a wood shop (seriously, we’ve heard sawing noises); the kid in some apartment somewhere that I can always hear from my bathroom, who screams and wails all the freaking time; weird smells in the hallway because apparently some of our neighbors are disgusting; the Phantom Pooper.

Don’t get me wrong, I have no sparkly illusions about home-ownership being the solution to all problems oh except for the part where if anything breaks you have to fix it yourself and buy your own HVAC unit etc. etc. But I am ready.

I felt a little better last night after talking to Rusty about some of this. But I still feel kind of out of whack (<– correct spelling?).

Here are some photos of houses I like:

(as seen here)

(as seen here)

More later.

I’m making a personal vow (yet again - maybe it’ll stick this time) to cease and desist reading all blogs that try to make you (general “you”) feel guilty about saying there are any problems in your life, if you’re not living in a cardboard box and selling your children for beans. Or whatever it is. (And usually living in another country, because certainly we don’t have any real problems here, and if people aren’t DYING DYING DYING then it’s not all that bad, now is it.)

Also, certain blogs where the word “privilege” is used as an accusation, a means of silencing.

And, of course, as usual, the blogs that deny that such a thing as privilege even exists - the ones that make me feel like I have a to put in a disclaimer every time I write a sentence like the one above, because they’re such amazing ASSHOLES and that is not what I’m talking about. But then, I don’t actually need a new vow for them, because I stopped reading them years ago - it’s the others that are a problem for me.

Race trumps gender… gender trumps race… this -ism is worse than that -ism… I’m sick of it having to be a fucking CONTEST! That’s not what intersectionality is!

The annoyance level, it is high.

ETA: Now the title doesn’t make sense, because I changed my mind and got rid of the bullets.

Part of why I’m on the fence about BlogHer Atlanta? Well, aside from the $100 entry fee (which is totally fine of them to charge; I am NOT being one of those people who complains about anything that’s not totally free at the expense of someone else’s hard work), there’s also the fact that I’m just over a lot of these conferences.

Rusty and I talked about why on a podcast a while ago. They’ve become commercialized, but that’s not even the word. Cartoonized, maybe? Firefox spellcheck doesn’t know that word (but then it doesn’t know “spellcheck” either) but I think it’s the most apt. If I hear the word “conversation” again I may puke.

And I’m really not trying to be one of those too-cool-for-school assholes who blogs about why blogging sucks, or that kind of thing. I HATE that!

But look, here’s the truth. In addition to the cartoony, sales-pitchy bullshit, I don’t feel welcome at these conferences. With rare exception, I never really have - it just took me a while to admit it to myself, I guess. The BlogSavannah experience was a breakthrough, of course, but there have been so many other instances that I’ve lost count.

When you talk about sex, and you’re a woman, and you’re a tech geek, and you (gasp!) also talk about things other than sex (because OMG, people who aren’t ashamed about sex do other things in their lives, too)… well, let’s just say it doesn’t add up to a good combination, with a lot of people. There are some awesome people, sure. But they don’t tend to be the majority at these conferences. Which is one reason I created Sex 2.0 - to bring all those people together and none (or, well, very few) of the sucky ones!

Sometimes I wonder how much of me not feeling welcome is an accurate perception of reality, and how much is self-induced. Then I remember how good I am at reading people and situations, and that my intuition is almost always spot on, and that I always doubt it anyway, because somehow that seems like the proper thing to do (surely we must consider all angles, surely!) and heaven forfend, I would appear “selfish” if I didn’t.

I remember the guy guffawing at BarCamp Atlanta about Sex 2.0. I remember the stupid, predictable, un-funny, adolescent-level jokes. BarCamp Atlanta pretty much sucked all around, but that’s the stuff that stands out the most in my memory. Oh, and the hooker jokes. Those fucking guys joking about going down to 11th street and finding the hookers.

Here’s a secret. When you make a hooker joke - whoever you are - I hate you, right then and there. Even if generally, rationally, I know that most of the time you’re a “good person” - whatever that even means. When you do that, I hate you, and my eyes want to seer through you.

Oh and back to being a woman who talks about sex (bullet point above). Sometimes people seem incredulous that it’s still such a “big deal.” I want to ask where the fuck they’ve been, anyway. Last week, at Manuel’s, I overheard that conversation at the table behind us, carried on by supposed friends-of-friends. I didn’t know these people, but it didn’t matter. I’ve heard a million conversations like it before. Quote: “She was really weird, she talked about sex all the time.” Quote: “Yeah, I mean she was a total weirdo… she said if we went to this party, we’d be expected to have sex in front of people!” Just shove a dagger through my chest already. We’re back to square one.

Well, I should probably wrap it up and try to get some sleep. I feel very restless, but we’re going to Radial for breakfast, so I need to get my butt to bed.

One last thing - I feel the need to say here, too, that Elisa Camahort is awesome and I’m not trying to trash BlogHer or anything like that. I had so much fun hanging out with her at ConvergeSouth - she is just a nice, cool, down-to-earth person. And look at the super cool slide she made!

So I know that last post of mine wasn’t very “fair.” Part of me feels bad but part of me just can’t get too worked up about it.

I just feel like in BlogLand recently (well, and not so recently, too), there’s a lot of “group think” and generalizations going on, and if you don’t fall in lock-step, then you’re out of the Cool Kids Club.

There are some situations where generalizations are helpful, instructive, and necessary. I think making a blanket statement of “no blanket statements” is just as ignorant as, well, most blanket statements! Because sometimes it’s appropriate. But I think that’s the exception rather than the rule. And I get the impression that a lot of bloggers who move in some of the same circles I do kind of blog with an iron fist.

It’s hard to write about this, too, because I’m afraid I’ll end up sounding like those whiny assholes who come to feminist blogs and go, “Not all men are [x]!” YES, we know, thanks for making it all about you YET AGAIN, now please to be shutting your dumb mouth.

I’m not a patient person in general, BUT, with friends and on a one-on-one basis, I can be very patient. See, nuance. What might look like a contradiction to the casual observer is actually just the fact of nuance and complexity that we all have within us. And I think a lot of what is missing from some of this blog drama (which I’ve mostly just been observing and shaking my head at, rather than getting involved in, as I know I wouldn’t be welcome anyway) is nuance. Context. Because guess what, context matters. A lot of things have to be taken on a case by case basis.

Like I said at Trinity’s, wrt porn and such: (as usual, double blockquotes are me quoting someone else)

So uh, “men ask women to do Those Things” is true, but not really worth getting furious at people for, to me. Again, even if that’s sexist: mosquito bite. Not worth my worry.

It seems to me that a lot of the time, the asking is set up as a bad thing. And I’ve never really grokked that. Because what always comes to my mind is, “So, one partner is communicating with the other partner about hir sexual desires.” What’s bad about that?? It’s a GOOD thing to be able to tell your partner, openly and with no shame, “[x] turns me on” or “I’d really love to try [y].” The part where good or bad comes into play, I think, is what happens next - and even that is a lot more complex and nuanced than a lot of these scripts make it out to be.

It’s not enough to just say “[x] is wrong.” [x] doesn’t exist in a vacuum, and all the internal and external factors surrounding it have to be parsed in order to get an accurate understanding.

And yet, with all that said? Yeah, there are still plenty of times when the motivation, intent, etc. doesn’t matter AT ALL; what matters is the resultant action. But again: nuance! None of this applies across the board!

I’m having a hard time trying to explain this but I don’t actually think it’s that hard of a concept to grasp, mentally, without words.

Next thing I want to write about: the fallacy of assuming that just because someone’s poor, it gives them special insight into, well, everything. There’s a term for that but I can’t remember what it is.

There are few people inhabiting certain corners of the blogosphere in which I move who (whom?) I find to be bullies and/or “queen bee” types. To name names would certainly bring the Wrath of the Goddesses upon my head - so I’ll be willfully obtuse and arguably passive-aggressive instead. But eventually my annoyance might boil over; so consider this a forewarning.

Also, tag links aren’t working now that I’ve upgraded to WordPress 2.5.1. Boooo.

ETA: Bumped up from comments:

I realize this post was not very fair of me. *shrug* I’ve just been feeling annoyed, and I guess I felt some compulsion to put some evidence of my annoyance “out there” - even if in a way that raises questions (and eyebrows) and puts people on the defensive.

So yeah, like I said, not very fair of me. And yet I felt like I “needed” to do it. Sometimes I can be weird. :P

Lately, Melissa keeps writing stuff that feels like something piercing my gut and brings a tear to my eye, and then I struggle to put into words what is resonating so deeply and why. Here’s the latest installment. And my rambling commences after the cut.
Read the full post »

What if I just wrote what I was thinking, in spite of those voices that tell me I’m being selfish or silly or self-centered or navel-gazing or it’s not important.

I love reading the writing of people who do this, so I think I should try it, too. And if people come around and tell me I’m preoccupied with things that don’t matter… well, at least I won’t be surprised, since that’s what part of me is already telling myself, anyway.

I’m supposed to be working on my as-yet-nonexistent AlterNet piece, but instead I’m sitting here typing this. I know I’m making it out to be a way bigger deal than it is. And don’t get me wrong, it’s not as if I’m all like, “Ooh, AlterNet, big-time internet publication, wowee, zowee, I’d be famous and stuff!” I don’t know if I was ever that particular brand of naive. But for some reason I got a bug up my ass and decided I wanted to try and write something about feminist choices, and how to define them, for a broader audience (insert questionable joke here: “…not just an audience of broads - ha ha ha!!1!”) So I emailed Jill, who is awesome and who also happens to be an AlterNet editor, and asked if they’d be interested; and she said yes, and I said I’d send her something in a few days.

But I’m stressed out about it the way that having a column in my high school newspaper stressed me out. It seemed like a good idea in theory, but when I had to actually get down to it and write something, it was like pulling teeth with myself. I think I ended up only writing two actual columns senior year, and they were both pretty contrived.

And yet I could go home and write ’til my wrist was cramped (and it took at lot more to do that back in the late 90s!) in my journal, scrawl poetry of various levels of emo-ness in my notebooks, type long rambling paragraphs of Opinion in a SimpleText file I kept on my Mac desktop; when I was younger than that, in elementary school, I could fill notebook upon notebook with stories and even what could arguably be called novels (at my parents’ house there are stacks of boxes labeled “Amber’s books she wrote”); and before I could actually write, I was dictating stories to my grandmother at age four.

I guess it’s that I don’t like feeling like I have to follow rules imposed by others? (And yet I’m a stickler for grammar! Ah, I am nothing if not self-contradictory. [I mean, just look at my fondness for parentheses!])

Hence the “I speak my own language” tag you see employed here frequently.

When I was in 4th grade, I won a creative writing contest and they wrote a little blurb about it in the local newspaper. I was quoted as saying, “When I grow up, I want to be a famous author.” It was cute at the time, because I was nine.

…

I don’t want to have to recant on Jill but I think I might. I think maybe this just isn’t the write right (ha, typo!) time for me to try to write something for somewhere other than my blog. I’m sure I’ll try again one day and it’ll come a lot more naturally.

For example, it came pretty naturally with the (never published) op-ed I wrote for the AJC - although I won’t lie, I spent an entire afternoon agonizing about every word and phrase, wanting to get everything right. But the result was, I think I did a bang-up job! Too bad the AJC, apparently, did not agree, but my feelings weren’t hurt; I wasn’t surprised, after all.

…

Tonight I read this post by Melissa, and it brought tears to my eyes. Silly, right? Well, I’ve always been highly emotional and sensitive, so that’s how it goes with me. No making fun.

I’m not sure what, exactly, about the post struck such a deep chord with me - but something obviously did.

I don’t care (that’s a lie; I do care, in spite of the other half of my brain telling me not to - I just try to pretend I don’t [fake it 'til you make it, right?]) what anybody else says; I think there is value in “life-blogging,” living your life online, whatever you want to call it. I might not be able to articulate exactly what that value is, but maybe that’s simply because there aren’t words for some things. But I feel it intuitively, which is how I experience a lot of things… it’s not popular and won’t get people to really believe you, and it sounds like a lot of hippie shit (note the tag), and yet that’s another characteristic I’ve always had: there are things I “just know,” even if I can’t say why.

This kind of writing - and thus blogging - comes naturally to me. The introspection is a huge part, definitely; introspection is kind of a thing of mine, and I couldn’t stop even if I wanted to. I am an INFJ to the core. As a side note - this is why it bothers me SO MUCH when, on threads like the latest pushing-200-comments installation at Feministe, people are so free w/ their assumptions that if you haven’t come to the same conclusions as them, then you must not have examined properly. So go, forthwith, and examine your desires! Because obviously you haven’t, otherwise you would realize how bad and wrong they are, and you would sublimate, sublimate dammit! because it’s the right thing to do, otherwise you’re just pleasing the Patriarchy, because that’s all it can ever be about, really; it can’t be about you.

But back to Melissa’s post. -Well, hmm, what do I want to say about Melissa’s post? Actually, I don’t know; but it got me started typing all this.

More to come, perhaps. I think I need to send Jill an email now and apologize for wasting her time.

Hitting “Publish” now.

Inspired by this post, I decided that I wanted to try writing for a larger audience. Eek! I’ve always felt very stressed out writing under any kind of pressure, even self-imposed pressure, but I want to challenge myself and see what happens. So last night I did a bunch of free-writing/brain-dumping. The result of that exercise has now graduated to rough draft numero uno, which means I had to cut a bunch of stuff so I could stick w/ a central theme. Here’s all the stuff I took out - I think it’s all important stuff and highly relevant, but I just couldn’t make it “fit.” Solution? Blog it!

—

You often hear feminists saying that just using “choice” as an excuse or justification or way of avoiding dealing w/ complex issues is BS. And it is. They will often say, “The context in which that choice is made matters.” And it does!! So why does that concept fly out the window when the issue is sex, and in particular sex that squicks some people out?

Look, if you’ve got a woman telling you, “This is what I like, I’ve examined it and yes this is really what I want to do, and doing it makes me happy, and trying to force myself NOT to do it made me feel awful, and will people just get off my back about it already?” - what the fuck is so hard to understand about that?? A core tenet of feminism is the importance of listening to women, providing women with space to speak the truths of their lives, to speak honestly and openly without the restraints put in place by a society that tries to dictate what is acceptable and what is not. We often say when it comes to issues of rape: “Listen to the woman. Take her at her word. Believe her.” We often say when it comes to issues of abortion: “Trust women. They are capable of making their own decisions.”

Why do these sentiments not apply when a woman says she likes a certain kind of sex?

Recent editions of Our Bodies, Ourselves have removed some of the sex fantasies that were in the original 1972 version, because they were deemed too controversial or uncomfortable. Wait a minute. Wasn’t the point that women need space to talk about these things openly, even if (especially if!) they are “controversial” or “out of the norm” or make other people squirm a little?

Do you think I haven’t been told that, as a woman, actively wanting and pursuing sex, enjoying it for its own sake and not as a way to “get” something or as a reward, not necessarily tying it up with love or a relationship, etc., is bad and that there’s something wrong with me? You think the social script of sluts vs. good girls doesn’t play on an endless loop in the back of my mind, even now? You think I haven’t been hearing this shit since before I was old enough to really understand what “sexuality” even meant?

You think that’s not patriarchy??

The patriarchy is SEX-NEGATIVE. I am personally not a fan of the term “The Patriarchy” (capital P!) but I often refer to the sex-negative society in which we live. Guess what, folks? Same thing, different name.

I am tired of my arguments being reduced to black-and-white, simplistic, non-nuanced cartoons of themselves. And the funny thing is, often the people who are doing this reducing are, nearly in the same breath, complaining about arguments about sex being so black-and-white and over-simplified! It would be laughable if it weren’t so crazy-making. Uh, well maybe part of that is that you’re the one simplifying things. You are not hearing what people are saying. There’s a filter in place, filtering out the nuance.

Don’t tell me it’s not worth pushing back against the status quo. To do anything else feels like death to me, and yeah that might sound melodramatic, but I don’t know how else to convey it.

—

Other responses to the Feministe thread:

• Bookworm: Feminist-positive sex: some initial thoughts
• let them eat pro-sm feminist safe spaces: Getting off on power exchange is BadWrong, let me tell you it.
• Letters from Gehenna: Examining Desire
• Renegade Evolution: You know, I think the feminist thing to do would be to stop telling people how to fuck…. and Patient Zero, it’s time for your Examination…
• season of the bitch: Female Desire Week (plus): Sex and Art

I don’t know what the deal is with me lately. Why does it feel like I have less free time for blogging, even though I know I have more since Sex 2.0 is over? Yes, it’s true work has been busy - but work is usually busy. And I don’t really like blogging from work anyway; I like working at work, and I hate having no actual work to do. So what is my deal?
Read the full post »

As I said here (complete w/ typos and everything), we need to have blogging parties at Manuel’s.

Don’t know about the rest of y’all, but I would like that.

That reminds me of the Friday of WAM, when I was already at the hotel and Dacia (ha, I linked her!) was en route, and we were frantically texting each other about god knows what, and she texted, “Dude, we so need to have a blogging party in the hotel room tonight!”

It’s good to be with people who understand you.

Oh, and listen to the latest Mostly ITP if you haven’t yet. And leave us a voicemail… let’s get participatory, indeed!

This post has been in draft mode for at least a month now. I always thought I’d flesh it out into something less stream-of-consciousness/”bad emo poetry.” Then I went and wrote a long-ass comment on Apostate’s blog, and it reminded me of this as-yet-unfinished post. So, first I’ll give you the initial free-writing version that I fantasized about turning into a coherent narrative, but never did:

—

There’s always part of me that’s bugged about the fact that I never tried sex work
(I know the past tense makes it sound like it’s not a possibility in the future…)

But when I think about it, I wouldn’t make a good escort - I’m too introverted and socially awkward. Good escorts have to have the skill of putting people at ease. If anything, I tend to make people nervous. Or in my attempt to put them at ease I’d make *myself* nervous.
I hate small talk, and I suck at it

I do love sex, though

Stripping - same thing - I’m an exhibitionist, so that aspect (along w/ the money, duh) always appealed to me. And now I can pole dance something fierce. It’s the lapdances that would bug me. The “hustling.” It’s an awful lot like cold calling - something that absolutely petrifies me.

So what would I realistically like to do?
I want to have beautiful, creative photos taken of me

I thought of running my own porn site but the maintenance, up-keep, and trying to always come up w/ new creative content seemed too daunting

PSO? Hell no… I hate talking on the phone!

I think maybe I’d like porn the best

But in some way I feel like a fraud for never doing any type of sex work

—

(Does this fact of my life make me a shitty/creepy ally? I wonder that, sometimes. I know I’m probably just being paranoid and over-thinking things, as I’m wont to do.)

And here’s the comment I left on Apostate’s:

For going on ten years now I’ve wanted to try some form of sex work, but so far have been too chicken to actually go through with it. I absolutely LOVE pole dancing, so now the original things that made me afraid to try stripping - not being able to dance, not being able to walk in heels - aren’t issues anymore, but I realized there are other, more basic issues such as 1) strip clubs are usually smoky, and cigarette smoke REALLY bothers me; 2) I hate approaching people or being “outgoing,” and that’s what you have to do to get lap dances; 3) speaking of lap dances, they would annoy me for the same reason waiting tables annoys me: the asshole customers.

i think I would be good at having sex for money, but it would have to be JUST that. I don’t have the time, patience, or poker face* to keep up the pretense of “escorting” - basically, I have no desire (and no ability, really) to pretend like I give a shit about some guy or want to be his arm candy, let’s just get down to business and give me the money, no GFE bullshit. I also couldn’t do the full body sensual massage thing because that would be hell on my muscles, and again, let’s just get down to business already.

After much thought and consideration I think porn is where I could be the most successful and get the most enjoyment out of it. But so far I’ve been too lazy to actively pursue anything. (It doesn’t hurt that I also happen to love my current job, so it’s not like I have a strong motivation.)

* Borrowed that terminology from Dacia. It’s apt.

Yesterday on Twitter I said, “I wish I could pole dance EVERY night.”

Lately I’ve been feeling strange, kind of down in the dumps, and I can’t really put my finger on what it is. I just feel like something isn’t right, and I want to get to the bottom of it. I feel this way more in the mornings; maybe my serotonin level is lower in the morning? I don’t know.

But I do know that I feel happy, alive, and on top of the world when I’m pole dancing. I wish I could do it even more than I already do.

Last night we started the fourth installation of Level 5/6, the “master” pole level, which will continue indefinitely, because they can’t get rid of us pole addicts! They’re also going to start offering Cardio Pole classes (thirty minutes of nothing but pole circuits, for Level 3 and above) every Wednesday at 6:30 during May and June, and I signed up for all eight of ‘em last night. I can go straight from work.

I have my pole at home and I practice on it as much as possible, but it’s challenging given the dimensions of the stage and such. I can’t wait until we buy a house/condo/whatever and can install a permanent pole.

I don’t really know where I’m going with this other than to just reiterate how much I love pole dancing. Few things make me happier. I’m still kind of in awe of the fact that I found an athletic activity that I enjoy so much.

Sunday night’s student/instructor showcase was a massive success, btw. Angela said they’ve been receiving tons of emails asking when the next show is. She said they’re probably going to do these shows once a quarter. I kind of feel like I shouldn’t try to be in every show because other people might want a chance, but on the other hand, I just really love performing. I think Sunday night was one of my best performances ever. I told Rusty not to record me, which, I think, is actually part of why I did so well - I didn’t feel pressured. But then I wished he had recorded me, because I did so well. So next time maybe he should just secretly record me, whether I ask him to or not!

There was a brief instance of inappropriate/unwanted touching after the show, which just exemplifies (yet again) the problems Jenny talked about in her “Sex, Guys, and Videotape” post. Hello - it is NOT OKAY to put your arm around me, dude I’ve never met. I don’t care if I’m in my underwear. I don’t care if I’ve been dancing half-naked. I don’t care if you’re congratulating me on a good performance. ‘Cause really all of it has fuck all to do with you, so GO AWAY.

But let’s not end this somewhat stream-of-consciousness post on a negative note! Sunday night was great, and I just wish I could carry the feeling I have when I’m pole dancing with me all the time. Oh, and I need to write a separate post about Angela’s half-joking idea about starting Atlanta’s first clothed strip club.

My good friend Miss Debris Blanche has moved to Wordpress.com, with a new blog name, a new layout - and, I believe, a first post that should win a prize for “best first post.”

In addition to just being hilarious and a great writer, she does a good job of putting into words an approximation of why I love the South:

So, why haven’t I left yet??? I guess b/c, for better or worse, it’s my home. There is a special vein of insanity in the South that can’t be duplicated. The city I live in has a law on the books requiring everyone to own a handgun. And, for some reason, a great number of Southerners enjoy Civil War re-enactment — I guess so they can lose over and over and over again!

On the other hand, we have the best food, (many of) the best writers, and (many of) the best bands/musicians (such as R.E.M., the B-52’s, Ray Charles and James Brown … and the Allman Brothers, if that’s your thing).

This is a very friendly, hospitable place, yet it’s also an incredibly warped and haunted place. Love it or leave it, they say … if the right opportunity arose, I might go. (Though I’d probably come back eventually!) But in the meantime, it makes great copy, and maybe, just maybe, us thinkin’ folk who stay behind can keep fighting the good fight and help drag our homeland into the 21st century. Even if it’s as small a start as being able to buy a 6-pack at Kroger on Sunday.

This is something I’ve found hard to convey to non-Southerners, and so I’ve taken the tack of saying, “If you’re not from the South, you don’t get it.” Now I can just point people to this description!

I’ll bemoan certain aspects of the South from time to time - and believe me, there is plenty worth bemoaning - but whenever I hear someone who isn’t from here talking about the South this and the South that, I can get pretty vitriolic. (Like the friend who started pontificating about “What I don’t like about the South is…” sophomore year at NYU, until I stopped him and asked, “Have you ever been to the South?” Yeah, I think you can figure out what his answer was.) I guess it’s like, if you have siblings, you can make fun of your siblings but nobody else better dare.

One difference between the excerpt above, though, and my feeling on the matter: the opportunity has arisen, and I did leave, and I came back - twice. And I never want to leave again. This is my home, and when I was away, I missed something that I hadn’t even realized I valued. I ran to New York after high school, and really, can you blame me? 18 years in Augusta was rough, to use a wild understatement. And that year and a half at NYU was a wonderful experience that I wouldn’t trade for anything. I wouldn’t know Dacia if it weren’t for that, or a few other friends who, admittedly, I mainly keep in touch with via Facebook these days. I probably would’ve stayed at NYU for the whole four years if money and other life circumstances hadn’t intervened, and I wonder what my life would be like now if I’d done that?

-But anyway, not to get off on a tangent… the time when I really felt a seering homesickness was when I lived in Texas. Granted, I had other really difficult stuff going on at the time, but I don’t think Dallas and I were ever meant for each other. My one consolation, as silly as it might sound now, was sweet tea from the Chick-Fil-A on the other side of Central Expressway. And for as much as I used to hate on Atlanta when I’d never even really been here before, isn’t it hilarious (and ironic?) that this place feels more like home to me than anywhere else ever has.

Can’t say I care for the Allman Brothers, though!

I am not happy with the villifying of Seal Press I’ve seen in the blogosphere recently. No, not happy at all. There, I said it.

I wonder what people expect. And I mean realistic expectations. How would YOU react if you were Brooke and Krista? Seriously?

They are not this big mythical insulated power-house super-corporation. They are people. Just people. Like all the rest of us.

I guess I can relate because people have pulled shit like this with “criticizing” PodCamp Atlanta and Sex 2.0… and it’s like, HEY. This is a one-person operation. (And specific to these two cases, they are unconferences, so if you don’t like what’s going on, fix it instead of just complaining, like the guy who was whining about the sound quality on some of the podcasts.)

Also this irritates me because, well, Seal Press has done a lot for publishing women’s voices. And this is the kind of thing that just… does not sit well with me. It makes me itch.

Okay, that’s all I’ve got for now. I would say more but I’m afraid of people coming over here and trying to rip me a new asshole, and then expecting me to be all gracious about their “criticism.”

Also I am waiting for the BBC to call me back about a radio interview and trying not to freak out. Nerves, be calm! It’s probably a good thing I didn’t have any caffeine this morning. I hope my cell phone doesn’t lose reception when/if they call.

Almost six years into my blogging “career” (ha!), and still, I feel that nasty uncomfortableness of having stuff I want to say, but feeling like I can’t (or shouldn’t?) say it here.

Ugh.

I keep trying to remember Helen Thomas’s beautifully simple answers to people’s questions about much larger issues…

Maybe when I’m in my 80s I’ll be totally fine with saying “fuck it” and writing whatever the fuck I want.

I’d like to get to that point while I’m still in my 20s, though!

I am very unhappy with some stuff I’ve been reading in the blogosphere lately, and I have opinions and I think they are damn good ones and very valid, and I haven’t just pulled ‘em out of my ass. I am itching to say what I think. It’s my blog, I should say whatever the hell I want! I just really cannot handle people coming over here and talking shit at me, though. I really can’t. Not just DO NOT WANT. But truly, CANNOT DEAL.

Maybe I’ll close comments.

I don’t know.

But I know one thing… for now, I need sleep.

Today was a great day and I had a great time… eh, can you tell I’m exhausted by the fact that I’m not trying to think of more creative adjectives? I’m lying in bed in the hotel now, and it’s soooo nice. Tomorrow we have to get up early (unlike today where we slept in and ordered room service, finally making it to the conference at 11:00) and I definitely need some down-time after the hustle and bustle of the day.

We went to the WAM party tonight, for about an hour, even though both of us would’ve been okay w/ staying in the hotel room. I guess we felt we had to make an appearance - maybe Dacia moreso than I. But I was a little interested/excited to go, too… I guess I thought I would get to meet people or something. But who am I kidding… it sucked like all parties like that suck. Loud music, claustrophobic, hot…

I mean don’t get me wrong, I did meet a few cool people from Bitch magazine and had fun talking to them. They were super nice and so I am happy about that part. But the rest of it? Honestly, I just felt like a major loser. It sucked. I don’t know how to get over that or if I ever will/can - or if I should! Personally, I don’t think I should try… it’s just how I am. But there’s always so much pressure from people to be all extraverted and shit, and sometimes it does affect me a little even if I try not to let it.

Then there was this random girl (I don’t know who she was, anyway) who came up and inserted herself into the conversation w/ me, Dacia, and the Bitch ladies, and wanted to take a photo. Okay, cool. So we all stood together and smiled… then she shows the photo and it’s the three of them and not me. And it’s not like I was standing off to the side or something! She very deliberately cut me out, and I don’t understand why. Then she took a second version of the photo and did it again!! That’s really fucking weird to me. I felt like I was back in middle school and I was the social outcast that no one wanted to be seen with.

Anyway. Speaking of photos (and trying to end on a more positive note). I tried to get a lot of good “action shots” of the conference today, and I think I succeeded. Tomorrow I need to get someone to take a photo of me and Dacia looking sexy and awesome together. Also she gave me a bad-ass Waking Vixen T-shirt, so I need a photo of me wearing it.

I’m looking forward to tomorrow’s sessions. Did I mention that Cover It Live fucking rules?

Today Rusty and I went to Frolicon… for about an hour.

Last year I was really annoyed that Frolicon was the same weekend as PodCamp NYC, which meant we’d miss it because we already had plans to go to New York. I interviewed Beth, one of the organizers, and she was a total sweetheart. I vowed that we wouldn’t miss Frolicon 2008! (And yet I wrote about it on Radlanta as if I knew what I was talking about.)

But as the day got closer, I was less and less excited about it. I guess after going to more events along similar themes, I had more of an expectation that this wouldn’t be my cup of tea. Really I only went in order to put a stack of Sex 2.0 postcards and condoms on the swag* table. Then I got mad at myself because I didn’t think ahead enough to include that stuff in the swag bags everyone gets at registration; there were postcards in there for Whippersnappers, Swinging Atlanta, SELF, and other groups/events like that. Why didn’t I think of that? I was so pissed.

Still, hopefully some new registrants will come out of the stack on the table. As we were leaving I saw a few people stopping by and looking at stuff. One guy started talking to me about Camille Paglia as I was putting the postcards on the table. That was kind of weird.

So yeah, we only stayed for about an hour, and most of that time was spent paying way too much money for a mediocre buffet lunch. What can I say, fetish/kink/BDSM stuff just doesn’t do it for me. In fact, it kind of irritates me. More power to people who are into it - some of my best friends, etc. This isn’t a slam or judgment on folks who like that stuff. I’m just not one of ‘em. I like fucking. I can’t be bothered with all the costumes and role-playing and master/slave this and foot-worship that and yadda yadda yadda.

Speaking of fucking, we briefly considered going to Trapeze tonight, because a couple who’d commented on our Trapeze review podcast said they were going, and we’re interested in meeting them at some point. But I’m still on the tail-end of the haze while my body chemistry adjusts to Lexapro, plus I’m on my period, so we figured it’s not the best night to go. I wouldn’t be feeling up to it because of the meds, but also that period thing… it’s like one of the last taboos. In Best Sex Writing 2008, Trixie Fontaine writes about her problems with getting credit card billing companies for her period porn site… it’s considered “extreme,” and even though they’ll deal with pretty much anything else you can imagine (and plenty of stuff you can’t), somehow a woman’s period is THE GROSSEST THING EVER. What the hell! Why is it such a big fucking deal?? (That’s a rhetorical question, so don’t bother trying to come up with an answer. THERE ISN’T ONE.) Seriously. If you can’t handle the fact that yes, most women get their period every month, and no, your dick won’t shrivel up and fall off if you fuck her during that time… then just turn in your Sex Card right now, because you don’t deserve it.

Well, I was going to write about how I got a manicure the other day, but I can’t think of a clever transition and this is long enough already. So I’ll write about the manicure thing tomorrow, because it’s likely to spiral off into a tangent about class and expectations and social stratification. Betcha can’t wait!

* I’ve recently learned that the spelling “schwag” refers to marijuana. “Swag” is actually an acronym… “stuff we all get!”

I’m having another “freaking out” day re: Sex 2.0. I feel light-headed, and I don’t know how much of that is due to stress and how much is due to it being too warm in the office (note to self: go get some water!), but I don’t feel so good.
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I didn’t go to the Sex Workers’ Art Show tonight, and that saddened me, a lot. Probably more than it should have. I’m probably being ridiculous and melodramatic.

I laid in bed and wondered what would happen if I just didn’t do anymore work on Sex 2.0 from here on out. That won’t happen, because I couldn’t bear to let the conference fall through and have people hate me; but I did entertain the fantasy.

Tomorrow I need to finish another Download Squad post. I have the notes for it saved as a draft, but so far I haven’t found the inspiration to meld it into actual complete sentences and paragraphs.

I hope that soon I’ll start feeling good again.

Oh, also I’m out of white grape juice. Dammit. (Not that I’m leaving the apartment at this hour… I’m already in my pajamas, and it’s freakin’ cold outside.

I am pissed off. And sad. At first I wasn’t even going to write anything tonight, because as I told Rusty earlier before he went to bed, I don’t like people who complain all the time, and I don’t like complaining all the time. I don’t like getting mired in negativity, especially when i know there is so much good stuff out there I should be focusing on. And yet, at what point does not dwelling on negativity become flat-out denial? I’m trying to be healthy. But maybe I’m going to the other extreme. Because sometimes it all hits me at once and I feel overwhelmed, like tonight, and honestly it’s a miracle that I didn’t cry when Rusty and I were talking earlier. I cry so easily. It’s always been something about myself that I’ve been embarrassed about. I cry at the least opportune moments, and I think it makes me look weak.

The whole reason I started my blog, back in April 2002, was to just talk about my life. Anything I wanted. Important stuff, silly stuff, random stuff, anything. My thoughts, opinions, etc. And for several years I never felt like I had to so carefully choose my words (well except re: stuff like the situation w/ my ex when all that was going down, but that’s a different kind of thing altogether). And now I feel like I can’t even right about THIS without people basically going, oh, boo-hoo, look at her, feeling sorry for herself, she thinks she’s got it so bad, well what about the limbless migrant workers in Mexico (or whatever), she has it so good compared to them…

Of course I do!

But Jesus! This blog is about ME! Or at least it’s supposed to be! And I’m not supposed to feel badly for writing about MY SHIT in MY SPACE (but not MySpace, ya understand; har har). And all the time I hear that echo in the back of my mind, from all those years ago… “Selfish! You’re so selfish! You think you have it so bad? A lot of people have it much worse that you! Stop being so selfish! And stop being so sensitive!”

I think I go in cycles, because for a few years there I thought I’d really gotten over and moved past that shit. But maybe you really never do get over it. An online friend emailed a week or so ago and mentioned things reopening old wounds. Maybe that’s what happened here.

And now I feel like nothing I can say will be right. And I just want to say FUCK IT! And yet another part of me wants to eternally explain, because if I could only explain clearly enough, surely everyone would understand, right? Except, no, they wouldn’t. Because they’re them and I’m me and never the twain shall meet.

I told Rusty the Sex 2.0 stuff is wearing me down. Once again I have done what I always do - pick up other people’s slack, and as usual, it’s taking its toll on me. I said from the beginning that I needed a lot of help on this, and yet, I haven’t gotten it; and so, what did I do? Suck it up and do it myself. Because otherwise the conference wouldn’t happen, and that would be MY fault.

I really do think Sex 2.0 is going to be a lot of fun and really interesting, but all the bullshit surrounding it lately (venue, money, etc.) is really dragging me down.

And then there’s the whole Creative Loafing thing, and the Midtown people (same shit-heads who shut down our Sex 2.0 venue), and all the people who are so hateful to sex workers… I want to help make good things happen, but I feel sometimes like nothign changes, no one listens. It’s so discouraging. I’m trying so hard. And for what?

There’s also shit going on w/ my family that I haven’t written about here, but is really weighing on me. Now that stuff, I don’t feel the same kind of bad oppressiveness of not being able to say what I want. The stuff I was writing about above is BLOG DRAMA… just look at the “Summation” post and you’ll get a hint of the massive headfuck of it all.

(And also, I’m afraid I might sound like the guys who act like assholes in feminist spaces. I don’t want to sound like those guys!! I can’t stand those guys!)

I *have* been tempted to write about some of the stuff w/ my family. but then I stop, because I know my mom reads this, at least once in a while, no matter what she might say to the contrary. It’s always in her browser history when I go to Augusta. I don’t really mind if she reads it, I just wish she woudln’t pretend like she doesn’t. I wish we could relate more on an adult level. We’ve made progress in the past several years, but… god, I’m 28 years old, isn’t it time to REALLY act like one adult talking to another?

Anyway, I have to admit, that there HAS been a lot of shit going on and it’s just all getting to be a bit much. THings have just been rough. But, also, I want to say, *everything* hasn’t been bad. I’m so fortunate to be with Rusty. I love him so much, and him being in my life makes everything about 100 times better - he even makes the already-awesome stuff 100 times better!

I am also thankful for Jenny, and I’m glad we’ve been chatting on GTalk, even though sometimes I have to sign off hastily because I can’t multi-task very well at work. She understands me and I trust her completely. She is awesome. (And I am so happy that she has a blog now… it cracks me up. I won’t link to it though, ’cause she might act all weird about that!)

So, yeah, there’s shit. But there’s also good. I don’t know what to do… I feel pulled in a ton of directons. I hope my new shrink will help me get some calmness in my life, but I’m not going to keep going to her if my insurance claims don’t go through. :p Why can’t they file insurance for you? I dont’ want to file my own fucking insurance, I’m sure I missed some tiny little checkbox and now they’re not going to reimburse me the hundred bucks.

Anyway. I should stop. This is totally stream of consciousness ranting, and I should probably break it up w/ a “more” link, but I’m not. I’m even resisting the urge to read back through it for typos and such. I still don’t feel like I’ve said everything, but at least I’ve said something. Hopefully soon I’ll be sleepy enough to climb into bed next to Rusty.

I know I said I’d respond to Griftdrift’s comment here - but I have yet to do it. I said, “I have a lot to say in response.” And I still do. But I don’t know if I have the emotional energy to try to type it all out in a way that makes sense, when I have this sneaking suspicion that I won’t be heard (whether from me not explaining well enough, or the reader just refusing to hear what I’m saying, or some combination, I don’t know; but it doesn’t matter in terms of energy expended on my part).

This is exactly the kind of thing I was talking about when I said I’m not a real activist. I don’t have the stomach for it, and I can’t bear having endless discussions about the same thing over and over again. I’m a delicate fucking flower, apparently, and it’s all about my delicate fee-fees. But I’ve never pretended anything else. That’s why I’ve never labeled this blog a “political blog,” even though I do write about things that are arguably political. It’s because I don’t want to have those kinds of discussions all the time, because I just get too emotionally involved and I end up in tears.

Sometimes these kinds of discussions are easy (or at least easier) for me in a one-on-one, in-person situation, where the person and I can look each other in the eyes and notice body language and tone of voice and grasping for words. Sometimes I can’t convey what I mean nearly as well in writing - but strangely, there are other times when the opposite is true.

As for this particular discussion, it might be easier for me to have in person, but I would have to be able to trust that the person listening really is listening, and not just waiting for their turn to speak. Oh, have I mentioned all my trust issues? Yeah that’s another reason hardcore activism and politics isn’t something I can stomach.