Swing back up, handsome boy.
I have a stuffed toy dog that buzzruth gave me in my first year of uni, because I missed my own dogs so damned much. He doesn't have a name (though he does have a red collar), and he spends most of his time tucked away in the wooden trunk where I keep everything I don't have a place for.
Y'see, I'm not really a fan of stuffed toys. I can appreciate that they're fuzzy and adorable and other people love them, but they've always felt like a bad imitation of the real thing to me. At least, they have ever since I hit thirteen and had to get rid of all of mine*. So maybe I'm just bitter.
But last night I woke up at ridiculous-AM with my period and a whole gutload of nausea, and you can bet that as I limped my way back to bed, I stopped, dragged that stuffed dog out of his wooden trunk, and spent the rest of the night curled up around him. And I slept pretty well.
This morning I decided to stay in bed, which is probably the best decision I've made all week. And this afternoon, muphinmadness took me out for McDondalds and also to see Up at the cinema. And yes, I cried like a girl when Ellie died, but that actually made me feel better, too.
This evening I spent writing with nezumiko, and it was all fun, fluffy, kid!brother!writing with added hilarious!kids and then some minor pathos and then general romance and sexual tension, which is just about the perfect mix for lifting your spirits.
I also did some link-hopping for my dissertation and found a whole crowd of awesome stuff about butchness, or butch/femme dynamics, which is something that just interests me in general. But it was especially heartening to find some positive stuff written on the subject of butch (because damn if we don't catch a lot of flak), not only because I managed to have a reconnect moment with myself, but also because I hit on a great article here that ended with:
"Practice saying you’re sorry. This is one activity where you should not use your father as a role model. Fonzie was an asshole. If you are too young to remember who the Fonz was, then youtube it."
Because it gave me the final kick up the ass I needed to get in gear and write JB an apology email I owed her, which I managed to do okay because I've just come off a day of unwinding. \o/
So today was a good day. :D
Also, I bought a leather jacket last week for £30.
(Yes, I have my eyes closed here, BUT I CARE NOT.)
ETA: The missing footnote!
*Okay, so, when I was rising fourteen, my Dad rescued me and the brother from crazy!mom. Starting with a conversation that, according to him, went exactly like this:
Dad: Do you want to come live with me?
Dark: I'm packed. When can we go?
Shortly after, the brother and I were being sent off to visit USA relatives by crazy!mom. Dad managed to get the airplane dates switched on the return, and snatched me and the kid brother from the airport (if I'm remembering this right). Then contacted crazy!mom to send us our stuff. Not surprisingly, we didn't end up with a lot of stuff.
Link salad: Butch-boy speaketh
A Butch Roadmap
The first chapter of What is Butch by S. Bear Bergman, from his book Butch is a Noun. (This is ABSOLUTELY a must-read.)
'On Butches', by Sugarbutch, who also writes in praise of femmes.
And two of my favourite Sugarbutch posts:
The care and feeding of a butch.
The top ten things [we] love about femmes. (Hey, gorgeous, read this one.)
Y'see, I'm not really a fan of stuffed toys. I can appreciate that they're fuzzy and adorable and other people love them, but they've always felt like a bad imitation of the real thing to me. At least, they have ever since I hit thirteen and had to get rid of all of mine*. So maybe I'm just bitter.
But last night I woke up at ridiculous-AM with my period and a whole gutload of nausea, and you can bet that as I limped my way back to bed, I stopped, dragged that stuffed dog out of his wooden trunk, and spent the rest of the night curled up around him. And I slept pretty well.
This morning I decided to stay in bed, which is probably the best decision I've made all week. And this afternoon, muphinmadness took me out for McDondalds and also to see Up at the cinema. And yes, I cried like a girl when Ellie died, but that actually made me feel better, too.
This evening I spent writing with nezumiko, and it was all fun, fluffy, kid!brother!writing with added hilarious!kids and then some minor pathos and then general romance and sexual tension, which is just about the perfect mix for lifting your spirits.
I also did some link-hopping for my dissertation and found a whole crowd of awesome stuff about butchness, or butch/femme dynamics, which is something that just interests me in general. But it was especially heartening to find some positive stuff written on the subject of butch (because damn if we don't catch a lot of flak), not only because I managed to have a reconnect moment with myself, but also because I hit on a great article here that ended with:
"Practice saying you’re sorry. This is one activity where you should not use your father as a role model. Fonzie was an asshole. If you are too young to remember who the Fonz was, then youtube it."
Because it gave me the final kick up the ass I needed to get in gear and write JB an apology email I owed her, which I managed to do okay because I've just come off a day of unwinding. \o/
So today was a good day. :D
Also, I bought a leather jacket last week for £30.
(Yes, I have my eyes closed here, BUT I CARE NOT.)
ETA: The missing footnote!
*Okay, so, when I was rising fourteen, my Dad rescued me and the brother from crazy!mom. Starting with a conversation that, according to him, went exactly like this:
Dad: Do you want to come live with me?
Dark: I'm packed. When can we go?
Shortly after, the brother and I were being sent off to visit USA relatives by crazy!mom. Dad managed to get the airplane dates switched on the return, and snatched me and the kid brother from the airport (if I'm remembering this right). Then contacted crazy!mom to send us our stuff. Not surprisingly, we didn't end up with a lot of stuff.
Link salad: Butch-boy speaketh
A Butch Roadmap
The first chapter of What is Butch by S. Bear Bergman, from his book Butch is a Noun. (This is ABSOLUTELY a must-read.)
'On Butches', by Sugarbutch, who also writes in praise of femmes.
And two of my favourite Sugarbutch posts:
The care and feeding of a butch.
The top ten things [we] love about femmes. (Hey, gorgeous, read this one.)