id use your journal if i knew it was me, more than a``positively certain, but no confirmation` way
though i intend more of a reflection than a response will reply directly by saying: i am sorry for any hurt that i caused you during our relationship, or any poisonous feelings that lingered after it had run its course.
and i am grateful that i happened to check this thing at the time that i did. in fact, i had forgotten all about that person and situation.. even when the name would get said. friends have that name, i hear it, often enough.
the smug bitter tone you write in actually stirs in me, some of those kinds of emotions of just wanting to dig my nails into a tender fleshy spot until a yelp comes out, but i recognize that those are not my energies, thoughts or emotions and i refuse to perpetuate them by indulging in the violent, childish desire to invalidate past connections when faced with criticism (especially when it is tinged with a mock satisfactioin at one`s own faults.)
and onto personal reflection (meant, by no means to be justification of any action i have taken, i owe that justification to myself and my body and no one else)
drunken, and later regretted debauchary has become an interesting theme of late in life (if three isolated incidents can be considered a theme in life.. perhaps just an especially.. blatant thread of an overarching theme). alcohol exaggerates any situation but is never a primary motivating factor in any action; in my life, anyway. in hindsight i suppose it is often easy enough to spot the points in a situation where, again, in hindsight, i would have preffered things stopped. no, you cant come to my house, random girl following and pushing yourself upon me; no, id rather you didnt kiss me, acquainted but rather random girl i am sharing about with; no, id rather you didnt kiss me, befriended but still rather random girl.
having boy parts, the issue of consent is a confusing thing to deal with, we are, having boy parts, conditioned to think that it is ideal to use them at any opportunity that presents itself (this is even manifest in our language ie ``fuck that bitch`` as an expression regarding forgetting about or getting ridding of an unwanted female). the dominant patriarchal culture teaches that the sexual act is both accepted and expected on the part of the male conjugee next to universally (with few exceptions, such as if the female belongs to another man as his wife) and programs those with male sex organs not to consider whether they want to have sex with a female organ-ed individual because the answer should be yes in nearly all circumstance. on these occaisons i found myself to have completed the act of coitus without even considering whether i was okay with it happening, and it would take until the next day often ( i speak as if it had happened on more occaisions than i can count on one hand, but nonetheless) upon waking when i would realize that i had just had sex without consenting, which is still a horrible dirty sick feeling when you have boy parts.
i am not nearly done here, merely have begun a sloppy summary but its 221 in the morning and i want to get out of toronto and go back to the woods tommorow, and the train only runs into the morning. ill write much more about this, possibly even in here,,, i started so i will probably contiue.
smash patriarchy!
love
ur
*i invented this noun.. from conjugal
and i am grateful that i happened to check this thing at the time that i did. in fact, i had forgotten all about that person and situation.. even when the name would get said. friends have that name, i hear it, often enough.
the smug bitter tone you write in actually stirs in me, some of those kinds of emotions of just wanting to dig my nails into a tender fleshy spot until a yelp comes out, but i recognize that those are not my energies, thoughts or emotions and i refuse to perpetuate them by indulging in the violent, childish desire to invalidate past connections when faced with criticism (especially when it is tinged with a mock satisfactioin at one`s own faults.)
and onto personal reflection (meant, by no means to be justification of any action i have taken, i owe that justification to myself and my body and no one else)
drunken, and later regretted debauchary has become an interesting theme of late in life (if three isolated incidents can be considered a theme in life.. perhaps just an especially.. blatant thread of an overarching theme). alcohol exaggerates any situation but is never a primary motivating factor in any action; in my life, anyway. in hindsight i suppose it is often easy enough to spot the points in a situation where, again, in hindsight, i would have preffered things stopped. no, you cant come to my house, random girl following and pushing yourself upon me; no, id rather you didnt kiss me, acquainted but rather random girl i am sharing about with; no, id rather you didnt kiss me, befriended but still rather random girl.
having boy parts, the issue of consent is a confusing thing to deal with, we are, having boy parts, conditioned to think that it is ideal to use them at any opportunity that presents itself (this is even manifest in our language ie ``fuck that bitch`` as an expression regarding forgetting about or getting ridding of an unwanted female). the dominant patriarchal culture teaches that the sexual act is both accepted and expected on the part of the male conjugee next to universally (with few exceptions, such as if the female belongs to another man as his wife) and programs those with male sex organs not to consider whether they want to have sex with a female organ-ed individual because the answer should be yes in nearly all circumstance. on these occaisons i found myself to have completed the act of coitus without even considering whether i was okay with it happening, and it would take until the next day often ( i speak as if it had happened on more occaisions than i can count on one hand, but nonetheless) upon waking when i would realize that i had just had sex without consenting, which is still a horrible dirty sick feeling when you have boy parts.
i am not nearly done here, merely have begun a sloppy summary but its 221 in the morning and i want to get out of toronto and go back to the woods tommorow, and the train only runs into the morning. ill write much more about this, possibly even in here,,, i started so i will probably contiue.
smash patriarchy!
love
ur
*i invented this noun.. from conjugal