I love another, and thus I hate myself

LOOK AT HER

LOOK AT MY FUTURE WIFE

(she is all I can think about)
(I finished TEDTWOF and now my life is over)

The point of this song would have to be so long

My humours are EXTREMELY imbalanced; it feels at the moment like I am spending most of my time ejecting phlegm from my body, and it's horrible. Corin tried to convince me that actually it was cool 'because you get to look at your phlegm after you've coughed it up' but, frankly, I don't think that makes my situation okay. On the plus side, I am also spending a lot of time reading The Essential Dykes To Watch Out For, which she got me for Christmas, and watching True Blood (I recently bought a subscription to Megavideo premium and, without wanting to sound like I'm practising product placement, I don't really understand how I used to survive without it?). Naturally, in spite of examgate being over, I have a shitload of things to do that I am not doing. Mostly I try to justify it by telling myself I'm too ill to pen an impressive CV or make a start on this semester's reading list or work on emotionally-draining emails. Which, to be fair, might be salient? Possibly? Just a bit?

In Other News, I'm grumpy about Herbal Essences. Despite resisting buying any of their products for some time because apparently they test on animals (even though the shampoo I was using instead was made by Dove who also apparently test on animals - I am a shit vegetarian and even worse human being) and also because I'm wary of any overwhelming product smells becoming affixed to the way in which people around me experience my presence, I was shopping the other day (read: throwing all my money away in a soulless bid to compensate for the massive stretch of time since the last time I 'went shopping') and saw some that was specifically for curly hair and decided on an impulse that this would definitely be a good thing for me to invest in. Having felt a bit uneasy about it every time I go for a slash and am confronted by the frankly gargantuan purple tubs slumped on the edge of the bath, things came to a head this morning when I decided to read them. Error. HE had chosen for their consumers' intellectual stimulation to comment on the MASSIVE DIFFERENCE between men and women; today I discovered that, not only do women, when in the bathroom, spend far more time than men washing their hands, but also that the average groom is 5.3 years older than the average bride. I'm aware that my recent overdose of DTWOF may have prompted me to be more neurotic about world issues etc, but wtf? Seriously, everyone. Forcing expectations of heteronormative practice much. What is WRONG with people? Imagine the board meeting in which suggestions for these 'fun facts' were invited. Do they think, perhaps, that if the 'difference' between men and women is exaggerated enough, then we're less likely to mind the cavernous gap between the rights that we can expect to enjoy? Or the inadequacies of assuming a gender binary? UGH. I hate that this shit is read as normal by most people. On Monday, I went to see Men, which was, by and large, the greatest experience of my recent life (amazing queerfun danceparty lifeaffirming omg, plus I *met* JD Samson omger). However, it was slightly marred by the fact that not everyone around me was not a twat; I became distracted by this guy behind me and his friend who repeatedly asked each other 'is that a man or a girl?' about JD. I turned around and told them she identified as a woman, to which they responded with 'OH, it's a GIRL'. I said, 'no, SHE'S a WOMAN', and they looked confused and nonplussed by my vehemence, and I decided it was not the best time to launch into knowingly-futile-attempt-at-education mode, so turned back to the AMAZING ONSTAGE SPECTACLE and tried not to let myself be more angry than inspired. Later on in the set, a woman leant over to the men behind me and squealed, 'I just found out that's a woman!', and they were like 'I KNOW!', and I just wanted to die/punch everyone. Why is it so important to be able to place people? Why can't people take anything that even slightly bucks their perceptions of gender normality? Why does there have to be a gender normality? Why don't people consider listening to accounts of gender that differ from what they're comfortable with? Why do people have to put up with this shit? It's a horrible way to have to live.

I am obviously meant to be revising, but

Today I discovered that, in the seventeenth-century, 'hell' was slang for 'vagina'.

Let's dance as though it were easy for you to lead me

Yesterday, I was alerted to something on Twitter which, on the plus side, demonstrated to me something of the supportive strength of the queer community but, overall, continues to make me extremely upset. Katy Perry, not that I would expect any better of her, posted a picture of a transman to her feed and encouraged her followers to insult and dehumanise him (if I have anything resembling a reader and you want to see, it's http://twitpic.com/sdf45). Since previous comments appear to be made inaccessible by new ones most of what's there is defence; when I commented it yesterday afternoon it was about half and half with ignorant kneejerk wank. This whole thing makes me feel really vulnerable: I spend practically all my time in Leeds (which is where I spend practically all my time) socialising with queers - in fact, I only ever see other people when I am in seminars or lectures - and I think I forget what the outside world is like. I won't refer to it as the 'real world' because it isn't more valid just because it's bigger; it's just more people's reality than mine, I suppose. The notion that I should be more pragmatic by sticking my neck out of my comfort zone more often is worth considering but I don't think it's any kind of 'solution': whoever I associate with these problems will still exist, and I think it's their existence in the wider world that is more the problem than my direct awareness that not everybody is willing to refrain from participating in gender oppression. Besides, the very fact of the queer community is, as demonstrated in this case, pretty much essential to effectively present outside parties with the sorts of ideas that, for us, are second nature.

But, even though that's obviously positive, I'm still really fucked off. I know I have the privilege of education about these issues, but is it really that difficult to treat people like human beings? Maybe it's pack mentality. Maybe they think they're defending something worth hurting people over.

I know it's a lie; I want it to be true.

I'm listening to 'Fantasies' by Metric for the first time in at least a month - most of my recent attention has been on Amanda Palmer-related enterprises - and once again I'm struggling to pinpoint why exactly I find the line 'I'm not suicidal/I just can't get out of bed' in Satellite Mind so fucking liberating. I expect it has a lot to do with the trajectory of the notes but it's more than that. If a line can be described as an anthem it felt like an anthem for my house over the summer; depression effects many of our friends, including me, so this was a personal response to the lyrics as well as gelling with the tune. But there's more to it than that; there's a reason everyone yelled along to it from other rooms, and a reason it makes me shiver now. I feel like I'm not explaining this as eloquently as I'd like but, then, that's a constant concern, so it probably doesn't matter since it isn't going to change any time soon. Perhaps it can be reduced to something as simple as the lyrics themselves - the urge to stay in bed does not equate to a life that doesn't ever feel worth living and, after all, it is nice to be able to not only say but sing that you aren't suicidal. Perhaps it's as simple as that. Today was surprising in one of the best ways possible. We were meant to have an Amazon Molly band practice in preparation for a last-minute gig slot on Wednesday, but Sof was asleep and Tom was at a performance and Nat had realised she couldn't commit to playing with us, so I tromped down to Staffy's house to tell Mr. Danni the news, to find him and Staffy jamming in the basement. A beer and some previously very latent confidence later, we were Penis Colada and we were going to play our first gig on Wednesday. To be fair they do most of it - singing and guitaring while I fuck about on the keyboard, less badly than I thought I would but still hardly spectacularly - but it's still pretty exciting. I'm most proud of the fact that I took a risk and allowed myself to realise that I am actually better at Playing Instruments than I thought I was; obviously I want to be miles better than I am, but what means other than practice is going to get me there? Exactly. It's a bit cobbled together but I think it's going to be fun. Also, since Staffy vetoed Penis Colada we are for the time being Period Drama (she didn't really go for that, either, but Danni had to email the dude organising the gig to let him know who exactly was playing so said, unless she could think of a better name before he did it, that was what we were going to be, at least for the time being). I, obviously, intend to rhyme the two if we ever get 'round to writing our own songs. For now, we are covering songs by Staffy, Tiny Tin Lady, Dolly Parton, and others. I am pleased.

holler

I am migrating here from my livejournal just like everyone else, because I love starting things even more than I hate maintaining them and, to be honest, I felt chained to a style of expression that I didn't really want to keep up with. Essentially I want to take blogging (read: myself) more seriously, and I also want to meet the challenge of writing about my life without the safety net of making entries private; I'm not very good at being discreet or widely appealing, you see, and I want to improve, and I won't improve if I continue to hide in my friendslist. Also, coming back to my second year of university after a year out a couple of months ago brought the harsh reality of essays back into my life, and frankly the more practice I can get at extended prose the better (turns out after months of only writing a song's worth at a time it's challenging getting back on the wagon). That said, I handed in my second important essay of the term today and I think it was a lot better than my first; unfortunately it was also a lot later than my first and both were due in on the same day so the marks will likely be depressingly similar. But! It's progress, I hope. The other Most Important Thing In My Life Right Now is Sainthood, Tegan and Sara's new album, which I am entirely addicted to. It's been a long time since I've felt this way about a recent release; it's nice to have it back, because sometimes I worry that I don't put in the effort that being passionate about music requires and am in fact a fraud because I rarely discover new things and generally limit myself to exploring the back-catalogues of artists I should have gotten into years ago. Quite why I see music fanship as a competition and not a hobby is neither here nor there at the moment. I don't even know who I'm competing with; I don't really care about the extents to which other people integrate themselves with music unless they like something I like, or might like. Anyway, I meant for that last paragraph to end with the news that I started learning Hell on the guitar earlier (hence my username, for the 0% non-queer and/or -queersensitive members of my online audience) and playing it is simultaneously fun and calming, which is probably the best combination of effects possible. I'm so annoyed that I didn't obtain my loan in time to get a ticket to see them in Manchester. In fact, I haven't even received my basic loan now, and it's November. Now I will go and learn the rest of Hell to soothe myself. See you bassoon.