rkt: (image)
i've been back on a personal-writing-journal-roll. who knew that all i had to do was (start to) fire the damnable therapist? [tuesday's my last day, even though i don't officially have anyone new lined up. i had one hopeful prospect, but at $100 discounted bucks per session . . . i don't know. yes, i can get reimbursed eventually from the insurance, but that means involving the insurance.]

anyway...

sex abuse-related discussion/poll behind the cut. )
rkt: (Default)
i must say, i do love the french.
okay, so maybe they smell funny, and are obnoxious, and don’t know how to talk properly.
and maybe they have tendencies to be wusses.
and maybe Some of them are tad bit neurotic and conservative, (but not conservative enough to vote republican, which is why they’re still ok).
and maybe Some of them also are a bit smart alecky, which i Never am.

but i love ‘em anyway.
if only because they at least have the gumption to tell bushie to fuck off; they don’t want a war.
and because their landscapes are so darn pretty.
but also because [the newspaper] lemonde kicks ass, even after the translators at http://translation.langenberg.com bastardize it.

my supervisor at work was telling me (jokingly) that there should be a ban on things french. french toast. french fries. french kissing. . . because of their stance on junior’s warmongering.
(this was right when i was caving into my yearning for french toast.)
but i say, hey, bring all things french on if this is the case.
except maybe french torture. i have no idea what that is anyway. but maybe it’s kinky….

i mean, it takes serious guts to just say No. they know the next time they need the us, the us will be there, eventually, if only as an attempt to exert power. and still they bite their thumb at boy bush. (okay, that’s not true. i was reading that Chirac wasn’t happy with being painted as anti-american. i think that’s just a pr ploy though.)

and i say thank you france. the statue’s nice too. but more for just being you. give me a few months or years or days, and this adoration will fade.

okay, i’m done.


=
wait, it has come to my attention that there are those who blame me for the recent blanketing of snow in these here parts of the world.

i admit it. it is my fault.

according the evil quizzes, i am the goddess of winter. i have a cold exterior but deep down a warm, caring heart.
ahhhh, winter. maybe, just maybe, it's even better than france.
rkt: (Default)
i came across a beautiful quote while reading about how much the media suck. frequently, i have a hard time explaining my inflexibility in my writing. even- especially- for academia. i dropped out of the professional journalism track because of my stubbornness. it’s why i created strings to pull so i could get out of my english senior paper class. it’s why i’m a firm believer in not selling out (a whole other topic). it’s (among other reason) why i don’t so much get along with a lot of educator-types and that whole crowd who understand the need to alter your message so it can be heard..

but my man james baldwin says it best.

“Let’s say I write a centennial TV spectacular to celebrate the hundredth birthday of Negro freedom. I write it and the sponsors say: ‘Well, I think you ought to writer cooler here and softer there. I want you to take that out.’ And you can do it and justify yourself by saying ‘Well, half a loaf is better than none. At least they’re showing a TV spectacular.’ But what you’ve done has wrecked the show, half a loaf is not better than none; half a loaf is like poison. It’s like half a truth. And once you have done it, once you have persuaded yourself that you should do it, you begin tampering with something inside yourself, which is a very dangerous thing to do. You have attacked the very basis of your self-respect. What everyone has to understand, which is very hard to understand: The world offers you the way you die; you die on your terms, or you die on their terms.”

and this is where i stand on all such matters. compromise, when it comes to art, information, and related shite, is shit. i just lack mr. baldwin’s way with words to be able to concisely say why.

i post this now because of a discussion at work about the man and his genius.
about, among other things, how idontgiveafuck he was regarding his sexuality, way back in the middle of the past century. (when you think about it, it really was “way back”). i was going to post it eventually anyway, but i felt more inspired now. carepe diem.

i do believe the punk in me is even more in love with j.b.'s spirit than before.

i also think that the snow of my happiness will not last long.
sigh.

i, furthermore, think that i frequently think much too much.

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