Pants!

I found my pants!

No, really, this has been driving me crazy for days. I hate it when the house eats things, and it managed to eat my brand-new jeans that I really love sometime last week.

Finally tore apart the entire room, found them all the way under the couch. *eyeroll*

I woke up at 4am or so, and I've got basically everything set to go, just need to grab a shower and actually pack my clothes into the bag.

One of the really nice things about the household is the pet care situation. Although I really do hate leaving them behind, it's nice that we've got a pretty established routine, and it's surpassingly rare that all five of us are out of town at once. So there's no "hurried emergency lists for new petsitter" to deal with or anything. For someone with nine animals, that's a huge boon.

I'm finding So You Think You Can Dance disturbingly entrancing.

And it's been a while since I've gone on even a short road-trip that didn't involve public transit of some sort; I'm looking forward to the drive.

Also, I have not forgotten the state of fourth floor Old Kenyon in the summer. We're bringing extra fans.

A wonderful post by rm

On matters of passing

I identify strongly with elements of her experience, although the details are somewhat different than mine. But by and large, it's not hard for me to be accepted in mainstream society, or to pass in a variety of ways, either accidentally or by default, or sometimes by decision. And I think it's part of why I'm loud.

The following really particularly spoke to me:

"I am sick to fucking death of dyke or lesbian or man being a way to call women ugly. I am sick to death of bitch and girl and pussy to call down the spectre of cowardice on men. And I am sick unto fucking death of transfolk being treated as if they are somehow unreal, temporary of spirit or the last of the circus sideshow."

and this:

"My flesh was made for our little binary world more than most people's. But I wasn't. And I try not to hide behind what I have. But sometimes it is so unavoidable that all I can do is be a supporter in what is actually, also my own battle. Because it doesn't show. Because I could have more secrets than I do.

This is one of the more moving responses to what happened at Wiscon. I practically stood up and cheered at the office.

Call me a man. Call me a woman. I don't care. But you damn well better make it a compliment or at least mere observation. Because otherwise, you're wasting your breath. I'm not going to be anything other than what I am no matter what you say. And I'm not going to be quiet. And no matter who you target or why, I am not going to relax into this life of passing."

And gement pointed to a fucking fabulous response to a "why do all those freaks have to make us normal people look bad?" retread:

Any major shift in cultural paradigms is led by the people who have not only the most to gain from it, but the least to lose. "Loose women" suffragettes, "flaming" gays, and so on. All those "wing-nuts and wackanoodles"? You should be *thanking them*. If they hadn't blazed the trail, if they weren't pushing the boundaries of what was considered acceptable by the mainstream, your 'normal'/HWP/whatever ass would still be so far back in the Poly closet you'd see Narnia.

---A grateful 'normal' poly person.