A short, dumb, "all about me sjkdfdskjf!!!" for tumblr

I'm Leah. I live in brooklyn. I have advanced degrees in psychology, social work and theater. I write music. I sing. I am a research analyst at a non-profit (very fancy). I fucking KNIT. I watch more anime than your sexually ambiguous male nerd-friend (so, a lot...I watch a lot of anime). I love chiptunes. I have no idea what I'm doing.

"Ohhh...You're an ANIME nerd..."

So, yeah. If you know me really well...you'll know that I am a HUGE anime nerd. I don't push this information on anyone, because to some, "anime" is synonymous with "weird animated tentacle rape porn." These people who cannot make the obvious distinction between "anime" (any stylized Japanese animation) and "tentacle porn" (which is kind of a sub-genre of "hentai" anime) are retarded.

Also, yeh, it's pretty nerdy to like anime.

I've seen a lot of series, and I'm always looking for more. However, when asking around for suggestions I ultimately get this as a response: "Oh I LOVE Naruto! And Yu Yu Hakusho! And Dragon Ball Z! OH! AND POKEMON!" So, although I'm sure these series have their merits (I've seen more episodes of these than I care to remember), I don't really enjoy them as much as say Neon Genesis Evangelion, Death Note, or Paranoia Agent.

My favorite, favorite, FAVORITE of all time (so far) is Neon Genesis Evangelion. This series actually introduced me to something I'd never really seen in a tv series: I got a sense that the entirety of the story had been decided before the first episode hit air. The series was finite. To me, it seemed as though everything presented in every cell of animation had a purpose to further the story, it's characters, and/or the philosophy of the series as a whole--Using the adolescent understanding I had: "This is like the awesomest, longest movie I've ever seen."

Growing up with 1980's-90's American tv, I'd always assumed that a successful tv series just kind of stays on tv forever. I thought that milking story lines into as many episodes as possible, no matter how it effected the pace of the storytelling, was just part of what made a tv series, a tv series (thats why it's not...a miniseries). You want tight, purposeful storytelling? Go see a movie. TV was for long-term character development. When I was introduced to Evangelion, I asked, "well was it cancelled after only one season? Why isn't it longer if it's so good?" My sister, who initially showed me the series had to explain, "No, this is common in anime...they already know what's going to happen...they already have the beginning, middle and end...and this series is complex, so you really have to remember all of the details, or you won't know what's going on."

This series completely blew me away. It had so many intricate, purposeful layers. I watched it over and over, noticing new aspects and possible philosophical underpinnings every time.

So yeah, I had (and still have) a huge gay boner for Evangelion. And, like a naive emerging adult searching for someone to live up to the standard set by their first love, I tried to find another series that was equally fascinating and satisfying. But, yeah...like first love, you can't (and shouldn't) compare your first anime series boner to any subsequent anime series boners.

HOWEVER, I still find that I enjoy anime series most when:

1. They are finite and/or have well-paced story development (they aren't like Dragon Ball Z, Inuyasha, One Piece, Pokemon, etc.): Not that the never-ending series aren't awesome too. I just find that I get impatient with them. Sometimes these seem more like money-making machines than anything else (not that all series aren't $$ making machines, but the primary focus of these series seems to be "OH FUCK! STAY ON THE AIR! SELL TOYS!"). I mean, you could watch an episode of Dragon Ball Z, move to Guam, and come back 9 months later, and those fuckers would still be fighting Majin Buu.

Also, I know that in the U.S. we get a lot of the cancelled but popular, one-season anime run-off from Japan. I've actually seen a few (maybe two or three) of these that were pretty good. However, you can usually tell (without looking it up) when a series got cancelled or "concluded" before the writers could begin to answer fundamental questions posed. These are only good if the story telling was good to begin with.

A good example of a finite series that I would consider less successful is Ghost Hunt, an anime series that ended after 25 episodes. It ends with many unanswered questions, posed by the main character, which I interpret as "we would like another season, please?" Unlike Evangelion or Death Note (which I consider to be very well thought out), this series leads you down the path of "this element of the story is really important, we're going to use it as a through-line, and it will be explained eventually...we're gonna milk it though." However, in this example, the through-line was never explained, NOR was the ambiguity intentional or helping to recapitulate some fundamental theme of the series (eg:"some things cannot be explained, and that is not comfortable"). I'm not sure if Ghost Hunt was cancelled or not, but if it intentionally left unanswered questions and gaping plot holes, the writing isn't tight enough for me to even attempt a second look.

2. There is character and story development: Don't get me wrong, there are TONS of series that I just watch because those characters are so awesome, as static as they are, JUST KEEP PUTTING THEM IN WACKY SITUATIONS!! I know this isn't anime, but The Simpsons! I mean, come ON! They never change! And I LOVE it! I do have a soft spot for Inuyasha and Pokemon, I will say that, but I fucking get a boner and DIE when a series has characters/plot that progress in interesting and unpredictable ways. DEATH NOTE is a great example of totally fall-off-your-fucking-couch, intriguing plot and character development.

3. Explores Meaningful themes/Explores themes in a meaningful way:

Denno Coil? Holy shit! That entire series is so creative, and yet uses themes from cultural context! This series explores technology and how it can divide youth from adults, creating opportunities for youth exploration and also youth risk; communication and language between peers and between kids and adults, etc etc etc. Monster explores trauma, coping with trauma and poses whether or not true evil or good exist. There are so many awesome examples...

Anyway, series like Pokemon, etc, while fun in a certain guilty pleasure kind of way, are not really enjoyable for me and tend to make me impatient or frustrated.

So yeah, please don't insist that "Naruto is like crack" or "One-Piece is so fuckin' rad." If it doesn't have a brain...I can't watch it. I mean...I probably will anyway, but I promise I'll be multi-tasking if I do.

Non-threatening on the train (it sucks).

I don't know if this has to do with being physically teeny-tiny (I am teeny-tiny), or if this is an everyone thing, but even on nearly empty trains:

Huge dudes lean their weight on me, or actually step on me when the train shifts. They usually make eye-contact before or after (I had three toes broken this way before I started saying things like, "hey, I'm really sorry, but that hurts. I can't support your weight, I'm sorry"), and they never apologize.

I've had luggage, purses, plastic bags full of shoes, groceries, and even garbage literally leaned up against me, as though I am a tiny part of the scenery, a helpful inanimate object. When this happens, I move away, and the stuff that was carefully balanced on me sags, or falls over. This usually causes the owner to shoot me a dirty look, as if to say "that was your job, and you fucked it up."

Is there a kid on the train? Yes. How do I know? They are kneeling next to me, face pressed to the window, one sneaker in my lap. They always drag their parent(s) in my direction.

I am the FIRST one the crazy dude/lady talks to. A few years ago on "Manic Cycling Day," (the first warm day of the year, a few co-workers and I named it "manic cycling day," because random warm weather usually acts as a catalyst for manic episodes--causing our ER to be FULL of tangential, hyper, super-happy and grandiose crazy people) I had three psychotic people come up to me on the train, all word-salad. When I saw the fourth one (a lady with a huge "JESUS" sign) making a fucking bee-line over to me after entering the car, I looked up and said very plainly, "No. I don't want to know about Jesus, I don't want to know about the voices. No. Go away." She looked at me in the way that people who are actively hearing voices look at you when they feel rejected (which is: a little distracted, but hurt), and she left the car. The people around me, struck by the interaction, wanted to talk to me about it. "People talk to me on the train," I explained, "I mean, what made you get up the courage to talk just now? Mostly people ignore each other. I guess I'm non-threatening. Anyway, I'm going to go back to reading this and listening to my ipod, nice talking though."

The New Kid (Disclaimers about "Naivete" from a Social Researcher)

I am the "new guy" at my job right now. I'm the one that people know the least about (I'm not weirdly silent, or anything, I just don't frequently behave in the usual "here is my disarming response to your obvious insecurities...I can relate, also here is a funny joke" way, just yet). There are contextual reasons for this (My cube is isolated and I have a LOT of work to do...I stress "a LOT of work to do"). Anyway, as much as this relative, momentary isolation is stressful, it is also preserving my outsider's eye. It is forcing me to be a "truer" researcher, like in the Jane Goodall sense ("I am watching you, and watching me. AND I'm watching you, watching me, watching you, and I would like honest feedback about you feeling me watching you, and you watching me, watching you, etc."). I am noticing social platitudes more acutely: who wants to be liked, who gets their work done, what the actual structure is, what methods people use to get what they want (or "get their needs met," which, in this scenario, is really the same thing as "get what you want," but less sociopath-y sounding), etc.

Essentially: all of the things I will need to notice in the future when I assess the "climate" of the organization (part of my job), will be partially lost and biased once I am fully integrated into the social milieu. My ability to blindly assess programmatic details in global terms will ultimately be marred by "feeling some kinds of ways" about meaningless details and daily minutiae.

Inherent in the process of engagement is the concept of transparency. In other words, people are more likely to give you honest answers to questions when they feel: comfortable or "safe," that they aren't being judged, and feel that they "know" who is asking the questions. People tend to report feeling "comfortable" when they sense that they are not being judged or scrutinized. A really quick and easy way to prove that you "aren't judging," is by offering what they (the people you need data from) perceive to be equally or similar information about yourself, function, role or purpose. In other words, people feel more comfortable telling me, a stranger, intimate details of their life when I say things such as:

"seriously though, this is just a form, it goes into a HUGE database, we don't even know whose answers are whose. It's all coded, like instead of your name, there's like, random letters and numbers and stuff. I mean, I have a problem remembering names of people in my regular life, I'm definitely not like, watching and remembering the little boxes you check on this form."

Have I said these words before? Yes, I have. This has always put respondents at ease (always). Are the words that I say to respondents true? No, they are not necessarily entirely true, but I get the point across in language I wouldn't normally use (I try to sound a little less intelligent than the respondent. I play dumb. I ask questions under the guise of pure naivete, which, technically it is, this curiosity isn't a guise at all). I'm almost speaking a foreign language in order to get a more robust and thorough response. I have to hide myself for the sake of accurate reporting.

Yes, all identifying information is coded, and kept under lock and key. Yes there IS a HUGE database, and no, I don't really care about what boxes respondents check. However, I will remember their name, and I will certainly remember if respondents behave in markedly different ways in response to certain questions. Do I attribute responses given to personal character flaws? No, usually, I do not.

People also respond really well to free food. "Here is a bagel, fill this thing out." Just sayin'

Here is something boring about SEWING

I am attempting to hand-sew a one-piece jumper. That's right hand-sew. I don't have a machine right now. Fortunately, my mom (wisely) did not let me mess her her sewing machines unsupervised until I was about 15, so I can sew in straight lines sans machine. Just this thing would've been done in like, 20 minutes, and now it's gonna be done in like...I dunno...fucking HOURS. Anyone wanna get rid of their sewing machine? I make cool stuff. I wear some of the things I've made, and people think it's from urban. PLEASE. give me free things? I'll make you something cool?

More Reasons.

Diagnosis is my coping mechanism (but still, I'm not wrong).

Coping with anger is a funny thing. Actually, forget that, I've noticed that people partially define themselves by how they cope with strong emotions. We even get judge-y of how others cope with anger, fear, sadness, humiliation, guilt, etc. (ex:"can you believe she flipped out in front of all of those people?").

I'm an over-thinker. When something makes me angry or upset I ruminate. Things stick with me until I find some answer that my brain is happy with resting on. It's almost as if I have an open case-file for every bad thing that has ever happened to me. I need to find the culprit, diagnose it, pull it apart, and analyse the complexity until it becomes sterile. When my findings become clear and valid, like every other scientist, my conclusions become part of me. They change my work, and how I think about my path. The availability heuristic takes over, and for a while the solution manifests itself in many seemingly disparate situations. 'This is the answer of the moment.'

Recently I had to deal with a very upsetting man-boy. I had to deal with him in a semi-professional setting, so I couldn't really speak freely. I feel much better today, because, I've analyzed all of the clues he gave as to why he is such as asshole.

He has many strengths. He is supportive of his friends' work, and can show delight in others' abilities. He has a great aptitude for what he does, and is willing to help others learn how to work as well as he does. He tries to have a "good time," and encourages others to do so. He tries to include others in his success, and encourages "sharing the spotlight."

However, many people feel that his personality is difficult to work with. He only speaks inappropriately, and at times seems to lose control of himself and has small fits of joy or anger. At times he can be incredibly focused and calm, seeming to "tunnel in" on a task at hand. He gets irritated easily, and oscillates between hypo-mania and eye-contact avoidant defensiveness. He speaks highly of himself, "bravado" is an understatement. Usually the more expressive declarations of bravado are followed by "acting-out." When he "acts-out," he will ask questions which he appears to believe will make others uncomfortable. He is unapologetic for his actions, however he does appear to have remorse, although he does not seem to have the skills required to express remorse to others. He is constantly deflecting: hiding himself behind context, and statements which he perceives will be shocking to others.

phew. I feel better now.

You wished that I would see your life in helvetica.

Annoyingly,

I dissected your every move, and every element in your apartment. In the same way that I will not be yet another idiot girl, you will be pinned to a card, and put in a drawer. I had to protect myself from your obvious smugness. You behaved as though hidden cameras were capturing it all: how attractive, aloof, off-handedly intelligent, and secretly wounded you are. The slight hesitation before your smirk gives you away. The translation of “this is how I will get her to kiss me,” slows your motion. You have a tell. You wished that I would see your life in helvetica. But ultimately, all of the clues reveal that, yes, you are well-groomed, and re-capitulate your process with your targets. The precise amounts of vintage references, GRE words, beers, and deep “secrets” are calculated as you go. Just trust me when I say this: I noticed every time you gave yourself personal accolades for boundaries you think you may have almost talked me into crossing.

I suppose I left for lack of trust, and also:

You seemed like just another one of those guys who probably would’ve liked me better if I still weighed 87 pounds.

asuka

We are embedded.

How do I know what I know? She asked, but was answered: Because you see your own truth. But, how do I know that is my perception? Because you can only trust your own senses. But how do I—We know this through study.

While alone, she thought: but I see numbers, and hear words. I tell you numbers, but you hear words. A sound of seventy-six is different from a sound of severed and snakes and sick. A digit does not give enough. Numbers are colored with sounds. A tone is a number, as is a song, chorus, symphony.

But why are they named with letters? She asked, but was answered: Because that is the way it has been done.

But letters do not explain the whole picture, and neither do numbers, it seems. They let her continue:

Perhaps then, the way it has been done we have mistaken for an answer. She realized that they did not look peaceful, but worn. The pause-to-pause acceptance of what it is shall be shall be shall be, had wizened them.

A Proposed Lineage

So I was watching Aaahh! Real Monsters! Because I'm a grown-up and it's streaming on Netflix. Also I'm lazy and don't feel like showering.

Obviously The Gromble and the Leader of the Blue Meanies are brothers (the gromble's design is clearly based on blue meanie #1). Anyway, obviously it's pretty anachronistic to say that papa smurf is they daddy, but I dunno, this made me giggle. And makin it with ms paint instead of going to BBQs and rooftop parties earlier makes me queen fag geek! WIN! Memorial Day PWN'D!

Besides all the BBQs and daytime drinking, theres stuff.

blah bl-blah, makin' this so I can remember everything.

like every other weekend theres a million things going on. however, i actually wanna try to hit as many of these as possible. this is what i plan on going to:

Friday, 5/28:(Slappy Smurf Slaves to Hannah Fairchild!)

Rockwood Music Hall: (Free show, prolly 2 drink min, tip jar)

Great Elk (10)

Kevin Johnston's un-named band (11)

fb event pages: 1, 2

Saturday, 5/29

Silent Barn: buncha people playing!

The Charleston:

The this if ur into it.

Sunday, 5/30

GBBM: buncha folk-pop people playin (3pm, Free)

PA Loft:

c-Trix, Sabrepulse, Chromix, Natty, Ro-bear (8-11, $10)

Party Expo:

Photon Dynamo & the Shiny Pieces, Deathrow Tull, We Stole The Show,

Aye Dub, The Nuclears (8pm, $5)

Monday, 5/31

Pianos:

RAINBOWDRAGONEYES, OxygenStar,

Active Knowledge & Br1ght Pr1mate (3-6:30, $5)

DBA:

Rice, Graffiti Monsters, Radical Sons (8pm, $5, free pizza)

No, I don't think you heard me (so I'm saying it again).

This is how this picture happened:

Josh: no no no no--
Leah: Jenn? could you take this picture?
Josh:--no no no no--
(pose, click)
Leah: this is the best picture of us.
Josh: ::cries::

sigh.

We has grammar to who knows what we talk for.

I was wasting my time on facebook just now, and my brain almost melted when I tried to read this status update:

Guy: What made us as 3 years old know our passions…now we think ourselves blind with reason.

If he was quoting someone, I can’t find it, and neither can google.

He shortly commented on his obvious mistake:

Guy: I really like looking back at things like this…re-reading and knowing how my scattered brain took an s from one word and put on another but didn’t go back to change 2 words earlier. There is a little bit of me that finds it funny someone would have pride in themselves to pick at grammar like there is value in it. I like the idea if there was no deleted/remove. I hate edit.


Being an easily irritated person with very little filter, I added:


Me: ”I hate edit.” That is a sentence.

I mean, come on! You can’t explain away previous poor sentence structure with a STRING of grammatical errors posing as a paragraph! I am praying for this guy’s sake that this is a big, funny joke. However, I wouldn’t be super shocked if he was fucking serious.

I can’t even fully ARGUE with the sentence “There is a little bit of me that finds it funny someone would have pride in themselves to pick at grammar like there is value in it.” I can’t because I HAVE NO IDEA WHAT HE IS TALKING ABOUT. Is he saying there is no value in grammar? Yes, one could imply this conclusion from that sentence. The context suggests that there are negative tones laid around “funny” and “pride” by the words “pick at” (something which sounds bothersome), and “like” (in this case, possibly meaning “as if”). In addition, you could always say that the gestalt of the sentence informs the missing pieces: the word "that" and a few commas. Therefore I can glean that the writer of the sentence in question does not think that grammar is very valuable.

However, because I had to use my own knowledge of grammar and linguistics to figure out what the fuck he was saying, his point becomes moot (and mute: he is literally unable to communicate).

The analyst in me wants to say that he is only rejecting grammar because he has always had a hard time understanding it. Writing is a great way for some people to express themselves, but some prefer speech, music, etc. He forms a rule, identity, or cause (DOWN WITH GRAMMAR! IT’S FOR NERDS!) in reaction to his inability to face his own shortcomings. However, again, I can’t really write that, because: (1) I don’t know this guy; and (2) I’m still not sure how he feels about grammar. That sentence is difficult to read.

Also: just to be clear, I am not really a grammar nerd. I did read Eats, Shoots & Leaves (a really obnoxious, but informative and funny book by: Lynne Truss), but that hardly qualifies me as a fucking English teacher. I just like clear writing. And this dude does seem like he has something to say, so it bums me out that I can't really understand him.

The G-bomb

I have a lot of male friends. The majority of my close female friends also usually note that they too, have a lot of male friends. We are well aware that guys are usually thinking about sex, and have probably thought about us "in that way," not because we are like, goddesses or anything, but we find that guys usually just want to sleep with everyone. Anyway, my female friends and I have noticed that sometimes it can be tricky interacting with girlfriends of your male friends.

A lot of times I find that when meeting girlfriends at first, they can be a little suspicious and competitive (I can't blame them, I know I get like that too). However, it is a little heartbreaking when another woman rejects you at first because you hang out with her guy.

I was recently hanging out with a male friend of mine (let's call him "Nick"), and we were talking about our mutual male friend (let's call him, "Charlie"). I recounted to Nick a story of one of the first few times I talked to Charlie.

The very first time Charlie and I spoke was after a show both of our bands had just played. It was a sexually charged night (we played a female-empowered burlesque night at one of my favorite venue/bars), so naturally I got drunk and was giving oral sex advice to anyone who would listen. Charlie seemed particularly interested, listening wide-eyed and smiling. "Thanks!" he gurgled as he packed up his gear, "my name is Charlie, by the way" (we shook hands).

Because of a combination of whiskey and Belgian beer I forgot that this had happened. My band mate reminded me the next day during our usual "what happened last night?" re-cap. "Heh,"she giggled, "you were in RARE form...remember that kid Charlie? He came up to me after talking to you, and said that you told him 'how to go down on a girl.'" "Oh shit that's RIGHT," I blushed, "oh well, you know, guys need to know about that stuff."

The next time I saw Charlie, he pounced on the opportunity to tease me about our first encounter. "Thanks, by the way!" he gleamed, "my GIRLFRIEND really liked that."

He said the word "girlfriend" like he was trying to punch it into my skull with girlfriend shaped brass knuckles. I immediately felt weird."Why did he emphasize the word 'girlfriend' so much? Did he think that I was interested? Did he think that I was hitting on him when I was telling him about oral sex for girls?" I was embarrassed. Of course he thought I was hitting on him, who talks about oral sex if they aren't hitting on you? (<--Me. The answer is me, I do that).

At this point in the story, I turned to Nick (Remember? I was telling this story to Nick), and said: "Just so you know, I am NOT interested in Charlie."

NICK: Why not? He's...heh, he's a handsome man!

ME: Yeah he's cute I guess, but I have never wanted to, and I NEVER will sleep with Charlie ever. Ever. Like E-VER.

I mean, it's always better to be safe than sorry, so I can't really blame him. And I understand that if a girl is all "this is how you eat box," you'd probably think she was asking you to eat hers. But in this case, I wasn't saying that at all, and the way Charlie emphasized GIRLFRIEND made me very close to hitting him.

ME: I kind of hate how guys just assume we're super into them. I mean, I can kind of understand if a girl sort of brings up out of the blue that she has a boyfriend, because...

NICK: Yeah, because guys...heh.

ME: Yeah, but I was never into Charlie, so it was like...retarded.

NICK: You should probably like, send out a warning to guys "don't drop the G-bomb."

And it's like that even when you're just trying to date a guy. Guys are trying to "do the right thing" by letting us know that they "just want to have fun," but I kind of hate that usually men don't really preface these conversations very well. When a guy just starts telling me about how he doesn't want to hurt my feelings, but he doesn't want anything serious right now, I usually want to vomit. It's insulting to just assume I have some serious deep feelings that need to be talked about. It's best instead, to say something like "I don't know if you are actually into me or not, but just so we're on the same page, I'm not looking for anything serious right now." It's similar to what I'm talking about here, it's frustrating when someone puts a staunch ending on something you weren't even into.

Also, the fact that Charlie apparently felt he needed to do that told me a few things about him:

(1) He felt some anxiety (or unease) about our interaction that he may have seen as in need of some correction.

(2) He did not pick up on my cues very well (in that he may have interpreted my speaking to him as flirting)

Ultimately, even though I have never felt anything but friendly towards this guy, I still felt weird when meeting his girlfriend. I was worried that he'd said that I'd hit on him, and that she would give me that look that women give when they are trying to say "he's mine, and you know it, back off."

This girl seemed very nice, so it wasn't a problem at all (thank God). But I haven't always been so lucky.

A few years ago, I was in Austin, TX for SXSW. I was staying in a house with a few other artists. This was my second time in Austin, the first time was with a guy who ended up breaking my heart, so during this trip I made a point to visit all of the places I had gone with that guy (I wanted to "make new memories" or something).

One of the other artists staying in the house was a sweet but miserable looking guy (let's call him "Dave"). We ended up hanging out quite a bit, talking about music, anime and other nerdy things. He admitted to me that he looked so bummed out because he had just broken up with his girlfriend, and they were in that stage when they are still talking every hour and crying. I felt for both of them, because I was also trying to move on and finding it difficult. He expressed a lot of anger towards the situation, but would never speak ill of her, constantly repeating "she's a good person though," as if it were a mantra, or as if he was trying to convince himself. I became her advocate: "maybe it isn't really over, but if it is, it's really hurtful if you aren't nice when you talk."

About a month after Austin, I noticed through facebook that they had gotten back together. "Good for them," I thought in passing. I didn't give it another thought until I saw Dave again at a show. I was performing, and he had promised to be there. He showed up with his girlfriend in tow, and I was kind of excited to meet this girl that I felt sort of close to in a way. However, I noticed through the crowd of people that she was looking at me with a sort of disdain. I tried to brush off that uneasy feeling that she didn't like me, but it wouldn't go away.

When I finally got a chance to walk over and say hi to Dave, she stepped in front of him, and grabbed my wrist with one hand, and clenched my hand with the other. She glared at me and hissed "HI. I'm Dave's GIRLFRIEND." I didn't know what to do. Clearly she didn't like me for some reason, and I assumed it was some weird distorted jealousy. I introduced myself, and then I immediately ran to the bathroom, crying. Why didn't she like me? I hadn't DONE anything. Every time I tried to talk to Dave that night, she'd pull him away angrily.

Eventually they broke up (I don't know what the exact timing of that was), and Dave apologized for that night after I'd gotten a chance to explain what had happened. "I'm so sorry," he admitted, "I think it was because there were pictures of us hanging out in Austin on facebook." Still, that's no reason to treat somebody like that.

I will say that I actually did end up dating Dave, but it was a while later. I didn't develop feelings for him until after he had broken up with that girl for the last time, and those feelings surprised me a little. So maybe she picked up on something that neither Dave or I did, but I think it was probably more paranoia on her end.

MANCOUCH fightszszsz!!!!

So, I got hired to write for this blog called "MANCOUCH."

This is part of the "Xanga" network of blogs, and let me say, I'm glad that I get some minimal exposure out of it, because OH MY GOD the people that actually read and comment...some are great/fine/whatever, but some (like all internet whateverrsss) are INSANE.

So I had kind of a great time yesterday torturing this one idiot. Here is the exchange:

(1) I wrote a post about something dumb, like panties.

(2) He comments: Why the bloody fuck do WOMEN keep posting on MANCOUCH? What the fuck is wrong with the godsdammed world? Do you have a cock 'n balls? No? Go away.

Me: @Revolutionary22@xanga - heh. is this annoying? right now? is this annoying to you? what about this? also: shut up.

Him: Really? Are you ten godsdamned years old? Jesus H. tittyfucking Christ.

Him: Ok a) I understand the 'logic' behind it. You want men's opinions on something. Great. That's fine. Ask your man friends. But coming to Mancouch and making a post is like crashing guys night just because you felt like tagging along. Seriously. 2) If any man posts on lovelyish they have officially given up their

sac 'n stick. Period case fucking closed. Unless it's to do some sort of awesomely dick move like ask how many of the chicks there would fellate him or something.

SOME OTHER DUDE: Women or girls will go wherever they want, there is no sacred territory for men-only anymore. That was over in the 1960's. You want more man-input and discussion on Mancouch? Write man-posts, something that (most) women are not interested in, or have no clue about. Best waterless handcleaner, Go-jo or Goop? What brand of tools work best for you, S-K, Snap-on, or Craftsman? What do you like better, a TIG welder or a MIG welder, and why? Which caliber of high power rifle works best for you on which game animal? For deer, is .243 Roberts too light? .270 just right? .308 overkill? Where do "old" cartridges fall? The 30-30 Winchester has probably put down more whitetails than all the other cartridges combined....

You see, when men post men-related topics for discussion, the girls will drift away. There will be a few hard-core ones that hang on, either insisting they are one of the boys, or being here just to irritate everyone. You will always have that.

Now what color panties are you wearing?

Me: heheheheh. this hate parade is hilarious! I love you guys! And yeah seriously. aint this 'MERICUH? you don't HAVE to read what women write (if you only like, dicks, thats fine...you just can't marry another dude in some states...yet). You don't like that I'm posting? Talk to the EDITOR OF THE BLOG, who selects what to post! Clearly he saw this more fit than whatever else you illiterate girl hating monkeys are pounding out in-between vigorous internet-related masturbation sessions. I wrote about PANTIES. I'm a f*cking social scientist...I have TWO degrees, I'm almost a doctor. You want to know what I REALLY think? No, you want to read about boobs and panties. Because this is Mancouch (And that story actually happened).

I mean, for F*CK sake, women writers have been MORE than scarce since the beginning of time (we're oppressed, get it?). You want a female writer that will REALLY piss you off? Try Aphra Behn, the very first published female playwright. You sound just like her backwards-ass, idiot critics who were all "uhh...SHE HAS A VAGINA...SHE'S NOT ALLOWED TO DO THAT."
So, yeah. Shut up. I get it, you hate women. You want somewhere that only men write? Try a gay porn site (although I'm almost POSITIVE that there are female ghost-writers for those). Do you want me to change my profile picture and sign everything "Steve?" Will that make you more comfortable than knowing that MAYBE (just maybe) I can write a f*ck-ton better than you can?
Ugh. I finally understand George Sand.

Me: I then posted the following entry in my MANCOUCH weblog:

Let's Get Girls Off! (of Mancouch)

Dear ManCouch:

Let's Get these goldern CHICKS AWAY FROM US!! I mean, it's called MANCOUCH, not "stupid girls write about stupid girl stuffs!" I mean it's always "waah waah my period!" or "boys are meaaannnn!" I don't want to read about what bitches have to say! I want cocks! Hard, throbbing cocks! I mean, I'm not gay or nothin' but I mean, when will ladies learn how to READ?! They are so bad at math too.

Here is what we should do:
(1) Filter out all the bitches that have already succubus'd there way on here (we stalk them, and then just old fashioned "R" and "K" them. If the police come, we'll just be all "but...MANCOUCH. MAN.COUCH." And because all good authority figures are dudes, they will be all HIGH FIVES! BEERS!

(2) Stop all little whiny c*nts from entering the site by having like a "are you a guy? Do you have a cock and balls?" question before you login. That way, chicks will be like "ew! gross! no!"

(3) If you try to set up a mancouch blog and your name isn't a real guy name like "BULLET" or "SKULLF*CK STEEL," than you will be PERMANENTLY blocked. F*CK. Sometimes I really wish we lived in one uh those bad ass dictatorships, where it's all dudes in charge.

Man, I f*cking LOVE GUYSSSS!!!!

your bro,
FraternityRap3isAWESOME

p.s. girls aren't funny.

Him: (In a message to me) I want you to look at the word Mancouch. Just take a good gander at it. Notice that it specifically says MAN in the title. Then I want you to find a dictionary. It's not hard, there's plenty online. Once you've gotten to that point I want you look up the definition for the word "man". I want you to notice that the first definition says "an adult MALE person, as distinguished from a boy or woman"(Dictionary.com). Then I want you to take off all your clothes and go stand in front of a mirror and give yourself a good, hard look in that mirror. I want you to make sure, I mean absolutely certain, that you have a cunt and not a cock and balls. And then I want you to get therapy because you have some sort of gender identity issue since you keep posting on MANcouch when you're a fucking WOMAN.

Me: (in a message back) i just like that argument that you, "revolutionary22" made (because it's really revolutionary to say "WOMEN NEED TO SHUT UP"):" if you aren't a man, go away."

So like, wait. Can I be a guy dressed as a girl with a girl's sn but pretending to be a guy pretending to be a girl pretending to be a guy and still post? What if I have BOTH a penis AND a vagina? You are fucking retarded.

Also: I AM a shrink, fuck-nut! You sound like you are a totally repressed gay dude. Kill yourself.

--Leah

Me: (in another message back, immediately following the previous) Also, also, also:

Since you got aaaalll "scientific" by quoting DICTIONARY.COM (heh), let's talk operational definitions.

Now, according to you, "Mancouch" (a site that xanga hired me to edit and write for--which by the way I am having a total blast doing, I think my voice lines up perfectly with what a lot of readers are looking for), is for Men and MEN ONLY because it has the word "MAN" in the title.

...do you not see how stupid that is? Ok anyway, so since you've decided to run with that, I'll address it. You really don't think that advice or stories from cute girls & women are things that men are interested in? Do you have a developmental delay?

I love writing for this blog. If you haven't noticed, LITERALLY EVERY post I've submitted to the site gets published immediately. Now hm...maybe...what I have to say is actually more in line with what the editors are thinking the site should be. Want to know how I know that? BECAUSE I KNOW THE EDITORS.

Just because I'm female, doesn't mean I have nothing to add to this site.

He has not responded since.

However, in response to the original post:

SOME OTHER DUDE: (the same some other dude) 'twas just a remark in humor...

The Bleedy Song Redux

This was a song I wrote about three different encounters. It started as a joke--probably because it's hard to digest a lot of the terrible things that happen. Anyway, the first verse is showing the dichotomy of sexual encounters for women (from my very biased perspective--describing two very different situations), and the second verse is about getting sexually assaulted. I'm writing out the lyrics because this guy who is recording Ten Antenna right now heard this song and liked it. Also, I recently changed the words a little to make the song a little more descriptive, and therapeutic for me to sing.

"Are we goin' on Holiday?" was still ringing in my ears,

when I focused on famous faces over his shoulders.

Two little children trying to give it meaning

(to mean it to you).

"He's got five other beauties waiting in L.A."

when I focused on the ceiling, not on his breathing.

He said:

"We're so grown-up, we don't have to give it meaning.

Our timing was wrong."

I didn't bleed the first time, but I am bloody now

I didn't try the first time, but I am trying now.

We were using brute force,

I'm carrying this burden on my under-eyelids.

I put the elephant in the room, recklessly drank it down.

I'm sure I played some part, my role--it's frustrating.

Variables of action verbs confuse me-

I am so tired.

"Zero to sixty on a dime," helps me understand,

'Cause I'm still feeling the echoes of one night

that drew a line in the sand, I'm now who I am.

Replaced all my parts.

I didn't bleed the first time, but I am bloody now

I didn't try the first time, but I am trying now

He was using brute force

I'm carrying his burden

On my under eyelids.

Probably the least narcissistic thing I've ever done

My therapist is pretty smart. She's almost always right, actually.

I wish I could tell you what she says about you, but that would be really fucked up. So I'll just tell Gillian.

Anyway, last week she told me that I need to have a "crush on myself" for a while. Harder than it sounds. Trust.

How fucked up is that? I find I've been partially depressed this whole time because I was being fueled by what I thought someone else would want me to do. Very fucked up, is the answer.

My room is cleaner than it's been in a while, and I'm actually considering consuming more than just coffee this morning.

Conclusions? Fuck.

I've always wanted to be one of those people who could say timeless things. Not like cliche things, but new things that are timeless.

Two years ago my parents moved out of the house I grew up in. It was very sad. I had to go home and get rid of all of the stuff I'd been carefully hoarding for my entire life. At the same time I was going through one of those "line in the sand" break-ups; the kind that makes you go up to strange couples on the street and growl "...he will break your heart..." All of the change at one time didn't really suit me.

I didn't actually have to be present for the move. I was in New York, my parents moved from Potomac, MD to Gaithersburg, MD. I didn't see the new house until everything was unpacked into a smaller version of the house that I still picture as "home." I feel like a ghost in the new house when I visit. Like I'm invading some other family's life (a family that happens to have similar stuff).

In the bathroom in the foyer, in a single frame, all five of our names are written in calligraphy. Under each name, the meaning is listed and is accompanied by a pressed flower. My parents have clearly picked out which definition they think fits each family member. They have picked broad definitions for themselves, but have gotten more specific for the three kids. My sister, who is in finance, has been given the definition,"helper of mankind." My brother, who is popular and athletic has been given a similar definition. My definition, however, was set as "contemporary, sophisticated."

"Um. really cool and hard to understand?" I asked myself, "fashionable? that's what my parents think? that I'm trendy? For fucksake, I have a degree in social work, why didn't I get 'helper of mankind?' That's not very social work-y of me..."

It's a little crazy, thinking that much about a cute decoration that my mom probably bought at the beach.

more things, more stuff.

http://brotherladies.tumblr.com/

this is going to be kind of a mind fuck too, because this blog feeds into that tumblr. CYCLICAL

ev'rybody wanna piece

Yes I have many many many ideas. But I'm good at ideas. Execution, however, has always been a problem.

It's like ADHD: you can't read to the end of the line, or listen to the rest of a sentence, because you get it, and you're BORED.

So yes, maybe I've thought of an article to write for whatever blog I'm writing for, but I just can't write it.

My brain never stops whirring. ever. Even my dreams are intricate and vivid. I'm never at rest. It's totally exhausting in here.

*side note: I don't mean that I'm alert. I'm not talking about mania, I'm talking about attention-deficit/hyperactivity.

To friends of mine who are "stuck" creatively, I always say: take care of yourself. You're like a little toy car. You gotta rev it up a little before you can just let it go. But for me, it's like as long as I have a modicum of brain activity (conscious or not) my brain will just keep going.

But if I keep going at this pace, I don't know how much longer I can go. It's been 27 years, and the wear and tear on my nervous system has been brutal.

The Monster Without a Name

This story is from an anime series called "Monster"

The Monster Without a Name

A long, long time ago in a land far away,

There was a monster without a name.

The monster wanted a name badly.
So the monster left to go on a journey to find a name.

But the world was so large that he split into two to make his journey.
One went to the west and the other went to the east.

The monster who went to the east found a village.
At the entrance of the village, there was a blacksmith.

“Mr. Blacksmith, please give me your name.”

“You can’t give away your name.”

“If you give me your name, I’ll enter you and give you strength.”

“Really? If you can make me stronger, then I’ll give you my name.”

The monster entered the blacksmith.

The monster became Otto the Blacksmith.
Otto the Blacksmith became the strongest man in the village.

But one day he said,
“Look at me. Look at me. Look at how large the monster inside me has become.”

Crunch Crunch! Munch Munch! Chomp Chomp! Gulp!
The hungry monster ate Otto from the inside out.

The monster returned to being a nameless monster.

Even when he entered Hans the Shoemaker,
Crunch Crunch! Munch Munch! Chomp Chomp! Gulp!

He returned to being a nameless monster.

When he entered Thomas the Hunter,
Crunch Crunch! Munch Munch! Chomp Chomp! Gulp!

He once again returned to being a nameless monster.

Finally, the monster came to a castle looking for a wonderful name.
In the castle, there was a sick boy.

“If you give me your name, I’ll give you strength.”

“If you can cure this illness and make me strong, I’ll give you my name.”

The monster entered the boy.

The boy became well.
The king was so pleased. “The prince is well! The prince is well!”

The monster liked the boy’s name.
He also liked living in the castle.

So even though he was hungry, he endured.
Every day his stomach growled, but he endured it.

However, he was so hungry that one day he said,
“Look at me. Look at me. Look at how large the monster inside me has become.”

The boy ate the king and even his servants.
Crunch Crunch! Munch Munch! Chomp Chomp! Gulp!

Since there was no one there anymore, the boy went on a journey.
He kept on walking for days and days.

One day, the boy met the monster who travelled to the west.

“I have a name. It’s a wonderful name, too.”

The monster who went to the west said,
“I don’t need a name. I’m happy even without a name.
We just have to accept that we are monsters without a name.”

So the boy ate the monster who went to the west.

He finally had a name.
But all the people who could call him by that name had disappeared.

http://tenantenna.bandcamp.com/track/the-demon-song-live

I rant about this again:

Some people have diabetes, or heart problems, or lupus, or whatever. When shit gets really life-threatening, you tend to tell your friends and family, and ask for support (lets find a cure! come visit me in the hospital!). This is different with mental illness, because of all those normative values and stigma telling us that it's a personal weakness, and therefore YOUR FAULT (and not something biological like say, diabetes, or heart problems, lupus, or whatever). And we all know that your brain is separate from the rest of your body, and mental illnesses should be treated like personal defects of character, and not treatable medical conditions.

I have so many friends who are so against medication and therapists. They say, "it's all mental. You just have to train yourself." Sure, sometimes that's very true. But sometimes, in cases that actually qualify for illness (or "meet criteria"), diet, exercise and discipline don't really cut it. Sure, for someone who is feeling a little low lately, these methods are super effective. And people with reoccurring episodes should practice these preventative behaviors when they are feeling better.

HOWEVER, I think it is extremely irresponsible to adopt the attitude that it's simply mind over matter, especially for mental illness. How are you supposed to eat right and exercise if you've lost your appetite and you're sleeping 14 hours a day? How are you supposed to "make yourself"do anything when you're having uncontrollable thoughts like "I suck. This doesn't matter anyway. I deserve to feel like shit." I'm sure you can get through that yoga routine...once you're done with that random crying spell brought on by feelings of overwhelming guilt, shame and despair. Yes, it sounds dramatic. But it should. This is very serious.

So I'm obviously pissed about the whole thing. I've been a "stigma buster" for NAMI since I was 14, and encourage everyone to actually know what they are talking about when saying "ugh medication...ugh therapists..." If this is your stance, you probably haven't seen what most helping professionals have seen. When people are in crisis, this shit helps. And you know whats even better? To get help before a crisis. Feeling "okay" from diet and exercise is not good enough. Can you imagine living your whole life only feeling "okay?"

I'm sorry, I just think that taking 10mg of something and seeing a shrink 45 minutes a week, and feeling like a functional person is waaay better than NOT taking meds or seeing a shrink and sleeping for 11 hours a day and having constant feelings of emptiness and suicide. Just a thought, tho.