May. 28th, 2003

greenstorm: (Default)
Mmmmkay. So I've caved. This is theoretically a Live Journal, by which I guess we'll assume I'm alive, and this is some semblance of a Journal. The purpose of the Live Journal is less to record the Life of Greenstorm for the titillation of others and more because I've been talking too much to real people lately. The difficulty with talking to Real People, especially good ones, is that it's addictive and you soon run out of Real People with time and/or inclination to listen. Here I will talk to myself when I'm too strange for other people, or they are too busy.

Any answers, I suppose I should say, are at your own risk. Because there are no Real People on the internet but only feelingless clones with various programmed behaviours I will occasionally take great joy in being inconsiderate.

Hmmm. I'll figure out where to start this journaling when I've got a moment. Perhaps with a Cast of Characters. It will give me great joy to figure out names for the Cast, since I've no desire to ask them if I can stick their events in here and thus no desire to use their names.

This is mine, mine mineminemine. So there.
greenstorm: (Default)
Here we go again. First, though, an amusing ancedote. You're prepared to be amused? Good.

I go to Walmart with the SO to get some appropriately functional sandals and minimalist clothing for the summer. Having been living maybe two thirds of the time away from home I find that non-minimalist clothing is too much to haul around and my last years' minimalist clothing is worn to shreds.

We walk out with a... Gamecube? One of these game thingies. In the car on the way home it's established that he 1) wants to take it to work to play there. 2) wants to cancel most events this weekend to play then. 3) wants to go to his friends' place and bring it, therefore not cancelling the last event of the weekend. And on, maybe he can squeeze ten minutes in to set it up before work even though he's running late...

I just do not understand the whole videogame thing. I appreciate that it exist but remain completely baffled as to how, why, what, duuuh? Ah, well. The world needs to keep a couple of mysteries.

So I guess I put on my new sandals and begin to wear them in, and while doing that I will start on:
greenstorm: (Default)
Ahh, that's nice. A real subject. I suck at titles.

So, let's see. To start out we've got:

Me
Yes, well. I can't summarise myself. Anything I write will be wildly contradicted either later in my writings or in person. In a way this journal is an attempt to out all the bits of myself that are in fact wildly contradictory enough to bother and/or confuse most people. Suffice it to say this will remain the most mysterious member of the cast.

The SO
This is the SO. You can tell not only because he's labeled thus but because there will be a number of amusedly familiar daily anecdotes about him if my prediction is at all correct. He is soft and fuzzy and perfectionist and squishy and easy to hurt and amazingly tolerant. Some of those you'd think are contradictory, no? He believes the best of everyone except me and it took me quite awhile to earn that. Yes, it was one of my goals -- one shouldn't always believe the best of me, I don't always act from the best of motives (he comes in to the computer room to show me the gamethingy. He's going to be late for work) and it's kind of hard when someone does assume I'm acting from the best of motives and I'm not. Disabusing people of stuff sucks. It ends up being that much harder to get forgiveness, too. He dragged me kicking and screaming from the gates of hell and into this world full of people who care about each other and love each other. It's more than I'd ever do for another human being, I think, and he did it unconsciously and while absorbing all the scars I could inflict. Now he's starting to show those scars and we'll see if I can help him even a little in healing them. In my ideal world he'll live in the basement with his twenty-seven computers and his D&D books. I love him.

The Exotic
This is the guy I plan to settle down with in an orchard some day and raise children with. Maybe. Stuff doesn't go as predicted, but you get the idea. He has the face of an angel, a family history that has a ton of marriage and no divorce, and the most frightening case of innocence in the world. The SO is blind by moral preference. This guy... He's intense, exuberant, and has mood swings that I've never seen in a guy before -- nearly half as high and as low as mine. And, being innocent, he doesn't know how to deal with them well. I feel halfway like a mother or mentor to him sometimes, and spend the other half of the time learning about (or maybe attempting to believe) the things that he takes for granted. Extraordinary things, like the fact that people can love each other for more than ten years of their life.

The Juggler
No, I don't deserve three of them. I in no way, ever, in any sense come close to deserving anything I've got. I'm greedy for the world, though, for all it's complexity and all these amazing unbelievably beautiful people in it and somehow I'm getting a pretty big slice. If there's anything that makes me deserve it, it's the fact that I'm willing to do almost anything to extend my reach just a few more inches to capture something I see dangling there available but just outside my grasp.

But, The Juggler. This is the most recent of the three (something on the order of weeks depending on how you set the date, compared to six years and two years-ish respectively) and he's currently something of an obsession for me. He has this ability to listen to what I'm saying which is what led me to staying up till six in the morning for pretty much the last two weeks -- just talking, just my thirst to talk, or at least mostly. He juggles, he makes armour and tesla coils in his spare time, he codes, he's willing to talk to me about plants. If the Exotic has the body and face of an angel, he has the archetypical form of a Real Person,(details later. I'll start on the legs) and he has this hair... well, they all have this hair, to be honest. I expect he'll get a lot of wordspace on here in the next little bit because he's so new.

The Other Woman
The Juggler is married. To The Other Woman. The Other Woman is great, and a little bit scary -- she's a lot like me in a lot of ways and she fills an oddly shaped spot that likes companionship. It's an incredible blessing that these two come in a package deal because it just -works well- this way. I admit that one of the major reasons I think I have time for The Juggler is because of the way he deals with The Other Woman -- that is, in a nice, placid, honest, forthright manner. My SOs all have proven in some way that they have extensive experience with committed emotional relationships. That's unplanned but is something I might look into setting in stone... if I ever have more than sixteen seconds strung together to think about acquiring another. But I digress.

The Other Woman is emotional-rollercostery like me and also on the journey to self-discovery along those lines and to the self-management that surrounds that. She is more comfortably social and bouncy than I (who isn't?) and alternates between looking like some sort of radiant soft-focused classical painting and (don't cry!) a schoolteacher. She likes walking around in parks, drinking tea, talking in a self-examination/analytical sort of way, and she has let me use her garden.

The Mother
I love her. I'm a lot like her. She loves me. She's a separate person. There's a lot of love and respect, but she fucked up a couple of times. I fucked up a couple of times too. 'Nuff said? No, wait. She is my only real true anchor when I'm having trouble believing in unconditional love. When I can love other people the way she loves me I will be taken whole and perfect up to heaven there to light up the world like another sun. Really truly.

The Ambiguous Figure
This can refer to any and all of my mother's past three husbands, one of which I have never met, one of which who sired me but I don't remember, and one of which imprinted my life daily and indelibly for a Long Time. All are inside me and imprinted upon me, all form me. If I need to specify I'll say things like, my biological dad. I've been shaped primarily by striving towards love, by reaching to fill an absence, by attempting to be enough to fill myself when these people would not do it. I am stronger by them and through them I have gained whatever gifts of acceptance and understanding I have.

The Brother
There are three of these. I use the term interchangeably amongst them. More on these when I'm in a Mood.

I'm going to leave this for now because I don't seem to be able to save and I'm getting nervous at losing text. Also, the SO was supposed to leave for work ten-fifteen minutes ago and I hear bleeps coming out of the gamethingy in the livingroom.

Hmm.

No, wait!

The Garden!!!!!
This is my lifemate, my project, my confidante, and my purpose. You'll be hearing a lot about this. Definitely up there in the cast. Should be first.
greenstorm: (Default)
I cannot do one post, set it up:

And go on to the next. This order thingy is weird.

Also, The Juggler is extremely capable of enjoying life. This seems to be at odds with his placid bits, but maybe not so much. It's one of the most fascinating parts, though. I've yet to meet anyone who really, honestly, truly seems to enjoy things as much as I do. We'll see whether The Other Woman has the depth of enjoyment and The Juggler has the ability for breadth and simplicity of it. Each a puzzle in their own way.

He doesn't know what a dandelion chain is.

I have a date with The Exotic tomorrow morning. I need to get some sleep. I realise that giving myself something to talk to until six am may not have been the wisest choice, considering.

More yeh-icky-meh: there is a spellcheck on this and it doesn't like the word 'thingy'. Nuts to you, spellcheck.
greenstorm: (Default)
These titles are kind of silly.

Alright. There are dishes in the sink, my plants need water but its too dark to do that now. It's procrastination for me, time to sink deep into a little jangling that I just picked up about ten minutes ago. What's this jangling, you ask? Let me turn up the music until I can't hear myself think and I'll tell you.

This jangling has to do with porn. Let's explore it. We'll start arbitrarily here.

I do not have issues with the SO being head over heels for The Other Woman. I do not have issues with The Exotic finding some potential girl on his side of the ocean, I do not have issues with The Juggler being with The Other Woman. These things make me jangly sometimes when they directly impact the time spent and/or mood of interactions but I understand this and I can see where it's coming from. This is not, therefore, that I believe that the thought of another person or even the presence of said person, will be bad.

So why does the concept of one of the SOs being deeply interested in this stuff bother me? Eh, the answer's coming out pretty simply now that I think about it. Right now I'm not shaving my legs because I need to reject the social ideal of beauty. I need to step outside of it, to say, this doesn't concern me, this is no part of my beauty. I cannot feel compared to this ideal because I fail miserably in comparison and then act stupidly and think stupid things.

When one of the SOs is involved with a Real Person I don't have to compare myself to this image. Real People are real people. To me, and I am not just saying this, the inside of people where they keep their soul, their thoughts, and their emotions is the attractive and burningly fascinating part. A deep, good, interesting exchange of information about selfness and interests is literally the best foreplay there is. Real people have these insides, and even if I don't appreciate my SOs' particular choices I can understand why they make them.

But when one gets to picture porn that's not true anymore. This is just the vessel, the exterior, and no knowledge can be obtained about that core that interests me. It leaves the body only in whatever state of reality it's shown and... that's a hard thing for me to deal with, that someone else could be interested enough in this that they would spend time on it and prefer it to that core interaction.

I do not believe, obviously, that porn is a bad thing in general. I do not want to be viewed in that way as a purely physical object, as published picture-porn to stranger that I don't care about, but I don't mind that when it comes right down to it. Strangers? Who cares?

It does set off this chain, though: SO-X is capable of looking at porn, at this purely physical representation of a person, and being turned on by it. SO-X is capable of looking at me as a purely physical representation and being turned on by it. SO-X may not care about the interior at all. I am not willing to change my external appearance for any of my SOs and even were I there are going to be changes in my appearance - I get tired and my eyes wrinkle, I don't eat and my ribs get poky, sometimes my breasts go saggy, my face breaks out. If SO-X is capable of not caring about the interior, then SO-X may not care about my interior and when these bad things happen may discard me.

And honestly, the problem isn't that I really believe any of those three will do this. It's just not in them. The problem is that it causes me to compare myself on an unrealistic level, in my own mind I fail at least sometimes, and there I am as an objectified and unwanted Greenstorm. To top it all off the idea of failing really stings. I'm not accustomed to failing, to not being the best at something, to falling short.

How to reconcile this? The problem is that I just don't understand this attraction to an image, a physical attraction to an unreal object. It's like a video game, like the urge to press endless weird combinations of buttons to manipulate stuff on a screen, bash your way through the maze, and eventually kill things and get points as a sort of victory baffles me. I don't see it in me.

I think the solution is probably viewing with some reassurance. The unknown is always more frightening than the known, and I really do have very little experience. I don't think it'll be a threat if I'm used to this, if I know what to expect, and if I find someone who wants to have lots of sex with me after watching porn that contains images of other people. Then I compare favourably, right? If it's talked about I won't feel like some sort of orifice, I think, and that will help me get over some issues with the SO that I'm on the way to getting over anyhow -- namely, feeling like he's venting his lust on me because I'm convenient rather than because he likes me.

It's funny how feeling included is so empowering. It's astounding how empowering being able to say exactly what I feel is for me, and how much simple acknowledgment of a feeling lets it be okay and stop it from interfering. I must practice the skill of being able to include myself.

Enough typing. Now to find someone who can combine porn, sex, and reassurance. Well, maybe this weekend -- my time seems to be filling up remarkably quickly these days.

But first, why things that tear? Because having something that hurts you and that you pull away from instinctively in someone you love makes a rip so loud you can hear it even outside. Love is the responsibility to be grown up so you're worthy of gaining trust and part of that is the responsibility to accept.

Hey, you three. It's a first step. :)

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