beautiful monsters

Instructions for how to enjoy spring

1. First you must plant daffodils in the gutters and cracks between buildings – start this in June.

2. In July, start wearing summer clothes – it is important to experience the true meaning of cold.

3. Acquire a pair of ducks – you can keep them in a bathtub on the roof (hens can be substituted for ducks).

4. A pregnant sheep is also important – you can tether it to the bottom of the steps and bring it lettuces to eat.

5. Arrange a religious festival, preferably celebrating a brutal murder.

6. Bake hot bread rolls with fruit and spices – decorate these with grim symbols of death and torture.*

7. Arrange sponsorship from a large corporation (the confectionery industry is recommended).

8. Start the advertising campaign at least two months in advance.

9. Bury yourself in a cool dark place.

10. Wait.

* Aspects of this blog were inspired by Giles

In search of a ring

Where are all the good blogrings hidden? Now that I have left the comforts of Xanga far behind, I’m ringless. But after extensive searching all I have been able to find is a Keanu Reeves fan blogring (oh puh-leeeeze, tell me it’s a joke) and a blogring for queer knitters. Oh yeah, and lots of Buffy blogrings, but I’m scared that if I joined any of them, I’d get eaten alive by purists because I’m not a real Buffy fan. I’ve only seen one episode. (Will someone please invite me over to watch more Buffy?) Where are all the chocoholic blogrings? The Kim Hill fan blogrings? The Bisexual Anarchist Sunday School Teachers Unite Blogrings? What’s the internet coming to, I ask you?

Not sure if I should put a warning in here or not. The next part of the blog deals with sexual abuse, but I don’t actually describe events, just the emotions caused by those events.

%&$# it’s cold!

Suddenly winter. Again. What’s with that?

And my life seems to be caving in around me. Again. I’m going to try not to write the (second) longest blog entry in the world, but believe me, I could. But I don’t want to bore you. I feel as though, on an emotional level, I’ve got third degree burns all over, and the slightest touch is excruciating. And all of a sudden all these people from the past are reappearing, and slapping me on the back, and I can’t work out if they’re completely oblivious to the agony they are causing me.

On Saturday I saw the guy who sexually abused me when I was a child. I have only just begun to deal with my feelings, and the wound is still raw. Similar things have happened with other guys since then, and I ran into two of them as well. I felt like crawling into a hole and hibernating until my life was over.

“The long-term effects of child sexual abuse can be so pervasive that it’s sometimes hard to pinpoint exactly how the abuse affected you. It permeates everything: your sense of self, your intimate relationships, your sexuality, your parenting, your work life, even your sanity. Everywhere you look you see its effects. As one survivor explained: It’s like those pictures I remember from Highlights for Children magazine. The bicycle was hidden in a tree, a banana was growing from someone’s ear, and all the people were upside-down. The caption underneath said ‘What’s wrong with this picture?’ But so many things were disturbed and out of place, it was often easier to say, ‘What’s right with this picture?’”
- from the Courage to Heal.

My first sexual experience was non-consensual. Yeah, that fucks around with your sexuality. Sex was about other people’s needs. It was about pain and guilt and disgust. It was about fear.

But it wasn’t just my sexuality that got messed up. My self-esteem was left in shreds. I was only good for giving sexual pleasure to other people. I had no control, no right to say no. I lost confidence in my ability to do anything, to achieve anything. I hated myself. I hated myself for doing something so awful that I made him do this to me.

I hated my body. Most of the time I felt numb, except in my stomach, which ached. I felt nauseous all the time. I started missing school and slipping behind. I hated my body for bleeding every month and reminding me of how he made me bleed.

I still hate myself. I still get scared to speak, even to friends. I still feel as though I have no right to say no, to anything. I still get nausea, and stomach aches that seem to have no physical cause.

He made me do something I didn’t want to, and yet I’m the one who’s punished for years afterwards. How unfair is life?

But I said I wasn’t going to write another longest blog entry in the world. In fact, I wasn’t even going to write this much. Hmmmm. Well, that’s my life at the moment, take it or leave it. I’m going to try and write find something more entertaining to fill in the rest of this entry.

I just went to the most intense poetry society meeting I have every experienced, and I want to write about that but I don’t know where to start, so I won’t.

Punsters deserve to be drawn and quoted

Since it’s too cold for sunbathing, I bring you the incomprehensive list of Fi’s Favourite Puns.

A backward poet writes inverse.
Practice safe eating - always use condiments.
A hangover is the wrath of grapes.
Condoms should be used on every conceivable occasion.
Reading while sunbathing makes you well red.
When two egotists meet, it's an I for an I.
Time flies like an arrow. Fruit flies like a banana.
A chicken crossing the road is poultry in motion.
If you don't pay your exorcist, you get repossessed.
You feel stuck with your debt if you can't budge it.
He often broke into song because he couldn't find the key.
A calendar's days are numbered.
Santa's helpers are subordinate clauses.

By this stage I am rolling around on the floor giggling, and everyone else is giving me strange looks. There are some really bad puns out there. Be thankful I brought you the edited highlights.

Posted by Fionnaigh at April 18, 2003 12:24 AM