See also my typoes from comments at the end of, um, AB entry entitled “what th’” of July 15. I’m not going to test the HTML gods or Katie’s patience by trying to code two links in one post.

Wrote my lil’ rant with AB’s permission to do so, and of course it’s as delete-able and ignore-able as you like.

You would likely prefer to be seen as an individual and not a stereotype… so too would the folks who just happen to be avoiding writing dissertations by reading this blog.

I was raised in a working class family and went to lousy city schools where I got a mediocre, at best, education. I went to a state college for undergrad because I had absolutely no choice in the matter. I did get to go to a private school that Mags may think of as a place for the elite for my graduate program. But, because I was poor, I went, virtually, for free.

So, again, just cause folks are keeping their serious troubles on the downlow and having a light moment poking fun at themselves here doesn’t mean they fret over their silver… or lack thereof. and it doesn’t mean that they don’t have larger issues or that they don’t have compassion for folks who are suffering.

This is Alison’s blog afterall and she’s funny… as in, ha ha, laughter is good for you? Let’s not let ourselves become like those stereotypes of dykes from the 70′s… right? where we couldn’t ever laugh… at ourselves or anything else… because life was just too rife with strife. remember those old light bulb jokes…?
How many feminists does it take to screw in a light bulb?
That’s not funny!

oh, yeah, how soon I forget, you know, like MO!

Hi there, world. I blame you. I blame you for not listening to me, for overlooking me, dismissing me, being uncomfortable and embarrassed when my uneducated self dared to speak up in gatherings of academic feminists, having no word of support or even acknowledgment for me when I was suicidal, out of work, prostituting myself, homeless, raving, drunk, any and all of it. You’ve been through psych 101, haven’t you? Fucking bystanders, all of you. Kitty Genovese died because of you. Thousands, millions of women die because of you. I’m still alive but how many of you will look me in the eye and treat me like I’m a human being, not a Battered Woman, object of pity, too stupid for her own good, too trusting, not trusting enough, someone else will take care of it so why involve myself in the ugliness.

When will you wake up and realize. Anything you do to me, you do to yourself, to all of us. I’m trying like hell to forgive and understand but goddamn it. Forgiving and understanding and excusing over and over and over is what got me where I am. I’m just about through. I want to be Armida flying off in her dragon chariot setting her betrayers on fire. I will not. To stay human, I must choose mercy, not revenge. Count yourselves lucky so far.

I’m'a go shower now. And ponder corporate-sponsored sexual practices for my next relationship; Coke’s parent corporation has gotta own at least one of the Vagisil lines or something, right? For when your carbonated lovin’ gets you a one way ticket to a yeast infection?

One of those nights, folks. One of those nights. Weeks. Months. Lives.

So, yeah, connection is a bit lacking right now, and I’m trying to focus on compassion for my “friends” who are reacting in the classic “ew, abused woman cooties” fashion. x10 because I’m supposedly this big strong radical feminist dyke and I should’ve known better than to “let” this happen to me. I might take you up on your offer.

Glad you made it. Glad your kitties are all right. Keep taking care.