eumelia: (Default)
After I finished writing my papers, I slept for twelve hours.

I may have woken up due to nature calling, but I slept for hours after that.

It was the sleep of the just, my friends. Of the just, because I was done and I had no where to go the day after.

I did, however, decide to clean all the things. And when I say all the things, I mean the fact that over a three month semester and a two and half months long summer I let papers pile on high and books migrated from flat surface to flat surface, leaving dust voids that were very quickly filled. With dust that is.

Six hours.

That is how long it took to make my cave lair place under the bridge bedroom habitual again.

I felt very accomplished, mainly because I also opened up my drawers and empties them of the junk that accumulated since the last time I emptied them. Which was probably when I started my degree, four years ago.

So yeah, I still need to go through all the papers I removed from there. A lot, if not most, will go by way of recycling. But it's a very cleansing thing, going through your drawers and removing the debris. I'll probably do the same with my Uni notes and articles, but I'll let those lie for now. They only recently found a home inside my cupboard.

My main accomplishment, though? Moving my hamper of stuffed animals (my loyal companions since early childhood) into our house's designated kid's room - where my Nieces and Nephews play and sleep when they come over. I was actually all verklempt because I was sealing off a portion of my life that was never coming back. I kept a few small stuffed animals that are easy to place of a bookshelf or something similar - even though in my current status as a single person they sleep quite happily by my pillow!

Related to that, I gave my "My Little Pony" collection to my niece. I had been reluctant to let her play with them, because, you know, they were mine and little grubby five year old hands aren't going to be touching the ponies I played with when I was five! Of course, I then realised I was twenty-six and really, what's the point of keeping toys in a box I hadn't opened in years?

I told my mom, they were to be played with, if my Niece wanted to. My mother's face, boy you could see the glow and she happily told me that while I was at work and my Niece came over she played with the Little Ponies more than any other toy.

Fuck, I'm tearing up just writing this!

*sniff*

Sorry, I seem to be going through growing pains.
eumelia: (bisexual fury)
Ever since I asked you peeps to tell me what you'd like to read from me, one subject has taken over my brain and I've been trying to articulate it for days in my mind.

It's a personal subject that involves an ongoing history and self-perception. Some of that history makes several people in my life look bad and me look even worse. But that's how the cookie crumbles I suppose.

The story of how I came out as queer (first as bisexual, though that word seriously does not suit me, but it's the only one I've got) is an ongoing project.

It is something, I assume, will continue to happen for the rest of my life.

When I was 15 and came out to some family members I thought that would be the end of it. Then one family member told me to be quiet about it and not mention it ever again (well, not in those words, but that's how it felt at the time). You'd think my monthly excursions to the local "Rocky Horror Picture Show" would be a clue - hell, I played Magenta a couple of times on stage and memorably, the Red Door (yeah, I was playfully accosted by the Eddie at the time... it was hilarious).

In any event, ten years ago, I thought that if I came out that's it. I'm done. Everyone would know and I'd never have to talk about it ever again.

God, I was so naive. Beyond naive. Effing clueless. Cut for length and some frank discussion of sex )

This ended up way more convoluted than I intended. Hopefully it made sense to you all. Questions and requests for clarification are welcome!
eumelia: (Default)
Within three months of being enlisted into the IDF I put on something like 5 kg.
I had cried, tears rolled down my face, as I told my mother I had jock itch because my thighs were rubbing together, along with the very ill-fitting uniform.
I didn't wear clothes in my proper size for the two years that I served.

Food in the IDF is disgusting.

I was not vegetarian at the time, but I pretended to be, because the processed tofu schnitzels looked more appetizing and less likely to give me salmonella than the "regular" food.

Having done kitchen duty like a champ, I can tell you, the cooks are over worked, it's an yucky job, you have to deal with teenaged girls being grossed out by things (being a young aunt cured me of viewing leftover food as gross) that they've seen people eat and, well, dealing with the fact that despite having the most "practical" power (they're the wheelers and dealers of the army) they're in fact the lowest echelon of military jobs.

Yeah, the food was gross. We comforted ourselves by going to buy chocolate, biscuits, chocolate-chip cookies, crackers and cheese...

Yeah, it was good times in the barracks.

Is it any surprise girls (who do not do combat, which most of us do not) put on, on average, 10 kg of weight throughout our two year run.

I got thinking about because I saw this News article.
It made me guffaw. That's another way of saying LOL.

The IDF is going to cut out of its menu in the canteens (i.e. the cafeteria where you get your food for free) the fattening pastry foods - mainly Bourekas and rogalach - which have been traditional foods found in meetings, unit gatherings and, as mentioned, the canteens.

Nothing like promoting more resentment in the ranks!

I mean, I understand the need and want to promote "good health" which is a real oxymoron in the military - I cannot tell you how many yeast infections I had during my service because the trousers I wore five days a week was basically spun plastic.

Also, Doctors generally do not believe soldiers who come to the infirmary, their initial thought is that you are there to get sick-leave, which are days off not docked from your regular holidays.

You basically have to be dying in order to get treatment - or be at the emergency room with an actual bodily trauma.

Yeah, "good health".

Food is a big deal in the army.
It's something we arrange our time around - two hour lunch breaks are not unheard of, hell, unless I had something extremely pressing to do I could spend more time faffing around looking for chocolate and drinking seven cups of coffee a day (which was my average, I was up to ten cups a day at some point... withdrawal was a bitch after I was discharged).

Food was my comfort. Mainly because the food presented to us in the canteens was just so bad. Any other food was great and much of it was eaten.

I've spoken about the uniform before, so I don't need to tell you about the gendered aspect of it, but I remember how one day, I felt cramps, it wasn't that time of the month, so I went to the bathroom, opened my belt and instant relief.
Yeah, my belt had been pressing into me.
You can imagine what I did next.
I cried like the big baby I am/was.

Looking back, I can't say I felt bad about putting on the weight. It was something I didn't consciously think about - I mean, I hated myself for being "fat", but I was never ever willing to give up food that made me feel good.

That period of my life was full of half-assed attempts at weight loss.
"Weight Watchers" is a nightmare, as though we don't get judged enough in our lives.
Eating smaller portions got me eating more instead of less.
I got into shouting matches with my mother over my weight and what I was willing to do, or not do, in order to "control myself".

Yeah, food was a battle ground.

I don't know how much I eat today. I know that over the past few months I've lost weight, which worried me for a while, because weight loss has become something I associate with trauma and I still don't know what has caused me to become even smaller than I was.

Food in the IDF was part of what got me through it. Take outs, cakes, biscuits, the gatherings... *sigh* good times.
But they made my plastic pants split at the seam.

I'm glad it's over, never to return.

At times, it seemed to never end. I was even about to sign up for more - I was insane and full of fear of the outside world at the time - so when that fell through I suddenly had two weeks left of service.
The relief (and the weight loss that commenced simply because I was happy to be outside that framework) was unbelievable.

Related but off tangent; I don't know if Kung Fu is for me. I was in the best shape of my life while I was in those classes, but I didn't know how to protect myself, which pretty much negates the purpose...

As mentioned, I'm now thin, but very out of shape. I'm a slob, I don't exercise, I should, but I don't - I need to maלe the decision to go back to martial arts, but I need to want it and at the moment... I don't.
eumelia: (Default)
I don't remember why, but last year I didn't do the "classic" end of year meme, possibly because I was concentrating on the war and the fact that my girlfriend was in the line of fire.

Fun times.

Looking back on this year, it wasn't easy for me. I think I was a little bit destroyed by everything going on around me and coming to its arbitrary end there was one whammy after another.

Maybe writing it down like this will enable me to process it better - there is, after all, only a week left to the new decade. And despite the fact that our human teen years could be handled by better by society and culture as a whole, perhaps we need this change, hearkening a new decade in the brand new age.

And with that waxed poetics out of the way...

The Meme )
eumelia: (Default)
I recently saw a documentary about the word "slut", it's meanings etymological, social, political, personal etc.

Personally, I don't think I've ever been called a slut. If I was it was never to my face and kept secret from me.

It got me thinking though, of the pejoratives I had been called throughout my life and quite a large amount of High School Nostalgia.

Here's a list off the top of my head (with Hebrew as well, as I grew up and live in a non-English speaking environment):

כלבה - Bitch
פריקית - Freak
פוסטמה - slang for annoying or stupid female
לזבית - Lesbian (more like Dyke... in a bad way)
רעה - Mean or Bad
מכשפה - Witch (though oddly, not during my Wicca phase... funny how these things work).
חכמולוגית - Smart-ass
דפוקה - Fucked up
חצופה - Cheeky
נודניקית - Nag
כוסית - the word כוס is cunt, but the word is slang for an attractive woman, you can often hear it being hurled at you in the street, or spoken complementarity by your friends. I hate the word regardless as I'd rather not be referred to as a vagina... if someone is using the word near me I hope they're talking anatomy and not personality (or lack thereof).

In any event, the word I heard most, since I was 12 has been Bitch and it's varieties - the first time someone called me Klafta - קלעפטאה which is Yiddish for "Bitch" I burst out laughing.

Bitch is a word I like.
I've come to take pride in it, I heard it so much growing up I couldn't help but embrace it - if being called that name meant I wasn't teased and harassed every day then good, ya know.

Looking back on growing up, I can see a trend of boys being interested in me, romantically, sexually, whatever and I never noticed. Only in hindsight do I see that these obnoxious, irritating, self-entitled boys were hitting on me, coming on to me.
I mean, I thought most girls responded to that because they were dumb, not because that was the social cue of the day.
Which is still dumb - not the girls who followed the cue, the cue itself.
I was such a loner and self-involved that I'd missed the days where girls and boys were taught that language called "adolescent courtship" which I always interpreted as "stupid boys harassing me".

An anecdote:
Cut for marginally entertaining high school drama with yours truly as protagonist )

One of the things I've come to realise is that I wasn't alone. I wasn't the only one harassed and hassled in high school. For being a weird girl, a Loner girl and all that.
And looking back on that, I have to say that without the word "Bitch", I probably wouldn't be the Grrl I am today.
So this isn't a pity-party, it's a "hmmmm, memories of a shitty adolescence" party!

I any event, I embraced the title of Bitch and carried it over to my Army service where it served me quite well. After I was discharged I toned it down, though I'm told that I'm quite aggressive still (abrasive and having "an attitude", as my family at times informs me), so I feel I live up to "Bitch".

*sigh* While hellish at the time, nostalgically High School had some good times. Though I'd slice off my nose if I had to do it again.
eumelia: (Default)
[livejournal.com profile] tamara_russo found this on YouTube, which is from the Tori Amos Concert we attended last year on our trip together.

I cried.
I'm crying again.



It's one of my favourite songs by Tori and it was probably the high light of the concert for me other than "Precious Things".

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Eumelia

June 2015

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V and Justice

V: Ah, I was forgetting that we are not properly introduced. I do not have a name. You can call me V. Madam Justice...this is V. V... this is Madam Justice. hello, Madam Justice.

Justice: Good evening, V.

V: There. Now we know each other. Actually, I've been a fan of yours for quite some time. Oh, I know what you're thinking...

Justice: The poor boy has a crush on me...an adolescent fatuation.

V: I beg your pardon, Madam. It isn't like that at all. I've long admired you...albeit only from a distance. I used to stare at you from the streets below when I was a child. I'd say to my father, "Who is that lady?" And he'd say "That's Madam Justice." And I'd say "Isn't she pretty."

V: Please don't think it was merely physical. I know you're not that sort of girl. No, I loved you as a person. As an ideal.

Justice: What? V! For shame! You have betrayed me for some harlot, some vain and pouting hussy with painted lips and a knowing smile!

V: I, Madam? I beg to differ! It was your infidelity that drove me to her arms!

V: Ah-ha! That surprised you, didn't it? You thought I didn't know about your little fling. But I do. I know everything! Frankly, I wasn't surprised when I found out. You always did have an eye for a man in uniform.

Justice: Uniform? Why I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about. It was always you, V. You were the only one...

V: Liar! Slut! Whore! Deny that you let him have his way with you, him with his armbands and jackboots!

V: Well? Cat got your tongue? I though as much.

V: Very well. So you stand revealed at last. you are no longer my justice. You are his justice now. You have bedded another.

Justice: Sob! Choke! Wh-who is she, V? What is her name?

V: Her name is Anarchy. And she has taught me more as a mistress than you ever did! She has taught me that justice is meaningless without freedom. She is honest. She makes no promises and breaks none. Unlike you, Jezebel. I used to wonder why you could never look me in the eye. Now I know. So good bye, dear lady. I would be saddened by our parting even now, save that you are no longer the woman I once loved.

*KABOOM!*

-"V for Vendetta"

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