confession

Apr. 10th, 2014 11:52 am
ishyface: (i shall never grow old)
Sometimes I feel guilty that I'm not living the way I always imagined I would in my twenties. When I imagined where I'd be now as a teenager I pictured, oh, squatting in a broken-down townhouse full of punks and artists and radicals, and writing beautiful terrible drunk poetry, and having awkward one-night stands. Getting cool haircuts. Not owning a TV. Maybe making zines or something. Drugs and late nights and waking up in unfamiliar places. Instead I'm in grad school, engaged, and living in an apartment in the not-quite-suburbs. With a TV and matching lamps. And a fuckton of cats.

I mean, I expected the cats. But not the rest of it. I wear cardigans now, and frame pictures instead of tacking them directly onto the wall, and I've fallen asleep on the couch three times this week! Before midnight, even!

I like my life, but I find it interesting that it bears so little resemblance to the way I thought I'd live when I was young. I don't believe in selling out as a concept anymore, really, for a lot of reasons, but I did back then, and I know that's what I'd think happened.

I still plan on getting a lot of tattoos, though. And cool haircuts. So there's that, I suppose.
ishyface: (Default)
Entry number five. )
ishyface: (everyone's so intimately rearranged)



{Take the 100 Things challenge!}


Perhaps this'll be a good way to force myself back into blogging about every goddamn thing in my life ever. Even if it doesn't, it should be fun while it lasts.

My subject is 100 Things I Really Really Like (Plus Stories). These things could be songs, books, memories, philosophies, quotes, food, animals, and pretty much anything else I feel like throwing into the mix. (I'm keeping my topic deliberately vague so I can write about whatever. It's like being a freshman all over again.) I get pretty enthusiastic about crap I like, so expect! lots! of! exclamation! points!
ishyface: (i never never want to go home)
Day 01 → Your favorite song
Day 02 → Your favorite movie
Day 03 → Your favorite television programme
Day 04 → Your favorite book
Day 05 → Your favorite quote

Day 06 → Whatever tickles your fancy
Day 07 → A photo that makes you happy
Day 08 → A photo that makes you angry/sad
Day 09 → A photo you took
Day 10 → A photo of you taken over ten years ago
Day 11 → A photo of you taken recently
Day 12 → Whatever tickles your fancy
Day 13 → A fictional book
Day 14 → A non-fictional book
Day 15 → A fanfic
Day 16 → A song that makes you cry (or nearly)
Day 17 → An art piece (painting, drawing, sculpture, etc.)
Day 18 → Whatever tickles your fancy
Day 19 → A talent of yours
Day 20 → A hobby of yours
Day 21 → A recipe
Day 22 → A website
Day 23 → A YouTube video
Day 24 → Whatever tickles your fancy
Day 25 → Your day, in great detail
Day 26 → Your week, in great detail
Day 27 → This month, in great detail
Day 28 → This year, in great detail
Day 29 → Hopes, dreams and plans for the next 365 days
Day 30 → Whatever tickles your fancy

My hobbies are mostly incredibly dull and involve sitting in little rooms reading books and writing things about dragons. I also like to make lists of my favourite words! Here are some of them. )

"Fuck" is also one of my favourite words, but somehow it didn't quite seem to fit the list.
ishyface: (Default)
Day 01 → Your favorite song
Day 02 → Your favorite movie
Day 03 → Your favorite television programme
Day 04 → Your favorite book
Day 05 → Your favorite quote

Day 06 → Whatever tickles your fancy
Day 07 → A photo that makes you happy
Day 08 → A photo that makes you angry/sad
Day 09 → A photo you took
Day 10 → A photo of you taken over ten years ago
Day 11 → A photo of you taken recently
Day 12 → Whatever tickles your fancy
Day 13 → A fictional book
Day 14 → A non-fictional book
Day 15 → A fanfic
Day 16 → A song that makes you cry (or nearly)
Day 17 → An art piece (painting, drawing, sculpture, etc.)
Day 18 → Whatever tickles your fancy
Day 19 → A talent of yours
Day 20 → A hobby of yours
Day 21 → A recipe
Day 22 → A website
Day 23 → A YouTube video
Day 24 → Whatever tickles your fancy
Day 25 → Your day, in great detail
Day 26 → Your week, in great detail
Day 27 → This month, in great detail
Day 28 → This year, in great detail
Day 29 → Hopes, dreams and plans for the next 365 days
Day 30 → Whatever tickles your fancy

When I was in eighth grade I went through an embarrassing Wiccan phase. This was at least partially because I'd seen The Craft and thought that Fairuza Balk was really cool. It was also because I wanted to piss off my dad. I spent a lot of time haunting Halifax's single New Age store (where everything smells like patchouli and a single crystal costs twenty million dollars), reading Tarot cards (badly), and attempting to cast spells in my bedroom using a stick and some garlic powder.* For about a year I basically embodied every teenage Wiccan cliche in the book (Wicca is the world's OLDEST RELIGION! Christians are all oppressing me by being Christian! My devotion to the Goddess is best expressed by reading epic fantasy novels and drawing pentagrams at the top of all of my homework assignments! Etc, etc) and whined and pretended to hex people and was basically a blight on the face of the earth.**

Then, the summer after eighth grade, I read this book.

Photobucket


Whether or not The Great Cosmic Mother can actually be classed as nonfiction is maybe a little iffy- you have to take a helluva lot of leaps of faith when you read it- but at the time at which I discovered it it was the most crazy mind-bending thing I'd ever read that wasn't a novel. At that point I was just starting to identify, pretty tentatively, as a feminist; this book tipped me over the edge and into full-on radical territory. It also helped me develop a much deeper, richer understanding of the Divine than the one I'd had before, not just because it was so adamant about God being a woman*** but because it addressed the ways in which "woman" as a thing didn't have to be limited to what I'd been taught to see as "feminine." (Ex: this book was the first I'd ever read that said anything about the Sacred Androgyne or the third gender, which, since I was also starting to question my own gender and gender as a social construct, was a Big Fucking Deal.) The type of "woman-centric" religions I'd been exposed to up to that point were all about duality- the God is the sky, the Goddess is the earth, the God is active, the Goddess is passive, the God is masculine, the Goddess is feminine, blah blah blah sacred polarities balancing energies blabitty blabitty blah****- and this book helped me get beyond that without having to give up on the whole thing altogether. And it was just fucking cool.

My Wiccan phase pretty much ended that year, a little while after reading this book, and I've forgotten most of the other things that ~blew my mind at that time. But this one is still important to me.


* I figured if you can substitute powdered herbs for fresh ones in cooking you can do it during rituals as well. Turns out it doesn't actually work like that!

** Not all Wiccans are like this, obviously. Not even all teenage Wiccans are like this. But I was a dumbass teenage Wiccan.

*** Which, for whatever reason(s), is still an important part of my own piecemeal wishy-washy spirituality today. Probably it has to do with my relationship with my mother, or something.

**** Please note: if the idea of two very separate, distinctly gendered deities is a big part of your personal faith, that is fine. But man, it is so very, very Not My Thing. Also, my understanding of Wicca was a religion at that point was formed mostly by the websites I found on the subject (all terrible!) and the few books I could hunt down in the public library (even worse!), plus the Sweep series by Cate Tiernan (oh my God what WAS that bullshit!). So there was probably a lot about it that just did not properly register with me. Hear you me, kids: if you want to convert to a new religion, READ THE RIGHT BOOKS.
ishyface: (Default)
Day 01 → Your favorite song
Day 02 → Your favorite movie
Day 03 → Your favorite television programme
Day 04 → Your favorite book
Day 05 → Your favorite quote
Day 06 → Whatever tickles your fancy
Day 07 → A photo that makes you happy
Day 08 → A photo that makes you angry/sad
Day 09 → A photo you took
Day 10 → A photo of you taken over ten years ago
Day 11 → A photo of you taken recently
Day 12 → Whatever tickles your fancy
Day 13 → A fictional book
Day 14 → A non-fictional book
Day 15 → A fanfic
Day 16 → A song that makes you cry (or nearly)
Day 17 → An art piece (painting, drawing, sculpture, etc.)
Day 18 → Whatever tickles your fancy
Day 19 → A talent of yours
Day 20 → A hobby of yours
Day 21 → A recipe
Day 22 → A website
Day 23 → A YouTube video
Day 24 → Whatever tickles your fancy
Day 25 → Your day, in great detail
Day 26 → Your week, in great detail
Day 27 → This month, in great detail
Day 28 → This year, in great detail
Day 29 → Hopes, dreams and plans for the next 365 days
Day 30 → Whatever tickles your fancy

My favourite movie in the whole wide world* is Velvet Goldmine.

Anyone who's been reading this journal for more than a month or so can skip the rest of this entry because I have probably said all this to/at you already. )

Tomorrow: my favourite television programme! Spelled with two m's, so I'd better choose something classy and not Celebrity Rehab. (But the catfights!)


* And man, that sucker is WIDE. Also, full of movies!

** Said presentation also included references to the Discworld and Boy Meets Boy. It is nice to know that my interests have not significantly changed since middle school.

*** I also love David Bowie, but dudes, have you ever read any of his biographies? The guy was a total dick for a long, long time. Maybe he still is! I don't know, ask Iman.

**** If I ever meet him we can bond over this fact. And then be wed.
ishyface: (Default)
(This entry is public because Little Brother went through all my old posts and told me in no uncertain terms to stop locking things so he can read my wordmeats again. If he is reading this right now, I would like to point out that this would not be a problem if he got his own damn LJ. Plus then the Internets would know he is real and that I did not make him up. GET ON THAT, LITTLE BROTHER.)

I don't much like making small talk. I do like to read. These two facts in combination mean that I bring books to work to read on my lunch break. This would not be a problem were it not for the fact that many of the people I work with are who Bill Hicks was talking about here and therefore totally mystified by the fact that I, like, read books. For fun! Books with long words! Books without pictures! Books that don't even have a shirtless Edward Cullen in there to make up for all that strenuous mental activity! How weird, right?

Often if you tell a meat eater that you are a vegetarian he or she will bounce back with some variation on the theme of "YEAH WELL I LOVE ME SOME DEAD COW MMM STEAK." Similarly, I find that when people find out how much I read- three or so books a week, give or take- someone usually ends up declaring that they don't read. Ever. That is not in and of itself a crime. Some people don't enjoy reading! It happens! I don't understand it,* but I... kind of accept it. What I don't accept is the way these someones say it, which is proudly. "Fuck yeah, man, I haven't read a book since fourth grade! I don't even know if I CAN read anymore! I AM AWESOME, AS IS ILLITERACY."

What the hell is wrong with these people?

You know what? If you don't read books, and you are PROUD of the fact that you don't read books, I am going to think you are stupid. That's it. Moreover, I am going to think you are a fucking ALIEN and probably won't ever be able to understand how you work or think or can stand to get up in the morning. That is not hyperbole. That is how fucking bizarre the concept of not reading (and not WANTING to read) is for me. If you don't read books you're from fucking Mars and I have no fucking clue how to talk to you. That's not me being a neurotic bookworm, either. (Well, it is a little, but not as much as you'd think.) It's because while I have very few definite thoughts on the meaning of life, the universe, and so on, one of my most definite thoughts is that stories are important. Stories are more important than almost anything, because without them life would make no fucking sense. Without stories the world would just be... things. Stuff that happens. They're as much a vital part of life as food and water. We need them to fucking live.

Not reading is not something to be goddamn proud of. Aside from its many benefits- exercises the right side of the brain, helps develop and increase the vocabulary, promotes empathy by encouraging identification outside the self, relieves stress, gives you a better chance of not ending up a junior stockboy at a third-rate grocery store forever, et cetera- what isn't there to fucking love about reading? Reading is good! Reading is fun! Didn't you watch Sesame Street as a kid? They taught this shit there, and they had dancing letters and everything. AND they showed you how to count to ten in Spanish. Now go sit down, try to remember the goddamn alphabet, and stop interrupting me while I'm reading so you can talk about your fucking girlfriend's eczema.**

While we're on the subject of books, here are some I've read lately. )

I made myself a new summer mix the other day, and I feel like uploading it even though it is pretty unfashionable. I call it Love and Television. )

Post ten of any pictures currently on your hard drive that you think are self-expressive. NO CAPTIONS! It must be like we're speaking with images and we have to interpret your visual language just like we have to interpret your words. They must ALREADY be on your hard drive - no googling or flickr! They have to have been saved to your folders sometime in the past. They must be something you've saved there because it resonated with you for some reason. You do NOT have to answer any questions about any of your pictures if you don't want to. You can make them as mysterious as you like. Or you can explain them away as much as you like.

Mysterious is the way to go. )
ishyface: (Default)
[Please note: this whole post is about how much this fandom means to me, and it gets very very soppy. Also, it's kind of long. If you can't stomach that at the moment, check out this list of the top 5 most horrifying bugs in the world. The soldier ants freak me out the most.]

I've been in bandom for a little over a year now. I don't know how it happened, really- a lot of it had to do with [livejournal.com profile] redheaded_itch, and [livejournal.com profile] twobit, and having lurked in an RPS fandom before, and already being (secretly) into the music anyway, and lots and lots of other things, but mostly I just kind of fell into it before I realized what was happening.

I had some stuff going on in my life at the time that was making me pretty miserable. I had some stuff going on in my life at the time that I had no idea how to address. I had some stuff going on in my life at the time that I needed to escape from. Music does that for me. Always has. So has writing. So I looked at bandom, shrugged my shoulders, and thought why not?

Because of where I lived (and live) and the amount of money I had, I couldn't go to shows or festivals or fan meet-ups. I couldn't really do anything but read and write and listen to music, and that was enough. It was something that was mine, something that none of the stupid shit happening outside could ruin or take away. Maybe it sounds dumb to say that bandom got me through the year, because lol overinvestment. But it's still true, at least a little. Bandom was my escape. It was a way to leave the ugly things behind and just be happy or silly or thoughtful or even angry about something totally outside myself, and I needed that more than anything.

There's so much I love about these bands. Here is a list of them! )

Bandom's at least partially responsible for a lot of changes I've made in the past year. If it wasn't for bandom I probably never would have picked up a bass. If it wasn't for bandom I would never have gotten the nerve to get tattooed or pierced. If it wasn't for bandom I would never have started writing songs again. If it wasn't for bandom I would never have gotten over myself and realized it was okay for me to look however I wanted to look, listen to whatever I wanted to listen to. If it wasn't for bandom I wouldn't have made the decision to leave Grenfell, because I wouldn't have been able to look at my real life versus my online life and realize that one made me miserable in comparison to the other. If it wasn't for bandom I wouldn't have been able to get outside myself at all, and that means I never would have been able to get better.

I'm not saying everything's okay now, because it's not. I still need to work on just about everything. But I actually can work on things now, instead of sitting around and wishing things would get better, and it's because of the music.

Music changed my life. Music saved my life. That's important.
ishyface: (Default)
I've done this end-of-the-year meme every year for the past five years. (I've had this journal for about seven years, just so everybody knows, and was the failiest thing on the Internet for about six.) For posterity's sake: 2003, 2004, 2005, 2006, 2007.

Collected Life Lessons from the last few years. )

And now for 2008! )

I had a dream the other night about going on a road trip with the Used and MSI. Ask me about it at the next office party!
ishyface: (*beam*)
One of my favourite films (maybe even my favourite film, period) is Velvet Goldmine. (If you have known me for less than five minutes this may be news, but even then I doubt it.) I first picked it up four years ago mostly because of Ewan McGregor, and I've worn out my copy since then. It's got everything I require of a good movie- conspiracy theories, glam rock, gay sex, beautiful visuals, Toni Collette being her wonderful self, Oscar Wilde references, apocalyptic visions of the future, and sequins.

Um. I ask a lot of good movies, apparently.

This has always been one of my favourite scenes. Not just from this movie, but from everything. Context sees Christian Bale as a British schoolboy in the seventies and Jonathan Rhys-Meyers as the totally-not-David-Bowie pop star he's recently become obsessed with.



I've felt that way about music- not just about music, but about the people making it. It's a strange thing to be a fan, really, to identify so wholeheartedly with the words and music and art of someone who will probably never meet you. It brings you closer to them and at the same time reminds you of how far you are from this person you idolize. It even fucking hurts sometimes, because you think if I could just tell them, if I could just let them know somehow...

And you can't, really, because there's no way to say "your music changed my life" or "your book makes me want to write" or "your film is the one I come back to, always" and make someone fully understand that you mean it. How much you mean it. Art makes you responsible, and that can be scary- the idea that something that comes from inside you can actually change someone's life, can do for them what it did for you, can feel almost ludicrous from the outside. That's the frustrating aspect of being a fan.

But the rest of it is fucking awesome.

I know there are some people who disagree. They listen to music if it's on the radio, and they watch movies if there's nothing else to do, and they read books if they're stuck in an airport, and at the end of the day they can take it or leave it. I know that, objectively, but I don't really understand it because it's alien to my own experience. Being a fan makes you biased that way. (It even makes you a little self-righteous, sometimes.) Loving something so much it hurts doesn't really make sense from the outside, but it's also one of the most important things in the world. Feeling passionate about something, identifying with something, takes you away from that notion that life is all about eating and sleeping and passing on your genes. Being a fan is about that passion, in the same way that most important things are.

The things that people make have changed my life, and I fucking love that. I love that people have the power to create things that will make people sit up, take them outside the petty, mindless bullshit in everyday life and make them realize that there are whole worlds full of wonderful things and terrible things and beautiful things and twisted things and people like them.

Oh, no, love, you're not alone.

Because that moment where you stand up and you shout "That's me!" matters. It does.
ishyface: (*beam*)
When I was little I didn't think about being beautiful. I think a lot of kids just let that stuff go by- not so much anymore, maybe. I know when my little sister was eight years old she already hated her body enough that every day she'd run up and down the stairs to try and lose weight. But I didn't. I hoped, vaguely, that I was "pretty," although I didn't know exactly what the word meant, and sometimes my mother told me I was, and I'd smile and go back to watching cartoons and reading The Phantom Tollbooth.

Things changed, of course. )

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