delirium happy

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Coming out day
delirium happy
rho
As I lay in bed last night, resolutely failing to fall asleep, I got thinking about national coming out day. Obviously, I'm not about to come out as queer and trans, because I assume that everyone reading this already knows that (and if you don't you really need to pay more attention). I'm also not going to write about the importance of aiming for a society in which being openly queer is in no way a big deal. What would be the point? I'd only be preaching to the choir.

Coming out is, in many ways, about truth. It's about stripping back the layers of defence and obfuscation that people invariably tend to put up about themselves, and saying "this is me; this is how I am; take it or leave it as you will". Personally speaking, I try to live my life that way. I don't always succeed, but I try. I am, by nature, I think, an open and honest sort of person.

However, I'm also not the kind of girl who likes to shout about things from the rooftops. I only tend to talk about things when I feel they're relevant to the conversation at hand, which leads to me keeping quiet about things, not because I'm trying to hide them, but just because they never come up. It's interesting, though, I think: where's the boundary between not talking about something and Not Talking about something? Obviously, there's always going to be an element of both involved. While I'll only talk about things that seem germane or interesting, I suspect I'm much more likely to try to find an excuse to mention things that I'm proud of than things that could be potentially awkward.

With this in mind, I'm going to do two things. Firstly, I'm going to give a list of random facts about myself. These are all things that are true, and all things that I have mentioned to either no or very few people. They are my secrets that aren't actually secret, as it were.

The first girl I ever asked out, I asked with the cringeworthy phrase "Will you go out with me?" I recently started playing World of Warcraft. My kinks are many and varied, including, but not limited to, bondage and wet and messy. I occasionally contemplate joining the Green Party. I think Ewoks are awesome. I lust after Number Six from Battlestar Galactica in a big way. I watch at least some of Score most Saturdays. I like the taste of raw cabbage. One reason I don't hang around the transgender community much is that they can make me feel inadequate. I have been known to make and eat horseradish sandwiches. I have hairy nipples, which I epilate.

And so on and so forth. There must be many, many more things that I could say, but the longer I went on, the greater the likelihood that nobody would care about what I had to say. This is precisely the point. Where is the boundary between things that we could conceivably "come out" about and stuff that is so trivial and irrelevant that nobody gives a damn?

This is where the second part of this entry comes in. I'm going to resurrect the age-old "ask me anything" meme. What better way to ensure that what you're saying is of interest to someone than to give answers to things someone has expressed curiosity about? So go ahead:

Poll #1070106 Ask me anything

Ask me anything



(Or comment if the text box is too small for you.)

In the spirit of openness and honesty, I will answer all questions, and will do so publicly (providing that they don't, for instance, require violating someone else's trust).

And as a final thought before I sign off, I'd like to ask for you all to tell me something about yourself. It doesn't have to be a deep dark secret or anything, just something that you don't often mention.

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I am incredibly boring - and I like it that way.

> I have hairy nipples, which I epilate
All I can say is "ouch".

It hurts a whole lot less than you'd think. Either that, or I have a high pain threshold.

High pain thresholds are fun!

My kinks are many and varied, including, but not limited to, bondage and wet and messy. I occasionally contemplate joining the Green Party.

Given that it's morning and my brain is still a little mushy from a night of heavy drinking, I read that as one sentence that was all about your kinks. That being said, the Green Party sure are a kinky bunch.

Number Six is in a big way entirely too lustable! I love the show, but I think I kept watching it for her story. There's something about her voice...

Sorry I don't have anything more meaningful to share, but I just woke up, too.

hm. it's strangely hard to come up with something about myself: my personality goes and hides when I look at it too directly and I find myself trying to describe an empty space. hm. I like strong pastellish colours - is that an oxymoron? It's not meant as one - and natural materials like stone and wood and leather. Today I was at work with a CD left on my desk, a new album from a singer I love that I couldn't listen to till I returned home, and I was as distracted and longing-filled as I would be if it was a lover I'd be returning home to. I pick my nose because I like the way globs of snot feel. When I was eight, I wrote a poem for class and read it out. Someone laughed at it, and I tore it up in front of them. I was sad and guilty about doing that for ages after, but it might have been worth it for the sheer startled looks I got. I started figuring out I liked girls when I wrote fiction centred on a female couple (a shapeshifter and a blind girl) and 'they' kept wanting me to write sex scenes. I think the rich aren't taxed heavily enough, and in particular that going into tax exile is one of the scummiest ways anyone can behave. I'm sure that this is slightly coloured by my growing up not well off at all. According to my sister: when I dance, I "dance and worry", like Marge Simpson (dance a bit, pause and look concerned, repeat). I thought Youtube was a scourge of the internet until I actually watched some videos.

Hairy nipples or hairy areolas? (And wouldn't "The Hairy Areolas" be a great name for a band?)

Anyway, I have a deviated septum. There's something about myself.

I engage in really melodramatic daydreams. No, I mean really very absurdly melodramatic. "You must pay the rent- I can't pay the rent- then I shall TIE YOU TO THE TRAIN TRACKS" sorts of things.

Remember Tom Sawyer's daydream about how he would die from a toothache and THEN wouldn't they all be sorry? Tom Sawyer would reject my daydreams as being way, way too over the top.

I don't think I've ever mentioned that to anyone before; I'm more than a little embarrassed about it.

I added this userpic because during the summer of 1992 I would catch butterflies in my hands. I found bushes where they would hang out, and if you stay very still and then move very slowly, you can get your hands around one without harming it. Their wings are soft. I'd just catch them, let them flutter a couple of times, and then release them.

For a long time I wouldn't dye or bleach my hair because I have weird notions about body purity (that I don't apply to others) (such as the idea of someone writing on me squicks me and I sometimes get a little twinge watching someone write on themself, but I've gotten better... and I know the exact source of this, being told as a young child that your body will absorb the ink and then process it, and it's okay, but not really good for you), so I decided to color my hair a few years ago just to do it. I was going to dye it brown, but my lothario didn't really like the idea, as much as it amused me to dye my brown hair brown. So, I bleached half of it (picked up the top half and piled it on my head and bleached the bottom half). It was pretty cool. I redid it at some point... later I did the top, untouched part a brown-red. So, currently I have three or so different colors on my head, but it's subtle enough that people don't even tend to notice (because it's grown out a fair bit). But when just the bottom part was bleached, it was fun. People wouldn't notice and then see some light hairs and ask things like: did you color it? (the difference in color is striking if you actually notice the two sections, but the dark hairs cover the light)... so I'd say: You know how it is, when you're in darkness a lot the top half of your hair gets darker, because it's more exposed, but the hair underneath stays lighter, because it's covered.

I like this entry. And knew many of your secrets. WTB new ones.

My mind has gone entirely blank for things I could ask you that I don't already know. I don't think there's anything specific I could actually think of, but I'd be happy to read a long list of rho!trivia.

Similarly, do I have anything I could say here that isn't something you already know? Hmm. On the subject of hair, I get the odd rogue one in various places that I pluck out. From the mole on my right hand, the one on my chin, and also from around my right nipple (the left one never really bothers making hairs). The first time a boy asked me out (using "Will you go out with me?", of course), I said "NO!" very definitely and ran away. But I think I already told you that. I currently have a secret that I can't talk about because it's really someone else's secret, but it just so happens to include me. I'm really bad at keeping my own secrets, so I'm mostly dying to talk about it, but I really really can't, and it's frustrating. I'm dating several people (I suppose I am anyway, if I had to put some sort of definition on it), but I still look at hot men on the tube and when I go for lunch in Liverpool Street, as well as on OkCupid. And think someone on my course is hot. I wonder if at some point I'll stop being shallow and sluttish and be more like I used to be.

I think Starbucks is overpriced and pretentious, but I still go there occasionally and buy expensive-for-them drinks. I only have sex dreams the night before I get my period. My glasses give me headaches. I am guiltily considering sleeping with my incredibly smart coworker who is 2 years younger than I. I dislike prescriptivist grammar. I sing Raffi songs to my guinea pig to calm her down.

A random fact few people know.

I can bend the little finger on my left hand back so that the nail touches my wrist.

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