trinsy: (bovvered)
Dear Men,

Like many women, I work a job in which customer service is integral. Specifically, I’m a barista at a coffee shop, but the details aren’t important for the purposes of this letter. I could work in a restaurant or in a grocery store or on an airplane, and everything I’m about to say would still be relevant, so take note:

Don’t tell me I look nice. Don’t tell me I have a great smile. I’m not at work looking for compliments. I’m not at work looking for your attention. I’m interacting with you because you’re a customer. I don’t need you to tell me I have a nice smile. I’ve seen pictures of myself. I know I have a nice smile. I’m smiling at you because you’re a customer. Smiling at you is my job. I don’t need you to say anything about it. I just need you to tell me what you want to buy from me. That’s also my job.

If I were guy, you wouldn’t say anything about it. If I were a guy, it wouldn’t even occur to you to say anything about it. But if I were a guy, I would still be smiling at you, because smiling at you and pretending you’re not creepy as hell would still be my job.

On a related note, I’m not your “darling” or your “sweetheart”. I’m the person handing you your overpriced latte. No, it isn’t cute or endearing or nice when you call me that. It’s patronizing. If I were a guy, you’d call me “sir” or nothing. I’m not asking you to call me “ma’am”. I’m fine with nothing. I’m not fine with terms of endearment you haven’t earned the right to call me.

I don’t need you to validate me with unnecessary compliments on my personal appearance and inappropriate pet names just because you’re a man and I’m a woman. I actually know exactly where I fall on the scale of attractiveness. I know which of my features are working for me and which aren’t. I don’t want your stamp of approval, and I certainly don’t need it. I didn’t have braces for eighteen months for you. I had braces because crooked teeth bother me. I didn’t do my hair this morning for you. I did my hair this morning because I felt like it. I don’t know you. I don’t care what you think.

So please, stop with the creepy compliments to female cashiers. Stop with the “darling”s and the “sweetheart”s to your waitresses. We don’t want it. We’re just doing our jobs. We’re just hoping that if we grin and bear your patronizing creeper act, you’ll remember to tip. Stop being arrogant enough to assume it’s because you’re validating us. You’re not. Not even a little.

Thank you. Have a nice day. Now take your patronizing, arrogant, creepy bullshit, and shove it up your ass. Who knows, those smiles you apparently like so much might even become genuine once you do.
trinsy: (physics)
The way I will totally prepare to go to class - pack my bag, brush my teeth, put on my shoes, etc. - and then decide, 'Eh, screw it,' as I am turning to lock my door is probably one of my favorite things about senioritis.
trinsy: (I came back)
We are not our parents. We live in a different world - one where college degrees are common, jobs rare, and marriage optional. One where there's not as much pressure to stick to one path for the rest of your life. One where you aren't necessarily expected to be married and popping out kids by the time you're twenty-four. One that is a bit less limited and a whole lot scarier. We are not our parents. We can't be, and we need to stop trying.

I keep having to remind myself of that. I've got one semester of college to go, and I'm terrified. When my mom was my age, she was married and had a career path in mind and knew what she wanted to do with her life. And you know what? I don't know what I want to do with my life. I haven't got a clue, and even if I did, I haven't got a shot at a career with my current qualifications (or lack thereof), and I couldn't be further from marriage if I joined a nunnery. And everyone tells me this is fine, I'm young and it's good to have my options open. The world is my oyster. I can do anything I want, have anything I want.

You know what I want right now? Stability. Security. I want to go to bed at night with the assurance that I won't spend the rest of my life living hand-to-mouth in some studio apartment working a minimum wage job. Sure, it's nice that I have "options", except that isn't one of them. I don't have a guarantee of anything: career, job, family, house, nothing! If the world is my oyster, it's one that's keeping tightly shut. I'm secretly an optimist, so I'm about 90% sure there's a pearl in there somewhere (on a good day; on a bad day I'm convinced there's nothing but sand), but I don't know what it looks like or how to get it. I'm scared and directionless and you know what? Sometimes I wish I lived in the world of my parents, because maybe if there'd been more pressure on me to find some direction at this point in my life, I'd have worked harder and discovered something I could do for the rest of my life, even if it didn't make me completely happy.

That's the problem with our world, really. We've been conditioned to reject anything that won't make us happy. I know I couldn't live with myself if I ever settled for less. But honestly? Sometimes I wish I could. Sometimes I wish I could settle, because frankly, I haven't been happy for twenty years. I know I can deal with that. And maybe it'd be okay if I were suffering for my passions, but I'm not. I don't even know what my passions are! I don't even know if I have any! But I've been conditioned to not betray them, even if they only exist in theory, so I'm unhappy and directionless and passionless and poor and terrified, and I can't even guarantee I'll get anything out of it.
trinsy: (physics)
So finals? Actually going a lot better than I would expect, all things considered. I mean, I already have two out of four papers written, which for me is pretty amazing. All credit, of course, is due to my amazing and awesome roommate, who dragged me to Starbucks and wouldn't stop giving me disappointed looks until I cracked and actually started doing homework. What did I ever do without her, seriously?

Of course, I also spent an hour today that I was supposed to be working on a paper writing fanfic. Because of course I can never be inspired when I have plenty of leisure time, but only during the most stressful times of the school year, like midterms and finals. I really like what I wrote, though, only it's from Ron's POV, and I've never written him before (I generally stay from Trio fics in general because there's so much canon stuff), and I'm worried I've made him too introspective. But it is set a good few years after he's had kids, so I figure it's not that much of a stretch. At least, I hope so. And come 12:30 Thursday, I will be FREE for three whole weeks, and I'll be able to fine tune it and stuff. So now I just need to survive until then.
trinsy: (home)
The reason I will probably never do anything practical or concretely useful with my life, but my friends will with theirs:

I don't like American comedians. Okay, that's a lie, I do like John Stewart for reasons I can't even explain to myself. He's the exception though. I don't find Dane Cook and his ilk funny at all. I like American comedic actors, but Americans standing around monologuing? Not so much. I prefer British humour. Generally it's subtler and more intelligent and makes you think for your laugh. I like that.

I don't like realistic fiction either. I prefer fantasy and sci-fi, and I think it's for the same reason: they're subtler. People don't get that because people aren't looking, and I suppose that's really the point. That's what makes the beauty of fantasy/sci-fi so subtle.

I hate telling people Doctor Who is about an alien who travels through Space and Time in his time machine spaceship because that's so not what Doctor Who is about. That's the premise, but that's not what it's about, any more than Harry Potter is about a boy who lives in a cupboard under his aunt and uncle's stairs for ten years before finding out he's a wizard. They're both about life, far more than any realistic book or show I've ever read or seen, and I think there's a reason the fantasy/sci-fi genre is actually more conducive to portraying life realistically than realism.

See, if we're being honest, real life is incredibly boring. Fiction can't be. So to make it interesting, realistic fiction has to throw in sex scandals and pregnancy and affairs and family feuds and murders and mysterious fires and kidnapping and any number of other things that yes, happen in real life, but almost never all to the same person or group of people, and never in the space of about three months.

But fantasy/sci-fi doesn't need that sort of thing to be interesting, because it's got wizards and aliens and evil emperors bent on destroying the world as we know it. Which means the characters can focus on acting and reacting and thinking and feeling like normal people instead of worrying that their girlfriend's best friend's boyfriend's best friend's girlfriend, who has been ostracized by her family for dating said girlfriend's best friend's boyfriend's best friend since their families have been feuding for ages, is going to take revenge on them for that thing they did to her family so she can be accepted by her family again. Because you really can't deal with things that are real if you're supposed to be dealing with things that are real. Aliens, however, make a nice backdrop (and sometimes frontdrop) to hold the viewer's interest, so the characters deal with pain and love and loss and sacrifice without straying into melodrama and ridiculousness.

You can see that and get that and live and love and feel with the characters if you're looking for it. If you're not, then yeah, it's just a semi-interesting story about aliens and magic and whatever else.

That's why I have a totally impractical major. That's why all my friends have jobs lined up for next year and I don't. That's why they'll all make perfectly acceptable adults and I won't. That's why there is a huge part of me they affectionately tolerate but will never understand.

Because that's how I see the world: Subtle.

It's more than charts and numbers and anatomy. More than rent and groceries and a paycheck. More than getting married and having kids because that's what you do. It's just more.

I never thought life was perfect. My imaginary friend and I used to fight all the time, and if that doesn't sum up my life, I don't know what does. But I've always known there's more than meets the eye.

That's why I want more out of life than just getting a job and settling down and having kids, more than the white picket fence, more than the American dream. I want more, but the frustrating thing is that I have no idea what that looks like outside the TARDIS and Hogwarts and Narnia and Middle Earth. So I'm just this fantasy/sci-fi geek with no practical skills and no future because I don't know how to live in the confines of face-value reality.
trinsy: (don't be so daft)
You know, sometimes I feel like my entire life is just listening to people bitch about their lives and giving them advice they don't listen to, which is exactly why I don't want to be a psychologist.

But then I realized today that I'm a moron, because if that's my life anyway, wouldn't it be better if I were at least getting paid for it?
trinsy: (ha!)

I'm going to a FREE Jason Mraz concert in two weeks! School in San Diego for the fucking WIN!

And on a completely different note, fuck you and your new Safari, Apple! In what world would I ever want this? If I wanted to use Firefox, I would be using fucking Firefox! I hate myself for not thinking before I updated!
trinsy: (bovvered)
Dear "James",

I am not going to go to graduate school for literature. In fact, I am probably not going to go to graduate school at all. I am therefore not interested in simulating it in the "microcosm" of your undergraduate course.

Also, I still don't want to call you by your first name. It's weird.

Please look into this,


In other news, I successfully solidified my standing as a total nerd in my Medieval class today by accidentally showing that yes, I get passionate about gender issues, but if you really want to get me excited, tie our reading back to Harry Potter. Apparently this will cause me to grin at you for five minutes like a very, very creepy moron. Er, sorry about that, classmates.

Also, I'm pretty sure my Women Writers professor is like, "WTF, what happened to you?" at me, because last semester I was super quiet in her class and when I did speak I was a total moron (I was, I never had a clue what was going on, I winged [wung?] that whole class), and now I'm all passionate and all, "Mr. Rochester is a jerk, and Jane needs to either go for it or get over it, and I don't feel bad for people with that much self-loathing, so there." I mean, I think she likes it, but I'm pretty sure she also thinks I must have changed dramatically over the summer. Which I didn't, really. I just actually care about her class now, that's all.
trinsy: (I can see that)
 Dear People Who Sit Next To Me And Whisper Random Comments,

75% of the time, I have absolutely no idea what you just said to me.  I'm only nodding and laughing because 95% of the time, that's the response you're looking for.

Please either enunciate and speak louder, or shut up.  Your choice.
trinsy: (are you my mummy?)
You know, school becomes significantly less stressful when you stop actually caring.

Which has taken me, let's see, all of two weeks to do.

Which is even more pathetic when you take into account that this is probably the second longest I've lasted.  *snerk* That's what he said!
trinsy: (physics)
 You know, I'm really sick of all these blood bank commercials.


I'm sorry I'm selfish and hundreds of people will probably die because I'd rather be able to exercise for more than fifteen minutes without getting faint and dizzy and short of breath!  I get it, I'm a terrible person.  Now can we please, please stop with the guilt trips already?
trinsy: (are you my mummy?)
  • Wooden bar makes climbing onto my roommate's slightly lower bed in order to more easily get off my own raised bed not as practical as I'd hoped.
  • Toilet clogged Wednesday night after making strange whistling/grinding sounds all week every time we flushed. Asked roommate who works at the Physical Plant to get someone to look at toilet for us. Apparently someone stopped by while I was in class yesterday. The toilet no longer makes noise, plus we now have a new toilet seat and showerhead which has really amazing water pressure. Slightly perplexed by the added bonuses, but definitely not complaining.
  • It's been hot all week, so I don't know why it only just now occurred to me to turn my fans on high.
  • Apparently the guys in the apartment across the alley want us to "wave and be more friendly and neighborly". Okay then.
  • I think I've done more homework in the past week then I did the entire time I studied abroad/the entire second semester of my freshman year. And it will only get worse. Christmas can't come soon enough. I already want to die.
  • Having a roommate with the same morning schedule sucks far more than I could have imagined.
  • I think VLC media player makes my computer run slowly, which sucks since I use it all the time.
  • I hate how I have to do laundry more often in the summer because I sweat more.
  • Every time I come back from class, I always start going to my old apartment. Conditioning is crazy!
  • I have this overwhelming urge to write Albus Severus/Scorpius fanfic, but absolutely no ideas for a plot, so ... I guess I won't be doing that.
  • Why is it that I can happily read fifty tabs of fanfic, but fifty pages in a novel for class and I want to kill myself?
  • On that note, I would fucking ACE a class on fanfic! Someone seriously needs to create that course. It could be like a media/lit/writing course, where you would read selected fics and discuss their merit and what makes it good or bad, and talk about AUs and why people write them and what we can learn from them and stuff, and then you'd connect it to the culture at large and the connections people make in fics, and then at the end instead of a term paper you'd just write your own fanfic and then your classmates would evaluate it based on what you learned in class. Okay, seriously, wouldn't that be awesome? You know you'd take that course!
  • Actually, someone just needs to start like 'Fandom University' or something, because then maybe school wouldn't suck so much for people like me. I mean, I'd actually have stuff to say in class if we were watching Doctor Who, you know? Intelligent, academic things to say too, because I actually have thoughts like that about it. Whereas I don't fucking care about post-colonial literature so I'm not fucking looking to see if water is a fucking motif because I'm just trying to finish the fucking book so I can read the other fucking book for my other fucking lit class so I can write the fucking analysis about fucking connections I'm making the fuck up because I don't actually fucking see any because I don't actually fucking care! See, school is clearly bad for my blood pressure. Fandom never makes me this profane (with the exception of The-Miniseries-Which-Shall-Not-Be-Named which totally doesn't count because that was out of PASSION not PASSIONATE INDIFFERENCE).
  • Why the hell am I a Lit major again?
  • I went for a walk this morning before class. That was cool. I wonder if I actually have the willpower to do it every M/W/F. I hope so, because I liked it.
  • I sort of wonder if I will ever get over my newfound passionate love of Kirk/Bones. I mean, I'm sure I will, but it's really hard to imagine at this point.
  • Also, it's really weird, because I really feel like I'm a lot like Jim in AOS (I'm totally Spock in TOS, there is not question), but then I came back to school, and I realized that my roommate and I are totally AOS!Jim and Bones (except that we're not in love): she's outwardly cocky and happy-go-lucky and rash, but I'm one of the only people who she lets see the more serious, fucked up side of her, and people think she's a slut but I know better; and I'm cynical and tough and practical and sarcastic, and she's always getting me to get outside my comfort zone and do things I normally wouldn't do and have fun, and I'm always stopping her from doing things that are really stupid. It's actually kind of crazy how accurate that analogy is. I still think there's a huge part of me that's like AOS!Jim, though.
  • I'm really excited about the new seasons of Merlin and The Sarah Jane Adventures. I mean, I have no idea when I'll actually have time to watch them, but I will make time, damn it! Merlin/Arthur = OTP! And one story in SJA features Ten[nant]!
  • I actually miss my family a lot more than I thought I would. I mean, I knew I would, but I just didn't expect coming back to school do be so damn hard.
trinsy: (physics)
Dear Professors,

I have already completed fifteen years of school.  Three of those were at university.

Pretty sure I don't need you to read me the syllabus.

Thanks for wasting the class time at least,
trinsy: (grin)

I am currently freezing.

That makes you my favorite place in the entire world right now.

*sigh* It's good to be home.
trinsy: (are you my mummy?)
Dear World,

Why does unpacking suck so much?
trinsy: (physics)
  • First, you should have two suitcases: one for clothes, one for toiletries.  This way, if one of your suitcases is lost, either you or your clothes will be clean.  Come on, you can't have it all.  Exception: Deodorant should go in the suitcase with clothes so that you can keep them clean should you lose your toiletries.  You won't really be needing it if you're wearing two-day-old clothes anyway.
  • Pull all your shirts out of your closet, hangers and all, and lay them on your bed.  Remove hangers.  Fold stack of shirts over once, and drop them into open suitcase.
  • Drop pants, shorts, and pajamas on top of these.
  • Shove underwear, socks, and any shirts or other clothing items you missed initially into any free spaces you find.
  • Do not, under any circumstances, fold your clothes in anything resembling a civilized manner.  Folding clothes is for losers.  You don't want to be a loser, do you?
  • Put all toiletries in plastic grocery bag.  Tie closed.  Drop into other suitcase.
  • Repeat process with any extra pairs of shoes.
  • Neither your clothing nor your toiletries need to be easy to access in the event that you might actually need to use them before unpacking.  In fact, if getting a change of clothes is easy, you're probably doing it wrong.
  • Pray that neither suitcase weighs more than fifty pounds.
  • Depart.

trinsy: (home)
We had my step-dad’s nephew, wife, and kids over today, and it was so strange because even though the task of entertaining the kids fell to me after dinner, really, I was one of the adults. I was part of the adult conversation, I understood the adult conversation, and afterward the girl was telling me all about the trials that come with being in fourth grade and I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. It was all so simplistic, so idealistic, so entirely naïve and wrong about the way the world works: wanting to get out of school as soon as possible, and thinking growing up will solve all your problems, and being most worried about having to pay taxes of all things! And I just listened to her, and thought wasn’t that me just yesterday?, and how did this happen?

But the strangest thing was that even as I looked at her and thought, You have no idea how good you have it: enjoy it, enjoy it, enjoy it! I knew that I wouldn’t really go back to that age if I could. There is beauty in the innocence of childhood, but I’m beginning to recognize that there is also beauty in the … awareness that comes with being an adult. Understanding now what I couldn’t understand then, finally appreciating the things they told me: don’t grow up too fast, don’t crave the responsibility, live in the moment, enjoy it while it lasts. There is a beauty in wanting to go back that you could never experience if you’d stayed.

I liked being seventeen. I sort of understood all this, a little, enough, enough to feel the ache of loss that is so terrible and so beautiful, and yet the remnants of childhood still clung to me, barely, just barely, gifting me with flashes of innocent hope, letting me believe for just a little longer that things would be all right in the end.

I wonder when you stop trying to hurl yourself forward and start wanting to go back. I wonder if you grow up the day you stop wanting to grow up. Maybe Peter Pan is the most grown up of us all. He knows that one thing other children don’t, even if he doesn’t fully understand it: to grow up is the least desirable thing of all.

Only it’s not, really. The pain of childhood is simple, straightforward: it hurts, and that’s all it does, and that’s all you understand. The pain of adulthood is a complicated, twisted, terrible, beautiful ache: it’s the good kind of pain, the best kind, shattering you and piecing you back together again, and even when it hurts you know, on some fundamental level, that it’s what you need.

There’s a reason adults cry during movies, a reason kids can never understand. We cry because we must. We cry because we know now what we didn’t know, what they don’t know, what they one day will know. We cry because sometimes beauty is so painful and pain so beautiful.

I cry because my life is one twisted, awful, beautiful, terrible, gorgeous, horrific, magnificent, fucked up mess, and when my heart is torn open and my soul laid bare, I know I wouldn’t really change a thing.
trinsy: (don't be so daft)
**I feel like this is way more coherent in my head than it is here, but I think this conveys the basic idea...

Here’s the message I’ve been sent since I was a child, and I don’t think it’s specific to me: “You are less of a person because you don’t have the daddy-daughter bond. You are less of a person for something you have no control over. You are not worth as much. You are inferior. You are less than.” I actually used to believe that, too. They throw statistics at you all the time, and it’s hard not to assimilate the idea that you’re messed up because you didn’t have a daddy. You never stop to think that actually, it could just be you’re messed up because people are telling you you’re messed because you didn’t have a daddy. You actually can have only one parent and still be fine, funnily enough, as long as you don’t have people insisting the opposite or you’re smart enough not to believe them. It’s a rare person who’s that smart when they’re nine.

I figured it out eventually. Looked at my life one day and realized that, hey, incredibly, I was okay. I lived in an all-female household, and we were all okay. We did basic household fix-it jobs (painting, plumbing, putting up the Christmas tree, etc.), we made it through, we were happy overall, and we didn’t need any men to do it. I’d always been told that I needed a man to take care of me, and suddenly I realized that, actually, I didn’t. I’d been taking care of myself for years, and my entire life I’d been taken care of by women. And I was fine. I am fine. My entire life is one big argument against the idea that every woman needs a man in her life. You know what I found out after I realized that? To society, realizing that isn’t okay. After I started telling people about my epiphany, I was warned that I needed to rid myself of that notion at once because no man would ever want a girl who didn’t think she needed him.

I used to be pitied and patronized because the man in my life left me. Now I’m condemned because my very existence proves the societal myth of female dependency is a lie. Apparently, if you don’t have a dad, you aren’t allowed to be happy. You aren’t allowed to be okay. Your fate rests in the hands of that man, and if he doesn’t choose you, you can’t win. Ever. Maybe one day, if you somehow, incredibly, manage to stumble upon and/or seduce some other man who, against all logic, actually wants and chooses you, but even then there will be whispers of “daddy issues” or “problems submitting”. Your dad sets the tone for your entire life, and there’s not a damn thing you can do about it.

That’s dumb. Even the women in my life have perpetuated this idea, and it’s not true. My mom says that maybe I’m right, but “I have to accept the reality of the world.” I have to accept the reality of a society that won’t accept me because my dad couldn’t be bothered to know me, and yet I refused to let his selfishness break me. I’m too scary to fit in, and that’s “just the way the world is”.

You know what? I’m not going to keep apologizing because my sense of self doesn’t conform to societies expectations for me. “That’s the way the world is” is the argument that sustained slavery, and it’s just as unsound in this case. Perpetuation of oppression does not validate it. You’ll never get me to pretend that it does.

You know what else? If –– whether because of social constructs or your own insecurities –– you need me to downplay my own strengths to make you feel better about yourself, you don’t deserve my respect. Especially if you feel it is my duty to do this simply because you happened to be born with a penis and Y chromosome and I did not.

Also, men don’t get to claim “respect” as their gender-specific desire, any more than women get to claim “love”. I am a woman, and I also desire respect. That’s really the issue. I’m being told I have to choose one or the other (and to a lot of people, by not valuing love above everything, as my gender supposedly dictates I should, I’m essentially choosing neither). I want both. Everyone wants both. I don’t think anyone, male or female, would say, “I hope to die unloved but respected,” any more than anyone would say, “I want to be a person everyone loves and nobody respects.” They’re both important. We all want both, whether we pee standing up or have menstrual cycles (or both). Honestly, I fail to see how sexual organs and hormone levels would have any impact on these basic human desires.

Contrary to how I’m sure it appears, I don’t actually hate men. I really, really don’t. I’m just sick of being told that I’m wrong. Not that I’m wrong about this issue, but that my very essence, my awareness of who I am as an individual is wrong. And yeah, men get the greater part of my ire here because apparently they’re the ones who are too insecure to handle the existence of girls like me. But that’s their problem. Why should I suffer for their insecurities? You know what the whole issue stems from? It’s insecure men trying to make women insecure so they can feel better about themselves. Well I’m not playing, and threatening me with a lack of romance isn’t going to get me to do so. If that’s what romance costs, it comes at far too high a price, and honestly, why would I want it? Why would I give up my independence and individuality to become a kowtowing bimbo for some chauvinistic asshole? That sort of romance sounds like it sucks. It definitely doesn’t sound like love.

My existence is not wrong. I don’t need a man to take care of me. My father’s inadequacies don’t get to define me, and neither do the insecurities of other men. And society may condemn me for that, but it will never be able to convince me otherwise.
trinsy: (I came back)
Dear Dad,

I’m turning twenty in two weeks, and it’s putting a lot of things in perspective for me. I know we haven’t spoken in five-and-a-half years, and I know you never had a clue who I was even when we were talking, so I thought I’d tell you a little about myself and who I’ve become over the last twenty years.

I’m graduating from college next May. I’m actually genuinely terrified, which is strange. I’m not really one of those people who was meant to sit in a classroom –– my imagination is too active –– but it’s been the only constant in my life for the past fifteen years, so to have that all end is a pretty terrifying prospect, especially since it’ll mean I’ll pretty “officially” be an adult. This is who the almost adult me is:

I like to think you’d be happy to know I am and always have been a genuinely good kid. I don’t drink, I don’t smoke, I don’t do drugs, I don’t have sex, I don’t cut, and I don’t have an eating disorder. I pay for all my own groceries at school, and I’ve never gotten below a B in any of my classes. Mom thinks I spend too much time on my computer, but if that’s the worst thing she can say about me, I think I’m doing pretty good.

I’ve never had a boyfriend, and my whole life my friends have always been prettier than I am. I’ve gotten to a point in my life where I can accept that, though. I’m never going to be gorgeous, but I’m not ugly either, and it’s not like it’s my ambition to be a model or something, so I’m not beating myself up about it. Beauty isn’t just physical anyway, which is one of those dumb things everyone says, but I actually get it now. As for being single, it’s awesome more often than it sucks. Sometimes I get jealous of what my friends have with their boyfriends, but it’s not very often. I have amazing friends, so it’s not like I’m lonely, and my sense of self isn’t wrapped up in another person. I’m happy I’m an independent individual.

Mom told me once that she hoped one day I’d talk to you again, just briefly, to say thank you. I blew her off then, because I couldn’t imagine what I would want to thank you for, but I do want to thank you for something now. I know it wasn’t your intention and you might not like being thanked for it, but you did it and I am genuinely grateful you did, so here goes:

Thank you for never being there for me. Thank you for never protecting me. Thank you for never supporting me. Thank you for never teaching me to do anything. Thank you for never telling me I was beautiful. Thank you for never telling me I was smart. Thank you for never telling me you were proud of me. Thank you for leaving me to fend for myself. Thank you for never being a part of my life. Thank you for not being a real dad.

You are not the reason I am as strong as I am. I am the reason I am as strong as I am. They told me I’d be messed up without a father figure, but they couldn’t have been more wrong. I had no father figure and I am awesome. I am a strong, independent woman with a healthy self-image and no self-destructive vices, and you didn’t contribute in a positive way to any of that. No man did. That is all because of me and the amazing women in my life. So thank you. You are the reason I will never believe the lies that I need a man in my life. You are the reason I know I am worth more than what any man thinks of me.

I used to think I missed out by not having you in my life, but I know better now. I didn’t miss out. You did. I am an amazing person, but you’ll never know that and you’ll never be able to claim credit for it. I’ve had and still have an incredible life, and the only person who lost by your absence in it was you.

You are not the reason I’m an amazing person, but you are the reason I know the truth of why I am, and you are the reason no one will ever convince me to believe the lies.

Thanks from,
The daughter you couldn’t be bothered to know
trinsy: (hug)
[Error: unknown template qotd] When I was a kid, I always identified with Lucy from The Chronicles of Narnia because we were both the youngest and precocious and I wouldn't have been at all surprised to find a magical forest in the back of my wardrobe.  In retrospect, I think there was more wishful thinking than actual similarities between us, but I still feel very protective of Lucy's character and have a soft spot for her.

The first time I read Harry Potter, when Ron tells Harry, "Everyone expects me to do as well as the others, but if I do, it's no big deal, because they did it first," that totally stuck out to me, and I always felt like I could relate so much to that aspect of Ron's character, that frustration of always living in other people's shadows and not being taken seriously for yourself.  Actually, Ron might be the fictional character I do identify with most: hates school, scrapes by but is lazy, has cooler friends, uses sarcasm as a defense mechanism, insecure ... but loyal, too.  I would do almost anything for my friends and family.  So yeah, Ron Weasley is definitely one for sure.

And now, to sound totally pretentious and emo, there is so much about the Tenth Doctor that I relate to, particularly in Series 3 and 4.  "I'm always all right," and "They've all got someone else," really hit me hard.  I think he genuinely wants to be happy, but then other factors and things ... I can't explain it, but there are so many times when I watch him and I just ... I just get what he's feeling.  I just know.

There's bits of others, too.  Edna from Chopin's The Awakening and Nora from Ibsen's A Doll House both wanting to break free from the boxes society wants to put them in, but not quite knowing how.  Nora especially is awesome; I want to be her.  Valancy from L. M. Montgomery's Blue Castle because I live in my imagination more than in proper reality.  Arthur Dent from The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy because I know so well how it feels to be displaced and to not really know what to do about it.  Also, Sirius from Harry Potter for reasons I can't fully explain even to myself.  I've just always felt so connected to him from the moment he hugged Lupin in the Shrieking Shack.

There's probably loads more I'm forgetting, but this is already pretty long, so I'll wrap it up for now.

June 2013

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