bois and femmes' Journal|
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Below are 25 journal entries, after skipping by the 25 most recent ones recorded in
bois and femmes' LiveJournal:
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|Friday, December 23rd, 2005|
do you really, rhea....
Do You Really
Not have one emotion left for me
Believe I was never there
Think I don't love you
Think I didn't
Do You Really
Have not one tear to shed
Wish that I were dead
Give me no passing thought at all
Do You Really
See a CCEMS squad
Pass you on the road
And never turn your head to see if it is me
Do You Really
Think you're better off where you are
Facing every day with a partner
Who makes you sleep on the couch till her man goes away
Who suffocates your every move
Every minute of the day
Do You Really
Do You Really
Not miss me?
Do You Really
Ignore my texts and make some joke
But wish you could answer the phone
Do You Really
Enjoy the only conversations we have
Arguing with me and twisting the knife in my back
That I never deserved
Do You Really
Enjoy being a coldhearted asshole
To impress your girlfreind, and boyfriend
At the expense of my misery
Do You Really
Do You Really
Not love me?
Do You Really
Find it worth it
To spend the holidays knowing
For me and Auttie, there's no Santa claus at all
Do You Really
Love Joanne or just
Enjoy watching me crawl
Do You Really think she loves you when
You've only half of her
When I gave you all of me
Or is Gary just your ATM
And as lacking of the self respect you are
To allow this blasphemous ritual to go on
Do You Really
Think this is forever
When forever was you and me
Do You Really
Do You Really
Do you really
Believe I never believed in you
I stayed through anything no woman should ever bear
I knew you were all the places you weren't supposed to be
And having you around some was better
Than not having you at all
And no one said life was fair
But I gave myself back to you
And you gave a piece of you back to me
Do You Really
Do You Really
Not have me?
Do You Really
Want my death on your conscience
Do You Really
Think I am just crying out for help?
For your attention? For you to come home?
Nay, I just want this endless aching void to grow scar tissue
And it doesn't seem it will
Can't you just give me five minutes
To confess you lied constantly and don't even have an explanation as to why?
Do You Really
Do You Really
Me? Current Mood: crushed
|Sunday, December 18th, 2005|
On the tail of my nervouse breakdown
Number 56 for the week
In all my misery, the knockout tone goes off
And everything about you and the water buffalo
Is put on hold
Well Thank God.
As I ride along focusing on the lights of the firetruck in front of us
Twisting and turning down a winding country road
I dried my eyes and donned some gloves
I thought of you and wondered
Wondered if this was it
The first full arrest
The code of codes that
I NEED YOU to talk to about
And now you're gone again.
Is it necessary for you to talk to me like you do
Cuz she sits right there, right next to you
I....don't think so.
As we come around the last corner
Upon the scene of chaos
The multitude of flashing lights
And your words keep reverberating in my head
"She doesn't deserve it Tyrrie, she doesn't deserve it Tyrrie"
Yes, she does, and lots more.
The one damn thing she will not take away from me
Is how I feel and my right to vocalize it to anyone and everyone
About what she took from me and what she deserves to lose in return.
FLASH for ya, you never gain anything without giving something up,
And it's her turn to start paying.
I spiked the bag
I sunctioned goo
I ran 15 liters of O2
I pegged the electrodes
I assessed the vitals
My medics have become
I looked a dying man
Straight in the eye
And for a whole hour
I didn't cry
I drove it in...I drove code 3
And a funny thing happened to me
I did 80 all the way to the trauma center
I lost myself into the night and
The somber glow of red and white
I was in control and i faded out
To a level of peace
A level of peace
I wrapped the warmth
Of my favorite sound around me for comfort
The reverb of the siren as we pass under overpasses
I give you one last fleeting thought as I cross the bridge
Wonder what section you and her were in when you won her heart
Being Capatin Save a Hoe as she gasped for breath
Agonal, oh how sweet that would have sounded to me
Although I know you wouldn't return, but still
And I pulled up to the door
And got it, my first room 9
I watched the poetry in motion of rescue efforts
I watched as they cut what was left of his clothes away
I watched in awe and thanked God for the opportunity to
And the distraction from my petty upset
And the epiphany flowed over me in a wave
Nothing matters but my kids and my future inside this field.
and your whore
and your preoccupation with me since I know you are reading this
print out another copy for your prosecutor
don't have balls to just face me like womyn
just want to keep telling people what they want to hear
we all know, you know
i talked to your buddy F
and she told me of the whole conversation with your water buffalo
the whole sordid 3 way we can all love each other on different levels affair
knocked me off my stool
made me vomit
so does dirks bentley
I have my job and school
And you have ...laugh....each other.
When she gets sick of babysitting you so she knows you aren't doin to her
what you do to everyone
you'll be out on your ass
doesn't your butt hurt?
hey I am missing my point
trauma puts me in control. i am in control of the scene, i am control of this vehicle...and i am in control of my life.
And now that i have had
and innoculation of what the whole problem here is
which is control
i'm taking it back for the last time
so u enjoy your blasphemous bisexual whatever the hell is going on there
and remember who had your back thru
the cancer, the disease, the bad times, the few good that you would allow me to share with you
in between being everything to everyone else
because you dont' even know who you really are
and go on with someone as fucked up as you
because that is all who would be able to put up with it.
|Sunday, December 11th, 2005|
here come de FBI......
I am going to:
*Yell fire in a crowded theatre
*Post my fantasies about the suffering of a psychopath who emotionally raped me for the last year of my life
*Cut the tag off the matress under penalty of the law
*Use politically incorrect terms to refer to myself and to other minorities until I get my ass kicked by whoever wants to step up, because,
THIS IS AMERICA.
And if you want to read of my misery and can't stomach or relate to it and make threats of retaliation, well, guess you better do what you need to do. Nothing in the world I could do to my ex (who I have made it 3 whole horrifying, anxiety riddled days, without calling, texting, or contacting in any way) could make her more miserable than the life she will continue to lead A) without me in it and B) with the skank she is with now, a tag team of self loathing and sexual identity crisis. But let's reflect on our freedoms of speech here: ( since some of us think we all are in Columbine)...
THIS LOVE by Pantera, the best damned I hate u bitch song ever written:
If ever words were spoken
Painful and untrue
I said I loved but I lied
In my life
All I wanted
Was the keeping
Of someone like you
As it turns out
Deeper within me
Love was twisted and pointed at you
Never ending pain, quickly ending life --
You keep this love, thing, love, child, love, toy
You keep this love, fist, love, scar, love, break
You keep this love
I'd been the tempting one
Stole her from herself
This gift in pain
Her pain was life
And sometimes I feel so sorry
I regret this the hurting of you
But you make me so unhappy
I'd take my life and leave love with you
I'd kill myself for you, I'd kill you for myself --
No more head trips
HEY....let's get the attorney on the phone and sue Dimebag Darryl RIGHT AWAY from this "vulgar display of power" in emancipating his emotional trauma through his wrods....good lord, we can't have individual thought here.
Lighten up. And to all who have read and gave me words of support, it means more than you will ever know. Today is the day I have gotten into the shower, got to the street, and made a valiant effort to get on with my life. Thanks to all of you who had positive and EMAPTHETIC things to say. Current Mood: recumbent
|Friday, December 9th, 2005|
I have to be 35 miles from home at the vacation Station for work 4.5 hours from now. And I am not in bed yet. Guess I aint goin.
Guess I keep walkin past it and know when I get in it I won't get out. GUess that I know how vast and cool it will be when i don't roll over and feel all 6 feet of you against me. Not that you ever really slept in it with me anyways. In a year I can count on both hands. Up all night, sleep all day, you'd tuck me in and resign to the living room. Now I know you were taking advantage of my apena and sleep like the dead so you could text and tlak to all your mistresses.
Guess I will never know a peaceful sleep in my own bed. Oh, i usually get bedded own and am knocked in the firehouse bunk, running to save everyone but me all day. But that's after crying myself to sleep for the last two weeks. My partners are all heteroesexual, and they are all ANNOYED, sick to death of listening to a desperately traumatized dyke. Empathetic, but not sympathetic. Wishing they could detour into the nearest behavioral facility on a run and dump my ass off in it. I wish I could afford for them to. But why will paying 150 dollars an hour make the pain go away any fucking faster than bitching about it for FREE?????
So many clips of time today brought relief. I actually laughed at one point, thinking of how gd annoying i really found you most days, clingy and repetitive. I try to focus on all your negatives and how fucking sick it makes me to think of you having sex with the nasty hoe you bed down in the back of your squad. Of couse i ask all my friends, what is it about HER? And they all say it sin't about her, or me, or the "others"...it's about YOU. Your undying need to control everyone.
I am your slave
I am your slave
I am yo...
WAIT ONE GD MINUTE HERE
So I have this epiphany searching for answers that's it it isn't me it's you you sonofabitch
I want so badly to get thru my shift today, my next 24 hours, my day of passing thoughts, without breating your name. I want so badly to whip around the corner into the ER bay and see your gd Squad running my district and not bat an eye. Not breathe a groan. Not have my legs buckle under me and my heart double jacknife into my stomach. I want to see you with her. I want to see it. I want to get the shock and pain over with so I can move the hell on. I want to see you both standing there, laughing like loons, hiding your embarassment like Adam and Eve hiding thier nakedness from God, you rotten assholes. I want to stop feeling like Daddy has to open the closet to show me there are no monsters in there when I have to drop a patient at that hospital.
I want I want I want
Selfish motherfucker aint I
Maybe you are right then
A psychotic bitch that treats you like shit and you were stuck with for finacial reasons blah blah blah
....all I really want is you dead, or me, or to stop being in pain.
I'm giving the wood back before the cross gives in from the weight of my demands. Wanting is coveting. Coveting is sinning. And you aren't worth God continuing to be pissed at me.
Goodbye Rhea Current Mood: exanimate
|Wednesday, December 7th, 2005|
just fucking kill me
Nothing is working.
I thought this time since it was to be expected, when I found you cheating on me and running my name into the ground to do it, the anger would sustain my sanity. I would be pissed for a long time and avoid the tragedy. The tragedy of being who I despise: the crying, suicidal, miserable ball of helplessness who would put up with anything for you to come back and stop this pain. The tragedy of uncontrollable anxiety and nausea. The tragedy of begging God to take my life so I don't have to keep contemplating how to do it myself. And ultimately, the insanity I derive from the total lack of vindication. But, the numbness and anger slipped away, and I am right there, feeling all of that, AGAIN. You had it made at home and you left me for another bitch, again. I allowed you to crawl back into the only tiny crevice of my psyche that needs to be loved so very badly, and got burned, again.
I can't drink you away. I can't work out enough at the gym to stop the anxiety. I can't eat, sleep, and I am driving everyone around me as fucking crazy as I am crying about it. Over and over, I am alienating everyone by trying to reach out and grab someone to keep from disappearing into this black hole of despair. I love you. I hate your fucking existance, I miss you, and I wish you dead. You disrespected me more times than I can count, today you dumped off my daughter who you could barely pencil into your new schedule with the hoe, and I want to claw your eyes out of your head. I ate the hospital cafeteria thanksgiving dinner while i was blessed by God to be ont he street that day, running codes to falling out family members at the dinner table, and you couldn't bring me a fucking plate cuz turns out, SHE was at your mom's for dinner.
You are sick. Sociopathic, neurotic, and by far nothing like anyone I have ever encountered, in the worst cases of self loathing. I have never been so self loathing of being a lesbian than now, because I never can fathom EVER trusting any female to get close to me again. And yet, logic doesn't win over my emotions. I just ...ache. I have ben through worse. I think. I know it will heal. Eventually. I wish it was real fucking soon.
I can only hope at this point that the pain starts turning into that dull, gray emptiness. The void where you feel as if you are floating in body temperature water, without a sound but your own breath, no pain, no happiness, nothingness. The oblivion you exist in only because you are physiologically functioning, and barely at that, where you can't speak to anyone because if you open your mouth, there are no words left. You have run the gammet of emotion, more times than you can count.
for anything except
to hang yourself.
you can't change
who you are
and no one can stop you.
All your lies
about wanting to change
Told me everything
A woman wants
Who's crying now?
I wish to cut you
To watch you bleed
If it was the only way
I thought you would hurt
Like you hurt me
And then hold you and wipe away the blood
Then spin you out of my arms
And laugh in your face
To watch the life drain out of it.
I'd save you
In the nick of time
Or maybe not.
Kind of like
You've done to me
I could ask you over and over is it worth it? Is it worth me? How could you...? Why would you...? What did I do? Not do? WHY CAN'T MY LOVE AND SUPPORT FOR YOU CHANGE YOU TO A DECENT GD HUMAN BEING???
And all I hear is the icy silence of the walls in this house.
I can't hear my heart beating. Anymore. Current Mood: crushed
|Friday, December 2nd, 2005|
So much exciting news
We've had a lot of amazing things happen for us at Heroine Films this month. A lot of it do to support from this community and others. We've gathered support from a lot of different places but honestly, Livejournal has shown us the most amazing people.
So as for what's up: We have finally posted the interview that we did on the NC television show Second Cinema. You can watch it in at www.heroinefilms.net/scinterview.html
There is an article coming out about us in this months upcoming issue of CURVE Magazine. I believe it comes out on the 15th if you'd like to check it out. Also, MTV's new LGBTQ channel LOGO has put together a package for us for advertising purposes (we'll be showing our trailer to the over 13 million homes LOGO already goes to) and they are interested in buying the finished film. As I said in the last update, we also got a large portion of our funding from the production company AMVF.
Thank you so much to all of those who have supported us. It is all your continued letters, emails, comments, and donations that has made this possible. There is no way we can express how much it means to us.
xoxox, the gals at heroine films
|Monday, November 14th, 2005|
So... here's the deal. I'm doing this project in my Women's Studies class (Lesbian Cultures) on butch/femme identity and sterotypes within the gay girl community. I've been doing personal interviews for this project, but I had this idea today for an additional direction to take the project, for which I'll need a lot more quantitative data than what I'll be able to gather from interviews alone. Thusly, I've decided to do an informal internet poll to gather said data. If you're a lesbian/bisexual/pansexual/generally queer/gay girl of other (or no) label, please fill this out, and pimp it everywhere.
To fill out the poll, please go to this entry in my personal journal
. Thank you!
(apologies for crossposting)
It took me a week before I could make this entry. Let me begin by saying that, when I post in boisandfemmesinbed, it may not always be relavant to being femme or boi. But as I identify myself as androgynous, I feel like whether you are a boi or femme, u could just relate in some way to my life.
She was sitting and rocking on the cold November pavement. And I am the asshole rolling up in a nice warm vehicle, with a belly full of fast food, and quick whipsnaps of audacity to catagorize her as an S.O.R. upon arriving. ( In EMS, S.O.R. is a release for someone who doesnt want u to treat ot transport them to the hospital or who doe3snt need it.) It was a motel where crackheads and drunks congregate to continue to release themselves form the pain and responsibilities of life through self abuse. And as it turns out, once again, God wanted me to learn a valueable lesson about humanity. Even among the drunks and crackheads.
She rambled incoherently, and I turned to the officer taking the report. "Tell me what's going on?" He kept scribbling what the story was in his notepad of tragedy, seemingly uninterested, or maybe just seasoned and jaded against it. "She was having consensual sex, she started bleeding, the other subject fled the scene." He kept scribbling. Useless.
I turned the focus back on the patient. The "other subject".
The homeless person
The less fortunate
It was then I noticed for the first time she had dried(?) blood that had ran down both er trunk like legs. She had on a denim jumper, a polo shirt, and no jacket. It was probably 40 degrees. Her hair was matted, her face was tan with the dirt and chonic anxiety of the street life. She told HER story. Much more colorful than that of what came from the officer. Go figure.
She came from across the bridge in a neighboring city, where she had been on the streets, in the cold, for days. Her appearance gave way to the fact she had been on the street for years. She hadn't eaten in two days. And as she waddled down the way, exhausted and hungry, lo and behold, a good samaritan rode past, and came back to offer her a meal and shelter for the night across the river. Desperation sat her in his car and they rode into the night to the motel.
He didn't beat her. He didn't force hiself into her. He didn't even say, "put out or get out". But she was old, and tired, and female. Yes, she thought to herself, I've been in this place before. He made a move and she obliged, in fear he would return her to the street. "I was was just so cold and hungry" she said to me...
He began. And it hurt. And she asked him more than once to stop. And the only thing that made him stop was the sight of blood. He left. He left her there. He left her there to die.
What a fucking samaritan. What kind of sorry ass animal sees a 50 year old homeless downtrodden exhausted mental person in the street, and decides, Hey! Now there's an easy piece of ass!"???????
We picked her up, and asked her if she could walk to the stretcher. And she said she could. And my stupid ass let her. Of all the poeple that were in better shape than her that I moved onto a stretcher, she was the one I asked to walk. WHY? It still haunts me. And why would that haunt me?
Because when she stood to her feet, to walk 8 feet away, a blood clot the size of a 7 month gestated fetus fel to the ground out of her. We walked her over and I asked my partner if I should get that to put in a bio bag. There was no chance to do that, because the minute she got to the stretcher, she said she couldn't breathe and turned. Ash White. Grapsuing the handle and gasping for air. I dropped the stretcher and got her on, and watched the life leave her windburnt lips. I know I turned the same shad of pale because my partner told me to calm down.
In the truck I hooked her up to the oxygen in the nick of time. I treated her with the deepest compassion one could administer in a non personal situation. But I really can't think of many things more personal than being responsible for someone's life. I had to lift her gown and check for more trauma, of which there didn't appear to be. I asked her what had probably been asked by the cop, "Were you prostituting?" And she stuck to her original story. And I told her I believed her...and we all do what we have to do to get through this world. Because I DID believe her. Because we all do. Because it didn't matter if she was a pro or not, because I don't know this woman's story and I think every day if I hadn't found God, peace in Him, myself, and if NO ONE had ever given me a chance, where the hell would I be...maybe no one ever gave her a chance.
And womyn get the short end of the stick. So you will always fight twice as hard if you get a chance, for half the reward.
My partner decided to tech her, and I drove. Four whole miles to County hospital. And 2 miles in, we had to hit lights and sirens because she was fading away. I prayed the rest of the way for God to spare her and give her a break. I pray transporting a lot of my patients, although I wonder if I am the only EMT who does that.
When we took her in the ER, my partner gave a report, she was consicous, and the staff seeemed perturbed by her very existence. I waded in and out of the white light circus, listening for signs of inhumane treatment of her, knowing opening my mouth in her defense would cost me my job. Bad time of year to be out of work with a family....bad time of year to be down on your luck, a victim of attack, and not have anyone in your corner either...
I went outside to puke. The vomit never came further than my esophagus, and I reeled from the surrealism of the whole situation. She could have been anyone. Me, you, your mother, daughter, sister...and everyone but me and my partner treated her like shit. Now I had to wonder if the hospital was going to not let her hemmorhage to death, keep her overnight for 3 squares and a warm bed and bath, or stick a shelter number in her pocket and send her on her way. Please God, let it be "B".
One of my partners back at the station told me I probably treated that woman better in the 40 minutes I had her than she ever treated herself. As I sit here and choke back the tears, that doesn't make me feel any better. I still wonder about the clot on the ground that was left behind. She was too old for a miscarriage. I still wonder did they catch the asshole that took advantage of her, or if they even ever looked for him. I wonder about her and if she made it, or got help. I wonder if God put me here to be an EMT, was I meant to be the one to get her as a patient? I think I can rest easy on that and say yes. But then I question if God put me here, then am I doing the right thing saving people He is trying to call home? Current Mood: pensive
|Tuesday, November 8th, 2005|
|Sunday, October 30th, 2005|
Until The Day I Diiiiiieeeee.....
I'll spill my heart for yoooouuuu....
I drove home to arrive in my neighborhood to a fog settled across the area, not being able to see 5 feet in front of me. Did someone cut me across the forehead and open up my head? I was consumed by the thoughts that run through my head on the drive home after every 24 hour shift that I never have energy to get home and write about. But a refreshing night at Vacation Station rewards me with it now...
Can you be debriefed without a major incident first? Would it do me any good to tell another emt the same thing they already know and have shared at one time or another...that EMS gets inside you so deeply, that you can barely function at home? That as hard as you try to escape it ( or maybe you don't want to), that now your job has become your identity and outside of a pair of scissor strap pants, outside of a firehouse or ambulance, you feel like your existance isn't valid as when you are at work?
I always had an attraction to the scourge of humanity. It has always scared me and my family that if I am not BEING it, I am cleaning it up or helping it. I don't like referring to people who have issues "it". And am I really helping? Do I dare admit the self validation that comes from being in this industry? I will admit that I don't care for the fact that human life is an "industry". Oh yes, we all have a monetary value on our lives. Shame, really.
"I'm here to help you." I'm here to help myself. I'm here to make sure we can accomplish the basics on the way to the hospital or back to your home: your air goes in and out, your blood goes round and round. Any deviation of this is cause for alarm. I'm here to tell you everything is alright to those who need me/don't need me. I'm here 'cuz God put me back here...I promise ya that. I rob time and energy and moments from my own family to make sure you get to be with yours. And I wonder does my family argue with God about that.
I know when I leave you with your abusive husband and try to stand on my femininst soapbox to tell you if I can make it, so can you, that I will return here again for you to cry on my shoulder and refuse medical treatment. I know that when I take you out of a space we didn't think a long board could lay flat in because you are neglected by your family, I will have to come back and do it again next week. I know, that as many times as I take anyone with anything I have gone through myself, and try to inspire with my own "comebacks" from tragedy to get better or change their lives, that they will return for the same thing...over, and over again. And whethere there is one out of a hundred of those that successfully overcome their challenges, they shall never breathe my name or remember my overexhausted, wan face, that was offering my fortune cookie wisdom.
Do I have an infinity to wade knee deep in the blood and guts, because that big white box with those big red lights on the top of it comforts me with a false sense of security? Is reality at home that, my partner and I seem to only communicate when it's reviewing our transfers, and codes, and nuts, and idiots we encounter...and this may be the closest I get to a deep, meaningful relationship? Because I don't think any other womyn outside of this would understand. It's US And THEM...the rescuers, the defenders, and the protectors of the scourge, and the forgotten, and abused, and the sick. Police, Fire, EMS...huge organizations beyond what we can imagine but so many of US and not so many of THEM.
I went back to feed my soul, but I don't think I figured out what I was trying to nourish myself with. And as of lately, I feel more consumed than fed. Every mintue I am not there, I feel ike I was supposed to be there. When a full arrest goes out on the knockout, I am frustrated that it wasn't my squad. Then I have to remind myself when God wants it to be me to take it, He will send it to me. As of lately he wants to test my patience and empathy for the lonely. Calls that run lights and sirens and risk my life and my partner's life to get there for the simply lonely. If only we got paid by the " I just don't feel well" s. I think in class they should teach you that the difference between a REAL emergency and a medical transport is two words: WELL, and RIGHT. If a patient says, "I just don't feel RIGHT", it's usually time to haul ass. WELL has usually translated to "I am neglected by this care center/my family/the government powers that be and I want you to give me some of your attention." We thrive off the blood and guts, the self validation of rescue efforts, the martyrdom of suffering heat, cold, bad and unfinished food, and danger and the chance to share that experience with you for your appreciation and empathy...but, the not feeling WELL is part of my job too. I am grateful God put me back there. Now if He can just help me to continue my efficiency and dedication on that same level at home. AAAAAA MEEEENNNNN! Current Mood: pensive
|Thursday, October 27th, 2005|
Because we have gotten support from this community in the past I thought I would share our most recent news...
We have gotten a LARGE portion of our funding!!...more details (and how YOU can help) at www.heroinefilms.net
|Thursday, October 20th, 2005|
identities and ways of being
A friend mentioned to me tonight that he was working on a zine, and it's got me thinking. A zine seems like a reasonable project to take on once I have some free time. I think I would like to make one about my (fluid) gender identity, and perhaps sexual orientation/leanings. Then again, I don't really understand any of these things fully yet. The only thing I know for sure is that I don't like having stubble on any part of my body, I don't like shaving my legs, and I can't stand having my hair fall near my eyes or around my neck. And that I like having well manicured nails, but I can't usually keep them that way for very long. And that mostly I identify strongly as a woman, except when I'm looking at or reading porn, in which case I usually place myself as a heterosexual man. And I mostly identify as queer, and don't believe in male/female, gay/straight dichotomies, but sometimes I despair about men and wonder if I am lesbian, and occasionally I will also identify myself as a versa-bottom. And sometimes I get boy-crazy. And I tend to really enjoy the process of presenting myself as a drag queen or a high femme, but only on some days does it really feel right. Although I tend to also feel strongly about drag-kinging, it doesn't feel like such an explicit or bold statement of who I am, and, much like nylons and bra straps, underwear-stuffing tends to slip around annoyingly. Then, other days, I just feel really dykey. Which honestly, doesn't get me very far. Or maybe it gets me very far indeed. We'll see.
|Wednesday, September 28th, 2005|
Hello everyone, my name is Dee and I'm 23 years old from Miami FL
I work full time and also attend FIU - majoring in Psychology and minoring in Criminology. How I identify? Well for a long time I thought that things boiled down to two identities, butch and femme. However, once I was introduced to this lifestyles I quickly came to realize that I didn't fit the butch title. At first, mostly due to my hair - yes I once believe it had to do with that! lol, finally I'm becoming more comfortable in simply accepting myself as the boi I am. The more I learn about titles the more confused I get.
Anyway, I'm happy to have joined the community and hope to get to know everyone here.
( My picsCollapse )
Current Mood: Chillin
|Tuesday, September 27th, 2005|
SORRY IF THIS ISN'T ALLOWED.
I made a community! 'Sydney Gay and Lesbian Mardi-Gras Community'http://www.livejournal.com/community/aus_mardigras/
It's for everyone to join, i'm still in the process of making it pretty and making banners and i need some help because i'm terrible with HTML'
If you're interested please join, i get the feeling it's destined for great things!
X posted everywhere possible!
|Monday, September 26th, 2005|
|Saturday, September 24th, 2005|
I just found this community - and had to join. I'm totally a femme with a soft spot for my bois! Looking forward to having a good time here... Current Mood: giggly
|Wednesday, September 21st, 2005|
|Sunday, September 18th, 2005|
hey everybody, I am a 21 year old femme boy who loves to feel and act and dress feminine. It is hard for me to express this side of me in public so I do it often in private. I only have a few friends who know about this, so this also makes things difficult. I dressed up a few weeks ago with a friend, what do you all think??http://community.webshots.com/user/aznboy3
|Saturday, September 17th, 2005|
17 year old male, having strong feelings of wanting to become a male. I feel so left out though from the norm because I didn't have these feelings when I was a young girl. My family has no idea that I'm feeling this way, and ever since I came out to them about me being a lesbian, I don't think they need to know now because that news cause enough drama as is. Anyway, go to my profile for more... Current Mood: calm
|Saturday, August 27th, 2005|
|Sunday, August 14th, 2005|
call for submissions(extended deadline)--please distribute widely
CALL FOR SUBMISSIONS!
PLEASE DISTRIBUTE WIDELY!
Tell us what’s important to your femme cultural heritage.
The Vancouver Femme Affinity Group
is putting together volume 3 of our humble zine. We’re looking for submissions of all types on the theme of femme culture and inspiration.
The zine is open to whomever would like to contribute. Femmes from all backgrounds and experiences. Anyone who identifies as femme or feels that femmes have had an impact on their life, or just feels that have something to say about the topic of femme.
For more info or to send submissions please contact:
misslollygag AT gmail DOT com
dramatique AT gmail DOT com
glittermary AT shaw DOT ca (or to order zines 1 & 2)
Deadline for submissions:
September 1st , 2005
All successful contributors will receive a copy of the zine.
CROSSPOSTED EVERYWHERE I CAN THINK OF, SORRY. PLEASE FEEL FREE TO POST IT ANYWHERE I MISSED!(i honestly tried to check the user info everywhere i posted this. if i missed something, and this is innapropriate, please feel free to delete it.)
|Friday, July 22nd, 2005|
Now i will be addicted to posting pics on here....it will be like S tv....All Starsuckah , all the time! These are from pride and my vacation a couple weeks ago. If they didnt make it in here, check my personal journal to see 'em. Current Mood: blah
|Thursday, July 21st, 2005|
Help! I finally got pics on photobucket now I can't figure out how to export them to here. In the meantime u can check out muh ugly mug at that site and my album is under StarSuckah. Thanks :D Current Mood: confused