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A few sentences away from finishing my Uma paper, I've decided to stop and begin my wmst research instead, seeing as how I have to present on that shit tomorrow. Still don't know actually what my point is, and approaching the point that I'm not even sure I care. Well, that's not true, it's in my nature to care about my work even when I deny that. But I am kind of fed up.
I had one of those phone conversations with my mom just now. At some point she was oh-so-tactfully reminding me that I'm female, that I will always be female, that my body is female...She said, 'You have a big round ass, you've got all the things going for you to be a really beautiful woman, why would you want to change it to be some lame version of a man?" There, you can put that in your zine, she said, which was funny. But shit. Just because you're not comfortable with aspects of your body you want to turn into a fat bald man? You're going to be just like Daddy. Etc.
It's always a strange mixture of digging in, and reeling. Digging in, sensing who I'm becoming and trying to convey that to her. Reeling, sensing the true fear of not knowing what I'm becoming and its social ramifications, its familial repercussions.
Fuck.
Well, the peaty scotch I got isn't as bad as I thought it would be. Time to do research.
ETA: holy shit, I have 9 books to comb through, plus readings from class! Of course there may not be much that's pertinent and/or solid enough for me to build an argument from, but still. I get to read about leather and dykes and class, woo!
Also I really want to get stoned but I'm not sure if that would help or hinder my research.
I had one of those phone conversations with my mom just now. At some point she was oh-so-tactfully reminding me that I'm female, that I will always be female, that my body is female...She said, 'You have a big round ass, you've got all the things going for you to be a really beautiful woman, why would you want to change it to be some lame version of a man?" There, you can put that in your zine, she said, which was funny. But shit. Just because you're not comfortable with aspects of your body you want to turn into a fat bald man? You're going to be just like Daddy. Etc.
It's always a strange mixture of digging in, and reeling. Digging in, sensing who I'm becoming and trying to convey that to her. Reeling, sensing the true fear of not knowing what I'm becoming and its social ramifications, its familial repercussions.
Fuck.
Well, the peaty scotch I got isn't as bad as I thought it would be. Time to do research.
ETA: holy shit, I have 9 books to comb through, plus readings from class! Of course there may not be much that's pertinent and/or solid enough for me to build an argument from, but still. I get to read about leather and dykes and class, woo!
Also I really want to get stoned but I'm not sure if that would help or hinder my research.
