#and i remember back in school the religion study teacher says we go to hell if we dont get married which is honestly so fucked

[languri]

Living in a conservative country, I personally find that saying that I am a lesbian to people (that I find to be open minded and safe to come out to) is much much easier than explaining to them that I am aro because I never have to deal with people trying to justify that I like girls when I say I am a lesbian but the moment I say "I'm aro I'm not interested in dating nor romance", the reaction is always, ALWAYS them saying that I haven't find the right person yet and I will change my mind the moment I fall in love 🙄

[d3nt4l-d4m4g3]

More Academic Bullshittery,

Had to give a presentation in religion. It was on the historian Caroline Walker Bynum's Holy Feast and Holy Fast, which is a history of European women's spirituality in the middle ages, especially concerning the symbol of food. Bynum notices that women have distinct patterns in their spiritualities. for example, men often had "revelations" that led them to the religious life later on, while women's spirituality often grew steadily from childhood onward. Women were more likely to see themselves and men as a human whole, and men were likely to incorporate "dualism"— that male and female are opposite and complementary, that male is to female as spirit is to flesh.

These revelations are pretty crazy and backed up by a dense wealth of sources. Naturally, I tied them to radical feminism. Naturally bc 1. I'm studying radfem anyway and 2. Bynum's contemporaries, whom she often cites, are also radical feminists. Having a radfem background contextualizes the book In the time it was written as well as the historical period it focuses on.

There's this woman in my class who really I want to like. It's a constant disappointment to me that I can't stomach bullshit the way I used to. She's a "gender studies" major.

She tells me, "One critique of Bynum's work is that she uses an essentialist idea of what men and women are."

Great start. I said, "Yeah, Bynum's work is based on the theory that our bodies produce our realities, and men's and women's bodies are qualitatively different from each other, so, it's natural that they would produce different realities. But two of those realities are distinct. Right? and so they produce two distinct general realities."

She said, " But actually, there are 63 separate human sexes. There have been studies. scientific studies."

I said, "I disagree with you."

She said, "It's not something you can exactly "disagree with." It's a scientific study. they found—so far!!—at least 63 different variations on human hormone cycles."

me: "Yes, all materialities, the variables of which are infinite, produce different realities".

What I should have said here is that despite this being the case, there are still two different sets of sex characteristics, and in intersex people these characteristics are merely a mix of the two. I didn't say that. I sputtered. How the hell was I gonna continue my presentation about the difference between male and female spiritualities when I couldn't get anyone to acknowledge sex in the first place?

The woman left the class (my teacher had informally excused us.) Only four people continued the discussion, all female. We actually had a great discussion about the relationship between fasting, anorexia, and spirituality, and about how Jesus was female (being created of mary's flesh alone), and how female spiritual spaces were essential to creating female spirituality. Another woman who had read the book all the way through brought up the same fascinations and revelations that I had. I remembered, "Yes. this makes sense to both of us because we are women. I am not strange. I am one of many."

I was relieved that the conversation was going smoothly again, despite being on thin ice. My teacher, who was mostly a bystander due to her poor internet, said, "I'm amazed and really surprised at how personal you took this book. it really seemed to resonate with you.

And another girl in my class, a she/they, said, "Well, this class itself... and this group in particular (she meant the four women and my female professor who were participating in the conversation) are all AFAB and I've noticed that the discussion and class is completely different. And refreshing. That's so interesting."

Another girl said, "even at this (liberal arts) college, we mostly have to read...male writers. I'm bored. why aren't we reading more women along this line? This is amazing!"

Why? To me, it's clear. Women along these lines are radical feminists. Female historians were feminists, and feminists at that time were radical, who fundamentally believed in sex as the root of oppression. But radical feminist literature is not allowed to be taught in schools, even gender studies courses, in order, allegedly, to preserve the "safety" of trans students. And all it does is uphold a patriarchal education, which men love.

[d-liria]

My witchcraft book got taken by a priest, you better believe this

When I was around 12 I found a very interesting purple book in our home library. I can't remember the exact name of it, but the word "witchcraft" was definitely there.

Now, this book was not about actual witchcraft. It did not contain any detail about how to practice, no spell, nothing of the sort. It was more like a history of witchcraft. I remember a part where the writer was speculating about how, at some point, a caveman must have noticed some strange patterns in the smoke while sitting next to the fire. He/ she interpreted those patterns as someting supernatural. And that was probably the first witch.

It also explained stuff like how did witches come to have such a negative image over time.

All in all, the writer was NOT a witch and did NOT believe in witchcraft.

I loved that book. It got me interested in history, but not just history in general, more like anthropologie. Also, ot kind of introduced me witchcraft, which was very, very intriguing. I carried that book with me everywhere, even to school.

Now, you should know that in Romania we learn religion in school, up until we finish highschool. And when I say "religion" I don't mean some cool class where we study the philosophy of religion and other interesting stuff like that. No. It's what would be called "Bible study" in the US. Our teacher was an actual priest. In all honesty, he was a really great guy, very kind and very good hearted. And he was very, very, very adamant in his faith. I mean, he REALLY loved God.

So here I am, in religion class, and there's this boy who thinks it would be fun to tell mister priest-man about my super evil, satan worshiping, orgy loving book. THE BOOK was in my backpack, not even on my desk or anything. It had no impact on that class. But what does mister priest-man do? He goes all coo-coo. And let me make myself clear, he had never before yelled in class. Now he was all red. He kept telling me about how evil that book was and other things I won't bother to write here. Then he took my book. Presumably to it's destruction, since I never saw it again after that day.

I mean what the hell??? If I could go back in time I would punch that boy right in his stupid face. I was too shy and introverted to do it at the time so, sadly, I acted cool and pretended like it didn't really matter. But it did. It really did...

To this day I periodically remember that purple book and imagine it being burnt by the priest like some poor witch being burnt at the stake. And, like in the cases of many of those women, there wasn't even real witchcraft to speak of.

[spectrumed]

5. sleep

It hardly gets dark in the Swedish summers. Between dusk to dawn, you’ve got about an hour to fall asleep before the sun rises again. If you struggle to fall asleep that fast, you can invest in some good window blinds. Or you can do as I do and place one big pillow over your face. Then the birds start singing around three o’clock in the morning. You can practically hear the sounds of Edvard Grieg’s Morning Mood playing at around four o’clock in the morning. Around five o’clock in the morning, it is as bright as midday. Did you have a good time sleeping? Or did you pace around in a circle having one hell of a panic attack? I thought you took some of those sleeping pills you got prescribed, they should have helped you fall asleep… wait, you did take them? They didn’t work? Oh, they did work, you just felt your body falling asleep while your mind stayed awake? That sounds terrible, real terrible. Very well. It’s morning now. Want some coffee?

You could form a religion out of sleeping. Let’s have sermons where we fill a whole auditorium full of beds and have our congregates take a big collective nap. Sleep for the sleep god! Pillows for the pillow throne! Sleep is a billion-dollar industry, there’s a plethora of handy products you can buy that promise to send you on a luxury liner to dreamland. Pills, mattresses, dreamcatchers, whatever your snoozy heart desires. You can go to a proper doctor and they might help you, or you can settle for the placebo effect and go to some fraudulent quack, instead. He might make you swallow some pills that contain arsenic, but hey, arsenic is a naturally occurring element. It can’t be all that bad for you if it is natural. And you do want to sleep, don’t you? If you take this pill in your mouth and swallow it with a glass of water, I promise you, you will sleep for a very long time.

The esteemed former president of the United States of America, Donald Trump, claims that he only needs four to five hours of sleep every night. While Mr. Trump is well-known to be a paragon of honesty, I do doubt he’s telling the truth. No, I actually do believe him when says that he only gets about four or five hours of sleep each night, I just don’t believe him when he says that is all he needs. He doesn’t look very well-rested, does he? And Margaret Thatcher, the similarly adored former prime minister of the United Kingdom, claimed that she also only needed about four hours of sleep every night. Yes, while researching the sleeping habits of famous monsters, I’ve come to the conclusion that amongst powerful individuals, not getting enough sleep has become a proper badge of honour. The belief is that if you don’t get enough sleep, that must be because you are living such a vibrantly successful life, and are so career-driven, that you simply haven’t got enough time to sleep for the full eight hours. People who sleep for more than four hours are lazy liberals. Go-getters like Trump has got to be out there, working, making decisions, raping women, and showing daddy what a good boy he is. Sleep is for the weak. But maybe I am weak. I sure like sleeping.

It’s the cultural hangover our society has had since the 80’s. Back when the yuppies wearing jackets with obscenely padded shoulders would happily chuck down eight to ten espressos in one go while A Flock of Seagulls was playing on the radio encouraging everyone to go running. And to be fair to them, with the constant fear of the doomsday clock hitting midnight, they really had no reason to think that they’d survive the decade. The new millennia, it seemed, would have no cities, no nature, no humans, only radiated mutants scouring the rubble that remains of civilization for cans of preserved something edible. Self-destructive behaviour was in. It was fashionable. Doubt people got enough sleep back then, between snorting coke and wondering if the next pandemic that hits the night clubs would start killing as many straight folks as gay folks. Well, here we are in the new 20’s, and we’ve got a pandemic that does appear to kill people regardless of sexual orientation. Sure, the looming threat of nuclear obliteration has been lessened dramatically, but we’ve largely come to exchange that anxiety for the fear of total environmental collapse, instead. No wonder 80’s nostalgia is a big thing right now. History doesn't repeat itself, but It often rhymes, said Mark Twain (supposedly.) I wonder how much coke Mark Twain would snort if he lived in the 80’s.

I notice a palpable difference in my mood and mental state when I’ve been getting good amounts of sleep. Lack of sleep results in lack of clear thinking. Caffeine, though it is something I am chronically addicted to, does not help fix a sleep-deprived mind. There are no tricks of revolutionary “life hacks” one can employ to get out of sleeping. To recover from depression, one has to sleep. Sleep often and sleep well. I cannot understate the importance of being well-rested. You cannot process information if you are tired. I am reminded of my teenage years seeing friends of mine who’d stay up all night, then come into school shuffling like agonised zombies. They got so frustrated when the teachers reprimanded them for snoozing in class. Well, dummies, it is your fault for drinking several dozen cans of Red Bull every day! I know that sleep does not always come easy. I know the terror of insomnia. But, c’mon! At some point, you’ve got to realise that sleep is essential. Maybe most of your problems stem from the fact that you refuse to get enough of it? Here’s where the tough love comes in. If you wanna get better, kiddo, then listen to me. It’s bedtime. Yes, I know you’d rather stay up late playing monopoly with your friends, but I’m confiscating your dice and I’ll only give it back to you when you’ve gotten some good sleep. Okay? You hear me, missy? You listen to your daddy now, and go to bed. No ifs or buts about it, princess, I’ve made myself clear. I know what is best for you, and you know that I am right. I’m your daddy.

But what if I can’t seem to fall asleep? Normally, it takes a long time for me to fall asleep. It is not uncommon for me to stay awake for two hours, maybe more, before I finally begin to sleep. Fearing that I won’t fall asleep gives me anxiety. That anxiety keeps me awake. I turn my body. I try lying on my side. First my left side, then my right side. I then try to lie on my back. I’ve got a song stuck playing in my head. Not even the whole song, just a ten-second segment of it. It’s playing over and over. I’m worried about the future, will I ever find security, will I ever find a wife, will I get to grow old? I worry about death. I keep hearing the music playing, it’s grating. I rearrange the pillows, in hopes that will make me feel more comfortable. But no, I keep tossing and turning like a fish caught on land. I’m getting frustrated. If only I could shut off my brain. I’m constantly thinking. I turn to my side again, but now I notice I’ve moved arounds so much that now the bed has shifted away from its position next to the wall. There’s now a gap between the bed and the wall. I almost fall down that gap. I get up and I push the bed back against the wall. I lay down in bed. The song is still playing.

How am I ever going to become a successful businessman if I am wasting so many hours just trying to get to sleep? This is the time I should be spending on the phone, yelling at people and making inappropriate sexual comments to my female employees. That is what good executives do. I need to get my life in order. I need to exercise more. I should practice mindfulness. I should get a life coach, a personal trainer, a stylist, an accountant, an assistant, a trophy wife, and a mistress. I need people in my life to take care of me. It’s funny how rich people create the sort of environment around them where people will take care of all their needs, effectively infantilising them. These people don’t even get to decide how to dress themselves. They’ve got fancy apartments, but they don’t choose any of the furniture. They’ve got art on the walls that they don’t like, but the art looks expensive, and that is all that matters. They’ve got kids, but they don’t raise them. Their spouses are cheating on them, but in fairness, they are cheating on their spouses. They don’t really even know what their jobs entails, as they’ve gotten promoted so many times that they’ve ended up in a position that is totally outside their realm of expertise. But they’re so powerful that no-one is able to fire them over their pretty blatant incompetence. They’re successful. They’ve made it. But they still can’t sleep at night. They only manage to successfully fall asleep at night after swallowing a fistful of pills along with a swig of vodka.

It must be easy being a self-help guru. Well, what I mean to say is that all you really need is charisma, which is something you need to be born with. But you don’t need to do any actual studying, any real research, or any kind of soul-searching or deliberation. All you need is to state what is obvious. You go on stage in front of an anxious audience, mostly composed of middle-class salesmen and miscellaneous white collar ghosts. You smile, show off your eerily bright teeth, and they clap. You tell them to go take care of themselves, to eat more healthily, to take walks, or go swimming, and love their partners. You tell them to drink less, or maybe, if they feel like it, they could drink more. I am sure you could spin alcohol as a positive or a negative, depending on what crowd you’re talking to. Tell them to appreciate family. Tell them to appreciate others. Live, laugh, but most of all, love. Tell them to go clean their rooms. Tell them to remember that if they’re on an airplane that is about to crash land, they need to put their own oxygen mask on before they can help others put theirs on. If you don’t love yourself, how in the hell you gonna love somebody else? Now, go to bed!

You know all this stuff. Me telling you that you should sleep more doesn’t really help you. You know that you should sleep more. It’s not like as if you’re too dumb to realise that. And it’s not like as if you’re too dumb to realise that it is better to drink in moderation, and that you should smoke less weed. There are many small little things you can do to improve your life, to stop being a terminally unemployed slacker. It’s like your grandpa who tells you stories about life after the war when you could walk into the biggest building in town, slam your fist against the table and demand to be given a job and a house and a wife and a couple of kids, and that was all you needed to do. He can’t comprehend the fact that society doesn’t work like that, any more. Most people my generation have given up hope of ever owning a home, at least if they happen to live in the vicinity of a larger city. It seems that, no matter where you live, the cost of homes has risen to an impenetrable degree. It seems just as likely that you will be able to afford your very own genetically-engineered pet dragon before you will get to be a house-owner. It’s the fault of those damn boomers, why bother changing your ways, when the boomers are still in charge? Others may accuse you of wallowing in your own depression, but you are perfectly aware that this is exactly what you are doing. You are self-aware. But self-awareness on its own is not enough to motivate anyone. You still can’t see the point in doing anything constructive with your life. Life just feels so aimless. It’s easier to sit, smoke weed, and watch cartoons.

Pop psychology is problematic. To say the least. Take all those self-help gurus suffering from their messiah complexes and put them through the shredder. Don’t buy books thinking that they’ll offer you the kind of treatment you would get from an actual psychiatrist. I know that, depending on where you are in the world, treatment can get very expensive, but you’re not going to get better reading the book of some self-aggrandising narcissist’s collection of wishy-washy platitudes. Dr. Phil has done great evil pretending to be a therapist on the TV, and Jordan Peterson (despite having once been an esteemed scholar) has turned a generation of young internet-savvy zoomers into proto-fascists obsessed with the monogamy of lobsters. Pop psychology has become a guise for cult leaders to reap new followers. Getting treatment should not feel like joining a new religious movement. Maybe I’m just one of those annoying atheists, but I dare say, psychiatry works at its best when it's secular. You should not look at your psychiatrist as a prophet speaking to God. They’re just a doctor, and you need treatment.

I do not aspire to create a self-help blog. I do not promise that reading this blog will help you in any way. I would be overjoyed if someone came up to me and told me that I had inspired them to seek help. You may tell me that reading my words have made you feel less alone, knowing that others have gone through all these things that you are going through. When I felt at my worst, I remember reading the memoirs of people I admired who had similarly struggled in their lives, and I felt less alone. But none of those books pretended to exist principally to help others. Those books did help me, through the candid descriptions of struggles that I thought I was alone in experiencing. Knowing that some people had pulled through, managed to find a light at the end of the tunnel, it made me think I could one day be like them. The books didn’t seek to fix me, but they offered me a perspective that came to be very valuable later on, when I started going to therapy, and when I later started taking medication. Sometimes that is all you need. Not someone standing over you and telling you to go to bed, or to clean your room, or to stop drinking. You know all that, already. What you really need is the reassurance that things can indeed get better. Sleep will come.

[rae-arts777]

I want to talk about my religious trauma

I just want to tell my story, I know mine is minor, I know there’s worst out there, but I’m hoping maybe mine cause reach out to anyone experiencing the same so they feel less alone

Let’s start way back

Edit: (sorry I should have put this earlier) TW: slight sexual assault, self harm, suicide mention

Growing up a christian adventist, I knew Friday night to Saturday was worship. No electronics or TV unless it was veggie tales, or a Bible cartoon, and church Saturday.

Of course I acted out a bit, and would get scolded for not staying still. My mother however wasn’t upset at me for ruining church, just upset I wasn’t behaving and granted don’t blame her cause I was a brat lol. I would get in more trouble if I went with my grandma. I was “disrespecting the lord in his house” and well...I mean it’s hard for a child to sit still for 8 hours wearing a dress and shoes that made me itchy and gave me blisters

Now church was fun in some sense. Got to see my friends, food after services, I loved being able to help in the kitchen and help the elders as well.

Good right?

Well...as a child, we think what we know if right. I thought the way we had church was common to everyone. When I started school, it was different for me. I asked “why do my friends go to church on Sunday?” My grandma told me “they just don’t know the proper way, it’s your duty to tell them”

I remember...being really horrible towards a kid who’s family was an atheist. We were still friends, but I will tell him “you’re trusting the devil”. My words never seem to hurt him since he laughed them off, but I never stopped...I look back and have so much guilt. So much guilt towards others too since I tried to tell them church was Saturday’s, and going on Sunday was wrong. I think about how horrible I was, cause my religion never taught me to be accepting to others beliefs, it taught me that it’s my duty to turn others to the right way. And that makes me upset. If my religion was the religion of “accepting everyone no matter what” then why is every one else’s religion the work of the devil? And why are baptism, also who was Christians, deem “evil” like Catholics in our religion.

Middle school. I started attending the church school. Hell

I didn’t like our new pastor, something about the way he said things just...didn’t stick. His kids were a nightmare. They torment everyone. Got teachers fired they didn’t like. And went crying to their parents if they didn’t get their way. No they were not toddlers. They were teens. One got in between my old best friend and I, and since then her and I were never the same.

Because I liked art and anime...I was the weird kid, so they constantly picked on me. Pastor kids telling me certain kids here didn’t deserve to be made by god. That god made a mistake. I told them to stop, but they would go “you just don’t know. It’s hard for us!!! We don’t mean what we say!” And looking and writing this now, that was the first gaslighting and toxic friendships I experience.

It made me more mad the pastor told the whole church that his kids were perfect children. And they set an example of how all the kids in the church could act. That pastor family was just horrible. Lies, manipulation, just rude. He would make side remarks about my mum’s blonde dye hair. He would say something to my mum if I wore pants or a leather jacket to church. Just the way he said things, made my mum feel like she was a horrible parent. They made side comments when my dad would finally show up.

“I’m sorry my dad wasn’t constantly gone, he’s was too busy fighting for our country.” Is what they would want us to say.

Church become a chore. Not a joy. And when we got a new pastor, one I started to connect with, we moved away and in with my grandma

Now highschool. This is where I started drifting away from religion. I love my grandma..I really do ...but she’s so extreme. The Bible this. The Bible that. I can’t have a normal conversation without her being up the Bible. Can’t watch a movie, show, or listen to music that’s not Christian without her bringing up the Bible or turning it into a Bible lesson. I hated going to church. I hated hearing “repent. The world is ending soon”

Hearing constant that our young generation is filled with the devil, feeling all the eyes of the elders on me as I’m trying to comfort someone’s child so they can enjoy church peacefully

Hearing anyone experiencing love towards the same gender is the devil’s working

That everything I like is filled with the devil

My grandma start forcing religion worst and worst down my throat. Saying I have to be prepare. I need to make my choice. Don’t I want to be in heaven with everyone? I need to give myself to god

I won’t see my family members who passed away Catholic.

That I need to tell my other side of the family who’s Catholic the right way

The news comes on....hearing the Bible says this the Bible says that

Trying to defend trump with the Bible

This pandemic is the first plague, the world will end soon

The studies getting more and more. I can’t even read the Bible just to study out of joy cause I feel like someone is breathing down my neck.

I’m getting a headache just thinking about it.

And then I’m introduce the rotten apples of my religion.

We shouldn’t wear mask it’s God’s air

Only having faith is god will keep you from getting sick and heal you

Ever remember of LGBT is going to hell

Woman who abortion are going to hell

People will tattoos go to hell

People who don’t read the Bible everyday are going to hell

People who want to make this religion more open and accepting, are hearing the devil and are going to hell

People who kill themselves are going to hell

Mental illness isn’t real; it’s just the devil and you just have to be happy cause you have god.

I told my mom I can’t do it anymore, I just can’t, it’s more forced down on me too much. If the world is ending what’s the point? What’s the point of college? What’s the point of life? What’s the point of looking for love?! Cause I’ve been told so many times my own children won’t ever get to adult or teen hood cause the world will end! What’s the point. I’m so grateful to have a mother who understands..

And it pisses me out with these Christian movies. A boy is about to kill himself, and is getting told “you’ll go to hell! You really want that?! To go to hell?!” Why are you showing this?! That’s a last thing a suicidal person needs to hear. They don’t need a fucking Bible lesson, they need comfort!!! As a person who’s tried drowning, choking, and harming themselves, I fucking know I wouldn’t want someone to find me and say “you’re going to hell for that!”

And then you have those horrible people who think just cause they are religious that it gives them a right to be a shitty person. My grandma would fucking forgive a murder if they came out as Christian.

I told my grandma once “I do want to be more involved with the church, I want to give a sermon” and she told me “you can give a small one, not a full one, god did not use women to preach, he used men. I rather you do the children’s story”

.......

The Vice President...some Christians hate her cause “god didn’t intend for women to lead, if he did his apostles would have been women”

my grandma says “she slept her way to the top!” But oh! She didn’t mind if trump, a man who’s assaulted god knows how many women was in office...

Forgive everyone....you’re suppose to forgive abusers..my bullies....I was told to forgive them even if they never said sorry..cause god wants us to forgive

I allowed..a boy to convince me to do things...cause men always knew what was right...it was ok as long as we didn’t have sex...and it was ok...cause he was a Christian boy...

I just try to be a good human...I have sickenly forgave so many people who’ve hurt me....and now...I’m the pushover...

But what I did was wrong...

I’ve just....drifted away slowly...my grandma has sort of stop trying, maybe cause I’m an adult so I can make my own choices..maybe my mum told her something...

But the things she says makes me feel ashame for being Christian....

For the longest time I thought we were perfect people...now that I’m older...I see we’re just as bad..if not worst...

It makes me so sick...just thinking..how I forgave people who HURT ME cause ...if I can’t forgive, then God doesnt want me.

If god really wants all of his “children” then why if it when we says “I don’t want to forgive the person who gave me this trauma” then it’s “i forgave you why can’t you forgive them? It’s so simple, you really can’t do something that simple? Guess you don’t want to go to heaven”

I’m so done

I’m so tired..

I have a headache and started crying a bit while writing this and there’s so much more. But my wrist hurts and just...I want to scream.

But for the majority...that’s my religious trauma.

I’m not hoping to gain anything, just to reach to anyone else who’s going through the same emotions...you’re not alone ok?

[be-ca-lm]

pls ignore just gotta get thoughts out of my brain

tw rape and sexual assault ok so i think it started very young when i couldn’t understand why the hell boys and men seemed more important to god and that god was always presented male - i was very young, like elementary aged when i reasoned: he made us in his own image, in order to create female he has to BE equally female, he has to have female image. i was told no no that is wrong and bad and heresy.

then i ALWAYS chafed at the idea of women being helpmeets to men, created as servants to them, their sole reason for existing being in service to better, stronger, smarter males (who cause all the problems like wtf) and that doesn’t seem right or just. the garden was perfect the world god created was perfect so why create anything as lesser than? do you hate women? but men came first - then woman to help, woman as decoration, as slave, as child bearer, as comforter, as mother, as scapegoat. woman as weaker. she fell for temptation in the garden, where was adam? See? Women are stupid, need protecting, incapable of rational thought, logic, reason. look how gullible. look how dangerous to be left unsupervised. all of humanity condemned to fiery torment because of woman. no responsibility of man. hate woman, blame woman, hurt woman, you have every justification to do so. she is trapped, hobbled, shackled, tied to you for her protection, existence, safety. she is prize, she is bounty, she is spoils of war. daughters are property. a woman who does not produce children is worthless, sons are currency for power, social capital, strength. daughters serve you. woman is there as punching bag, as masturbatory relief, as house slave, as decoration, worthless but worth stealing, dirty but rapeable, stupid but cunning, pure but deceptive, ruined but redeemable through birthing. a portal, a tool, woman as commodity, woman as vehicle of corruption and vehicle of salvation, simultaneously and never, all at once and at the same time, wretched and woman. not equal to, but a compliment. a complement. you are no equal to god’s masterpiece, the man. do not kid yourself.

god’s grand plan! look at his design. how perfect. how freeing. how it was meant to be. he created woman who would ruin it, but he is not to blame, it is his creation’s fault, but not the man who he likes better, no not his fault. she is saved through childbirth? she is worthy as ALWAYS depending on her proximity to a MAN to a husband father brother rapist captor buyer slaver son stoner judge jury executioner savior.

so why? why condemn me to this torturous existence, why give me the capacity to KNOW that I am intended to be Less Than, that I am the Weaker Vessel, that I am Not A Man but give me no comfort in that, no recourse, no ability to appeal this existence. Make me a man! I could do so much more for you! I could do your pillaging and raping, I could do your genocide, I could carry out your orders, sacrifice my children, I could spread your Gospel and praise your name, I could earn my place in your heaven by your side because you commanded that I Love You, I could invade your earth, slaughter your animals, impregnate your weaker washy women and fulfill your great commission, i could be the mulitiplier, the glorifier, the pastor preacher whitewasher brainwasher tombfiller father soldier conqueror profiteer leader ruler dictator sin hater. PICK ME CHOOSE ME all I wanted was to be LOVED by you to be told WELL DONE MY GOOD AND FAITHFUL SERVANT am i not enough for you and since i so clearly am not, why did you create me this way. 

find peace in your role. you have purpose. then why does that not feel natural as young as five years old? at 10? at 14? at 18? at 27? at 33? jesus knows your sorrows he knows you- JESUS CANNOT RELATE TO ME. he was born a man. he was not asked to make himself small. he submitted to dying. no one asked me if i wanted to volunteer. could i come back a man? I do not want to be a man. I want to be a woman in an existence where that is not automatically a Bad Thing, automatically a disadvantage. I am born guilty of the fall of humanity on my shoulders and told my shoulders can never be strong enough to carry that weight. a man will save me. be submissive. men are leaders, you are not naturally a leader. 

men are logical. they can compartmentalize. women are emotional. they cannot compartmentalize, they are ruled by their emotions. men are waffles. women are spaghetti. men are from mars. women are from venus. pop psychology will explain why men are Better. they are better at math, geometry, women cannot visualize things in their brains like that. women are not good engineers. women are soft and kind and nurturing. THIS IS WHAT WAS TOLD TO MY FACE AS A CHILD. i nodded. ok this must be so, i do not see it, it is not true for me, it is not true of any of the women i know, but my dad is saying this IT MUST BE TRUE. how does he know how my brain is wired? 

an escape. i learned about biblical singleness. i do not have to marry, i do not have to trade one household bondage for another, one male protector for a new one. i have an option? I can be single, nay, a single MISSIONARY. i can escape america, the bible belt, i can really and truly help people. i can share my burdens with them so i do not have to carry them alone. it will please god. it will make up for my being born a useless woman. if i do not marry, i do not have to submit to a man. i can be free. i can find some type of comfort in this lifetime.

somewhere along the way, i put aside my ever-growing frustrations toward the treatment of women and the hypocrisy. husbands lead the wife, they are the Head of the Household. I never saw that enacted. Pastor’s wives planned events, spoke at bible studies, sat on committees - it was limited to women only events, yes, but they led? they spoke? they taught and preached and sang and witnessed? the cognitive dissonance was too much. they budgeted, they shopped, they wore clothes i wasn’t allowed to, they were showy. but not allowed to speak in church, not allowed to preach, to pastor, to shepherd. they could mentor. Oh! Perfect. call it a different name and then you can do it. You’re not a pastor, a mentor. Not a preacher, a Bible teacher. The pastor husbands walked around domineering their families and making all the decisions? No - their families would have imploded. They preached submission but in function they were a team. everyone’s parents were. so i guess we can get away with it, and that makes it ok. label it differently and suddenly the bible has nothing to say on that particular matter. they are playing theological gymnastics, but if they can, i can too. i can sleep at night now, i do not have to be angry at god. i can ignore it.

A thought. I believe it grew in the garden of my own mind, but it’s possible a wayward seed blew in from elsewhere but I don’t remember. I was all-in, I silenced my doubts, I screwed my courage to the sticking place, I said yes I believe this, yes I am a dirty sinner, yes I do not deserve grace or mercy or forgiveness, yes I believe that god can give me that anyway in return for my life, my love, my thoughts, my actions, my deeds, my affiliations, my comfort, my pride, my complete and total surrender of my Self, my personality, my person, my autonomy, my desires, my entire existence. I was fervent. I learned the most, I delved in deep, it was theology, soteriology, epistemology, apologetics, baptisms and trinities and divine mysteries. i knew nothing of secular science, i learned nothing of sex. I knew dead men - Calvin, Luther, Arminius, Aquinas, Origen, Augustine, Spurgeon, Bonhoeffer, Wycliff, Niemoller, Lewis, Piper, Paul, James, I knew creeds, doctrines, catechisms, doxology, councils, heresies. 

And I thought. I am all in. I accept all this. I evoke the proper response in myself when I learn these things. If I were born in any other time, any other place, into any other religion - I would accept those things just as eagerly and honestly. Would I not? How could I not? I earned the praise of adults, the admiration of youth group peers, I could exercise my intellect in a way not too offensive for a female to do, because it was always good to learn the bible, right? I was special, smart, serious. A student of the bible, i committed HUNDREDS of verses to memory, i competed in competitions that tested my knowledge of scripture against my peers, I was dominant. It nagged at me. I would have been the best anything, the best Muslim, the best Mormon, the best Hindu, the best Orthodox Jew (especially Orthodox Jew - there are so many RULES and ways to do it BETTER), I was completely lost in the swirl of religiosity that was my life. I did Christian ballet, Christian theater, watched Christian entertainment, listened to Christian music, went to Christian summer camp, had Christian friends, was in a Christian home school group, read Christian books, did Christian mission trips, and eventually chose to go to a Christian college. Not to brag, to sound so insanely arrogant - any religion would be happy to have me. I would give your cult a great name. I’ve got the resume and CV to join any believing army, just give me my marching orders. I swallowed my Self in the belly of the whale of god. My whole life and personality were these things and activities.

then - purity culture hit. and it brought back all the female trauma. the trauma of existing as a woman who THINKS in the subculture of christianity insanity.

[crawgluvr4]

ao3

moira o’ deorain does not believe in God.

during the preparation for her confirmation they browse a book of saints, as a class. her teacher lists the common ones for girls and for boys, talks about their meaning and significance. she is told, again, about accepting the holy spirit, how important this step is in life as a follower of Christ. the final initiation into the fold.

“choosing a name is no simple matter,” her teacher says. “reach out to the saint you feel will guide you best, as when you take their name you take their protection into yourself, too. you may pray to them or to God for guidance as you begin your life as a mature member of the church.”

her best friend picks anastasia, laughs about how it reminds her of the singer. moira feels some jealousy at the ease which she plucks it from the book, the way it settles in among her other names. 

nothing has fit for her yet. she prays, and gets no response.

a day before the deadline for choosing she picks st. jude. her friends find it funny, her mother finds it weird, and her teacher doesn’t have the time to talk her out of it. her aunt’s hand on her shoulder during the mass is tighter than it need be. 

she doesn’t remember what her baptism was like, remembers the novelty of her first confession and communion outweighed any holiness a child could feel. here she is old enough to understand, old enough to take to heart the words drilled into her beforehand. she recites her lines perfectly; the bishop stumbles over her name. she feels no holy spirit, no growth nor acceptance, and when she cries and prays to the patron saint of lost causes, he leaves her in the dark.

she lost her faith at twelve years old, she will say. gained faith in science and never looked back. she slowly forgets the apostle’s creed, and the lord’s prayer.

--

moira does quizzes online to find what circle of hell she will be sent to, and keeps getting heresy. she turns off the power to the little red light with a cross in it her father reveres so much. she reads dawkins and hitchens and mocks her friends when they pray along at school. she smugly keeps her mouth shut when the teachers recite the morning prayers, and cuts out the cross stitched into her uniforms. 

she is called into the headmistress’ office when her mother agrees to let her drop religion as a subject, and is asked: “how can someone so young lose their faith?” 

when religion is being taught, she sits apart from the other girls, although she is much too used to that. the teacher mentions humanism, and one of the other girls asks, “is that what moira is?” and they titter. she frowns and corrects them - she is an atheist. the girls don’t even hear her.

she passes a graveyard, and her hands burn.

--

she gets a degree in genetics at trinity college and thinks idly on the irony, if only to herself. her aunt gifts her a rosary for her 21st birthday, and she drops it in a box and leaves it in her childhood wardrobe when she leaves home. she studies medicine and puts her faith in science and observable truth, qualifies as a geneticist and writes increasingly risky papers on gene editing. her experiments become more wild; her peers become more enraged.

when she is cast out of her profession, gabriel reyes welcomes her into his.

“we can help each other,” he says. “not like you have much choice if you want to keep your research.”

she is sceptical. “apparently my research is unethical. i have received condemnation from your organization directly. why would you help me?”

reyes smiles. he wears a chain around his neck with a small silver cross and he gives up drinking for lent. “I don’t work for overwatch.”

--

moira doesn’t get on well with angela in the lab, but finds her fascinating outside of it. there is a divide between them she revels in, likes it when angela seems annoyed when moira flirts with her. likes it even more when it works and they find themselves in a closet somewhere on the swiss base, before a mission, hurriedly redressing to make it back to their stations in time.

angela never mentions faith, but she does mention God a lot in those closets.

when moira rests over her experiments, the way she folds her hands is like a prayer. when someone in angela’s care dies, and she hears, moira finds herself making the sign of the cross more often than she cares to admit.

there is some level of blasphemy to what she does. she tests on anyone willing, animals, herself. always so close to the secret of creation, but she settles for changing what she can. she changes bodies as she sees fit, allows them to become what they want instead of what God designed. when reyes asks her to make him a better soldier, she obliges and works tirelessly to give him a body he can mould for himself.

it fails, of course, as she is not divine. her creations are as flawed as she is, and God judges her unworthy. as overwatch breaks down, so does reyes.

she takes communion at his funeral, and flees switzerland for talon.

--

reaper keeps her at arms length, only ever approaching her when ordered to by doomfist. she, in turn, can only stabilize him, knowing there is no cure for her arrogance. she is nearly fifty and she takes an online quiz and gets sent to the seventh circle for violence against God.

when her mother dies, she gets the rosary in the mail. she keeps it in the bottom drawer of her desk in oasis, and it burns a hole there, asking her why she no longer prays to God for help. she uses jude as an alias when she needs to. there is a heaviness to it.

sometimes she will go home, back to dublin, and go to the church where her family used to pray, where she stood for communion and confirmation and where she lost her faith. the people will chat to her kindly, ask after her family and friends without truly knowing who she has become. 

moira does not believe in God. but she carries with her the time that she did.

[unsureofreligionname]

This was meant to be me venting, but accidentally became a history of my relationship with religion instead.

Alright. So.

Came here to talk about religion because I have no outlet. If you don't want to hear it, just block me. I'm not trying to convert anyone, I'm just explaining things to see if anyone has a feckin name for my damn belief system, because I really want to avoid accidentally starting a religion or something and pissing everyone off more.

People who got pissy last time got on my ass about how I probably wasn't even ethnically jewish, so here's the whole story.

I was raised by a mother who was raised by a non-practicing jewish mother, both of whom converted to christianity in the late nineties, shortly before I was born. They're ethnically jewish, or so I'm told.

Not super related, but, in case it comes up later, I was raised with the belief that my mother's family is a long line of very careful psychics, which roughly means "a lot of the family is sensitive to spirit shit but avoids it like the plague because it's scary."

I was raised by a father who is, as far as I know, not ethnically jewish. He's of mixed asian heritage, so i guess maybe, but I'm going to assume he's not. His parents, however, were both religiously Jewish; my grandmother was adopted and raised Jewish, and my grandfather converted sometime between meeting and marrying my grandmother. They are reform. My father wasn't the most religious guy in the world, but, if you asked, he'd probably either make a joke about ohio state football or say that he was jewish.

I was raised by my father and mother together until I was seven. We didn't always consistently go to church in early childhood, but my mother did take me to two or three for months or years at a time during the 2-5 period. We celebrated christmas and easter, and i had an illustrated children's bible that, if I remember right, was split into two parts: the first was marketed to christian and jewish kids, and the latter- new testament- to christian kids. Guessing the marketing from the publishing organizations. I think I had a few other religious books and videotapes directed towards kids, both jewish and christian. I specifically remember one that illustrated mana as vanilla wafers for some reason. At seven, my parents divorced, and I primarily lived with my dad.

My dad didn't take me anywhere on the regular, but when I visited his parents for the full weekend, they'd take me to the synagogue. This was every couple of weeks. We celebrated major jewish holidays, but smaller festivals only really got a mention. When I was ten, my dad and stepmother married. She wasn't really religious, but her parents were christian, so christmas was back on our roster then, too.

I started going to hebrew school in 6th grade, but I didn't actually have a bar mitzvah because I ended up getting kicked out at around the time I turned 13 due to a whole thing about me going trick or treating when I was "too old" or whatever, shitty parents, so I ended up having to go live with my mom after that.

At this point, my mom was studying to become a youth pastor, and enrolled me into a local christian school with about a hundred students. Unfortunately, this ended up being a weird fundamentalist cult with its own textbooks and teachings, including that bacteria was not real, AIDS was a summoned by The Gays™ to kill all the christians, evolution was a conspiracy meant to dissuade people from religion, et cetera. It was fucking bizarre, at one point they called several of us posessed for being autistic and otherwise neurodivergent, and they categorized us students into the groups wise, fools, simple, and scorners. (I was a fool, by the way.) It was really not ideal, and the weird punishments were pretty traumatic. There was some weird brainwashy type word repetition involved with lookatthepersonsayokayanddothetask over and over and over, and it sucked.

So, I was at that school for about 18 months before they kicked me out for refusing to stand on one foot for an extended period of time after tapping my foot in class which caused a student who disliked me to complain.

At the same time, my mother was working at a small church out of town that wasn't exactly a cult, but I think the pastor kind of wanted it to be? It was like he wanted the cult aesthetic™ and devoted followers and shit, but only had the skill to make a really sketchy and toxic small town church with a lot of people sitting on blankets on the floor instead. That church honestly wasn't a big part of my life the way the fucked cult was, I just sort of went most weeks. I went to a confirmation class there- I'm pretty sure it was a methodist church- and got confirmed into it shortly before my mother left because the administration was weird in like an asshole way, and that was the last I knew of it.

I was homeschooled for a while during the end of this period due to all of the school stuff. Religiously, by this point in my life, I'd developed some of my own beliefs. I believed in most of the new testament and most of the torah, but I didn't have much exposure to the talmud or much of a comprehensive education in any religion. I think I read a bible cover to cover at least once as a kid, including some shitty commentary (it was a preteen bible) that gave me some internalized homophobia issues for actual years. I was also super curious about the paranormal but terrified of possession- remember the cult?- and I was curious about the idea of some people being reincarnated if they were needed on earth again. Not sure where exactly that idea came from, but it was there. People told me from a lot of sides that those with the wrong religion would go to hell, and the cult tried to teach us all to convert people at any opportunity, but, after leaving, the whole situation just made me massively uncomfortable. I did continue to practice the jewish traditions I knew how to do on my own- like hannukah and a weird private sort of passover- and my mother would support this by getting me what I needed for it, even though she didn't participate and I didn't go to any place of worship during holidays.

After getting kicked out of school not that long after adjusting to not seeing my dad or siblings on his side, we moved. My dad lost custody at some point and we no longer had to live close, so we moved and tried to find a better school. It was a Catholic grade school this time, and I was there for about six months, if I had to guess. It was actually a pretty good school, but I had some issues at the time, so I didn't enjoy it much. I was scared of teachers and administration by then, and I had trouble going the entire school day without panicking or not being able to work. There was a period of a week or two in which I didn't speak at school at all. We ended up settling on half days, and, after that, I did well.

The religion class was awkward. The other kids seemed to know more than me even though I'd thought I had a good grasp on religion at that point, and the little information we shared I'd been taught from a very different perspective. Everyone was very nice to me, but I definitely stood out as the kid who wasn't catholic at that point.

Chapel was even weirder. We had to go every wednesday during school, and catholic churches had so many traditions I didn't know about, and the stuff I knew about from either my jewish grandparents or protestant churches had a different name for some reason.

I'm looking at you, sacraments.

Anyway.

I don't think I got much out of the chapel, but religion classes were kind of cool. I liked learning about stuff I hadn't heard before, and the things that were the same were a comfort.

Soon, though, I was graduating eighth grade. I ended up going to a catholic high school. I was still out of place, but I at least had a basic idea of what to do during the mass this school had monthly.

I liked the religion classes here more, how they were an open discussion of everyone's opinions and experiences, and I liked that both of the most recent schools I'd gone to had actual textbooks with facts and studies in them. There were more kids there who weren't catholic, and I felt more comfortable to actually explore religious topics with people. I had a better understanding of catholic beliefs, a decent idea of their traditions, and could recognize at least a few of their holidays I couldn't have before.

I spent my last year of high school at a public career center to start working towards a medical career.

Now, my current beliefs. If you don't want to read it, then just don't.

I haven't been to any place of worship since my school required it, but I do have strong beliefs. I believe in one God (which I generally write all the way out after a billion essays for religion class) who created everything and watches over humans, which he made in his image, etc etc etc. I believe the old stories from the tanakh/old testament/don't care what you call it and the new- yes, including the key messiah bit- though I do think it wasn't all translated perfectly and that it was written by humans who made mistakes and poor decisions sometimes in their writing. I believe people's salvation comes through their intention, not through a piece of knowledge or a creed or good deeds or a tradition, and I believe different people worshipping in different ways is how it should be, because different people NEED different styles of worship. I believe that if someone is genuinely mistaken and incorrect in who or what they believe in, it doesn't MATTER because it's the intention to strive to do good and not harm fellow people that counts. I'm a little guarded about sharing my own beliefs, hence why I made an anonymous tumblr account, but I'm generally very curious to hear about what other people believe. I find that, for me, celebrating Jewish holidays and traditions helps me get closer to God, and I'd like to find a place of worship one day, but churches fucking terrify me now. I worship best by sitting and discussing beliefs, but I have no place to do it now that I've graduated school. I also developed some of my less related beliefs now: I believe in a lot of old stories that have popped up around the world, like fairies of various places, different creatures and entities and things that have become the subject of curiosity or worship, spirits and things, etc. I think many of these creatures exist, just that they may be different from us in the nature of how they interact with the world and matter and that, and I don't think they're deities or anything. I believe in ghosts of humans in some cases, too, though I believe sometimes other things mimic them. I don't find the idea of God having someone reincarnated if he wants the same soul to play many parts in the world unlikely at all, though that's really just me speculating. I still believe in demons, and I still don't want anything to do with them.

A lot of my understanding of things comes from Jewish, Catholic, and Protestant teaching in a strange mishmosh of culture and religion.

I relate to a lot of things directed at Jewish people, and I understand what's directed at Catholic people. Things directed at Protestant people are both understood and, unfortunately, make me instinctively wary due to weird cult trauma (that in no way reflects on actual protestant people, i love you guys some people just suck and twist religion) so are hard to interact with.

In a lot of ways, I'd consider myself Jewish. Culturally, at least, if my religious beliefs aren't "validly jewish" or whatever.

I have literally zero actual connections to any Catholic church, but I almost feel like a weird half-catholic. That's not a thing, but it's how it feels. I believe a lot of it, and I'm interested in all of it, even if I have my disagreements, plus I understand the environments and culture of it, even if I'm a bit of an outsider.

A year- or maybe two years, idk- ago, I mentioned some upcoming holiday or smth in a post and tagged it messianic. That's the closest name I could find for my experience, but apparently some organizations who use the term suck or something. I ended up getting a bunch of asks calling me a predatory fake jew or a fundamentalist christian trying to appropriate judaism or other weird shit that I'm NOT DOING. Because of my experiences in the past, those comments still weigh so damn heavy on my that I broke my resolve and made this stupid account to complain about it.

I don't have a name for what I am. I don't know where to go to talk about my beliefs with people, or what environment I could find to actually practice whatever weird faith I've dreamt up with other people in a way that isn't just picking part of what I believe and leaving the rest to rot. I feel closer to God and more spiritually fulfilled practicing the festivals that call back to what the Jewish people of old went through, but I also believe in the messiah of the new testament, and I like to read the pope's opinion on things, even though I think no human is perfect or infallible. I want to talk about old writings with people and discuss what they mean, from my religion or others, and I don't want to give any of what's right for me spiritually up.

I don't know what this post is for.

Maybe I'm just venting, but I do want to know if this is a thing or if I'm the only one with this belief system. I'm sick of getting shit for the actions of people who I'm not affiliated with, so apparently calling myself messianic doesn't cut it. I can't call myself "spiritual but not religious" either, because I'm very religious, it's just very personal and not something I shove at people, and "christian" doesn't describe a solid half of what I believe. Off and on again I've considered converting to Catholicism, but I think that's kind of grasping at the closest thing that won't piss off tumblr anons as much. (And yeah, the larger Catholic church can suck, but I honestly think I'm gonna get that with any religion with a large following)

Rambling aside:

I want to find a short description that hits the major points of what I believe in order to help me find a place or group of worship that actually matches my spiritual needs without compromising the cultures that I grew up with and making me feel like shit.

(Also don't try to change my beliefs thanks)

I'll be tagging this with anything I've mentioned or vaguely heard of that might be related so relax ok

[purplesurveys]

815

At what time of day do you normally feel the best? I love the evening the most. I get to have my coffee, it’s quieter around the house, and it also gets a little bit colder so it’s more fun to hang around by then. Do you normally have to hem pants? I’ve never had to do that before. If I need my pants fixed, I usually ask my lola to do it since she’s good at that kind of stuff. Name one reason why someone should not commit suicide. I can’t speak for other people, but I personally stay because I don’t want to leave Kimi behind and because I’ve seen countless mini-documentaries of parents who were left devastated by their kids taking their own lives. What would you do if you had no one to love and support you? That sounds so fucking bleak. I imagine bringing myself to therapy so I can learn how to deal with such a situation, and so that I at least have one person to talk to. If you didn't have love and support, would you feel life was worth living? No. But that’s why I imagine I’d be going to therapy, so my mind can be changed.

If you had no family nor friends nor money, would you feel life's worth living? These questions are so stressful to mull over and a tad bit triggering lmao, can I pass at this point? If you're unhappy, what would it take to make you fulfilled? Depends on what I need, which differs every time. Sometimes I’d wanna be alone, other times I’d want to be with other people, other times I’d need to drive and take longer routes than usual, or to binge YouTube videos, or a good nap...it’s always different. What was the last thing that upset your stomach? The meds I had to take for my UTI. Feeling poopy was one of its side effects, so even though it didn’t upset my stomach per se I did have to have several trips to the bathroom then. Do you have to go the pharmacy a lot? No, only when something’s wrong with me which doesn’t happen too often. Are you sunburned? I haven’t been sunburned since I was like 10. The tendency just suddenly stopped at some point. Do you wish someone loved you? I have a lot of people who already do, fortunately. Do you call yourself stupid often? Like every other hour lmao. What's a song you love? From Eden - Hozier. Do you miss anyone who was mean to you? Not to my knowledge. I’m glad they aren’t in my life today. Name someone you know who is a cancer survivor. One of my former Filipino teachers in high school. Are you friends with any cancer survivors? I don’t think that I am. Does God often answer your prayers? How was your day today (or yesterday, if it's morning)? It was average. Nothing out of the ordinary happened today but I did like the fact that my parents still left the living room aircon on for most of the day even though summer’s over and the weather’s already begun to be a little colder. Do you wish the sunrise and sunset lasted longer? Not really? I’m fine with the ones we’ve got lol. Would you want to relive your childhood again? Fuck no. It had some nostalgic bits, like the shows I used to watch or me playing outside, but it was far too traumatic for me to miss it as a whole. I’m happy being a grownup.

Were your college years the best years of your life? Not fully. My time in college only peaked by the second half, so it wasn’t all that great. Junior and senior year were very fun and eye-opening, though. Would you rather re-live high school or college? Ooh that’s quite a pickle...both periods had their highs. High school was a lot easier (academically), it was a time when I could fuck up and it was okay, and I found my first group of friends. College was a time of independence, a lot of growing up to do, and I also found my second group of friends. As miserable as I was during my freshman year, I ultimately have to go with college because I hated most of the people in my high school anyway and because I really loved the independence I gained in college, from being able to drive on my own and managing stuff on my own time to being free to choose my class schedule. And also, duh, I passed my dream school? I’d relive my years in UP in a heartbeat. What is the dumbest sports-team mascot you've heard of? Not really familiar with sports mascots to begin with. Are you a sports fan? Err, not really. I’m a pro wrestling fan, but it’s not 100% a sport. Where do you feel like you fit in the most? In my college and in my org. I’m sad that I only get four years with them – three when it comes to my org. Do you hate social classes? Yes. Do you think talent should have anything to do with social class? What? I have no clue what this question is insinuating but lmao of course not. I know some crazy talented people who wouldn’t be considered rich, and I know some bland-ass wealthy people who can’t do anything impressive at all. Name a country who's history you know nothing about. Australia. Name a religion you know nothing or very little about. Zoroastrianism. I only remember the founder. Don't you hate know-it-alls? I hate when they start getting conceited. What is your favorite store at the mall? I love visiting Fully Booked every chance I get. When was the last time you went to the mall? That would be when I had my eye checked last early March, because the clinic I visited was inside the mall. Aside from doing that, I also had late lunch at Marugame Udon which apparently would be the last time I’d have their food for a while, unbeknownst to me :( Do you have a bed or do you sleep on a mattress on the floor? I have a bed. When was the last time you went for a run? LOL never. Have you ever tried hard drugs? No. Which school subject did you hate the most? Back in high school I really hated the advanced math and science classes e.g. chemistry, physics, calculus, trig. In college, I found myself hating philosophy and economics the most. What was the last thing you wore from Aeropostale? I don’t think I ever wore anything from them. Which devotional do you read? I don’t read those. Do you appreciate classic literature? I appreciate and recognize their impact, but I don’t like reading them.

What is something you find strange? People who keep pushing for the All Lives Matter narrative. Cringe. Do you like your natural hair color? Sure. I’ve never actively complained about it, that’s for sure. Would you rather get a pixie cut or get dreadlocks? Pixie cut, because I’m pretty sure getting dreadlocks as a Filipino is a form of cultural appropriation? Would you rather dye your hair or get a perm? Dye it.

Do you keep Christmas lights up year-round? No, we don’t. Have you ever started a new trend? Just me? Lmao no. Do you have any artwork of yours from high school? I definitely don’t. Whenever a teacher would give our artworks back, I crumpled it up as soon as I got it and would throw it away. I just simply rejected all of my attempts to be creative lol. What did you win a scholarship for? I’ve never gotten one. But my university did start implementing free tuition for all undergrads starting in 2017 when I was a sophomore, so it’s kinda like the same thing. Did your college meet your expectations? Yes, and more. UP taught me far more than classroom lessons as it opened my eyes to the more important societal issues happening outside of school. It made me recognize our farmers who never earn the income they deserve; the factory workers stuck in poor working conditions; the jeepney drivers whose work is never respected; the millions of working class Filipinos who simply deserve better;  and the government that is more corrupt than I thought. My college on the other hand taught me to be fearless and to never hesitate to search for, report, and defend the truth, and to disseminate just that to the masses. Bottomline is that words can’t even begin to describe how grateful I am to have studied there and I will always be very much in love with my school. What was the best thing about college? The best thing about mine, at least, was the throng of life lessons and eye-opening realizations it gave me. Each of them has been more valuable than any lesson I learned in the classroom. UP taught me that there were a thousand other issues far more important than problems I face in my own privileged bubble, but that I can help facilitate change if I wanted to. How old were you ten years ago? 12. Easily the worst age I’ve been in. What's the best piece of advice you can give someone ten years younger? Stay. It’ll get better. Not instantly, but it does get better. Do you feel like you are old enough and experienced enough to give advice? I think anyone’s fit to give advice no matter how old they are. Even kids can be quite insightful. The differences just lie on the topics people give advice on. How old were you when you started to feel mature and experienced? 17, after I had a series of shitty stuff happen to me at one point in 2015. When I got past those, I could tell I wasn’t the same person that I was, like, two months back. Were your 20's hell? I’m only in my second year lmao, can you get back to me in eight years? What type of bug do you see the most often in your home? We don’t get a lot of bugs at home, fortunately. We have tons of ants though. Do you put off things until the last minute? If I’m not passionate about the task, yes. Do you have the air conditioning on right now? Nope, just the fan. Is your mom the same size as you? She’s slim but she’s still ever so slightly a bit larger. We can technically share clothes but some of them would still look loose on me.

Does camping appeal to you? I have moods where it does and moods where it doesn’t lol. What color is your sleeping bag? I don’t have one. How often do you pray? Do you surrender to Christ daily? When was the last time you went to church? Do you know any Christians who aren't judgmental? Only a handful, and it’s usually people in my age group. Most of the others suck, and I can say this because I’ve had coooooooountless personal experiences with rude, hypocritical, sexist, homophobic, and transphobic Christians and Catholics. Do you believe there are any good people in the world? Of course. What's one thing you are scared of? Flying cockroaches.

[the-hilda-librarians-wife]

The Mistakes We Made - Chapter Three

Summary:When her high school girlfriend comes back to town after two years with a baby and a terrible story she won’t tell, the Librarian has to deal with the feelings she had worked so hard to keep at bay.

notes: Uhhh so the notes I wrote are kinda importanta, but they’re too long, so if you really want to read them you can read it at ao3 lol. Hope you enjoy this chapter!

Read it on ao3: (chpt1) (chpt2) (chpt3)

The bell rang loudly, interrupting Mrs. Kavindi’s speech about neoclassicist poetry. The woman tried to keep her students’ attention, but it was no use, as the teens were already putting their stuff away in their backpacks. Only a pair of grey eyes followed her hand as she wrote on the board, rapidly taking note of everything. Eventually, she sighed and let her hand drop to her side.

“Alright, everyone. You’re free to go.”

There were loud noises of chairs dragging on the floor and the chatter of the students as they hurriedly left the Literature classroom, eager to begin their weekend. The girl, however, took her time putting her pen in her pencil case, and her pencil case in her backpack. She checked her notes one more time, certifying herself that she had written in legible handwriting before she was out of the classroom and couldn’t ask the teacher any more questions.

She got up from the chair and put her backpack on her back, walking up to the teacher who had sat down on the table and was watching the students leave. Mrs. Kavindi raised her eyes when she realized the girl had gotten closer, and gave her a simile.

“Can we expect you this evening, Maven?”

The girl nodded. “I still have some topics to study for next month’s finals, but I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

Kavindi’s smile widened as she watched her favorite student leave. The girl was a bit of an outcast, for sure, but by her experience, all the best people were.

_#_#_#_

Johanna bit back a groan when the boy came closer. His smug grin was infuriating, and it didn’t help matters when he leaned on his shoulder against the locker next to her.

“I don’t want to talk to you, Torrin.” She said as she put her math notebook back in its place. His blue hair fell over his face when he laughed.

“Why not?”

Johanna closed her locker’s door with more strength than necessary. “Because you’re a jerk.”

“Is this about about Dick? Is this why you’re angry?” He said the words in a mocking voice, making Johanna wonder what would be the penalty if she got caught burying a corpse. Maybe Maven would be up for it too and they wouldn’t get caught. It sounded like a good plan.

“What happened between me and your friend is our business. Not yours.” Johanna sighed. She was waiting for Torrin to answer when she sighted a spot of black coming towards her. Her mouth opened into a smile, her eyes moving from his strong face to beatiful, wise eyes, coming closer and closer, with a smile answering her own.

When Torrin realized he had lost Johanna’s attention, it was too late. Maven was already behind him, pulling his head back by grabbing a handful of his hair. He gasped at the feeling, though she hadn’t grasped quite hard enough to make him feel any pain.

“I believe you are unwanted here, Aven.” She stated coldly. She let his hair go, but not without taking a few strands with her. The boy turned to her, wide eyed with fright but feigning anger.

“What the hell is wrong with you?!”

“Remember what you called my mother last month, when you and your gang threw eggs at our house?” She ignored him as she tied one of the strands around the others, making a little bundle. “You called her a witch. And you weren’t wrong.”

She put the bundle on her jacket pocket and looked at him in the eyes. “So tell me, Aven. What kind of thing do you think a witch can do with a few pieces of your ridiculous blue hair?”

Torrin cursed under his breath and left, taking long strides and making sure to bump on Maven’s shoulder hard enough to hurt. But the raven haired girl didn’t care. All she could focus on was her friend trying and failing to contain her fit of giggles.

“Your mother wouldn’t actually curse him, right?” Johanna asked once she had gotten a hold of her laughter.

“Well, she could. But she won’t because he’s just a stupid teen. It would be a waste of spell ingredients.” Maven looked at ground. She wasn’t ashamed of her mother’s religion, nor was she that she too had chosen to follow Wicca, but Johanna’s parents were extremely Christian and she didn’t like to see the involuntary judgement in Johanna’s eyes whenever she talked about her faith.

“Are you ready to go?” Maven asked right after. Johanna had already put everything she would need for the weekend in her backpack and it seemed useless to just stand there looking at each other.

“Oh. Yes, I am. There’s something I need to talk to you about.”

She sounded sad, Maven realized. That was unusual. Her Anna was always so full of happiness that whenever her mood changed it was easy to notice, at least for her.

They were silent as they finished crossing the school’s corridor and its front door. When they were finally outside, with the early autumn wind messing with their hair and the leaves on the trees by the sidewalk, she finally spoke.

“I’m sorry I didn’t talk to you about this when you asked at lunch. I didn’t feel like badmouthing someone then. But after that, I’ve no problem whatsoever with doing it.”

Oh, this is going to be good ,she thought but instead said “Torrin Aven is never good knews. Truly, only he is able to get you this upset.”

“You aren’t going to believe this, Maven! So, I had scheduled to help Richard study, correct?”

“I still don’t know why you accepted that, but yes, correct.”

“It turns out he didn’t want a hand with geometry! He was trying to trick me into going on a date with him!” She threw her hands up in frustration. “Who does that?!”

Maven snorted. “Stupid, obnoxious people, that’s who.”

Johanna sighed deeply, and looked both ways before both of them crossed the street to her block. “Honestly, I’ve never met one dateable boy. I wonder it I’m the problem, or if they are.”

She stopped in front of her house, turning to look at Maven before they bid goodbye. “You know, maybe I’m meant to be alone”, she said sadly. Maven’s eyes widened, and her mouth was slightly open with confusion.

“That’s not true!” The girl protested. “I mean, if you don’t want to be with anyone, that’s okay, but if you want a relationship, I doubt that you’ll stay much longer without one, Anna.”

“What makes you think so?”

“You’re a naturally loving person, for one. You’ve always been able to give your heart completely to the people you love.” She shrugged. “And you’re smart. And beautiful. And extremely kind. Anyone would be happy to have you. Now you just need to find someone who you think deserves you.”

Her long brown hair cascaded down her shoulder when she cocked her head. “You’re just saying this to make me feel better about being picky with boys.” She laughed nervously.

Maven sighed and blushed. Trying to flirt with a girl who grew up in a conservative household was a challenge indeed. But she had been doing it for five years and she wasn’t about to give up on her clueless Anna now. “I’m really not, though.”

She was rewarded with a hug and a peck on the cheek. “Thanks, Maven. You’re the best friend I could wish for.” She drew back and began heading for the door. “Same time same place?” Johanna asked as she looked for the keys in her backpack.

“Yup.”

With a smile, Johanna entered her house and closed the door again. A ghost of a smile passed through Maven’s lips. Though she had been wanting to be something more to Johanna ever since they were thirteen, being her best friend was already enough. It was more than an “antisocial creep”, as she was called in school, like her deserved. Johanna could be friends with anyone. With the jocks, the nerds, the popular people, the drama kids and the band kids. But she chose to stick with the graveyard keeper’s daughter, and she couldn’t be more grateful.

And yet, she was too selfish to stop wanting more.

_#_#_#_

“Oh, it seems someone else needs to go to her bedroom too.” Johanna said sweetly as she picked her baby up again. “Could you take the stroller to our room? I’ll try to calm her down a bit.”

“Oh, sure.” Maven quickly put her cup on the sink counter and went for the stroller, taking it through the narrow corridor beside the staircase that led to her mother’s old bedroom. She pushed on the door with her back, placing the stroller between the bed and the window.

She hoped Hilda didn’t mind having a cemetery for a view.

Johanna came in too not a moment later, singing her baby a lullaby that Maven was almost sure she recognized from somewhere, though she had no idea where. Her mother had never sung her lullabies, always going for stories to calm her down instead.

“Is she going to sleep in the stroller?”

Johanna sighed. “I don’t think I have another option. I left in a hurry, so I didn’t have time to disassemble her crib and bring it along.”

Maven bit her lip. What could have happened that made them practically run out of there? She swore that if in the end it turned out Aven had threatened them physically, there would be very few places that man would be able to hide in. She was already hated in town for being an outcast, so why not add murder to the list?

“Well, I think I have a smaller comforter stored somewhere. Do you want it?” She asked, wanting to help even if a little with their situation.

“No, I brought her blanket, but thank you.” Johanna gave her a really tired smile. “Do you have any children’s books, though? I didn’t bring hers, and she really likes the colours.”

Maven nodded. “I’ll be back in a second.”

_#_#_#_

It had been a fairly calm meeting, Maven mused as she put her sweater back on. The book club was rarely this way. Just in the last few months, she had already gotten into arguments about A Midsummer Night’s Dream and The Iliad, but it seemed like everyone had similar opinions this time, or at least no one had wanted to defend Alice when the majority of the participants had accused her of being a spoiled little girl who didn’t respect Wonderland’s traditions, just judging them all as “madness”.

She had been so concentrated on checking that everything she had brought was still in her simple brown leather purse that she barely realized that she was being spoken to. She raised her head and saw that the librarian, Mr. Kavindi, was talking to her.

“I’m sorry, sir, what was that?” She asked politely and he chuckled.

“I asked what are your plans for after school, little one.” Mr. Kavindi was a sweet man, with graying red hair and round glasses. He was wearing a blue sweater that was way too big for him. All his sweaters were like that, and she supposed it was because his wife knitted all of them for him.

“Oh yes, dear. I wanted to talk to you about this.” Said wife, Mrs. Kavindi, walked up to them and put her hand on his shoulder. Her wild dark brown hair framed her face, and combined with her green coat it made her look like a forest spirit. “Go on, Maven. I think he may be able to help.”

Maven looked from her teacher to the librarian. She really didn’t know what he could possibly do for her. The only help she needed was financial, and it was highly unlikely that a librarian had a lot of money to spare.

“I would like to study English, and then major in Library Science.” She said simply.

His eyes lit up and his usually kind face showed even more happiness. “Oh, so you want to steal my job, young lady?”

Maven put the purse’s strap on her shoulder and got up from the armchair she usually sat on, one with dark wood and magenta cushioning. She looked around the room that they used for their weekly meetings, one of the most secluded areas of the library, breathing in the calming smell of old parchment and ink that emanated from the hundreds of books piled upon shelves on the walls. Yes. Yes, she wanted to.

“You needn’t worry, sir. My mother doesn’t have enough money to pay for my college, and I really don’t think it would be wise to get in debt.” She’d probably just stay in Trollberg and learn her mother’s job. She was already quite familiar with it, and it wasn’t as if there was a queue of people wanting to be the knew cemetery keeper. In fact, she didn’t think there was a single soul that wanted it.

Mr. Kavindi frowned and seemed to deflate. His wife, on the other hand, kept pressing on. “And where would you study, if you had the money?”

She didn’t know why her teacher was asking this - she already knew. Maven had talked to her about her plans and why they wouldn’t work. But her teacher was a smart and helpful woman. It wouldn’t hurt to say again.

“In Ericsonberg University. It’s not a very long drive to make every day, or I could go by train and it would be even faster. Also, my best friend has already sent in her application and is probably going to study there.” Trollberg was a small town. It had very few options of higher education, and only a few courses were offered, most of them related to the forest and agriculture. Everyone else had to move away or choose a college in a nearby city.

“That is wonderful!” Mr. Kavindi chirped, looking like himself again. “I can help, then. I have a very close relationship with the dean!”

Maven made herself stand up straighter and looked at him with more attention. “Really?”

“Yes! We studied English in Oslo together! Why, Erica always told me you were such a great student, I’m sure I can work something out with him.”

Maven wasn’t the sentimental type, she really was not. But in that moment she felt such gratitude that a few tears nearly leaked from her eyes. Nearly.

“Would you do that?” She asked, just to be certain, just to check. It wasn’t offer something this good happened to her.

The librarian’s eyes softened, and he and his wife leaned their heads against one another’s. It was weird, to see those two people so similar and so in love. It was like they had been made for one another. It was cute. “Of course, little one. It isn’t often that we get a bright and curious mind like yours in a small town like this one. It would be a shame not to nurture it.”

Maven inhaled deeply with emotion. “Is there anything I can do to thank you?”

Mrs. Kavindi let go of her husband put both hands upon Maven’s shoulders. “You are already hard working and focused. I know we needn’t ask you that. But you’re lonely. So in return, I ask you to not get even more so. Keep that friend of yours around. Don’t let the rhythm of college pull you two apart, okay?”

She had to blink back a few tears at that. “Thank you. So much.”

Husband and wife shared a look, and before she knew, Maven was engulfed in a bone crushing hug. “We’re glad to be of help, young lady.” He said when he pulled back. “I’ll let you know when I hear back from the dean.”

“Now run along.” Her teacher said. “You have finals to study for.”

Maven smiled to them and headed to the door. She had something else to do, actually.

_#_#_#_

It turned out that her mother had kept all her favorite books from when she was a kid in a single box in their cramped little attic. After scaring a spider into moving away from the box, Maven dug in and grabbed the three first books she saw, walking away quickly and promising to come back soon with cleaning apparel.

The spiders she could live with, but a bunch of perfectly good books gathering dust crossed a line.

When she came back down, Hilda wasn’t crying anymore, but was clearly agitated in her mother’s arms. She approached Johanna very quietly. She didn’t know much about babies, so she wasn’t really sure if any noise could make matters worse or not. Even though Johanna’s eyes were focused on Hilda’s forehead, her gaze was so glassy that Maven doubted that she was actually seeing anything.

“Hey, I found them.” She placed the book by Johanna’s side on the bed. She desperately wanted to ask if she was okay, but she didn’t think she’d get an honest answer.

Johanna’s gaze cleared and she looked at the items before her. “Oh. Thank you, Maven.”

“Not for that.”

It felt like silence stretched for a long time after that, but realistically Maven knew it had only been a few seconds.

“So. I, uh, I’ll just read one of them for her and then sleep myself. Can I do anything for you?”

“No, it’s okay.” Maven rubbed at her eyes. Just looking at Johanna was making her tired. “Just get some rest. You look like a zombie.”

Johanna lifted her eyebrows. “Well, aren’t you a flatterer?” She asked mockingly.

“I speak only truths.” She said as she headed to the door. You look beautiful to me anyway. That truth she didn’t tell.

Johanna shook her head and got up from the edge of the bed. Maven’s heart felt entirely too tight as she watched from the doorway Johanna kiss her child goodnight before gently lowering her down to the stroller and tucking the blanket around her. The woman really had “mother” written all over her. The image of the two of them, so perfect and loving even through pain and exhaustion, was too much to bear, and Maven had to avert her eyes.

When Johanna turned to get one of the books to read to her baby, Maven was already at the bottom of the staircase.

_#_#_#_

Johanna fidgeted nervously with the sleeves of her jacket as she looked out of one of the Poet’s Retreat windows. Ever since she had arrived home that afternoon, she’d felt as if butterflies had taken flight in her belly. She didn’t think she’d ever been so nervous.

She had been stalling that realization for as long as she could, pushing the thought away whenever it popped in her mind, but honestly, she’d be a fool to ignore Maven’s feelings towards her after she’d all but declared her love, and even a bigger one if she denied her own feelings any longer when she had felt like she was melting inside when she had kissed her friend’s cheek.

She’d had a most unproductive afternoon, after that. She’d had been dealing with the thought of liking girls for some time now, so guilt wasn’t really a problem, especially since she wasn’t as religious as her parents, anyway. But the worry of not being able to share that part of herself with the people that had raised her had kept her thoughts away from her studies.

At least she knew there was a name for what she felt, for liking boys and girls. It kept at bay the feeling of being an alien in a small minded town. It was comforting. But it still didn’t hold back the shock that was admitting that she was in love with her best friend, regardless of gender.

When the clock in the wall near the counter marked five in the afternoon and Maven still hadn’t arrived, Johanna began thinking something was off, which didn’t help her matters when she was already trembling with nervousness. She was always so punctual, arriving right after her book club ending, precisely at five to five. And she wouldn’t have just forgotten it either. They’d had this appointment ever since they first went to the Poet’s Retreat together: 5 p.m. every Tuesday and Friday. Even if they didn’t have the money or didn’t feel like ordering anything, they’d go in and talk. About their days, their worries, their parents, their studies, or even about dumb things they saw in the internet. They never missed it unless there was something very important they needed to do, or if one of them was sick, in which case they’d visit each other in their houses in the time they were supposed to be there. It was their tradition, their thing. Maven wouldn’t miss their eight year old tradition unless something had happened.

Johanna was just going to call her when the bell that hung above the cafe’s door jingled and she turned to see who was it, relieved as she watched Maven come in. She looked radiant with happiness, and she couldn’t wait to find out what got her like this.

Without breaking eye contact with Johanna, Maven walked closer with a shy smile, while her friend grinned at her. She pulled her usual chair back and sat down, chewing on her bottom lip before she whispered.

“You won’t believe what happened!”

“What did?” Johanna asked as she tried her best not to get distracted by said lip.

“Mr. Kavindi says he knows Ericsonberg English College’s dean. He will try to get me in!”

Johanna’s jaw dropped. For more than an year now, she’d been worrying about what would happen to Maven when High School was over, knowing very well her widow mother couldn’t really afford an expensive college like those of the cities nearby, nor could she pay for a place for Maven to live at in the further away cities that offered cheaper education. So this was practically a blessing that fell down from the skies.

“Are you serious? How?”

“I still don’t know exactly.” Maven said, trying to get the buttons of her coat undone. “Most likely they’ll give me some tough exam or something. But I’ll make it.” She got all of them out of their holes and lifted her head to look at her friend. “I have to.”

Johanna reached out and grabbed her hand “Yes, you will. And if you need help, you can count on me.” She said, squeezing it slightly.

Maven smiled and intertwined their fingers upon the table, making Johanna’s heart skip a few beats. She swore that that coy smile would kill her one day. “Thank you, Anna. I feel like coffee”, she said suddenly. “Will you join me?”

She didn’t quite think that coffee was the best option for her already on edge nerves, but it was a special occasion. It called for celebratory coffee.

“Sure.”

Maven got up, then, and told their order to the barista who already knew them by name. She came back a few minutes later, handing her a cup with a lot of cream.

“I forgot to give you the money!” She exclaimed after taking a sip of the heavily sweetened down drink.

“That’s okay. I did a cleaning job for my cousin a few days ago, this one’s on me.”

Half an hour passed comfortably. Maven told her of how the library’s book club went, and Johanna took the chance to discuss a book she was reading. She felt she could talk to her friend for hours; Maven was so intelligent and well read, it was nearly impossible to get bored when she was near. But their cups were long since empty, and it was time to go. However, there were still things Johanna needed to say.

“Do you want to take a walk in the park? It’s going to be a beautiful sunset by the looks of it.”

Maven bit her lip. She really needed to go home to study, but that really was an offer she couldn’t refuse. So she nodded and they got up, and walked to a little known park near Johanna’s place, one that had many flowers growing wildly and randomly due to lack of attention from the city hall, and even had a small fountain, though cracked in a few places and waterless.

“How does Mr. Kavindi know Ericsonberg’s dean?”, Johanna asked eventually, when they stopped to admire a few celosia flowers. Maven stretched her memory.

“They went to college in Oslo together, if I remember correctly.”

Johanna frowned. “The librarian went to Oslo? But that’s an amazing college! How come he ended up working in a little town? He sounds like he’s from the north, so he can’t have family here!”

That made sense, Maven though. With a good graduation and his natural talent, Mr. Kavindi could probably get a job in a way better place. Sure, Trollberg’s library was gigantic, but that was mainly due to the efforts of one of the first mayors in its history, who had hoped that the town would grow to be one of intellectuals. Maven nearly pitied him.

“Mrs. Kavindi said once that they had met when they were in college and she took a trip to Oslo”, Maven remembered, lifting her eyes to the orange sky on top of them. “And her family is from here. So he probably came to live here because of her.”

“Oh.” Johanna breathed. If that was the case, it was probably one of the most romantic acts she had heard of outside her books. “That must have been quite a sacrifice.”

“Not really” Maven shrugged. “It must have payed off. When you love someone, and they love you, you do whatever it takes to be with them, don’t you?”

Out of the corner of her eye, Johanna realized that Maven had stopped looking at the sky, and was now looking at her. She felt her heart accelerate, beating madly against her ribcage as she faced her friend back.

There were so many things that needed to be discussed. Johanna knew that ideally, she should probably talk about her feelings and the things she had found out first. But Maven was looking at her with so much affection in her beautiful grey eyes, and her short dark hair was just a little bit messy because of the wind, and the golden light of the sunset was throwing golden shadows on her angular face, and honestly, Johanna was just human.

So she closed her eyes and leaned in.

And not after a moment later, Maven leaned in too.

The raven haired girl exhaled heavily. She had been deathly afraid of having mistaken her friend’s intentions, but found instant relief when Johanna pressed her lips against her own. Many thoughts filled her mind, of love and victory and confusion, but she pushed them all aside: she could deal with them later. When she was alone in her room, and Johanna wasn’t kissing her.

Maven took Johanna’s bottom lip between hers, and sighed again at their taste of sweet coffee and honey, being answered with a similar sigh from her love. They hadn’t had any honey at the cafe. She wondered if her lips always tasted like that somehow.

Oh, how she wanted to find out the answer for that question.

She wished she could stay there forever, in that beautiful place with untamed flowers, in that perfect moment of golden light, that little natural miracle that was when day met night. But too soon, they pulled away.

And Maven didn’t “grin”. For most of the town, save her family and Johanna, she didn’t even smile. But in that moment, she was grinning like an idiot. Like the lovesick idiot she had become.

“ I, uh-“ Johanna began, blushing strongly but also with a gigantic smile on her face. “I’m sorry it took so long for me to get the hint. A- about you and about myself too.”

Gods, she looked so cute it was nearly impossible to gather any rational thinking, Maven thought. “Do… do you?” She asked, only realizing that she hadn’t asked a complete question when Johanna cocked her head in confusion. “L-like me, I mean.”

She cursed herself for stuttering, but stopped bothering when Johanna’s face opened up in a smile again. “Yes, I do. Very much.”

And after that, when they didn’t know what to say, they kissed again. And again. And even as she walked home alone later, the stars and the moon her only companions, Maven began thinking that maybe, just maybe, that beautiful dusk could last forever.

_#_#_#_

The Librarian shut the door behind her and all but threw herself on the grey duvet of her bed, feeling the hard mattress against her back. She was downright exhausted. For two years, she had made herself accept the fact that she would never see Johanna again, she had locked her feelings for her where she thought it was safe to say that they wouldn’t haunt her again, and yet there she was. Back in her town, back in her house, back in her damn heart.

She slowly got up from the bed, walking to her windowsill seat and sitting down. Johanna had always had such light around herself that Maven sometimes felt as if she needed to squeeze her eyes to look at her directly. She just radiated warmth that she had craved so deeply. But now that there was a baby, she all but glew whenever it was near. She had been through so much, had gotten her heart broken, and it was clear on her eyes how much she had suffered, but it was also clear that her ability to love had, if anything, multiplied.

Maven drew her legs up to her chest and looked at the waning moon, leaning her head against the bedroom window and catching her own eyes in the reflection. Johanna was so bright and comforting and nutouring, and she was cold and lonely and eerie.

So it didn’t matter that she was back. It didn’t matter that she was staying at her house. It didn’t matter that her heart sang whenever she looked at Johanna and her baby. After all, she told herself as she drew her eyes away from the moon and to its glow on her pale hands, Sun and Moon could never be lovers. The day could never be with the night.

Dusk was just a fleeting moment. Eventually, darkness always came.

[eldritchsurveys]

672.

When was the last time you let someone know you truly love him/her? >> Hm.

Do you complain when you are bored, or look for something to do? >> I might say that I’m bored, conversationally, if I’m not alone. But usually I just flop around and wait until my brain settles down. (Usually, boredom for me isn’t a lack of things to do, it’s just a kind of restlessness or anxiety that prevents me from doing anything or focusing on anything.)

Do other people's complaints ever get on your nerves? >> Sure.

Generally, what is your favorite ride at an amusement park? >> I remember liking roller coasters, but I haven’t been to an amusement park in a long time.

Who is your favorite 90's musical artist? >> I mean, a lot of the music I enjoy is from the nineties...

Do you think that music was better when your parents were young, or now? >> Music is just music. Some of it I like, some of it I don’t like, but every time period in the past century-plus has had its pop music that older people hate. I think it’s just more difficult to adapt to new music trends as one gets older, and one is more likely to experience nostalgia for the music they grew up with, and mistakenly assume that their nostalgia means that the music was obviously objectively better back then. There are some musical trends that I wish were still knocking around, sure, but there are some new trends that I love, too. People will always be around making music that I like, no matter what year it is.

How did you develop your specific taste in music? >> I mean, it wasn’t any effort on my part. I just like what I like; I assume it’s mostly subconscious.

If you drink coffee, how do you like it (with cream, black, etc)? >> Black.

Did your parents sign you up for things like piano lessons and ballet? >> He always signed me up for things I didn’t enjoy, and then wondered why I didn’t perform to his standards.

What is your favorite children's song? >> I don’t have one.

Is there a funny story about yourself that you like telling others? >> Probably, but I can’t remember it right now.

Are you good at telling jokes? >> No, I don’t have the memory for constructed jokes.

Are you uptight, or are you easy going? >> I’m neurotic about some things because of how I’m wired, and I’m pretty apathetic about other things for the same reason.

Other than gas, what do you frequently purchase at a gas station? >> I don’t regularly buy things at gas stations.

What is one concern you have about the present state of the world? >> Meh.

Ten years ago, did you think that this was how the world would turn out? >> I wasn’t thinking about how the world would turn out ten years from then.

Ever think you might be better off living in a different time period? >> No.

Do you drink regular or diet soda? >> If I’m going to drink soda, I’m going to drink regular soda.

What CDs would you take with you on a road trip? >> Thank god for Spotify.

Think of your favorite band? What album by them is your LEAST favorite? >> I don’t have a favourite band.

Have you seen your favorite band in concert? If so, how was it? >> I’ve seen live several bands I’ve called “favourite” in the past. They were all great shows.

Do you walk regularly? >> I don’t. Especially not in this season.

Did you take a Health class in high school? How was it? >> Yeah. I don’t know, I slept through most of it.

If you could have the answer to one question, what question would that be? >> ---

Do you like any bands from other countries? >> Sure, of course.

When was the last time you mailed a handwritten letter? >> Uh... middle school?

Do you still receive Christmas cards? >> Not unless I do a card exchange amongst my tumblr mutuals, which I did do one year. But executive dysfunction got in the way last season so I didn’t get around to it.

Do you know anyone who is really hard to please? >> I mean, maybe.

What gets you through the day? >> *shrug*

Do you have a Before Bed routine? >> Not really. I just make sure to take my pill at around 10p.

Describe your stance on organized religion? >> I don’t have a stance on it, really. I find some aspects of it fascinating, some aspects of it helpful, and other aspects of it harmful. Just like... anything, I guess? I’m considering conversion to a particular organised religion, but I’ve been spoiled by the sheer freedom of being unaffiliated and I’m not sure how willing I am to give that up.

Describe your stance on religion in general? >> I’m notoriously interested in and even passionate about religion in general, even when I don’t care to personally participate in it. It’s one of those things I’d consider majoring in if I was in any way inclined towards formal education.

If you found out your bf/gf was homosexual, how would you react? >> Whaaaaat? The woman that is always saying “I’m gay” at any given occasion (particularly when she sees other women) is not straight?????? News to me.

If you are homosexual, and you find out your bf/gf is straight, then what? >> I mean, that’s a situation I can’t really imagine being in.

Have you ever sung karaoke? What songs? Was it fun? >> I’ve sung at live-band karaoke... I’d say around 100, 150 times? I was pretty much a regular. My go-to songs included Smells Like Teen Spirit, Jeremy, and No One Knows. Oh, and The Trooper until I saw [fellow regular] Dorit do a belly-dance bit with a sword on her head during the solo. I think all of us regulars gave up on doing The Trooper after that, lmfao.

Do you study for big tests? >> ---

What makes you nervous? >> Oh, a few things, I guess.

Have you called anyone today? What did you talk about? >> No.

When was the last time you went bowling? >> The last time I was even in a bowling alley is when I was eighteen. The only reason I remember is because that was the last time I saw Thomas before he died. (That bowling alley isn’t even there anymore. Always thought a bowling alley in Port Authority was weird, anyway...)

Do you drive around the neighborhood to look at lights around Xmas? >> We usually just see them on regular drives. When I lived in the Pine Barrens as a preteen, it was nice because we lived by a four-mile-long lake, and you could always see the reflections of the lights across the lake in the water. Also, there was this one house that always went absolutely apeshit with the lights every year. I shudder to think of their electric bill.

Why are so many single people bitter on Valentine's Day? >> Because they’re lonely or have been hurt by exes or are unhappily aromantic, and don’t like being bombarded by hearts and romantic shit everywhere. It’s not rocket science, dude.

What holiday is a big deal for you? >> I mean, Christmas. I enjoy it and for once in my life I get to fully celebrate it.

What is one tradition you hate participating in? >> I don’t know, but whatever it is, I probably just refuse to participate in it period.

Have you ever been sledding? >> Nope.

Do you have acne? >> Not since high school.

Have you made a fool of yourself today? >> Not to my knowledge.

Is there someone you wish you could talk to, but you're too afraid? >> Not specifically. But in general, fear is the foundation of why I don’t open up to people.

Do you have a favorite cookie? >> I like lemon cookies...

When was the last time you did something for someone else? >> Neighbour left her key in her door and I knocked on the door to alert her to it.

Do you let other people choose the radio stations in your car? >> ---

Would you say that you are an accepting and openminded person? >> Sure.

Have you ever been convinced to try something you didn't want to do? >> Not if I really didn’t want to do it. I’ve been convinced to try things that I was on the fence about.

What happened? How did you feel about your choice? >> ---

Have you ever tried to influence someone else? >> I mean, sure, probably.

When was the last time you cheated--at anything? >> I don’t remember.

Do you play any online computer games? If so, what? >> Yeah. I play several MMOs (not at the same time, I usually alternate between them from month to month).

What food can you not seem to get enough of? >> Cheese and crackers, for some reason.

When you are mad at someone, how do you show them? >> I usually just don’t talk to them or don’t give any friendly social cues. Kind of freeze them out, I guess. I figure most people don’t care if I’m upset with them or not, so it doesn’t make any sense to tell them or have a conversation about it. That may be fallacious, but I... also haven’t been explicitly proven wrong yet, lol.

Do you like to think that you are better than other people? >> No.

When was the last time you felt you had a reality check? >> I don’t know.

Have you ever felt out of touch with reality? >> Sure, many times.

Have you ever been sick to the point of possibly dying? >> Nope.

Have you ever had a tooth pulled? >> Yes, because I can’t afford a root canal.

How long do you you usually chew a stick of gum? >> Not that long. The flavour only lasts like five minutes at best, after all, and once the flavour’s gone the gum starts to lose pliability.

Did you chew gum in school, even if it was against the rules? >> I don’t recall doing so.

Did you take a foreign language in school? >> I tried. I didn’t get very far because of changing schools all the time, being in the mental hospital all the time, and also that stupid fiasco where I got no credit for a whole year of Spanish I (I don’t remember why, but it was definitely some bullshit).

Did you attempt to make Honor Roll? Did you make it? >> I only made honour roll in elementary.

What was your favorite school project? >> That report I did about Jim Morrison. Or that project I did about the war against rock and roll, lol (you know, the Satanic Panic around metal music and all that noise; I basically got tired of being told I listened to “devil music” and decided to expose the ridiculousness of it in my final project).

Did you attend any school dances? >> I mean, I went to prom.

Were you in any after school clubs? >> I tried to be, but my father made me leave them because he didn’t approve of the kinds of clubs I wanted to be in (and I didn’t want to be in the kinds of clubs he approved of).

Was there any teacher that made life living hell for you? >> I definitely felt that way.

How about any student(s)? >> Some years, yes.

When was the last time you felt overwhelmed? >> I don’t remember. It’s a common occurrence so I don’t make much note of it when it happens.

Which parent are you more apt to go to if you're upset? >> ---

Do you have any coffee mugs with funny pictures/sayings? >> I have a mug with a cute cactus on it! But Sparrow has all the punny mugs (they’re all cat puns).

Describe your favorite t-shirt? >> ---

Describe something strange that you own? >> Hmm... not sure I own anything strange. Or maybe it’s just that nothing I own is strange to me.

What do you like to do on a friday night? >> Go to Cafe Boba for a weekly meetup group.

What do you like to do on a sunday night? >> Whatever.

Are monday's a drag for you? >> No more or less than any other day of the week.

Do you think graffiti is a valid form of artistic expression? >> Of course.

Do you know where the food you eat comes from? >> Of course not, I live in the US. It’s all a clusterfuck of obfuscation.

Do you ever worry about where the world will be in 20 years? >> No. My peers seem to have that covered.

Have you spent much time contemplating your death? >> Oh, definitely.

Do you know what you want your funeral to be like? >> I know that I want a home vigil (assuming I die when I’m older, after we’ve already bought an actual home). If I die, like, tomorrow or whatever, I guess people can do whatever they want funeral-wise because I’m not interested. Just bury me in a cardboard or pine box in the green section at that one cemetery near us, please. Not in a fucking thousand-dollar metal casket or whatever. Let me decay.

How often do you think dirty thoughts? >> I don’t know, often enough, I guess.

Can mere images turn you on? How about words? >> Images, sure. Words, if they come from Inworld, yeah...

Do you give a good back massage? >> No.

Do you think that feet are disgusting? >> I mean, not inherently. At least they don’t... secrete stuff. (I mean, besides sweat.)

Do you have a girlish scream? >> I don’t recall ever screaming, period.

When was the last time you screamed? >> ^

What is your political affiliation? >> I don’t have one, but I usually vote Democrat.

Are you registered to vote? >> Yeah.

Are you GOING to vote? >> *sigh* Yeah, guess I oughta.

Do you think you would enjoy living in college dorms? >> No. Nooooo no no no no.

Have you ever been to the YMCA? >> Yeah.

If you ditched school, where did you go? >> ---

Have you ever been offered drugs? What, and by who? >> I mean, by friends. Not by complete strangers the way D.A.R.E. insisted. (I mean, that probably does happen too, just not at all with the frequency one would expect...)

Are you afraid to walk places at night if you are alone? >> No.

What's in your school backpack? >> ---

Are you put off by overly social people? >> No. I’m easily exhausted by very extroverted, exuberant people, is all. Doesn’t mean I don’t like them as people.

What do you think of people who are shy? >> I don’t think anything of them, specifically. Some people are just shy. That’s fine.

[lovemesomesurveys]

S c h o o l Did you/do you like school? Looking back after a few years, I think I did overall. I wouldn’t have said that in the moment, though. I got very easily overwhelmed, stressed, and burnt out. Many tears were shed. A lot of anxiety was induced. I hated the presentations and taking exams. There were parts I did like, though. There were assignments, books, courses, teachers, and activities that I liked. The learning aspect of stuff that was of real interest to me was enjoyable.  What was/is the best thing about going to school? The worst? I listed the good and bad in my previous answer. All that being said, I do believe education is good and important.  What was/is your favourite subject? Least favourite? My favorite was always english and then psychology, obviously. That was my major. My least was always math. That was the absolute worst.  Who was/is your favourite teacher? Least favourite? My favorite in elementary and middle school (my school was a K-8th grade) was Mr. McGill. He was my 4th grade teacher, but he ended up being an 8th grade teacher later on and I was able to have him again. He was very funny and cool and made learning fun. He genuinely cared about his students. Everyone loved him. In high school it was my sophomore history teacher, Mr. Coffey. He reminded me so much of Rob Dyrdek from how he looked to how he acted. He was cool. He always jammed out to Red Hot Chili Peppers before class. In college I had a few awesome professors. College professors are usually pretty rad.

What did/do you do for break/recess? Recess I just hung out with my friends. I forget what we did, exactly. I couldn’t go on the playground (I’m in a wheelchair). I probably just watched them for awhile or something. I remember playing 4-square. Probably stuff like tag as well. I honestly don’t really remember what I did for recess in elementary school. In middle school we just hung out. *shrug* Oh, and had snacks cause most of us always brought chips or whatever to munch on before lunch. People were suddenly your best friend if you had Hot Cheetos haha. In school break was lunch and I just ate and hung out with friends mostly. In college if I was campus for a long time I usually ate between classes, studied, did some reading, got coffee, messed around on my phone and watched YouTube or Netflix or something.  Did you/do you do any after school activities? What? In 5th and 6th grade I was a Girl Scout. In middle school we had electives, but that was during school so I guess that doesn’t count. I think it was like toward the end of the school day, though. Oh, also my local community college offered some fun classes for kids during the summer and I did some of those. In high school I was in a couple clubs. I was VP for one of them. When I was at community college I was an active club and then board member of the psychology club. In university I didn’t do anything, ha. I went to my classes and went home.  Did you/do you take part in a club or sport at school? What? No sports, but yeah the club stuff I just listed. ^^^  What age did you start school? Like 3 in preschool. If you've left school do you wish you were still there? Nope! haha. I served my time as I say. I’m doneeee. S l a n d e r Do you take things people say at face value? Not always. Depends what they’re telling me, obviously. If someone was like, “there’s a huge meteor crashing to earth tomorrow” I’m gonna look into that lol. What is the worst rumour that has been spread about you? There weren’t any. Not that I ever knew of, anyway. I wasn’t relevant. Can you honestly say you never act two faced? No. I think we’ve all been fake in some way or another at some time or another. Some people are just fake people, though. Like that’s just who they are as a person, ya know? I’m not one of those people, but I can’t say that I’ve never been before.  Do you get talked about behind your back often [someone tells you]? I’m sure my former friends have talked a lot of shit about me over the past few years and rightfully so. I wouldn’t blame them at all. Now I’m probably not even on their radar anymore and they probably just don’t give a shit, which I also wouldn’t blame them for. Apart from that, I mean I’m sure people have said stuff about me behind my back and I’ve been told things before. For the most part; though, I really feel like I was always pretty insignificant and not even on most people’s radar. Do you believe everyone is somewhat of a gossip? Yeah, pretty much. Some are just make it their life; though, and live for the gossip and drama. Don't you think those who insult others and their lives just seriously need to get a life of their own? I don’t understand the obsession some people have for people they claim to dislike or hate. Like, why are they so invested and give any of their time to someone they don’t like? It makes NO sense. I see that so much on the internet. I watch YouTubers and there will be so many haters who just have to get their fix and watch the video and talk shit about the person. They just have to leave that comment and make it known. I’m just like, WHY. I don’t waste my time watching or following up on someone I don’t like. I don’t feel the need to leave a rude comment. It’s real easy to just X out the video and find something else. Why waste your time??? I’ve just really been seeing that a lot lately especially on YouTube. Same with celebrities. There’s some I’m not a fan of or don’t particularly care for, but I have the need to go tweet and tell them that I don’t like them or talk shit in their comments. Make comments to yourself or to someone privately, but you don’t need to make it known to the person. I just move along with your life. That goes for anyone. We all talk shit sometimes, don’t act like you never do, but you don’t need to insult people to their face. S p o r t s Do you like sports in general? Nope. Do you prefer field sports, team sports or other? I prefer no sports. Do you run/jog regularly? Nope. Do you like/enjoy swimming? What's your usual stroke? Nope. What sport do you like to watch but not to play? None. What sport do you like to play but not to watch? None. Who is your favourite sportsman/woman? What sport do they play? I don't have one. Are you sporty, average or hate sports? Sports are just not my thing, man.  R a p Do you like rap music? Yeah. Whose your favourite rap artist? Why? I have several. I’m probably most into Post Malone these days. I like Drake, too. There’s also the newer genre, emo rap, that I’m into as well. That includes like Juice WRLD and Travis Scott. Thennn there’s like rap rock. Linkin Park, one of my top favorite bands, fall under that category. Whose your least favourite rap artist? Why? Hmm. Name me a few rap songs that you like? I don’t wanna.  Name me a few rap songs you dislike? I don’t wanna. Is rap one of your top 3 genres of music? I don’t know, man. I just like variety. Eminen or Dr. Dre? Eminem.  Dizzy Rascal or Will.i.am? I don’t think I’ve heard of Dizzy Rascal.  D12 or Bone Thugs n Harmony? I liked a couple songs by D12. Haven’t listened to them in a long time, though. R e a d i n g Do you like reading? I love to read. What's your favourite book? Whose your favourite author? I can’t choose a favorite. I just can’t. I’ve been reading a longgggg time and have read a lottttttt of books. I have too many favorites. Fiction or Non Fiction? I like fiction better.  Sci-Fi or Historical Novel? Hm. Probably sci-fi out of the two. Fantasy or Horror? Horror. Romance or War Novel? Romance. Do you prefer films or books? I enjoy both. How many books do you think you own? Quite a lot, but not as much as I used to. I’ve been reading a lot of ebooks for the past several years, so I have a lot of those. I have a lot saved in my Kindle app. What books have you read that made you sad? I’ve read countless number of sad books. What books have you read that frightened you? I read a lot of mystery and psychological thriller, so. What books have you read that were terrible? The only ones I’m embarrassed to admit I’ve read are the Fifty Shades of Gray series. :X What books have you read that left you wanting more? So many. I get really into a book and the characters. I love a series.  R e l i g i o n Do you believe in God? Yes. Do you believe in multiple Gods/Goddesses? No. What is your religion called? Christian. Do you believe in Angels and Demons? Yes. Do you believe in Heaven and Hell? Yes. Do you believe in The Devil? Yes. Not like how he’s portrayed in movies and such, like the red dude with a pitchfork, but yes.  What rule/ideal in your religion do you think is the most important? The 10 Commandments.  What, to you, is the difference between spirituality and religion? Religion consists of practices, beliefs, and a relationship with God. Spirituality is more within yourself.  Q u e s t i o n s O f O d d n e s s Do you like tandoori chicken? Never had it. I don’t even know what that is. Can you hear a man's voice right now? On the TV. What nations tea is the best? I don't know. Can you remember what you were doing at 12.30pm yesterday? Sleeping. Does the colour purple make you feel a particular emotion? No. What age are you going to be in 2020? I’m turning 31 this year. D: What colour are your siblings eyes? Brown. Do you more often get a sore throat, cough or sneeze? Sore throat or cough. Do you get more headaches, earaches, toothaches or sore eyes? Headaches and sore eyes. Do you usually wear plain coloured clothes or dual/multi coloured? I wear a lot of black, but it has stuff on it it’s not just a plain black shirt. How far away is the nearest take away place from your house? Like a 2 minute drive. Do you think sarcasm is a good tool or just annoying? It can be annoying when done excessively. It can just be rude sometimes. I have my sarcastic moments, though.  What photos do you have on your phone? Saved photos of stuff I found online, my doggo, some of me, just various things. What's the model of your phone? iPhone XR. Do you drink hot honey and lemon when ill? Nope. My younger brother swears by that kind of stuff when he’s sick. What word would sum up today? It’s only 6 in the morning. I need to go to bed omg. This week? Uh, itt’s just starting. This month? Meh. This year? Way too soon to say. Favourite type of muffin? Banana without the nut and blueberry. Streusel on top makes them even better.

[talix18]

November 22

Today I learned what a Japanese tuxedo is (in terms of tattoos) and that David Lee Roth at 65 has more energy in one hour than I’ve had in my entire life put together. I started listening to his appearance on Marc Maron’s WTF? and spent most of that time laughing or with my jaw hanging open. I lost track of Diamond Dave after his stint as an EMT. Now he’s an entrepreneur with a line of skin products formulated for tattooed skin. Gods bless.

Listening to Dave describe his formal music education made me wonder if that’s not what I ought to go back to school for. Music is the thing I love the most but have little actual education in. I took a beginning theory class in college and some sort of classical music appreciation course in grad school; I even played viola for two years in junior high. I guess by the time I got to college I’d ruled music out as a thing one could start studying. One of my high school friends had been playing cello for her entire life and I remember her missing various activities because she was practicing. She’s now making a living with her cello and I guess her example made me assume it was already too late.

Katelyn and I were talking about going back to school the other night. She’s learning young just how hard it is to make new friends once you’re out of school and I think she’d enjoy it, but we’re both looking at our wallets wondering how to pay for it.

School is one of my happy places. I loved learning, I loved feeling my brain work, I hated studying for exams but loved the feeling of understanding the material. I loved explaining to the class what the teacher meant when they couldn’t parse it and I loved making outline after outline of my study notes until I’d whittled the course down to bullet points. I love having conversations with people who are smarter than I am.

I briefly considered pursuing a Certificate of Higher Learning from Oxford because how cool would it be to be able to say I’m an Oxford alum? The majority of classes can be attended virtually, which is where I admit that I don’t just want to be taking classes by myself. I have a wealth of Great Courses available anytime I want to go ahead and start taking them. I want to Go To School. I want to meet smart people. I want to be surrounded by that energy and excitement again.

Now I’m looking up Eddie Van Halen and learning that he’s been in radiation therapy for his cancer for five years and was just in the hospital after a bad reaction to the drugs. Getting older, as my Gram used to say, ain’t for sissies. Love died for me when Eddie and Val got divorced but I’m glad they’re still friends and I’m thrilled he’s been sober for eleven years. I’m not sure I would have survived a rock and roll lifestyle, but then again, I’d rarely be driving.

(Speaking of the brothers Van Halen, how did I never know their mom was Indonesian? Now I understand why Alex’s eyes have looked vaguely Asian to me for all these years. Apparently Valerie has a cooking show and shared Mama VH’s recipe for something that grabbed Mom’s fancy so I can look forward to that!) (Don’t tell her that I’m a little meh on ham for Thanksgiving. She’s finally cooking Brussels sprouts a new way and I am calling that a win.)

(Mom found a recipe YEARS ago that uses Guinness and had faithfully made her “Relapse Brussels sprouts” every year since. They are fine, but they are mushy, and having seen the way, truth, and light of fresh Brussels sprouts roasted with salt and olive oil, I don’t have the heart to tell her that the Relapse BS just aren’t my favorite.)

This is my fourth day in a row of feeling pretty good, and that’s on less sleep than I normally get. I really hope this is because the medication is working. It’s hard to keep putting one foot in front of the other when you feel like you’re doing it in three feet of water. But I’ve been productive at work and at home and actually considered taking on a work training challenge today. I even started my Christmas shopping! (I hate much of what Jeff Bezos stands for, but goddamn if Amazon doesn’t alleviate most of the Christmas crazy.)

The increased meds are not helping the words come out! I have rare free time in front of a keyboard and nothing to say? Maybe that *is* a sign of increased mental health.

December is flat out insane in my family. Thank goodness my aunt moved away with her 12/4 birthday! There were birthday dinners with Mom (12/2), my aunt, me (12/20), and my dad (12/26). My brother’s birthday is also on the 20th and he’s continued the tradition in the latest generation – my niece will be five on 12/1. Her Aunt Lindsay has decided it’s time we start taking her out for birthday dinners. Basically, the fulcrum of the year tips at Thanksgiving and is just a steep slide into New Year’s. (Which I actually have plans for!)

Christmas shopping is so anxiety-laden for me that I have bad dreams about it all year long. (It’s always the same: December 23rd, I’ve purchased nothing, and the only place open in Walgreen’s.) I can’t enjoy the holiday season until I’m relatively sure what everyone’s getting and honestly, I don’t need any more stuff. Just being together and enjoying yummy food is enough for me. The holidays also mean the Hebert Christmas punch tradition from which I’ve been excluded for this will be the 24th time (I can drink anything I want! I choose not to!). My family are all wine and spirit drinkers and most of the time I look around it, but the holidays really make me miss that fuzzy festive feeling.

So how does one achieve that without using? I need to get back on a meditation routine and I need to make upside-down yoga part of my weekly life. Upside-down yoga always made me a little giddy and we rarely invert in the class I take now. I also need to try on my New Year’s Dress and assess how vigilant I have to be between now and then to make it work. I was having some success with an intermediate fasting routine where I’d restrict my calories for two (non-consecutive) days per week. The beauty of that schedule is that I can maintain it through the holidays. I should have just started this week after the colonoscopy.

But I also had a pretty severe mood crash last year and fasting is not for the unstable. Yes, I’m an emotional eater but you know, I’d rather eat my feelings than wish I could opt out of life. I know how to lose weight; necromancy is above my spell level.

Did I ever mention I was a witch and practiced in a coven for a decade? I’ve just gotten to the 20K word mark and it’s likely I’ll start repeating myself any time now. The coven was made of some amazing people but the actual business of witching just felt too much like work. I went in looking for a spiritual experience and what I got was a delightful social experience. That required a lot of time and 40-mile drives and the stagnation of my 12-Step recovery in that decade was not a coincidence.

Yesterday I got to whip out one of my favorite recovery slogans on a friend: “Religion is for people trying to stay out of hell. Spirituality is for people who’ve already been there.” It doesn’t hold up once you consider religions that don’t have conceptions of hell, but it’s catchy.

(The NaNoWriMo website helpfully breaks down how many words one has to produce per day to get to 50K by next Sunday and it is a little overwhelming. I only need 2235 more today to stay on target! [I am not staying on target.])

Somebody give me a topic! (Give me a beat!) Oh! Yesterday I emptied out one of my spare room dressers, which is something that’s been on my project list for, oh, a long time. All I have to do is patch the hole and that room will be ready to paint, which will let me do the floors in that room and the front. With that done I’ll have my closet annex and yoga station all set up and I will finally live in my entire house. And it should inspire me to do the last three rooms.

I’m excited to set up these last two rooms as functional spaces. I can’t tell you what’s taken me so long to surrender to the idea that I need a room-sized closet extension but look…I have to grab joy wherever I can find it. Waiting for the big stuff to fall into place just takes too long and this bizarre timeline provides plenty of reasons to despair. I don’t understand how people can spend eight hours a day in cubes that aren’t decorated and I am not going to limit myself to one of my life’s compulsions if I have room to store it all. (Vanessa is in Tennessee shouting “You’ll never have room for another person in your house that way!” and I’m shouting back “You and your person bought a new house!”)

I do love my house, though, and getting me out of it is going to take some extraordinary conditions. With any luck I’ll meet a life partner who also loves their house and we can commute and share. I still won’t have enough wall space to hang everything I want to; perhaps a rotating gallery space is required. Says the girl who can’t manage to swap the screens out for storm windows and vice versa every year.

[sturmxundxdrang]

2 0 1 9 ;

so, following what i did for 2016 and 2018, let me write a little recap of this year, and talk a little about the decade.

starting off by the goals i set last year:

“I hope to have at least intermediate German. I’m almost there, but not yet.” | i do feel like i got a lot better with my German, but i did leave it a little aside with all the college stuff i had this year. to be quite honest, i’m not even sure what’s my level right now.

“I’ll focus on the guitar, and won’t let my frustration burn me out.” | i did focus a lot more on the guitar! i started classes back again with my childhood teacher, and i felt like i did get better.

“Exercise more and get a better sleep schedule.” | well, failed on the exercising thing lol but my sleep schedule got better for the most part. i do slip and have bad weeks now and then, especially now during the holidays, but i felt that work helped me with that.

“Focus more on college, this last semester was very tough.” | i’m not even going to lie, i could’ve focused more.

“Do more things I usually wouldn’t, like going out to do something on my own, and hopefully being to drive by myself.” | driving is something i’m getting used to slowly, hopefully next year i get better. but i did do a lot of things on my own this year.

“Read & write more, or at least more than I did in 2018.” | i did read more! i was able to read some books that were on my list for a long time, and i have a bunch of books to read in 2020. i didn’t write as much, but got some poetry done.

“Watch more movies, strike a few from my list.” | a list with over 300 movies is terrifying lol i did watch more movies than last year, and i did go to the movies more often tho, but i think i focused more on series.

“Meet more people, go out more.” | i’d say i was pretty outgoing? i met new people, made more friends, went to a different city with a friend of mine, and of course, i went to a whole new country.

“Be more organized.” | i think i improved? but i do have to get better.

“Focus on my religion & study more, try to keep a consistent schedule and all that.” | see, this i did do! i followed my yearly calendar, learned a lot more. i didn’t study much, but religion-wise i’m improving.

“Find a hobby that will help me relax, something that I can do without pushing myself too much, because I frustrate myself a lot.” | i still wasn’t able to find something to focus on that doesn’t stress me out lmao but i will!

now... wow, what do i even say about this year? remember i said last year that this year would be even better? in my opinion, it was full on h e l l , but at the same time, it was amazing. i had many battles, a LOT of stress, heartbreak, disappointments, but, y’know what... i learned and i was happy a lot too. i can’t exactly remember much, this year was so fast but also took so long? it felt like two entire years in one. i can’t remember most of the first half, to be quite honest. i know i did something fun on my birthday and that it was good, but i can’t tell you what exactly. 

this entire year was about being on edge. i was scared for my life and my family a lot of times, i still am. if you follow politics and world news, you know brazil isn’t a very good place right now. it’s never been quite good, but it’s been way better than right now. i’ve argued a lot about politics, i cried a lot, i got stressed. i study law, politics is a big part of it, but even if it wasn’t... every single fucking thing is political. you can say it’s stupid, but if you don’t live in this country, you can’t tell me i’m a fool for being nervous. but as i’ve cried, i also learned to be numb about it, or just mad. it’s just one of those things you need to fight to change, and maybe one day we will.

this year was also about new experiences. i managed to go to a new city with a friend i wasn’t very close to but that trip was amazing. we saw amazing bands, i put us on the first row, we had such an amazing time. it was about singing in a studio for the first time when my guitar teacher decided he wanted me to be his band’s vocalist, and slowly get used to singing in front of other people. it was about being alone in a new country and finding my way to where i needed to be. about meeting my best friends and the city i hope to call home not far from now. about getting my heart broken by someone and having to learn how to deal with it. it was about confessing love, too, even if it wasn’t returned.

2019 took me a friend that last year i thought to be very important. and he was, truly. but sometimes people aren’t meant to be in your life, and that’s fine. sometimes we never fully know someone despite knowing them for a very long time. but it was also the year that gave me three new friends that became a huge part of my life (for the boys Soto, Cam and Wyn, i’m grateful that 2019 brought us together) and that i hope stays in my life for a long time. sometimes it is like that, you lose someone but the universe has a way of gifting you with better people. it was like this in 2018 too.

2019 also ended on a great note for me. it had been 4 years without contact with someone that used to be my best friend, but december brought him back into my life, and not only that but he also gave me my first tattoo that is full of meanings.  it was the year my faith got stronger and that i recognized someone that has been there for me for a long time, and that i now know that i should trust. it’s been a year full of roller coasters and feeling high and then low, and i’m not going to lie, some of these last few weeks of the year hurt like fucking hell because of this one guy, but i learned to trust my gods and know that i can’t always control everything. what is mine is waiting for me.

this year changed my self-esteem, and i thank my goddess for that. i went from panic attacks because nothing looked good on me into crying of joy because all of the three options for nye look so good on me that i can’t decide which one i’ll wear - it seems silly, but it meant a lot to me. my confidence with my english also is growing, i rarely ever speak but berlin with the band helped me a lot and i was even able to be on the phone with Lily for an entire hour (and she knows damn well how i was about small audio messages, this was huge improvement for me).

this was the year i finally stepped foot on the city i am absolutely sure i belong to. walking those streets finally felt like home, and the gods know how much i longed for a place like that. it was the feeling of being home, with the three girls that 2018 gifted me as a family, and just exploring places we’ll soon know like the palm of our hands. i can’t wait to walk through those museums again knowing we have enough time, we’re not going anywhere anymore, there’s no flight to catch in a few days.

i have so much to be grateful for: my friends, my family, my gods and goddesses, everyone that stuck around and helped me grow. this was such a crazy journey but it’s nice to see how much i changed, hopefully for the best. i learned, and am still learning, to accept parts of myself i would usually ignore, and sides i was ashamed to show. 

i wish i could remember much more, but my memory isn’t really known as the best. who knows, next year i might try to log my months so 31. dec, 2020 will be easier to write this thing. 

all in all, it was a bittersweet year. i’m glad it’s over, and i’m ready to start again, write those chapters and keep on taking control of my own history. next year will be hard. college will probably not be very nice on me, but we’ll keep on going. if i made it through 21 years of my life, i can make it through another one.

now... i don’t know what to say about the decade. i came in as an 11 year old kid that wanted the world, and i left as an adult that knows that i deserve the world. i met many people that i don’t talk to anymore but that remains as important to me as they were back then. i made so many friends from places i’d never dream of, i learned so much about the world just through a screen in a way my parent’s wouldn’t have dreamed of at my age, i changed so much. i remember in 2010 when i met the dude that gave me a gift: the band that saved my life and that gave me the best friends i could have asked for. he was in my life for a very short time but he means a lot still. 2011 when i first learned about straight edge, and got back into wrestling. 2012 was when i got my first guitar, the gift i wanted for a very long time. 2013 was when i finally decided to share what i wrote with the internet. 2014 i met one of the wrestlers i admired the most. 2015 i finished high school, my personal hell that i finally was over with and also when i first heard about what would become my religion. 2016 i saw my favorite band for the first time, and when i  started Law school. 2017 was when i met Lily, and also when i cut off a very toxic friendship, i was finally learning that i deserved better. 2018, another toxic friendship gone, but also the year that the gods brought me my beloved bandmates. and 2019: the year i had one of my biggest dreams coming true. and you know what? i’m sure my 11 yo self would be proud of the person i am right now.

may 2020 and the next decade make more of my dreams come through, may i end the next decade living safely in the place i want to be in, with my family in a good place as well. i hope next year will be better.

and to not break the traditions, some goals:

be able to play the guitar in front of other people

get my German better

maybe get started with the piano

try to write more poetry and maybe finish a book

write more song lyrics for RH

keep the project going with my local band

do more things by myself

read more books

be more organized and maybe learn to follow a schedule

dedicate myself more to my religion & my craft

start the process of moving out

get a side job 

be nicer and more patient 

be more disciplined

save more money

find that hobby!!

well, there’s a lot more than last year, but here’s to a better year, a better decade, filled with success and accomplishments. i’m very grateful for all of the experiences i had so far.

[ofcloudsandstars]

I've surpassed a quarter of a century living here. It felt like an eternity, like I've lived several lives already. I know around each quarter of a century saturn will return to the same place it was when you were born but saturn hasn't made it's return for me just yet.

To be honest almost every year my birthday depresses me. I have been having existential crises since I was 7 years old. I remember one night I was in bed with my mom staring at some old victorian wallpaper and having a moment of awareness that was outside of who I was. I asked her "Why am I here? Why was I born in this time? And also in this place and country when I could have been born to any parents in any place on this earth. Why do I exist?" I could imagine from her perspective to have your child ask you this at 10pm is like overwhelming but that thought and emotion never left me for 19 years.

I never asked to be here.

I often feel like wherever I came from I miss it a lot. I feel like there was some kind of mistake and that I've fallen from some other existence that was nicer and now I am on this dying planet constricted by time and decay with creatures that only care about consuming everything they can. There is so much potential here and so much to be given but it's been spoiled over time, claimed by violence and anyone who tried to change it would get assassinated.

I remember when I was in nursery school (I still have so many vivid childhood memories) and I was graduating with my class into pre-K and we had to do an assembly where we told middle schoolers what we aspired to be when we grew up and I remembered my answer was Jesus and I probably remembered this so vividly cause my teacher had an Episode about it. Like: You can't say that!! Do you know what you said?? Like she wanted me to understand the gravity of my statement but I didn't understand why it was so shocking. I am Obviously not christian, haha if you know me you know that, but as a child I understood that someone like Jesus was selfless and cared about people even if they were outcasted and unloved and cared about fixing the corruption of the government and he was killed for it. I didn't understand much of christianity as a child and I HATED going to church but even when I was 6 I knew what it meant to be selfless and to give unconditional love because sometimes doing acts of kindness can inspire others to heighten their awareness yet I lost respect for religion when I was a teen cause I saw how prophets' simple messages of being thoughtful were weaponized cause nothing on this plane can ever stay uncorrupted for power. Anyway I said I wanted to be a motorcyclist. I mean as a 5 year old I just said it as 'motorcycle guy' and the teacher thought that was good enough. I still think motorcycles are cool haha.

It wasn't until I was an adolescent that I was hyper aware of death in every way. It was the worst time of my life. Everything idealistic I felt about this world was wiped away and I became aware of the realities of racism, sexism, everything -ism that made me feel like I wasn't allowed to enjoy anything. I could go on and on about the effects of racism and sexism and how my gender and sexuality felt like a prison and how once again I never decided on any of these things but it felt like I was out of place and on top of that there were consequences for being out of place. As a girl especially finding a guy to love you was something they brainwash in you early and if you couldn't you wouldn't have value. As a girl, you always looked externally for people to validate you with their love cause you weren't allowed to love yourself. Living in a body that wasn't the right race, gender and sexuality made me feel hopeless and full of hate and that I would never be accepted. I was suicidal and I felt like it wouldn't make a difference if I ended myself then or waited cause I wasn't living life anyway and I knew some inevitable death was coming. Like a huge storm in the horizon. It was the time of my life reoccuring dreams of the apocalypse were coming. Night after night I would have dreams running around in cities avoiding mobs while heat waves burned everything or tsunamis came or some plague effected millions creating some zombie like reality. I never enjoyed being a teenager and it lead into my young adult life. I always wanted to go out and be carefree, do stupid things, get drunk, have a young love and not worry about the world yet there was always some constraint like strict parents or not being the ideal woman to 'deserve' these things and I felt like I was wasting the one part of my life I could enjoy before the global darkness arrived.

I always felt like I was born at the end of something. Even when I finally had the chance to go out people would tell stories about how great certain places to go out where or places to experience, or urban cultures that could be found in some areas but they 'no longer exist'. 'People don't do that anymore'. "It used to be wild but now it's strict". "The place was torn down for condos". "It got commercialized and tickets are expensive, but the culture isn't even there so it's not worth it". Nothing lasts forever and neither did my adolescence. It was the one time I tried to give what this society have to offer a chance and I accept it wasn't meant for me. I was born in the wrong time when everything was ending.

And though this world has given me constaint restraints I still am trying to make the most of this existence. I've accepted that we live in some kind of hell and it's inevitable for suffering to end. People could give messages of compassion and it would be weaponized to control others or commercialized to sell overharvested crystals and herbs in huge businesses. To live we have to eat other living sentient beings cause that's how energy is transferred unless you are a plant that can do photosynthesis but they can still suck water and minerals from their neighbors for their needs. There is no balance here. I find living exhausting. I still don't know how I got here.

I did ask my mom a year or so ago on my birthday why she had me. She just said 'it was the thing to do'. So I am alive cause it was a thing people do, just have children I guess. I wonder if I am just a product of my body like am I a conscious being because of the energy generated in this sack of flesh or do I also have some element of me that came from a world beyond this one. If I am just a physical being then why do I constantly feel out of place for nearly two decades. I could describe it as a kind of dysphoria for my being, like I don't feel like I am a woman but I definitely don't feel like I was meant to be a human being and that there was a mistake.

I know that time can reveal some truths and I always dream about using my suffering to create some kind of balance here. Maybe it was a good thing that I feel I would never find love so I wouldn't get confined to some relationship where a boy would dictate my life. I stopped caring about being validated by others and I tried to focus on validating myself. It was probably a good thing that I was shut at home and unable to go out because what is conventially seen as a good time is self destructive and I shouldn't be trying to escape reality. Maybe just maybe it is a good thing that I was born into a world that will meet it's end soon because I am already unattached to my life here but maybe I should use my energy to be selfless like the people I looked up to when I was a child and try to bring positive change even if it means being assassinated cause I would either die by the hands of corrupted forces or by mother nature and it's better to try then to wait around to die because that's another form of suffering and being confined.

---

For years I wanted to be an architect and urban planner. If we want to back track after I got shamed for wanting to be jesus at around 8 I was obsessed with being an astronaut. I wanted to see if I could explore other worlds out there and find something beyond earth that was a place that was full of adventure and escape. After learning how literally everything up there can kill you and that it required math I was into robotics in my early teens. I thought creating a reflection of sentient life was amazing and could open up doors to how we understood ourselves but I literally had teachers in my middleschool repeat how it was difficult for women to succeed in science and it was hard and Everything in life was hard for me then and I just wanted to conform and please others so I dropped it and didn't really care about my future until the middle of highschool where they pressure you to start thinking about it to apply for college. I think what made me want to be an urban planner was that my escape was day dreaming and it was in late middleschool I would day dream about my ideal society that resembled absolutely nothing close to this one. I knew it was far fetched so I just pursued something I knew I was good at doing since I did it in my spare time which was game design. It was really an excuse and something fun to study to appease everyone that I was in college so I wouldn't kill myself studying some other boring garbage but it was also a cop out since I was too afraid to pursue urban planning since it's intensely political and I felt like I could never go far. Instead now I am a bartender, another skill I find enjoyable in my free time that's now killing me as a job that I absolutely hate. I am about to go into reception which I know will be worse but it will just pay bills.

I think this year after 25 years of just 'living' I should try to pursue what I care about. I am now in a place where education is cheaper and they care about society and the environment so it could be feasible and less of a risk then in the US where I could end up hundreds of thousands in debt for chasing a dream. I have met so many amazing people that made me feel less alone and have the same drive and passions as me and maybe we can learn and build together. Even if my life feels like some kind of accident or something that was done to consolidate a marriage it doesn't have to be wasted. I still am not a fan of being here but I am happy to say that my 26th birthday was the first after YEARS that I have not woken up depressed and I think it's because its a shift for me and maybe finally I won't be constrained.

[birdscreeches]

Kids These Days || Aisha R.

The Marian Auditorium of Miriam CoIIege could seat one thousand fifty people, apparently, and on that day, it was a full house. Not necessarily by choice, of course. Every student there, aged twelve to probably fourteen at the oldest, had congregated into the air conditioned structure and settled into the smooth, wooden seats of the auditorium because this was a required thing, this talk on sexuality.

And if that isn’t a big, scary word. Sexuality. In a place like an all girls Catholic high school, saying the word “sexuality” was like opening a bag of chips in a dead quiet room. You will be met with winces or sneers or snickers. You might even get in trouble. The metaphor isn’t really foolproof, because on one hand, you’ve got a snack, and on the other, you’ve got an integral aspect of the human experience with endless variations. It’s a lot less “palatable”, for one. Not as tasty. Sexuality was funny. It was dirty. It was something to be whispered about and not spoken of, especially if you were twelve or thirteen or fourteen. Hell, even if you were older, it could still be something taboo. Growing up, or the failure of thereof, was a little peculiar like that.

But here they were for an entire two hour long talk all about sexuality. October of 2016, roughly one thousand fifty students were chucked into an auditorium where they tittered in a classic mixture of teenage curiosity, anticipation, and habitual boredom. On stage, the speaker, a family psychologist, walks out. The voices of the one thousand fifty students hush from a buzz to a hum to silence.

And the thus the talk began.

To say that the talk was a trainwreck would be a fantastic, monumental understatement. It seemed like every high school freshman I spoke to had something to say about the talk.

“Oh,” said A, a bookish girl with glasses who looked quiet and shy right up until I brought up The Talk. She pushed her glasses up in a way one knew meant she was livid. “It was awful.”

B, a student I had spoken to via email correspondence had written “It was terrible. Obscure. Immature.”

“I wanted to cry,” said R, looking like she was about to cry. “That talk made me want to cry.”

In a nutshell, the so-called sexuality talk was a verbal cavalcade of sexist stereotypes only thinly disguised as something educational. The speaker had talked about how men and women were different, how men’s brains were like waffles (boxed and organized) and women’s brains were like spaghetti (“Noodling around,” A told me. “I’m not shitting you. The speaker said, ‘women think like spaghetti, we’re always noodling around.’ What the hell does that mean?”) By the halfway point of the talk, students had resigned themselves to the fact that this was another one of those inane things the school did that they’ll have to forcibly erase from their memory. The talk went on about boys and girls and flirting and relationships and stuff everybody already knew about before always peddling back to “Studies first!” Educational stuff right here.

But the real kicker was this: one brave girl, just one out of roughly one thousand fifty, stood up, walked to the microphone set up in the aisle, and asked a question. She asked the question that was thrumming through the heads of a lot of students in the auditorium. She asked, “What do you think of LGBT?”

In front of one thousand fifty students, the speaker had smiled sweetly—sweet in the way that probably made you feel sick—and said “All the feelings you have for women, project them onto men instead.”

-

See, non-heterosexual people exist. Non-heterosexual teenagers exist. It just so happens some of them will end up in an all girls Catholic high school.

“It sucks,” R told me. R is a high school freshman. She had short hair and glasses and good grades and she was Not Straight. We spoke just a little bit after class ended at a lunch table in the school’s cafeteria. To her left was A, one of her friends who also was Not Straight, eyes downcast, as if she already knows the rest of what R was going to say. R said, “But, I don’t know. You get used to it.”

Which begs the question what exactly it is kids these days are forced to get used to.

The horror stories spanning from different schools are myriad. Sometimes it’s subtle. Miriam CoIIege High School had certain days where students could come in civilian attire, but “crossdressing” was not allowed. Students must dress like ladies.  St. PauI College Pasig has a rule against short hair. A bobcut is pushing it, and if you had a cut that was no longer in the realm of “female hair” you’d get talked to. L, a student from St. Paul, rocked something of a pixie cut during her stay at the school. She was called to the principal’s office for it every year and was even threatened with expulsion. Gender norms and non-heterosexual presentation are closely linked, and rules like these are tiny ways to make sure nothing happens even at a surface level. Rules like these are pretty nifty because it’s rather easy to shake one’s head and say this has nothing to do lesbians. It was about image.

Sometimes it’s more blatant. A had told me about a school—she couldn’t remember which one, just one from the expansive catalog of all girls Catholic schools—that had written in their handbook something along the lines of “girl on girl relations are strictly prohibited.”

Miriam College High School, the school where participants were taken from, has, in the curriculum for Christian Life, an entire section on Sexuality and Marriage. As expected, it all boiled down to teaching pissed off teenagers that if you weren’t straight, you were going to hell. Sure, it was sugar coated, but fancy plating doesn’t change the truth. If you took a shot for every time an earnest CL teacher said “God hates the sin, and not the sinner,” whilst making awkward eye contact with every visible lesbian in the classroom, we’d be getting to hell much earlier due to alcohol poisoning.

A controversial example of the curriculum at work would be the third term CL final exam given to the graduating batch of 2016. Questions upon questions of situations and matching values were put into a test that decided a student’s grade. Insert name here is a gay man in a relationship and dot dot dot. Insert name here thinks she is bisexual and dot dot dot. As a Christian, what is your response?

Many students refused to answer these questions at all. That was their response.

The act of existing in an all girls Catholic high school is one that’s implicit with resignation concerning this kind of treatment. Catholicism is obvious in its restrictions. It’s Adam and Eve, etcetera, but beyond religion, the structure of high schools and how they’re run creates an environment where not much can be done about it. The students are gay and the teachings are against you. If you’re really unlucky, a few teachers will be too. There can be teachers who are supportive, but they can’t really do much against the entirety of the administration. A joke I heard from a student was something along the lines of “There’s a reason why the CL department is so far away from the English department.” Right. Gotta keep the liberals away from the conservatives. An accepting teacher is a treat, but ultimately a bandaid in a world of gashes.

But, as R said, you get used to it. Or maybe you already were.

“And that’s messed up,” A told me. A was another freshman from a different class, and she really looked like a sweet girl. Anger didn’t suit her, but it graced her features anyway. It was mostly in her eyes; a hardened, steeled gaze. She is thirteen years old.

-

The thing about the infamous sexuality talk is that it’s the paragon of reinforcement. Smaller strains of it exist in things like religion class, disapproving teachers, guidance counselors who tilt their heads when you mention a girlfriend, and the list goes on.

It’s tempting to be confused as to why these things continue when they obviously don’t “work.” Work in the sense that these people and their attitudes don’t magically craft an army of straight girls. This much is evident by the persisting population of non heterosexuals existing in all girls Catholic schools. Talk after class after session, one after the other, and they’re still there and still as gay as ever.

These things continue because it’s a new coat of paint on the Straight Is Good sign. To students, this is something they’ll get to see on a regular basis. Those who disagree will continue to disagree, but there will be those who believe it. Of the non heterosexuals, this is just a small jab in the midst of many. They’ll get used to it, but some of them won’t. There will be those who believe it.

Of those who get used to it, the thought now is the fact that in an ideal world, they shouldn’t have to be.

“We’re used to being treated like this. There are worst things, but there are better ones too.” A said, “I wanna be used to better things.”

-

“I mean, I guess we’re lucky.” R told me a little later. We had taken a short break to buy food. R and A were now munching on gummy candies shaped like pizzas. There was something about this contrast that struck me; soft gummies and hard issues and teenagers who have both. “At least the students are really accepting. Just a week ago there was this, this romantic thing?”

“Yeah!” A piped in. “This girl had this sign like ‘I love you’ for another girl and they did this thing with flowers and stuff. It was really sweet. Right in the middle of the covered court, lunchtime. All the students were cheering.”

“And I figure, any teachers in the vicinity would just pretend not to notice,” I joked, but A just fixed her eyes on me again.

“What else can they do?” She said. And really, what else was there?

Ignorance, it seemed, was the easiest out. It certainly was the kinder evil. Averted eyes and skillful segues, and you never have to talk about gay students because well, they don’t really exist, anyway. “I’d take that over ‘gay is a sin’ any day,” A told me. “At least they stay away. They leave us alone.”

How lonely, I thought, but I didn’t tell her this. Instead, I just nodded and accepted that sometimes you have to settle. Whether it was a tragedy or not didn’t matter as much as the circumstances that pushed kids to have to set their standards low in the first place for something as simple as wanting to be accepted.

It seems if you’re a non-heterosexual student in a Catholic high school, it’s either you exist and you’re punished for it, or you’re ignored and you take what you can get. So flip a coin for it. I tell them this, and they laugh.

“I kind of don’t want to, though,” R said, squishing a gummy between her fingers. “It’s 2017. I kind of want more. Is that too much to ask?”

Not at all, I thought. Not at all.

-

In an auditorium filled with roughly one thousand fifty students, everybody hushed down, gritted their teeth, and listened. But if there’s something I’m getting from the kids I’ve seen and spoken to, it’s that they’re getting a little bit tired of that routine.

Perhaps, slowly, the silence will pick up. The murmurs will start. The words. The discussions. The voices will up in volume and confidence, a cadence of identity. Once upon a time, these kids were told to project their feelings elsewhere, and, in a sense, they are.

They’re projecting their feelings outward and beyond, loud and clear, absolutely demanding to be heard.