channonyarrow

I feel the clear, pressing, strong need to use the phrase "sportfucking" in a sentence today.

Let's see if that happens!

Also, I am so classy that I was not the first person at family dinner tonight to bring up the PETA sea kitten business. In full disclosure, I do need to add that I was the first to call for the mass suicide, a la Heaven's Gate, of PETA. If the problem for the animal world is the presence of humans, I think you make your point more firmly if you're willing to drink Drano than if you're just going to stand around and tell me I'm a horrible creature while I try to eat dead cow.

Note that I am only tangentially bringing up the fact that PETA employees were responsible for tossing more than 100 dogs in a dumpster in Ahoskie, NC back in 2005. But that did win me the hat trick of grossing everyone out without even bringing up the subject.

I am fun at parties!

Apparently, I am not allowed to subject minors to The Rockstar Trap(TM), nor am I allowed to keep them in cages, even if they have purple hair.

That said, I am preparing to become enamored of this band as soon as they get some production values.

Please note that no one at work thinks I'm actually a pedophile - just that I become easily obsessed. HOWEVER, NOT WITH MINORS (except Daniel Radcliffe).

*****

I want to go home. No, I REALLY want to go home. I REALLY want to go back to the place where everything has an "away" and where I'm not spread out over three rooms and two floors to sew and where I know what the food is and what it is for, and where I have not introduced nearly two pounds of madeleines into the wild.

For reference, I think I ate 1 and three quarters pounds of the madeleines.

*****

I DO NOT WANT to go to my cousin's wedding this weekend - unless I go with a fire axe and smack it into her fucking whiny head.

The bad part? It's MY FAULT we're going to the wedding! I was the one saying that no one should celebrate their wedding alone!

Unfortunately, altruism dies a horrible death when confronted with my cousin. With any luck, she'll never speak to me again (oh the horror of the fact that I pointed out that if she didn't care what kind of dress she had, THE DRESS WOULD BE FOUND! And etc on all the other "horrible" things I said! I'm such a terrible person! Let me slit my wrists!) and that would be sad.

Really.

*****

Have I mentioned that I REALLY REALLY WANT TO GO HOME?

*****

I want to read dress diaries - but actually, what I want to read is MY dress diary. Which must mean that I need to WRITE IT (it's for a steampunk explorer/dandy type that I must ZOMG find a character reference for because this is The New Halloween Costume, and god forbid I just tell people 'It's a steampunk explorer' because they will all stare at me and I will suddenly have Gerard Way's "Ew at your face" face on my OWN face.) but that means that I need to FINISH SOMETHING.

So far what I've finished is finding four yards of hand-woven machine-washable silk for under fifty bucks. I suspect I just supported a totalitarian regime.

And I've finished a jabot. It's rather cute. And material acquisition for other parts of the project. And pattern acquisition.

What I lack is a CONCEPT. Or at least one that is not merely two words that no one will get at all - I need one that is a recognisable name-and-source that people will go "Oh, I don't know that," to and walk away.

*****

I really am not a fan of the fourth of July.

So. My grandfather's dying.

This is not something that concerns me overly much - the man hasn't spoken to anyone I know in 15 years, and has dementia at the moment, evidently from lack of oxygen during a heart attack, so he doesn't even know anyone who's spoken to him.

I haven't gone to see him, and I'm not going to. I sincerely doubt that I will go for the funeral.

And yet I feel ashamed that I don't care. Life in society is all about fitting in to that society, and part of what I see of society's rules is that it never is a matter of total disinterest when someone is dying. At least if that person is related to you.

I can't pretend an interest I don't have. And because of my issues with my father - some of which stem from my grandfather's behaviour - I can't particularly sympathise with him - I actually wound up debating whether or not I should give him a hug or not.

This is my father. If I have reservations about hugging him, about acknowledging his grief, society by-and-large deems that to be ridiculous behaviour. And yet, I can't do it. Society's lowest-common-denominator, division-by-zero approach strikes again; we must conform to standards that are ridiculous for our personal lives simply because it is what society by and large expects.

On the individual level, of course, it's very different. Society (at least where I live, in the United States of Amerikkka) frowns on, say, BDSM. And yet the percentage of people who claim some aspect of a BDSM lifestyle is large and growing. On the individual level, my response is just fine, and it matters not one damn bit to me what society thinks.

Still, it says a lot that these two men, one of whom is dying, have provoked nothing in me beyond thoughts of what society-as-a-construct is and does. I'm related to both, I'm sure that I'm supposed to feel love for both, and yet they're merely there, one in my life and one not, rather like potted plants. I've even gotten over the guilt I used to feel about not giving a damn.