(abandoned) Gym and Kevin

I ran into Kevin at the library on Wednesday. I spotted him from the elevator (man do I love those things). He'd been studying at one of the tables; just began picking up his bags and headed upstairs when I intercepted him.

Turns out, he had his first big project due that day; a few more due in the next days, too. He said he'd been up since 18:00 the last night (it was about 19:00 when I saw him). Invited him for coffee; he declined, saying he'd better sleep.

I had picked up two more Redwall books (Pearls of Lutra; Rakkety Tam) and two Ursula K. le Guin books (Tales of Earthsea, or something; and something else). I must've looked stupid next to him and his research materials. "I remember reading Earthsea," he said, "back in the day." Dang.

Walked him to his bus; came immediately. Vaguely expressed to get together.

And that was about it!


Off to the gym again.

Gym record

Wednesday, 26 March

Treadmill: 30 minutes
5.3 mph, with many breaks down to 3.4 or even 2.0.

Push-ups: 5x10
Deltoids: 4x10 with 5lbs; 1x10 with 8lbs
Biceps: 5x10 with 5lbs; 2x10 with 8lbs

Stretches:
glut
quads - lunge
calves
hamstrings
other hamstring stretch
deltoids
biceps
triceps
back (sort of)


[post abandoned]

BIG FLAMING HOMO

Artwork

Here are two watercolours from over Easter:

1. There was an article on rabbits on the Easter newspaper, and they were just so adorable. I dug out my watercolours.

I tried to get that "fuzzy" effect of wet-on-wet. Didn't quite work. Also, Bunny looks too tall, like it's a hunched monster, instead of a cute nibbler. The grass didn't turn out nicely, either. I think the biggest problem is my lack of planning.

2. I put more planning into this doodle.

I like this little fellow a lot! This piece is on display in my room.


Queer

I've been thinking about queerness again. The issue has come up with one of my close friends, let's call him Andy, because he's mostly straight, but he loves his best friend, and now they're acting on it.

Andy was one of the first people I came out to--of course, because we were close friends. He didn't get why I had to make such a big deal out of being queer; it's not his business, so why should he care? And every time I'd say something unquestionably queer, he'd call me on it and get fed up immediately. Can't say I'd have blamed him; I think I was the first queer person he had a relationship with.

Anyway. Turns out he loves his best friend. He told me that, ever since I came out to him, he'd been thinking about his love for his best friend. I don't mean to be an I-told-you-so, but I could tell my queerness made him uncomfortable on a deeper and more personal level than just, "Ew, you're a queer person." But I figured it'd be best to let him figure out why he reacted so much.

Our relationship's been through a heck of a lot. I'm not sure what's going on right now; we talked about our differences. He thinks Gay Pride Parades are counterproductive, because shoving it in others' faces won't make them any more accepting. I believe Gay Pride Parades are more about celebrating than convincing. Similarly, I don't think fiancees invite guests to their wedding to convince them they love eachother; they invite others to celebrate.

Is it vain to celebrate in public? Maybe. But some people think they have all sorts of rights. I still remember our History teacher saying, "Some people believe they have the right to be surrounded only by white people." Similarly, I think some people believe they have the right to be surrounded by only heteronormative people.

Andy says that I'm intolerant of those who aren't as open-minded. Sadly, I think he's got a point. I really, really wish people were more open-minded. At the same time, I'm learning that there needs to be all sorts of people for the world to work. (I think that's what the Tower of Babel was about.)

"You need to be more open-minded!" has been added to my list of ironic phrases.


I like obscenity

I'm not sure why. I like that it rubs us the wrong way and makes us uncomfortable. I like controversy and making people uncomfortable. Is that selfish? Do I like being made uncomfortable? ... I think I do; sometimes. I can appreciate it when something makes me uncomfortable--intellectually.

Sometimes I'm a bit too obscene for my own social survival (like playing games with Kevin's brother who's three years younger than us). Man, I can just see it happening--I'm courting Kevin and I'm over for a family dinner and I start talking about clits and menstruation over a fabulous turkey dinner and suddenly everyone has lost appetite.

I'm trying to tone it down when I'm around certain crews.


Church

I stick out in my church. We're maybe 99% Asians, and all of us, generally, very traditional. Of the women, I probably have the shortest hair. I try to style it so that it looks "modern" as opposed to "masculine", but somehow I'm always wearing masculine ("gender neutral" at best) clothes, too. Everyone always says it's "cute", like if they said anything else, it might be insulting or give me away as a queer.

Dammit, I'm pretty open, too.

I want to be a FLAMING HOMO in my church. But that's a bit difficult for women; I guess I could pierce the bajeebus out of my face, and wear a mohawk and black pants with metal chains hanging everywhere. Or, I dunno, plaid and steel-toed boots.

The weird thing is that I trust our leaders: pastors and some elders and teachers, and even some of the more prominent figures in our general body/classes. But it's everyone else; the way gossip travels, the way everyone is up in everyone else's business--I can't stand that.

I'd love it if I could shout, "WOOO, I'M A HOMO!" and stop everyone from trying to ask and gossip. "GET OVER IT!" I know this group of people would have little problem with it; and there would definitely be some people on the ends of the spectrum, who'd either congratulate me, or condemn me; but the majority of them would whisper about how sorry they are for my soul: "Is that proper? I don't think it's proper. Maybe she'll go to Hell. Poor girl. Let's pray that she changes."

"THAT'S RIGHT, I LOVE CLIT! BOOBS ARE FANTASTIC, AND NIPPLES ARE FLIPPIN' AMAZING!"

Haha. Right, that's happening.

--Charlie!

Books and Easter

Books

I finished reading The Wrath of the Grinning Ghost by Brad Strickland (using Johnny Dixon and more of Bellairs' characters).

I guess I picked this up because I had bought "The Bell, the Book and the Spellbinder" back in grade school and I missed reading fantastic magical adventure horror stories. 'Grinning Ghost was amazing. It starts off a little quick and predictable, but I didn't mind.

I started up on l'Engle's The Young Unicorns, but had to put it down after about 10 pages. It was just too racist. Not that it was malicious, but just the fact that the characters had to ponder race so deeply--and within the first 10 pages--was a major turn-off. I may give it a second chance later (l'Engle is one of my favourite writers after all).


Easter

I was in the Good Friday / Easter choir again this year. It kinda sucks that we need a special occasion for a choir, but at least we have a choir. It's good to be singing again; feels wonderful.

I also found myself realizing how....strong our leaders are.

We have three pastors: one each for English, Cantonese and Mandarin. In the two Johnny Dixon books I've read, the priest is a heroic figure. I guess that's also in a few of l'Engle's books, too.

And I realized during service, that the three pastors are also...warrior-like. They too have that strength and a sort of nobility or knight-ness. Also one of our Elders who teaches Sunday School for the teens. Should anyone in the church be caught in a spiritual battle and be in need of help, I have no doubt any of them would hesitate to fight. I dunno, it's easy to picture them with jeweled swords and emblazoned shields, fighting off demons and dragons.

Which, I guess they do!

One of their favourite passages is about the Armour of God (http://www.realarmorofgod.com/armor-of-god.html).


[post abandoned]

Games and Kevin

Went to Kevin's place last night.

Man, I'm kinda glad his brothers were home; that might've been the only thing keeping me from jumping him. I've been pretty libidinous lately.

Turns out, Kevin used to be a competitive long-distance runner, when he was around 11 years old. He's won medals; his athleticism is still noticeable on his body. It's also partly due to doctors thinking he had a disorder where he couldn't process wheat gluten or something, so he didn't eat much.

My co-worker, Leah, says that my chemistry with James means only that we'd have healthy children together. It does not indicate an emotional, spiritual or any other non-physical compatibility. I think this might also extend to Kevin. We've got that body chemistry going on, I think (maybe; it's too soon to tell anything yet). He has a similar body type.

We played word games, mostly; started off with that insult game Neek invented.


"Insult Game"

Setup

Paper; writing utensils.
Two-player game; difficult to adapt beyond two players.

A box is drawn on a paper. First player writes a statement that is insulting to Second player. The paper is then passed to Second player, who must defend hir dignity or turn the statement around to insult First player. Players may read aloud the entire statement after each revision.

Rules:

1. No more than 3 words may be crossed out on any turn.
   
2. Anything added in the immediately preceding turn may not be touched. E xceptions: on the second turn; however, any names must be left the same.
   
3. No writing may overlap.
   
4. No writing may cross the border.
   
5. The statement must be only one sentence; players may not end the sentence prior to the game ending; punctuation and conjunctions may be used without limit.
   
6. The game ends when either:
   
   1. the player being insulted is no longer offended; this may be called only before that player's turn; or
      
   2. the remaining space is declared insufficient to continue.
   At this point, the last player will end the entire statement with a single period.

We had two rounds of this and got fed up, so switched to a game called "Ghost":


Ghost

Setup:

Paper, writing utensils, dictionary (Internet is best).
Two-player game; may be adapted for more than two, though smaller games are best.

Players take turns adding letters to form a real word.

Rules:

1. Words must be a minimum of four letters long.
   
2. No proper nouns.
   
3. English only; may include anglicized words, depending on a vote by the players.
   
4. The player who finishes a word loses and receives a "point". The player with the least amount of points at the end is declared the winner.
   
5. If a player adds a letter, and the other players:
   
   1. do not know of any word beginning with those letter combinations; or
      
   2. believe that player has added an invalid letter (ie: either the player does not know any words beginning thus; or there is no such word beginning thus);
   that player may be challenged. A dictionary is consulted. If such a word exists, the other players each receive one point. If no such word exists, that player receives one point for each other player.

I spelled "antediluvian" wrong, but nobody knew the word, so we all forfeited the round.

Then Kevin's brother proceeded to read our fortunes using "MASH". I seriously cannot believe there's a Wikipedia article on this.


Afterward, Kevin walked me to the bus stop. He mentioned how he had run after a bus earlier today, but when he had seen it go by, he shouted, "Fuck me!" in a British accent. Awww, he's adorable!

--Charissa

Dreams and People!

So, the principal of the Maths school, Daniel, is someone I find to be very authoritative or powerful, but also easy-going.

My "boss" in the Army, MCpl E--, has lately been pretty good to us. At least, I can tell she's a good instructor and she cares for our well-being. When we went outside and K-- had no gloves, MCpl gave her some, explaining about her own "supervisor" who had the her marching while carrying equipment and wearing many layers; and then stopping to rest, where she'd sweat and take off her layers; then marching again, so she had to put everything back on--her instructor didn't realize she got hypothermia this way. Last week, F-- and I asked her questions and she gave us on-the-spot lessons and plenty of stories. I'm thankful someone like her is in charge of us. She's also a self-proclaimed bitch; very mean and nasty at times, but not unnecessarily--to us, at least; to others, maybe--I think.

I had a dream earlier today, and these impressions featured prominently.


Dreams

I was a student of magic.

My "headmaster" (I guess; it was someone I'd have to report to; to show my progress to) bore MCpl E--'s personality. She was strict, but cared about my well-being and when I had questions or wanted an explanation, if she could or had time, she'd give me fantastic explanations.

To train in magic, I went to a sort of gymnasium. I'd sign in, and if one of the instructors was available, I'd have the option of training under hir.

There were two instructors I mainly dealt with:
"Ian", a young man who looked like "The Neighbour" in Flaky Pastry, was very friendly and encouraging, but also very, very strict when someone messed up; and
"Than", a man who was extremely powerful and controlled, but also very easy-going and friendly (like Daniel!).

And sometimes my "headmaster" would also be my instructor, I think.

Anyway.

At first, I only trained under Ian, because he was so friendly and I didn't know anyone else.

One day, I had spare time, so I decided to go to the gym. I saw Ian was buy training someone else. She was slightly older than me; blonde; and at a different level than me. I overheard her talking with the "headmaster", saying things like, "So, I hear you'd like to do [this exercise]. Do you think you're up for it?" She'd affirm. "Well. Remember to wrap a bandage [just a strip of fabric] around your right hand. When you catch the [flying thing], you will have to drink the blood--raw creature blood, do you understand?" She affirmed. "Good for you. Off with you now!"

I later asked the "headmaster" about her. She explained not to worry about this girl; that she was "in a completely different league of magic than" me. I wondered what she meant. As I went to sign in for training, I glimpsed the recommended training schedules and saw an exercise that looked like it might be the one the girl was going on.

The clerk gave a polite cough, and I looked back at him. He wanted to know if I would train under an instructor today. I told him I didn't know anyone else so I'd just train alone. He looked doubtful (I had never trained alone before, but I had an idea what to do). He said, if I changed my mind, in their spare time, instructors generally circulated the gym, supervising; or one would be at a help desk. I thanked him dismissively and finished signing in.

In the change room, I put on different clothes. I think it was actually a sporty tank-top like I usually wear to the gym. I also put on gloves that let my fingers through; and I think I had a belt with various magical implements hanging from it.

Anyway, I entered the gym and did chin-ups or something. Then I went to do target-practice with a stationary target. I think I was failing at this.

Than, the instructor, came along and watched me missing horribly. I think I may have struck someone in the other lane by mistake. He put his had on my shoulder and spun me around. I forget what he said, but he eventually offered to train me. It seemed rude to refuse, and he seemed very wise or knowledgeable; to refuse would be dumb; so I accepted.

He took me to a slightly detached court; it was filled with walls like bookshelves in a library; stalls. He explained the exercise: He would throw an object, and it would land somewhere (on the shelves, in the aisles, on top of shelves, whatever), and I'd have to find it and throw it back to him. I asked how this was to improve my aim with firing spells, but he told me just to do it. I could return the item to him any way I wanted, and so long as he didn't have to exert himself to receive it, it would be considered successful.

I nodded (shrugged inwardly--how hard could this be?) and we began.

The first thing he threw was shaped like a glove. When I looked at his stance, I expected the glove to fly straight the way normal objects go when thrown. He threw it; it spiraled out away from him. I followed it with my eyes, unbelieving, and waited for it to land. It landed at the farthest shelf. I started to walk toward the shelf directly, but found myself walking in a similar spiral. I looked toward Than, but he remained expressionless and did not acknowledge me. I rolled my eyes and continued, trying to walk directly to the glove and failing miserably as I spiraled outward. Eventually, I reached it.

Now, how to return it? If I threw it, would it spiral out again? I could try a teleportation spell, but I had never done one successfully (not to mention, unsupervised) before. I could throw it to him, but given my horrible aim with magic, perhaps I would miss entirely and have to retrieve it all over again? I decided it would be safest to walk. I took a step forward; the room shifted to my left. Another step--left again. Another step--left again! This was going to be frustrating. I took a step to the right, hoping to counteract the turning. Nothing happened. Right again--nothing. I quickly checked my progress and position; I groaned. I had reached the end of the field and was walking away from Than.

I turned myself around to face him. I told myself, "I am walking toward Than. I am traveling the most efficient path toward him," as I began walking forward and the room spun about me. "I am walking toward Than. I m traveling the most efficient path toward him. I am walking toward Than..." Somehow, I made it. He did not move until I extended the glove to him, and he lifted his upturned palm. I placed it on his hand, and he came to life again.

His face lit up with an analytical smile.

"Not bad," he said. He waved his hand, and comfortable seats appeared behind us both. "Sit," he commanded. We sat.

He explained to me that this glove warped straight lines and direct paths. To go try going against the new paths it carved would have trapped me had I continued. The trick, as I had wagered, was to walk in a straight line, determined to reach a certain destination. And I had succeeded! Granted, he said, I should have known this from my books.

I looked shocked. Books? No one had ever told me about these books!

He looked worried. And then he sighed. He'd teach me about these magical items.

The rest of the time, he spent on the same type of exercise: throwing items and having me retrieve them; but he'd explain different properties these items had. He also explained his primary power: he could draw objects toward himself; more generally, he had profound telekinesis. But specifically, he could draw anything toward him, and any struggle against it would be helpless. I volunteered that it was like the glove. He laughed. He had invented that glove. I must have looked shocked; he must be much older than he appears. He seemed to affirm this with a slight smile.

He produced a marvelous clear amber stone; inside, a million crevasses raced to the centre, where a single black bead rested. He explained how he created this from the black bead and a misshapen lump of amber.

I asked if it had magical properties. It did. That black bead used to be a very rare and potent ingredient in catastrophic magics. Using just a shaving from this bead in certain spells could rend kilometers. I asked about the entire bead. He nodded gravely. Using the entire bead in a similar spell could undo the galaxy, in turn affecting the entire universe.

"What is it?" I asked.

"This bead," he said, "was a portal to nothingness." He didn't explain further, but I gathered that it was like a black hole, that could suck anything into itself. I left it at that.

"What does the amber do?"

"The amber is a nullifier. When you liquefy solid amber, and cover a magical item, the item's magic cannot penetrate the amber."

"Is that why some shields are studded with amber?" He nodded.

I looked again at the eye-like gem and wondered about the cracks. He smiled.

"I didn't liquefy this amber," he said.

"Why not?" This seemed obvious, if his greatest power was moving objects, but he explained further.

"When you liquefy something, it loses a little of its potency. When I found this bead, I had very little amber with me, and could not afford to lose that potency." He drew from somewhere a tiny lump of amber. He positioned it in his palm. "I held the bead and the amber together in my hand," he demonstrated, "and willed the amber to surround the bead." The lump of amber crackled and came together into a perfect sphere with little facets running toward the centre.

He dropped the sphere in my hand. "Here you go. It is very potent as a sphere. It would make a good ring, pendant or decoration for your hair. If you bring it to a metalworker, be sure that no more than half the sphere is coated in metal. Do not let anything pierce the sphere, or it will lose potency."

I pocketed the sphere. He spent the remainder of the "class" discussing the properties of various stones.

There were two types of stone that looked similar, but had very different properties. One stone, let's call it "Eb", provided greater control when combined with magical items. Another similar-looking stone, "Ob", had various destructive effects to the item. Ob was often used in decay spells. Both had a golden sheen, like amber, but easily distinguished by its wonderful clearness.

I had one last question for him.

"When did you realize you had a specialty?"

He frowned a little. "Probably just a little older than you," he said.

I had to ask another question.

"Does everybody have a specialty?"

He smiled a little. "Everybody has a specialty, whether they know it or not; whether it's potent or not; whether it's unique or not. Everyone." He glanced at his watch and then dismissed me.

I'm not sure what happened in between, but the next part of the dream I remember clearly took place after I had combined a portal seashell with Ob, mistaking it for Eb, and used the portal to save some endangered world that had gotten a hold of a piece of Black Bead or something.

There was a meeting involving the "headmaster", Ian, Than, and the headmaster's "boss" or something. They were discussing where the portal shell had gone; someone discovered I'd taken it (I had found it on the ground somewhere, not realizing someone had in fact dropped it there by accident) and realized what it was. Someone cried out from shell, and when I placed my ear to it, sie told me about the catastrophic troubles, so I had to help. I realized I didn't know how to use the teleportation spell, so I searched for some Eb and when I had found what I thought was Eb, I liquefied it and set it around the shell. I then gathered some more spell components before using the seashell's teleporation spell.

The rest is a bit of a blur.

The "headmaster" and company actually turned out to be employed by some evil guy who wanted to kill off everyone in that world so that he could harvest all those delicious spell components for himself. I'm not sure if Than was a goodguy or badguy. I hope he was a goodguy.

Throughout my adventures in that new world, I discovered two talents: a naturally affinity with healing magic, and the ability to absorb magic. I think that's what made me a good healer--there was so much green, growing life that I must have been absorbing it and distributing it.

What I didn't realize was that the Ob I had mistaken for Eb had an effect on the seashell portal: it prevented anywhere that I went with the seashell to be accessible by teleport. This prevented the badguys from teleporting directly to anywhere we had been, or somewhere very close to me and this crew I was leading to safety; but it also meant I could not teleport home if I held onto the shell.

I'm not sure if I realized this.

The big baddie sent goons after me, to teleport near the first place I had been, and track me from there. The Ob mineral also left a trail of decay that some of the minions could follow very easily. I think our rear guard had just spotted some baddies before I woke up.


I also have a faint memory of attacking small watery beasts with a cleaver in Kevin's house. I'm not sure if that fit into the same dream.

And that's all I got for now!

I'm going to Kevin's place later tonight; we'll figure something to do.

--Charlie!

Lots of Stuff and Gym

[this post is very scattered]

Socializing

Went to Swing Dance again tonight. This was the last class of the "term", so a lot of us went for food afterward. It was good times!


Men and Women

I've been passing for a man for some time now. It's more of a social experiment than "I want to be a man!", but it's also fun.

I noticed that, as a butch woman, people respect me, my space, my existence. At very least, they make way for me when I walk by.

As a feminine man, I get a lot less respect. I become invisible.


Reception of "Charlie"

I've gotten mixed responses. My co-workers seem totally cool with it. Maybe they also think it's weird and sudden and forced, but they're co-workers; they're minimally involved in my life so, of course it's no big deal.

Mark says he's "unimpressed". Don't blame him; he thought I was queer for the sake of being queer and not because I actually happen to be queer. I think he's starting to get it, though. Though I did announce it pretty poorly--quite suddenly, to people who barely knew me.

But my co-worker, Leah, seems to be very supportive! Which is great! (I love how our team is so queer-friendly! At least three of us are queers or has lived as a queer at one point.)


Respect and Others

This is kind of interesting.

Earlier, Mark said that he and I have lost all respect for eachother.

I'm going on my BMQ, and there are going to be people yelling at me, and they have no respect for me, and nothing I do will change that--at least, it won't change the way they treat me. I cannot go into BMQ thinking I'll impress anyone, least of all, anyone in charge of me.

Recent events with Mark actually gives me the opportunity to practice this!

We argue about a lot of ideas; "debate", whatever. He has no respect for my ideas. Knowing that I don't need his respect has been very liberating. I don't have to concede; to conform to his ideas of who I should be. I can argue points with him without losing any part of my self to it.

"High self esteem lets one evaluate other people's criticism; one realizes it is only someone else's point of view." Or something like that.

I guess I miss that with Eric. Having conflicting views did not make us think any less of eachother. We'd challenge eachother's perspectives, and still be best friends. What mattered most was that we were friends; we knew and cared for eachother deeply. That was paramount.

So whenever Eric and I disagreed or had opposing views, we took it to heart.

During/After the "Summer of Eric", I tore myself apart and started from scratch. He had basically suggested that maybe I've been in denial; and I would have trusted him with my life, that's how much I respected and trusted him. So I took his words to heart; re-examined myself, re-evaluated my beliefs, feelings.

I talked to Neek about this.

He said that the only person I'd mentioned to him, who respected me and would look out for me or care for me would be James. That's pretty sad.

Who are the people I trust?
- Neek
- Eric
- James
- my mum
- JS
- DM
- KW
- Leah

And who are the people who respect/ed me and made me feel valued or loved?
- James
- Leah
- Eric
- JS
... That's about all I can think of.


Gym

Went to the gym on Friday and earlier today before Swing.

Friday (14)
Exercises:
- treadmill (20 min of running; 10-15 walking)
- push-ups (about 20; "standard" on knees)
- deltoid flexes (two 8-pound freeweights; until they hurt, about 15)
- bicep curls (two 8-pound freeweights; until they hurt; about 20)
Stretches:
- quads (lunge; hold foot back while standing upright)
- hamstrings (sit and try to touch toes)
- bicep (stretch arm out against a wall/post/etc)
- tricep (elbow behind the head)
- inner thigh (feet together, press knees down)
- butts (twist and pull knee to chest)
Swimming
- front crawl (2x1 pool lengths)
- kicking on a flutter board (2x4 or 2x5 pool lengths)
- back crawl (1 pool length)
- fake front crawl (2x4 pool lengths; without blowing bubbles in the water; "head up front crawl")

Notes

- On Saturday, my quads were in such pain! Sunday was better; Monday was better; by Tuesday, it had all gone. I ate three bananas on Friday; and one on Saturday.

- Swimming is fantastic! Even just kicking on the flutter board is fantastic for my legs and I get a bit of cardio, too. And if I sweat, I'm in a pool anyhow. To cool off, I dunk my face! It's fantastic!

- Treadmills are fantastic. I ran for 10 minutes without stop. Then I walked; ran again; walked again; jogged; walked to cool down. The water-bottle holder was also great!

- NEVER, EVER, EVER close your eyes while on the treadmill!!

Today, I just had an hour before I had to leave for Swing.

Wednesday (19)
Exercises:
- track run (15-20 min of running; 15 min of walking)
- push-ups (3x10 "standard" on knees; not tired at all!)
- bicep curls (2x10)
- deltoid flexes (2x10)
- sit-ups (1x15 on an incline; could have done more, but saved abs for Swing Dance)
Stretches:
- quads (lunge)
- hamstring (sit and try to touch toes)
- "higher" hamstring (sit back from lunge position, lean forward toward bent knee)
- calf (against a wall)
- bicep (against a wall)
- tricep (elbow behind head)

Notes:

- The biggest problem was time. I could have done so much more if I had more time; I did not feel sore or very tired. I also had to save energy for Swing Dance afterward!

- I did my exercises "in circuit"; I would do a little bit of running, then freeweights; then push-ups; then sit-ups; then running; then freeweights; then push-ups, with stretching in between. This seemed to work really well!

- Must remember to wipe down mats before/after use.

- Treadmills are popular! I kept an eye on them as I did other exercises.

- I should try doing those "V" things; lay on my back, lift my legs by bending at the waist; extend my arms above my head; keeping both halves straight, reach hands to touch toes. They look very effective!

- I should try chin-ups if I can find a bar (that isn't surrounded by big burly men).

- Buy a lock. Lock rentals cost $1.

- I ate one banana before leaving the house.

--Charlie

"Charlie"

Charlie

I think I want to have people call me "Charlie" from now on. Not as a legal name-change, but more of a nick-name -dealie. Way back when, I had people call me "Char" (unfortunately, this was immediately prior to / during the Pokemon craze at my school, and taunts like, "Char-char-charmander! Oh no! Charmander evolves to Charmeleon!!" so I tried to shed it quickly).

I dunno, something just feels very appealing about being a "Charlie". And it would be pronounced either with the emphasis on both syllables, or only the last syllable--"CHAR-LEE" or "char-LEE", not "CHAR-lee".

I would spell it "Charlee" if only it didn't look so "pretty pretty princess!" Also if it were not related to the pr0n star writer.

At work, some of my co-workers are adopting it, too. I also want to use it as a pseudonym, since nobody understands the name "Karissa", but "Charlie" is familiar and stable. Except that some will get confused with the masculine "Charlie". But they can screw themselves. If they can't get over it, they won't want to deal with it, and that makes life easier for me!

I guess, the other thing:

Vietcong: a guerrilla member of the Vietnamese Communist movement [link].

This would often be abbreviated "V C", but in the IPA, thus: "Victor Charlie", and became "Charlie" for short [link].

So I might get some people going, "Charlie, huh? You're not a charlie, are you?" And I'll say, "No, I'm Canadian."

I'm not sure how others will receive this. Then again, it's a nickname, right, so only my new or closer friends will know about it.


Image

In my mind, "Charlie" is this wonderful, eccentric but articulate, "Bohemian", partying girl (who's sometimes a boy) who is just as comfortable in a tight, cleavy tank-top as a tux or flannel and overalls.

At heart, she just wants to be happy and be herself; whether the road is simple or complicated.

And I'm not sure if Charlie is actually who I want to be, or if she's another character I want to live alongside my life.

Aside:

I've always had the ability to project my experiences through another character/personality/viewpoint. Sometimes it's in the form of different "voices" giving me different feedback/advice on events, and sometimes it's a full-blown conversation with them. Sometimes it's like that personality got into my driver's seat and is the person driving this body.

It's ranged from cautionary words to "WHERE THE FUCK DID THAT COME FROM?!" actions. And I like to think one of them is a mysterious psychic who takes images, feelings and events in general, from the future, and puts them into my dreams.

Sometimes they become characters in stories I write; sometimes I think they're much too special to share with anyone else. Sometimes I'll be coming up with new characters and they evolve from there.

I've sort-of accepted it now. *shrug* But I have to remind myself sometimes that not everyone...believes things like this are normal. They're kind of like guardian angels / demons / characters in general.

So, who knows who Charlie is!

But I'll try being a Charlie for a while. We'll see what happens.

--Charlie?

Pr0n and Women

Pornography

We had this topic come up in church. There's an article in Christian Weekly (or something), about this site, www.XXXchurch.com. According the article, this church reaches out to porn stars and porn addicts. As opposed to condemning them, they're more "Hey, God loves you!" which I think is great!

We had a discussion about porn.

Porn is this thing that most Christians don't want to talk about. It's this big taboo. While people might openly admit to lying or stealing or envying, it's unlikely that people will admit to actively consuming porn. When someone says they're an alcoholic and going to AA meetings, we congratulate them, pat them on the back. When someone says they're addicted to porn, we suddenly have somewhere else to be.

No, I'm not leading up to a dramatic reveal, although I will admit to having actively consumed porn before (though, in truth, some of the stuff I've seen was just plain gross).

I wanted to bring this up, because I'm an artist.

It's no secret by now that I love the female figure; nude or otherwise; and that it's riveting to draw. So many curves; soft gradients; absolutely beautiful. But am I producing porn?

I heard somewhere that viewing artwork is a delicate procedure. Hold it too close, and it becomes pornography; too far, and you become cynical.

I guess that's a sad fact I have to deal with as an artist. Despite my intentions, there is always the chance that my work can be viewed in a way I did not intend. And sometimes it'll be a pleasant surprise, and other times it'll be "mor b00bs plz, kthx".

Aside: Kay, wow. Firefox recognizes "b00bs" as a valid word. Wow.

It's not something that I'll be able to solve, at least, not immediately.


Women

I suddenly remembered something from when I was about six or seven.

I used to catch the last ten minutes of some soap opera when I came home from school. Once, there was a scene with a man and woman arguing or something; and the woman was going to either kill him or break up with him or something like that. And I thought, "Wow, women are powerful and awesome!" And that idea stayed with me for a long time.

Then I saw Disney's Pocahontas.

There's this scene with, I think it's Governor Ratcliffe, and he's singing about having riches or something, and he's coming down this staircase with a bunch of poofy-dress-ed women waving fans and swooning around him. And this completely blew my mind.

I think, first of all, I went, "What's going on? Women don't like him! He's a jerk!"

My next thought was a little frightening: "Maybe it means he's more powerful than the women."

And my next thought was, "Man, I want to be so powerful that women flock to me!"

--Charissa

PS: If you check out that IMDb link, the plot outline reads: "The daughter of a Native American tribe chief and English soldier share a romance..."

At first I thought the word "share" was incorrect.

People

No subtlety at all!

I'm trying to figure out what is so disgusting about hetero-sex. I think it's the machismo. There's this wonderful scene in Saving Face, where the mom rents some Chinese porn, and later on you hear a snippet of it, a man's voice:

"Oh my god! WHO'S YOUR ASIAN DADDY!"

(And it sounds as abrupt as it looks in text.)

I guess hetero-sex just seems really... Vulgar. Crude. Kinky as opposed to beautiful. Brutish as opposed to wonderful. Thinking about it just now makes me go "Eew!"

I wonder if this is why some people are poly-amourous or polygamous. I don't know that I could have only one sort of thing and nothing else. I guess it's important to take things slow so that you don't get tied down immediately with something that ends up not being satisfying. That came out poorly...

Start a relationship slow. That way, you don't get sick of hir and sie doesn't get sick of you. You get to have independent experiences and bring those back to your relationship.

I mean, why be boring now? I have all my days to come for being boring. I've never felt so young. I have such energy. For all I know, in five, fifteen or thirty years, maybe I'm chemically depressed and can't make it through the day without several pills.

I'm so not ready to settle down. Not that I have anyone to settle down with; but I might. I'm not sure where this whole Kevin-thing is going.

I miss having a best-friend. There was an Eric-shaped dent in my life, that slowly grew into a slightly different (smaller or larger?) shape. I'm not sure what fits there. Something about Kevin fits, though. I think it's his out-ness; it's like Eric's, but coming from a Theatre Kid.


Theatre Kids

It wasn't until either grade 11 or 12 that I found people who were like me but also well-suited for me (complementary, I guess). Theatre Kids.

CSS came to our school in grade 10. He'd lived in something like 15 different countries by that time, but considered himself an American. He brought all sorts of things from different places: he'd point with his lips like in the Philippines, or if he got carried away he might start shouting with a British accent.

Anyway.

Because he was so extroverted, I never really paid him much attention as someone I could relate to. (Man, now that I think back on it, high school was so pretentious. It was filled with too-deep and too-self-analyzing thoughts and too many complicated layers of awareness, like, "Do I think I'm angry? I think I think I'm angry. But I don't think I'm angry. So I must not be angry.")

But when he showed me his blog, there was this sort of sadness I'd never realized before. Something fragile and affected. I'd never quite realized that people could put up shields of extroverted-ness, and that there'd be a sensitive person whom I could even relate to underneath it.

I'd known for some time, mostly as head-knowledge, that I observe people, and that I liked people who observed people. I thought the majority of people did this. I just assumed that, because I'd read books with people like me in them, that these people were easy to find.

I'd also known that I'm cerebral. I think a lot. I think and I study and I fill my mind with things. I'm not happy unless there are things happening in my head. I used to be able to create worlds in my head--very, very real and tangible worlds. Colours, textures, scents, sounds, temperature, everything would be completely real and tangible.

But it wasn't until I learned more about CSS that I discovered who these people were--the people I'd been looking for, who were like me but also complemented me. They were Theatre Kids. People who study other people. They're cerebral, they're empathic, they're very aware, physically, mentally and emotionally.

Since then, Theatre Kids have made their way into my life. A few examples...

CSS, of course.

He taught me that there exists Theatre Kids!

V---, one of the supervisors at work.

When I first saw him in his "in charge" role, it was awesome. I could see his methods of persuasion, and they were ingeniously, and I think got such pleasure from their subtlety. He also has a voice like suede. He'd be evil if he weren't.

He taught me about control and how to persuade people or invoke certain reactions in them.

James, a classmate last year. We took Honours Calculus together, and hooked up.

He taught me a lot about myself and how to fall in love with details. I realized that I see things in people and refuse to do anything about them--to alter them. He taught me that relationships require effort; that sometimes, sadly, love is not enough. He made me realize I'm afraid of kissing; I'm a bit of a control freak; I like formats; I wasn't (at the time) "okay" with myself (being myself, who I was). I learned a lot through him.

Kevin was Mark's friend.

I haven't spent much time with him yet; we'll see the wonderful things I learn from him when I do.

I guess I like guys who are lesbians, if my recent tastes in guys says anything specific.

--Charissa

le Quoi?

So I think Mark and I just broke up?

We've known eachother since grade nine; seven years now? We dated at one point. We've been buds since. And since getting out of Uni, we've been spending more time together. But we're wearing down on eachother.

I become terribly rude and obscene and cynical around him. I hate to put it this way, but he brings out all my bad qualities.

And I'm not so good for him. I exhaust and aggravate him with my lack of understanding of the things he's interested in.


Neek took me out for lunch the other day. It was good. We ate at this wonderful little Thai restaurant. Unfortunately, I found the curry to be very salty, and couldn't even finish half . The owner/server took it off our bill. I felt so bad!!

Neek and I talked.

It feels so good to be.... To feel appreciated? To fit in? To be validated? To have my feelings and experiences and frustrations validated for the fact that others have experienced them, and I am not so unique as to be alone?

He actually pointed out when the conversation was getting beyond him. I was trying to explain some Physics to him, about Light being both Particle AND Wave at the same time, and if you set up a test to find the position, you found it; but if your test was for momentum, you also found it. Even if you switched your test half-way, you found the one you were looking for.

And this started going over his head, so he told me it was getting difficult to follow. And on the inside, I was going, "HA! So I'm not the only one!"

Felt so good!

I mentioned in an earlier post that I need to remember that there are people who are good for me, as well as those who are bad for me. The trick is to keep a healthy balance. The people who are bad for me are only bad if I'm with them too much.



Me

I'm generally pretty transparent; honest. Rarely do I have "hidden motives" or anything like that. When something bothers me, I let it out (usually immediately). I get angry over lots of things. I get happy over lots of things. (PINK BUNNIES.)


[post abandonned]

Weirder dreams!

Dreams (again)

I dreamt that my close friend, Mark, and I were suddenly making out. It was crazily good, too, instead of him just doing whatever he wanted. I think we had paused to take a breather--we were outside, btw--and suddenly, he fell backwards!

Oh, and he had told me something about how when he was a kid, he got Viral Something (I think he said pneumonia) and it spread to the barley crop but then the barley became resistant or something like that.

When he fell backwards, he hit his head on something hard. He lost all his memory up to the point where he was a kid and got that Viral Something. I had no idea what to do, so I called his best friend on his cell phone. When his friend arrived, we were both in tears; he couldn't even speak. Mark was delirious and talking about how to get him to the barley fields so he could infect them and save future crops or something.

Well, Mark didn't get better. I went with him to the hospital, and for some reason, he stayed with me afterward (or I stayed to take care of him, in my house?). He started seeing a psychologist to get his memories back and snap him out of his delusions, but it didn't seem to help. I realized that he still hadn't heard from his best friend in a long time, so I decided I'd call him and put him on the phone to Mark.

It was a miracle! After hearing his voice, Mark snapped right back, and the two started crying with joy! His friend arrived at the door shortly, and the two of them began making out. I think the dream ended with the two of them driving off into the sunset together.


Interpretation?

I need to not be jealous of Mark and his best friend.

...more later...

Horrible, horrible day

Army

Well, today went hideously.

First, I found out that my period had started, about two hours before I had to leave for work. NOT FUN. Standing for hours, and lots of stair-climbing do not a happy uterus make!

Second! I had started carrying my ID in my jacket pocket, with my bus pass, making it easier to grab than from my leg pocket. Today was the ONLY day I had forgotten to take my ID from my jacket and keep it on my person. TODAY. THE ONLY DAY. And, of course, it just so happened that there was a check to see who had their ID with them.

So my boss's boss had some words with me. This will never happen again. I will never forget to have my ID on me (in uniform) ever again. My ID and my dogtags (when I get them) must be on me whenever I am on duty. I WILL NEVER FORGET TO DO THIS. EVER.

Third! My boss called me aside after dismissal to give me some more words about forgetting my ID. This made me late for my bus.

To catch my usual bus, I head North, because this bus stop is only eight minutes away. However, there is another bus I could take that would get me downtown, but it's an 13 minute walk South. Since I missed my usual bus, and I didn't want to stand around, for the next one, I walked 21 minutes South to the other bus stop, just to see the bus speed away with a block left to go.

I called my brother and asked if he could pick me up from downtown. But because we live so far South, this is even difficult. So he asked me to take this bus that comes every 15 minutes even at night.

I think I was outside for over an hour, total, just walking and waiting for buses. It was absolutely horrible.


Me

I think I need to set aside more "me-time". Less video-games, less watching TV. Just "me", thinking about stuff.

Man, I haven't done that in months, maybe even a year. I think I just need to relax and be totally okay with being myself--set aside an hour or half an hour every day to be okay with being myself. Be happy with being myself. Think about what I would like to do tomorrow. Think about what I would like to do in the (somewhat near) future.


Neek

I'm having lunch with my friend Neek tomorrow. It'll be interesting. He thinks my friend ----- is emotionally abusive and a negative influence on my life. He's also paying for my lunch. I think Neek is good for me--in some ways. He's a total jerk, with very little sense of boundaries (in terms of what is appropriate to say/ask). And he loves to annoy stupid people, take advantage of stupid people. He plays online poker for a job. He also teaches chess.

He used to be a great chess player--maybe he still is, but he hasn't truly practiced in a long time. So he teaches kids chess, and they pay top dollar for it.


Me again

I think I've missed this.

I keep forgetting that there are people who are like me, or who are good for me. I've been so pessimistic and defensive and awkward and noncommittal and "shy" these past months.


Dream

This terrible day is suddenly bringing back this dream I had last night/this morning.

I dreamt I got thrown in prison--except, that it was a crazy prison that was trying to educate us into refined people, and also there were kids from my highschool there, too. Most notably, Diane and Homer. Diane was one of my closest friends in high school. We've drifted apart since grade 11 or 12 though. She's now a journalist in Alberta. Homer was this disgusting hippopotamus of a kid who used to tease me and others for various things, especially in grade school.

I was marched down a very long hallway to the prison, but I was wearing my CF uniform for some reason! All the staff were in grey or grey-brown or even some sandy colours. But they were warm colours, too.

As I walked into the prison, other prisoners would look at my green uniform and go "Wow", they gawked and some of them smiled, I guess, because the green made them happy? I dunno.

I was brought to a station where I could undress and put on the grey-brown prison outfit. Afterward, I was introduced to my prison-mates.

I can't figure out why Diane and Homer were there. There were also some other kids who, like Homer, picked on us. But, seriously, Homer wasn't that bad. He was nothing compared to the girls who'd jab their noses in the air every time they saw us, or say brainless things about us or our families or our whatever. But anyway...

Diane seemed so broken-spirited. She'd cry or sob at things (the others were mean to her, too), and seemed just... I dunno. Despairing.

She brightened up when she saw me. It was weird. I wanted to protect her. (In real life, she's much more independent than she seemed in the dream.)

In the prison, the guards/etc were weird. They were trying to teach us things like poetry and correct order of cutlery for fancy dinners. It was like being in the military! Also, once, I forgot my towel or something, and I got a stern yelling-at. Something about how towels could save your life? I'm not sure! There was this blonde girl who just lent me a towel. It was blue.

I got back to "class" and everyone was sitting with their heads bowed and writing stuff on papers at their desks. The "teacher" was writing stuff on a chart on the board. It was either a spelling test, or a poetry test.

Anyway, I woke up suddenly so I don't know how it ended. But strange how foreboding it was, in retrospect!

--Charissa

Arousal, Politics and Minorities

Confession!

There's this guy at work, he used to be an interviewer, and then he became a mentor, and now he's a team leader. He's got a voice like suede. Warm, deep brown suede that kind-of glints in the right light. It's calm, baritone but with an inner brightness, and it pushes everything else out of my head when he talks in his professional way. It makes me tingle, and I want to jump his voice every time I hear it.


Massage

I went for that one-hour couples' relaxation massage with Mark today. It wasn't nearly as intense as the other one, but it was very relaxing indeed! Unfortunately, my legs are still very stiff, I think. My masseuse spent much longer on my legs than Mark's spent on his.


No subtlety at all

Mark and I talked after. He said that was a great hour-long erection.

Y'know, I don't think I could stand being male. I really cannot handle being aroused, and from what I understand, puberty is a terribly confusing and (sometimes) frightening experience for males, because of sexual arousal or new bodily abilities. I think I would absolutely freak out if I woke up with an erection. Just--"what the fuck is this?!"

On the plus, I've heard that the arousal generally goes away once a male ejaculates, so maybe that's helpful.

I've heard that for most women, and I'd include myself, arousal is smoother, longer and doesn't just peak and fall off. It could take hours or days to get a woman in the mood. It generally happens over a longer time, and fades slower.

Sometimes I'd wish to trade for getting it out of my system as quickly as possible. Seriously? I cannot handle being aroused. I become (more) obscene around people, and it's so difficult to focus on anything other than ways to satisfy myself.

It's fun, I guess. And it's not like this happens very often--just, the times it does happen, it's barely within my control.

Man, I really hope this becomes easier to handle, with age.


Moving along...

I'm feeling creative again. I think I need to read more books. I feel like writing something--creating worlds again.


Sudden Political Topic!

Okay, I apologize in advance for not having any specifics, but I was watching some sort of interview with Stephen Harper and the reporter asked what he thought about some recent poll.

The PM's response was something like, "I don't listen to polls--this poll says one thing and another poll will tell you otherwise. No, I will not make a decision based only on the polls. I will make a decision based on what is right."

What?

Dude, I get that you want to do the right thing, but you were voted into a Democracy! I don't think that was the smartest thing to say. Nor do I think that's a very democratic view. We own your ass! We vote--maybe not us, specifically, but we have representatives who speak and act on our behalfs, and unless I really can't remember grade-school Social Studies, these people vote on decisions.

I suppose we also vote for representatives because we have faith in them--or because we lack faith in the others.

Also, what the fuck is the "Christian Heritage Party"?!

The party's explicit goal is to "apply proven Judeo-Christian principles of justice and compassion to Canada's contemporary public policy needs". The party claims that it seeks to represent all Christians in Canada, but that they acknowledge many Christians are members of other parties, and they specifically deny any interest in converting Canadians to Christianity. It also claims to be Canada's only pro-life federal political party, and emphasizes that the Canadian Charter of Rights and Freedoms acknowledges "God" (in its members' interpretation meaning the Judeo-Christian God) in its preamble. Other policies include staunch opposition to same sex marriage, staunch support for the US-led war in Iraq, and a subsidy for parents raising children, to encourage one parent to stay at home rather than working.

Wow. Just, fuckin' wow.

There's so much in politics that makes me angry. I want to be out there fighting for Queers, Immigrants, the Homeless, and many other minorities. I want Queers and Immigrants to feel safe and entitled to the same legal rights as those in majorities. And why the fuck are there homeless people in fuckin' Canada?!

I never used to be politically-minded. It used to be head-knowledge: "This is a cabinet, these are members of parliament, Canada borrows from the British system, the Queen blah blah blah."

I guess being Queer does that.

There's a feeling I have, like a pressure; as though I should only care for these minorities because I share commonalities. I hate that feeling. I hate that feeling like I'd have to be in that persecuted group in order to care for them. No! Fuckin' no!

Sure it's part of the reason, but you don't have to be homeless to be homeless, you don't have to be homeless to be poor. You don't have to be a Queer Asian Female to be different in some way from the people who would decide the bigger things in your life.

I know of no person who has the luxury of having nothing in common with those who are persecuted.

Do people fight only for the things they are a part of? I think so--at least, that it's a big tendency. Which would mean that minorities will stay minorities.

Just a quick example, because I'm falling asleep and need an example:

Assume the popular belief is that Bobs are worthless, and Bobs are a minority. Suppose a few (or all the) Bobs stand up for the belief that Bobs are not worthless. Since the popular belief is that Bobs are worthless, and humans have a tendency not to fight for something unless they belong to it, the Bobs will never convince a majority that Bobs are not worthless.

Man, I need to sleep on a happier note.

FLUFFY PINK BUNNIES.

--Charissa