i've so far shied away from it...

the horrendous trans* phobic media mishandling of a detroit native's murder a week and a half ago.


i've talked to friends about it, we've hashed and rehashed, all the tragedy, the bullshit, the ignorance, the loss. frankly, the idea of blogging it gave me a twinge of the shudders.




as coverage increases, so do the number of bigots and insensitive comments. and so it has to be discussed, and where better than the blogosphere?

refusing to release the victim's name is simply harmful to the community. is the family ashamed that their relative may be trans*? are they trying to honor hir by keeping the name out of the press? perhaps they're angered (and rightly so) that the police are continuing to refer to a murder victim as 'a man in women's clothing?' ugh ugh ugh. until we get more information, we'll never know...



the bottom line is, SOMEONE WAS SHOT IN THE HEAD IN A PARKING LOT. what sie was wearing is not the focus. bringing hir killer to justice should be the goal.



RIP

allow me to retort... and defend myself a bit

personal vs private.


lighthearted vs serious.


political vs social.

why is there so much guilt and pressure with combining these elements on blogs? i've stressed over and over about how much to conceal and reveal about myself when purporting to promote a blog that deals with gender and sexuality issues, rights, freedoms, and injustices. i feel guilty when i express feelings and musings on my personal life here. similarly, i feel sterile and cold when i simply link to articles and world issues. i mean, writing about passions should be relatable, non?


so then why do we feel badly about combining the two? isn't that how are lives work anyway? can you have one without the other? (successfully and honestly, of course.) i think not.


i've gotten feedback from RL friends (whatever that means, anyway, lol) that make statements regarding the hinges i've swayed to my past and present conditions and situations. conversations always progress to effect of:
'wow, i never knew you had __________ or that you've dealt with __________. why didn't you tell me before? are you okay? i'm really sorry, etc. etc. ...'


to which i reply (and please, count this as an official response in the here and now) :



how would you know that? i never told you, and honestly, i probably would never tell you, as it's my life, and not necessarily your business. it's not that i'm attempting to hide anything, it's just that, on a day to day basis it's not quite appropriate, or the situation rarely arises to talk about such personal things. i mean, how often do you walk up to acquaintances and begin spilling your guts about family members passing away, how privileged you were (or weren't) growing up, or times you've spent in the hospital? if i've given you a link to my blog, i'm comfortable enough to share these things with you there. that doesn't necessarily mean i want to have some huge heart-to-heart about it. that's what the blog entry is, and you should treat it as such. if you want to begin discourse, there's a comment section at the end of every entry. use it, please. don't wait until we're hanging out and make a comfortable situation awkward. i love you. i promise. if stories result organically, they will, and that's fine. bringing up bs in person is just that: bs.


so now that i've ranted a bit regarding RL vs OL communication, let me take this entry back full circle:


i'm happy with the amalgamation this little insignificant blog has become. life is a mixture of the personal and political, and i refuse to apologize for toeing that line, and i'm no longer going to feel guilty for double dutching over it. if i want to spend three weeks discussing the type of heels i wanna wear, then sobeit. and by a turn of the screw, if i prefer to simply post links and discuss nothing but NPR discourse for the same amount of time, then i'm gonna do it. mix and match, messied all together in a boulliabaisse of blog. because that's how my life tends to be. i won't have it any other way. amen.

into you like a train

if i had a dollar for every time i thought i could fall in love...

i'd still be poor.

but maybe i'd have enough for bus fare to get me the fuck out of here.

how much for a smile?

i've been giggling more in the past week than in the last year.

i melt for your smile and touch

that irrepressible flush that so often floods your cheeks

belieing your age.

i can't believe it's for me.

on second thought:

fuck the dollars...

i only need one.

apology and a tentative promise...

i've been dealing with that interesting little quirk called life lately.


alas, i've severely neglected my blog.


it seems like every day i sign onto the internet and see my blogger homepage, i sigh and think 'later, later....'


well, now it's MUCH later, and as i straighten out as much of the fiasco that's my world maintenant, i figured this is as good as any other place to start.


so i'm going to make a serious effort to post more frequently in the upcoming days, even as my life spitfires me forward.


toward what? it's anyone's guess...