How I Learned to Let Go and Maybe Possibly Be Interested in Ladyfolk More Than I Expected.

Almost a year since writing anything here which is completely unsurprising, as that is the story of most of my internet endeavors: Start a Cafepress account, upload a few graphics, completely forget about it until I receive a check for $25(!) in the mail 15 months later. Yes, I have convinced myself that if I just put in some effort, I could make my fortune on Cafepress. Twenty-five dollars! Every six months! And I don't do anything! What if I applied myself?  Here is what I sell. No, this is not a joke:

Again, smallfolk: WHAT IF I APPLIED MYSELF? Gold. Mine. Myriads of black polyester t-shirts commanding you to obey cartoon animals. It's genius. (Note: I am never allowed to complain about my job again, when I obviously could be making millions making "Obey the Iguana" shirts/iPhone covers/mugs).

Anyway.

When I started this blog I was in a Serious Relationship. With a dude.  Which was fine. He is an amazing person, and I am glad I had him in my life.  The only problems were A) I did not want a Serious relationship and B) I'm not entirely certain I'm even interested in dudes at all anymore. As of a year ago, I was a pretty open bisexual gal.  Then in December I had an Actual Experience With A Ladyperson. Yes.

Instead of scratching the itch, it opened, you guessed, THAT box. Pandora's Box. Which, now that I think of it, is like a big ol' allegory for vagina, idn't it? Box, box? No? Moving right along then.

So said Manfriend actually facilitated this Lady Experience, which was amazing of him; lesser men would have felt too threatened by my nascent sexual identity to want to actually push some buttons and see what happens. Very long story short, I started fundamentally questioning my sexuality on a level I never had before.  I realized that now that I had given myself permission to acknowledge that possible realty, the question got a lot more complicated.  Long repressed feelings started to emerge (more on that in the future).  

So, People of Middle Earth, I'm a bit confused. Sadly, I ended the relationship. I love him, but it was time.  We needed different things, the End. Last time I broke up with someone, it was very clear.  This time, not so much.  Last time, I knew where I stood after; I felt confident in my ability to make choices to determine my future and identity.

Now...now I'm pretty sure I just need to date some girls and see what the fuck happens. I know I like girls. I suppose I'm afraid to find out just how much I like girls.

Leaping On a Beach in Chiffon - The Starbuck Story

I've been researching lez culture. Tumblr, Autostraddle, Effingdykes, Queerty, you name it. I started ODing on "The L Word" about a month ago and that hasn't helped my confusion.  Gah, the ledies, they be so sexxxxxy. WHAT DOES IT ALL MEAN.  I guess I'm caught up in my vague notions of queer politics + my confusion + societal pressures. I would hate to announce "I'm GAY" and then be reallllly attracted to a dude in year. BUT sexuality is fluid and why should I care what people think?

Also, because I'm feeling super gay right now, I want other gay ladies to talk to. I know some, which is great, but I don't want to insult them by being all "I THINK I'M GAY OR MAYBE JUST REALLY BI and you're gay so TEACH ME." Like, you're the Only Lesbian I Know so it's you're job to teach me. Would you be insulted were this the scenario presented to you? 

What makes this all the more confusing is that I've absolutely had latent Homo Feelings since I was, like, seven. 

On top of which, there is still undealt with emotional fallout from said relationship. 

As you can see,  muggles, it's all very complicated.  So I'm just going to finish this beer and go to sleep. More Gay(?) Thoughts later(maybe).

Oh, hi Shane! Lookin' good.  In a totally platonic way....-drool-

-Starbuck

Turd Burglar (tm) Of the Week

[trigger warning for rape, rape culture]

So an off-duty NYPD officer raped a teacher in an alley, some quick thinking neighbor blew the whistle, he's now suspended without pay and has been stripped of his badge. Good. The teacher was immediately taken to the hospital after the the cops intervened. Good.

Distraught, unsettled neighbor says "It's so unbelievable."

Unfortunately, it's not.  Of the two biggest rape cases in the NY Metro area this year, the first, committed by cops...they got off. The second, DSK...he's going to get off (I hate to be cynical, but come on).  Why be surprised when this happens? I'm not saying that this particular rapist looked at those two cases and went "Hey, they got away with it! Time for some rapin'!" On the other hand, in a culture that blames victims first, prosecutes later, why wouldn't a rapist be emboldened? With so much sickness in the air, folks are bound to come down with a few colds. Or something.
The indulgence of male privilege and rape-apologia is real, and makes the rape epidemic worse. It's a vicious fucking cycle, and until we must keep calling out Turd Burglars when they are caught, and furthermore, not shake our heads in confusion when a violent culture produces violent people.

In order to lighten my mood, I bequeath the title of Turd Burglar of the Week to the rapist. Fuck that guy.

My heart goes out to the victim. And thank goodness that in this case, our officers did their job and took that bastard down.

Hurrumph.

-Starbuck

Viper Jock Has Serious Thoughts On The Patriarchy and Kink

3. The revolution will render all graphic representations of rape obsolete by smashing the domination/submission paradigm.

As someone who employs the D/S dynamic in her bedroom adventures with the SO and is somewhat involved in the culture of BDSM, it makes me uncomfortable the degree to which I agree with Jill. But is the D/S dynamic something that can be gotten rid of? Is it not present the world over in many lifeforms aside from humans? Even if it is, does that mean it’s inherent, or is it socialized into us? Is it all a product of the switch from forager-to-agriculture? I have so many questions and I’m not sure I want the answers. Living as a member of an oppressed class is depressing, obviously, and it becomes more so the more I learn about the myriad ways the P has got me down. I feel alone, powerless and pissed off, and when I don’t have energy to be pissed off, I try to simply shut down and walk around numb, insulating myself against the hate and and the sludge by detaching emotionally as much as I can.
I am reminded of a piece done on the equality issues inherent within the BDSM scene  and how even though its members usually strive to be as egalitarian as possible, it is impossible to create a sub-culture free of the dominant culture’s influence, and thus the BDSM scene is not without its misogyny and hetero-centrism.
I tend to agree with Radfems on many issues, but BDSM is not one of them. Porn...it’s tricky. I see the points they make, and intellectually they are solid, but I don’t see how it would possible to strip humanity of its current state of D/S; is there a middle step between D/S and something else?  From what I understand, Radfems like the author of the above post take issue with BDSM precisely because of its explicit fetishization of violence, D/S, subjugation of women, etc.  While the concerns are valid, I don’t think that’s whole picture. Our society does fetishize those things, and it is harmful to women in many ways. But my experience within BDSM has been the opposite.

By taking these dynamics that are harmful when forced upon the participants, as happens in daily life, they become empowering when we take them on freely. We are able to act out the internalized notions of violence and subjugation, and purge ourselves of their influence.  Perhaps when persons participate in D/S kink, it is a form of dealing, interpreting, and revolting.  We already know that Freud’s ideas of kinkiness being rooted in childhood abuse is balderdash.  But, as I said before, no sub-culture is free of the dominant culture’s influence, no matter how fucked up it is. Our socialization matters.  So what I’m getting at here, is that kinky sex/play is one big giant coping mechanism for those who, consciously or not, are fed up with the roles a Patriarchal society foists upon them, and want a means to express those D/S roles in a healthy, consensual way.

For my part, I can only say that discovering my kinky side has led to personal growth and establishment of barriers. Kink taught me how to say what I liked, what I did not like, and gave me parameters within which I could discuss my needs and a language to express them. At first I was reluctant to embrace my bottomy desires, because I thought that might make me a weak person. And as someone who has been trodden on her whole life in various ways, I was not too keen on it.  Much to my surprise, embracing my submissive side in kinky play/sex correlated to me becoming a much more outspoken, independent person.  I can’t say for sure that kink caused me to nurture a bolder side of myself, as I got other shit goin’ on, but it was certainly a factor.
I’m sure one could say this is just massive rationalization of the fucked-upness of the P, and I’m just trying to make myself feel better about my participation in said fucked-upness.  That may very well be.  At the same time, I cannot help that fact that getting tied up and flogged gets me wet. It just does. For as long as I can remember, and likely for a long time to come (heh. See what I did there?).  
I think the Kink world has plenty o’issues, and those do need to be worked on.  But that doesn’t mean give up, it means keep making noise so that we can all have safer, healthy experiences in the future.

Time to drop, I gotta open the bar the next three days in a row.  But then, sweet, sweet, vacation!

-Starbuck

UPDATE!

I still have not gone to Home Depot.

I've been having a very hard time falling asleep the last few days, which has led to me sleeping in more, staying up later, wash, rinse, repeat. And more weird, vivid dreams.  This last one involved me keeping my old ferret in the refrigerator (not because he was dead; I guess he was like an arctic ferret...Arctic Ferrets should be the name of a band. Someone get on this.) while also shopping for a new family dog. And one of the regulars at my bar was wandering around, though I have no idea why. Don't particularly feel anything about this person, so them popping up in my subconscious is odd.

I wonder if I have time to get anything done before work. Maybe, if I leave right now, and stop writing. Now. Go! Get up! Or, have more coffee. -sip-

I haven't written anything remotely poem-like in a while. I should get on that.

Also, must continue to plan the upcoming trip to visit the older brother and sister-in-law and cute squishy niece. Seriously, she's so frakking cute.  I'm not big on babies, and I realize I may be biased in this case, but she's so. Damn. Cute. I want to punch her, she's so adorable.  Does anyone else have that urge, when something is so lovely and precious and huggable you just want to hurt it? Like, "God, that hamster is cute I want to eat it." No? Just me and the MF I guess.  Carry on.

-Starbuck

Pull a John C Lilly Sans LSD

Totally unrelated, but I have been having seriously vivid dreams and I really want to try an isolation tank. There are at least two places in NYC that offer them as a form of spa treatment, and I can't wait to sign up. The one and only time I've been able to meditate into a deep, centered place for about 30 minutes, I started to have colorful, intense visions, or picture-thoughts, or whatever. It was rad, and I want to experience that again. I often feel like I'm cut off from parts of my brain that I need, and know I have, but can't get to, and it's incredibly frustrating.
I'll have a wacky, sensational dream, and wake up only to find it slipping away, and then my mind just sort of becomes a grey buzz of feedback, like listening to a crowd from far away.  I want to get back in touch with my brain, basically. Anyway.

I will try to refrain from having visions of this whilst in-tank. 

-Starbuck

Woe to Me! Existential Angst As Experienced by A Depressed Talking Feminist Monkey

[Trigger warnings for rape culture, alcoholism]
So last night I was at work (sometimes at my job I answer phones in the basement, and as a consolation prize for this shit, I get a laptop to fart around on. This makes it awesome) and reading some of my Angry Lady Blogs (tm), which, note, I have actually reduced the reading of, because the things I read so often make me really angry, and if I'm not at home where I can channel this aggression by grabbing my cat and and screaming "WHY? WHY, FLUFFY, WHY*?" then it's best to avoid the triggering material. But sometimes, I just can't help myself. So on this particular occasion I linked to some of these articles on my Facebook, and got into a lengthy debate with the ManFriend. Now, my MF is pretty amazing in most ways, and very supportive of feminist causes, but sometimes we speak a different language, especially when typing to each other. Anyway, I got royally pissed at him, and at myself, because "I must not be speaking clearly enough! Why isn't he getting this?" and was in a right awful mood when I got home.

Rewind. Add to this pile that earlier in the day I had  begun to write about some teenage experiences that were less than fun.  I may be posting some of it later, but it has to do with my depression and anxiety, and being the child of an alcoholic, and all the problems that creates. In addition, I've been planning a trip to go visit my very conservative brother and sister-in-law with my very conservative sister, all of whom I love dearly, but who can never let anything the fuck go. I'm worried that I'll spend this whole trip defending my views and soaking up repressed Catholic bitterness then soaking up UV rays.

So, feeling depressed and cut off from family, some of the only people who can relate to me in terms of my interpersonal skills (severely affected by being raised in an alcoholic environment), and then raging with my MF about Rape Culture led to this nasty downspiral of self-loathing and world-loathing that really ruined my night. Luckily, the MF and I were able to work things out before falling asleep, and I am now in much better sorts.

Anyway, the point of this, is that sometimes I really truly hate being female, and being a feminist.  I already feel pretty fucking alone in the world, due the circumstances in which I was raised, as well as my own mental chemistry. Add onto that the fact that most of the world hates my principles and wants to squash me because I'm a loud, angry woman.....just, Ugh Cakes, all around. Have an Ugh Cake!

Alright, I have to go to Home Depot. I'm cool like that.

-Starbuck

*My cat's name is not actually Fluffy. "Fluffy" is an alias.

Merlot Makes the Day Vanish

Haven't written anything substantial in months. Le sigh, but my ancient netbook is in my lap so I might as well put something down here.

I have to keep reminding myself not to read any feminist blogs before going to work; it just makes me hate all my customers; every request for another Bud Light prefaced by some troglodyte grabbing my elbow (because I'm a female and that automatically means he has the right to touch my body) instills a prehistoric animal rage that makes me want to scream "Get your own fucking beer, and if you touch me again, you are going to lose an eye!" and then I remember that I could be answering phones in a temp agency which would be far more maddening, so I refrain.

I'm pretty sure radfems would scoff at my luke-warm liberal feminism, and I can't always say they're wrong.
Jill's thoughts on the super-creepy sexualized Thylane Blondeau photos are pretty on point.


Ugh,  I slept the day away because I was up late with Yellowtail and friends. Worth it though; we came up with ideas for our very own Youtube project.  I performed for the first time in ages and it felt so good. Giddy up!

-Starbuck