So I bedazzled my fingernails. It's distracting.
I've been slacking off a little bit with my posts, and if I'm going to update this at least once a week I need to keep it up in these early weeks.
I finished Thief of Time and have nearly finished The Last Continent (both by Terry Pratchett). Life has been a bit of an interesting roller-coaster recently. I've had a bit of trouble with my family, who (whom?) I live with. It was pointed out that I am almost destructively submissive in matters that affect me. Granted, the person who pointed this out has mostly seen my submissive side because he's a touch intimidating, but I had never thought of the way I just sort of let things happen to me because it wasn't one of those few things that I refuse to accept. I don't let people hurt the ones I care about when they don't deserve it. That's really it...
I had been talking about how amazing it was to just sit by myself for hours and read, and how I very rarely get a chance to do that at my house because people seem to think that reading a book, or on the computer (in some cases wearing headphones to listen to music without bothering them), or holding a conversation via text means that I'm fair game to ask questions or hold an un-related conversation with. I mentioned that it annoyed me, but I didn't *need* to read all of the time. When I insist that I want my time then they'd get bent out of shape and start yelling. Yeahhh... I feel stupid, but that didn't occur to me as something unusual or unfair. That was just how things worked. I was in the living-room and that means that my time belongs to the collective.
The point was kind of driven home when I mentioned needing to drink water, he told me that he had some in his bag and motioned back at it. I took the water bottle out and looked at it like it was the most terrifying puzzle I had ever seen. I knew that I didn't need to ask if I could have any, his telling me that he had it was his way of giving me permission, and if I asked him for it, he would look at me like I was asking permission to breathe. I could *literally* only force myself to open the top before I broke down and, while explaining that I knew it was weird, I *needed* to ask him if I could have some or else I wouldn't feel right drinking any. I shit you (whoever you are) not; I was trying so hard to do it anyway that I teared up. When did I start acting like an abuse victim? My parents never hit me for taking something without getting specific permission. Hell, other than Church, they've never been terribly cruel about anything.
That ride home was... an eye-opener, to say the least... and I'm still really embarrassed.
There are other things... but I've been reading Girl Genius (the online comic) recently and it has me a little addicted. As I type it is in a tab right next to the one this blog post is on, and it is all I can do to give this little blurb a proper ending.
Yeahhhh... Fuck it...
Waking up next to someone you love is great isn't it? Waking up and being someone you love is even better...
~Naomi
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