13 March 2015 @ 05:20 am
Black Sails 2x07 - Pirates explaining trauma and abuse.  
Two things.

1. Recovery from trauma requires a Safe Place to heal and feel miserable. Black Sails understands the importance of a Safe Place. USES THE ACTUAL WORDS SAFE PLACE

2. Abuse & Trauma changes you. Here is a very simple bit of dialog that elucidates how the experience of trauma can create a fierce fierce creature in its wake. And that we never get to go back to who we were before. And how safety is paramount above all things.

How this girl, who has experienced sadism (not the fun consensual kind) and torture, has become not just a sensational opinionater who relays her fanciful notions out loud, but a dug in impassable force when it comes to safety. And how I only make friends with people who also have our mutual safety in mind. How safety, of myself and those I come in contact with, is so very very important to me.

The rest? Can fuck off.

Oh and my example? Involves PIRATES! Pirate Billy, who recently went overboard and was subsequently found and tortured by the English Navy and then offered a bargoon bargain. He gets released and comes home and sleuths out the spineless defectors amongst the crew, those who would turn against the crew for their own hide and... elucidates. Emphasis not mine.

Have you ever been tortured?

Suffered pain applied by people who saw you as less than a person?

Saw you as... an animal?

'Cause it isn't actually the pain they're inflicting that's the most frightening part of it. It isn't the fear of future pain.

It's the knowledge that even when the pain stops, even if they were to let you go, that they've changed you.

That pain, that fear, that despair... has made you someone else, someone you barely recognize.

Against your will.

10 pardons!

I said what I had to say to get out of that place, but I have no intention of honoring their offer. 10 pardons.

I would fight to the death to ensure not a single one of my brothers ever has to face what I faced.

Now, if there's a man on this crew that feels differently, that feels as though he'd be willing to accept another brother suffering that fate so that he might avoid it, then that's a man I need to remove from my crew.
grooving to: Black Sails 2x07
mood:: peaceful
26 June 2009 @ 04:13 pm
Michael Jackson's death meet my soap box.  
I truly believe that in his lifetime Michael Jackson made inappropriate sexual advances towards prepubescent children. Whether he raped a child, I don't know. But I have no doubt that a grown man thinks it's normal and loving to sleep in a bed with young boys - smacks to much to this educated woman of things she's read/heard other pedophiles and child rapists say about their victims. However, in my own education experience I believe there are two types of pedophiles, those pathetic child like pedophiles ala MJ and those sadistic child rapists that enjoy terrorizing and controlling their young victims. That is not to say that one is "preferred" over the other. I have no doubt that both types of abusers damage their victims extensively, sometimes irreparably.

I am firm on my position with child rapists. I will never give Roman Polanski a dime and I am so freakin' RELIEVED that Michael Jackson is dead.

Having said that...

I really love his music up to the Bad album. That man is a damn genius and his beats still make me smile. AND I FIND THAT REALLY CONFLICTING and have been snipping at the boyfriend every time he makes some joke about something and OHMYGOD I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU CALLED ME AT WORK TO TALK ABOUT THE DEAD PEODOPHILE MICHAEL JACKSON.

So for the most part I'm all "Yay he's dead! Now I can enjoy his music (that I may have appropriated from the interwebs) guilt free!"

And then I start thinking about his kids and it's OH GOD GUILT allover again. ::bashes head against wall... in beat with smooth criminal::


I just read the following from here: "What emerged at the trial wasn't the picture of a man playing with children in order to seduce them. It was the picture of a man playing with children because he sees himself as one of them."

I have a but...

We've all played Doctor, right? I don't think it's okay for a developmentally arrested adult to play an "innocent" game of doctor with any child. Ever. Two of my six (blood, step & adopted) siblings were molested, one by a family friend who told my sibling they were going to "play tickle". Then my sibling took showers in a swimsuit for SIX MOTHERFUCKING MONTHS at the age of 7. That shit is never going to be cool.

I remember these things. I remember every story anybody has ever told me about somebody doing A Bad Thing to them. I keep track of which of my friends can tolerate certain sense memories. e.g. a certain brand of toothpaste is banned from my presence when a particular friend is nearby.

As brilliant and engaging of a performer he was I am incapable of forgetting that Michael Jackson harmed children. PeriodDot.

Tags: ,
grooving to: The Stephanie Miller show ft. Hal Sparks
mood:: bewildered
16 August 2008 @ 06:59 pm
Sanity. I have found it. Boss phallic obsession *POOF* GONE!  
I no longer want to have sex with my boss. This is a great wonderful bone inflating relief. Jack was is in town this weekend to help move servers from our other L.A. office that is closing to my L.A. office. So Jack and Kyle (the IT monkey/me in the NY office) were both out here this week.

I was a little lost in the thrall of my own obsession. And I can call it that now. I can look at it with hindsight, one regret - that is an actual regret now - and a beautiful fresh breeze of clarity and call that obsession. I want to thank each and every one of you who looked at me like I was a crazy damn fool, told me I was a crazy person, and just generally kept calling attention to the fact that my behavior was whack.

Please never stop telling me when I'm out of my damn mind. Even when it looks like I'm not listening, and I'm rationalizing and justifying my crazy behavior to your face I'm still listening. And I love you.

I think my obsession with Jack's penis was preventing me from coming here and talking with you about all the wonderful, not so wonderful but always educational sexcapades I've been having. I was always comparing the boys to this hot one time encounter where I seduced a man totally by surprise. and the success of that seduction was an amazing rush and thrill. The experiences I've had since then have subdued my thrill seeking desire. I have one steady lover, Damon*, who was just supposed to be Experienced Older Guy (he's 42), but who is one of the kinkiest people I would ever like to meet. He's also very sweet, giving and fast to becoming a friend that I plan to keep.

This isn't the intro I wanted for Damon. I wanted some grand sweeping introduction but... whatever. Damon's awesome and he lives in Venice. ON THE BEACH. Okay like three blocks off the beach, but I get out of the car and INHALE THE OCEAN. And Venice is close enough to the right freeways I can stay there during the week and still get to work without suffering through too much L.A. traffic.

So expect to be hearing more about what I've Learned, why Fat Dicks on stupid people are harrowing, 20yros can be the hottest thing ever and (San Francisco) Bay Area people are the sexiest people ever - no matter where they are.

This does not mean that I now consider my boss an ordinary human being. I still think Jack is the shit and can walk on water, hang the moon and PWN technology so hard I want to eat him up or put him in my pocket to eat later. We're IT. We're fucken Rock Stars.
grooving to: Kate Nash - Pumpkin Soup
mood:: thoughtful
26 February 2008 @ 12:44 am
Please let this be PMS related... Please?  
Lately I've been just around the corner from curling into a weepy ball of tears. Y'know how you... wait. "You" are not me. ::ahem:: *I* sometimes turn into a weepy mush ball; curled up in a fetal position on my bed crying into my many many pillows. Mostly this happens when I've had the same headache for two weeks straight. It's the weepy flopping of frustration, weakness, losing and grief. Grief can tug at us until we fall over into a puddle of weepy tears. And well... I'm not there. But it's like I'm moving towards it. Like *that* is right around this corner I'm approaching. And I just read this lovely story and turned into a weepy puddle for a bit and... I just kind of want to curl into a ball and not wake up until June or next fall or fall of 2009 - when I can go home.

I don't hate L.A. as much as I used to, but it's still not home. )

Okay i feel better. Allergies are weighing me down more than the SoCal Isolation. Which is good. I can... hand wave a medical issue out of my face more easily than the SoCal Isolation. I think maybe it's time to get a hepa filter. And maybe try that sinus rinse thing. Like Dean said to his inner Deamon, I don't deserve this. I'm awesome! The trick is remembering that. Stupid childhood abuse fucking with my self-worth.

Speaking of SoCal, I met a bunch of you at Wincon. I remember many gleeful moments of ::gasp:: YOU LIVE HERE?!! We should... do things. Super things.
grooving to: Chevelle - One Lonely Visitor
mood:: gloomy
09 December 2007 @ 04:26 pm
The thing about sex and this rape victim  
I forget that the world around me can't look at me and see how my sexual education happened at the painful end of a raping penis. That I didn't have fun and mortifying sexual fumblings as a part of my sexual education. I got blood, fear, shit and violence.

I've done a lot of Work. And I forget that people are going to see me and see that Work, that strength, and won't be thinking of me as this person who was broken so completely that the most ordinary of sexual encounters still count as triumphs.

So that inner slut that I found last week? Not so slutty so much as able to have control and power in a sexual encounter that was All About The Guy. There were no power games, no desire on his part to dominate or humiliate me. Nor did he try to get me to do anything I wasn't already volunteering for. IT WAS SO ORDINARY OMG I FRAME IT AND HANG ON THE WALL.

So when I talk about sluts? I'm not talking about promiscuity. I'm talking about sexual empowerment and the kind of freedom I couldn't even imagine ten years ago. I'm talking about feeling safe.
mood:: thoughtful
06 December 2007 @ 12:10 am
Slutty filter revision. Healing Filter DUH!  
I've been composing this post in my head for 3 days - not *this* post, just "this" post - about the healing power of my inner slut and duh.

The slutty thing is *totally* a healing filter thing. With all the rape I never thought I'd get to this place. Couldn't even *imagine* it ten years ago. Well ten years ago I couldn't even stomach the site of a penis, for like a year or more. But that's for another post. This post is just to let y'all know that the slutty filter's been updated and the healing filter has been added to the slutty tag.

Also I'm transitioning off the paxil. WHY HELLO SEX DRIVE. HOW ARE YOU?!
mood:: thoughtful
grooving to: The Sounds - Seven Days a Week
21 September 2007 @ 01:27 pm
A few more details on Fred.  
Fred photographs flowers. Beautifully. He makes that o'keefe person look like a doudy dull poser. Fred does things with lighting and *color* that just STUN the viewer. I'll probably post some of his work later. I mention this only b'c I heard from [livejournal.com profile] lierdumoa (who lives in the Berkeley House with most of my family) told me that Fred has lost his sense of aesthetics. Fred picked a filthy piece of something off the ground and wanted to give it to the girl he has a crush on. Mom stopped him. Told him that if he gave it to the woman she'd think he was "mad". But... that's the most devastating thing I can think of happening to Fred. Not knowing what's beautiful. Fred has also been clinically manic the past two months or so. He's hooked up with Berkeley Mental Health and Dad's taking him to a mental clinic where Fred can meet with a psychiatrist and get a 2 week supply of medication.

Fred may also be having visual hallucinations vs. George's memories being deluded with paranoia and grandness. Fred's been talking about haunted houses and demons. Demons! GAH! Poor Fred!!

I just got off the phone with the San Francisco coroner's office to confirm whether Chia had actually committed suicide/died. B'c George IS delusional and Dad was also thinking Chia's mom might've just been trying to keep George from calling the house - which he apparently had been. Chia is dead. My very first thought when George told me was OH THANK GOD YOU TWO BROKE UP MONTHS AGO. Second thought was Shit! Poor George! Third thought was a fist pump of win b'c SHE CAN'T BREAK HIM ANYMORE!!! And then I did lots of authentic empathy things on the phone at him.

I feel very proud of all my hard work and therapy that ding dong the bitch is dead was my *third* thought. Though I don't hold any of you to the same standard. Some of you may be fond of George through me and a tiny handful of you have met him, but he's not your brother. You aren't talking to him on the phone Every Day. You can totally celebrate first if you want. *g*

I know some of you are concerned but I really am doing okay. If I fall apart this weekend I'll let you know.

Oh and I caught a cold MY SECOND WEEK AT WORK. WOO!! ::rollseyes:: Someone let me touch their equipment while they were ill. Of course NOW I remember that I need hand sanitizer ON MY DESK AT ALL TIMES. B'c I crawl under desks, use other peoples keyboards/mouses, etc., etc.


mood:: sick
grooving to: Justin Timberlake - Floatin'
05 August 2007 @ 06:24 am
Posts to Post in the Immediate sense  
Timeline of Biff (and the progression of rape within the context of a relationship)

Why I moved to Downtown Hell - most likely in a timeline format
mood:: sleepy
04 August 2007 @ 10:41 am
Survivors vs. Victims vs. People Affected by Trauma vs. The Unharmed vs. The (Willfully) Ignorant...  
I have a friend who doesn't use a certain brand of toothpaste b'c that's what the man who molested her wreaked of it. My immediate response was, Well that toothpaste is fired then. and I checked the counter in front of us to make sure it was out of site.

Later it got me thinking.

My friend probably wouldn't have so casually mentioned the banned toothpaste to just anyone. I know she trusts me not to judge, ridicule or pressure her to conform to a set of "norms" I've structured a belief system around. And all at once I felt privileged and wary. Not of my friend! But of the world! How many of "us" have to pretend we're Fine when we're around a trigger? How many of us don't feel like we're "allowed" to be not okay?

Then I was pondering the nature of standardized social filters and "failed" attempts to return to "normalcy" for us "survivors."

But am I a Survivor? A Victim? I was victimized and I did survive but... so? Being a Victim is useful when one is being victimized by a predator, PTSD symptoms, flashbacks, anger bouts, overwhelming helplessness, crying fits, etc. etc. But I've found that some people sit in the Victim Chair so often they get comfortable. They prefer it. They snuggle back in their Chair and settle in. And it... I shake with rage at the settlers. But this isn't that post.

I don't often refer to myself as a "victim" or a "survivor". Oh I sure as hell did those first two years of recovery. Couldn't take a shower if the house was empty, out on the porch almost every night with my Mom (and sometimes Dad) talking 'till dawn, agoraphobia, panic attacks, couldn't look people in the face, nightmares upon nightmares, couldn't sleep without weed, when the weed ran out I drank, when the anguish and triggers got so bad I'd cut, totally flipped out and stole money from work, would fall to the ground *screaming* when startled, couldn't even *look* at a picture of a penis without flinching.

*THAT* was surviving. And I'm not doing that anymore. I'm Living.

So what am I?

I'm a woman who's been Permanently Altered by Trauma. Oh yeah. Permanently. I don't get to go back. I'm going forward. And I like some of my new bits - wouldn't trade them. I found places for some of my old bits too. So I think I'm doing pretty well with this new Life.
grooving to: Nirvana - Radio Friendly Unit Shifter
mood:: thoughtful
04 August 2007 @ 06:52 am
If you wanted to know about rape these are the books I would hand you  
I don't read (much) published fiction unless it's personally recommended to me or (in the case of LotR) the published fiction may enhance other media experiences (Legolas/Gimli OTP!!). So out of the few hundred books I own only like a dozen-ish are fiction.

My Library, and it *is* a Library when it's not in boxes, primarily consists of books on
child abuse: Alice Miller's works, Toxic Parents, Soul Murder,
the pain of adolescence (Reviving Ophelia, Raising Cain, etc
women's stories: That Takes Ovaries, Slut!, Breeders, etc.
the experience and recovery of rape and childhood sexual abuse
rapists, sexual predators and sociopaths

The last two are very different kind of books. Most survivors and victims only read books from their own POV. I also read about the predators POV. A lot.

I want to be educated about the monsters in this world. I've read... things. I've read interviews with boys who think rape is *normal* and not wrong at all. I've read studies/interviews that detail how sociopaths choose their victims. I've read, in detail, about the 1989 Glen Ridge rape (the one with the retarded girl, a broomstick and a dozen jocks in a basement). I've read unedited interviews of... monsters talking about raping infants that read like porn. I've made a study of rape language wherever I can.

If you wanted an introduction to what the world is like from the POV of someone who was raped I would hand you these books to get you started:
Still Loved by the Sun - Migael Scherer (link)
This is the first book I ever read on rape. It's short and a pretty light read considering the subject matter. Migael was stranger raped in a laundromat. This is the first year of her recovery.
Men on Rape - Timothy Beneke (link)
The book contains a variety of interviews with men in different capacities of life. Husbands, Friends, Doctors, Rapists, Cops, etc. Some of it heart warming, most of it chilling. However, the section where Timothy breaks down rape language is, by far, the *best* writings on the topic I've ever come across. If you read nothing else in this book read *that*. those twelve pages brought out the activist in my brothers. Who before hand didn't know *how* to call the males around them on their bullshit.
After Silence: Rape & My Journey Back - Nancy Venable Raine (link)
This is my Rape Bible. This is the book I go back to again and again. Nancy outlines PTSD in such a clear and blameless manner. She explains all the crazy and enables the reader to stop blaming him/herself for all the weird shit going on around and in them. She has such compassion I feel like she is a friend of mine and wrote the book just for me. She wrote this book ten years after a man snuck into her house, wrapped duct taped her head and didn't leave for three hours.
Rape: The Power of Consciousness - Susan Griffin (link)
This is a collection of five essays on the awareness of rape in our culture and how that awareness (or lack of) affects *everybody and thing*. This book was filled with dozens of "ah ha!" moments. The first thing I did when I finished it was to go out and buy another copy for my Mom.

Most of my books are in the attic in Berkeley. And I'm sure there should be more books there, but these are the ones I can think of off hand. I'll add more to the tag as I remember/find them.
mood:: productive
locale: closer to the awesome
grooving to: Nirvana - Very Ape
04 August 2007 @ 06:26 am
I think I'll be commemorating 10 rape free years with lots of posts  
There's a back log of things I've been wanting to say on the topic of my rape and torture. I think I might be doing a lot of those posts today. Sorry for the spam? But ten years is a number I've been looking forward to for... about nine and a half years. Since February of 1998.

And if anybody found their way here from [livejournal.com profile] metafandom and are thinking about staying, please read my userinfo first.
mood:: working
grooving to: Nirvana - Senseless Apprentice
03 August 2007 @ 11:48 pm
I'm in A Place. Tomorrow is August 4th.  
Tomorrow is August 4th.

Tomorrow is August 4th, 2007.

Tomorrow is August IV, MMVII.

Ten years ago, on August 4th, 1997, I got in my Dad's truck and I chose to go Home for the first time in my life. Went home for the first time in My Life.

My Life - my *real* Life - began on that day ten years ago.

This is not the happy YAY post. I'm sure I'll have one of those later. This is the I'm very easily triggered right now and weird things are coming out of my mouth post. So please forgive me if I've said anything off color to you lately. I'm... not exactly myself. And I'm kind of a basket case and crying at the drop of a hat. Which is fine! I'm all for the crying! Don't let that stop you from calling me on any bullshit that may come out of my mouth? But yeah, uber sensitive.

ETA: For you new (Clan) people: I know the lot of you are huggers. This is not a plea for hugs. And I know you may be tempted, but I get weirded out when people I haven't met, and hugged myself, hug me online. Other non-touchie things totally welcome!
15 July 2007 @ 06:16 am
This is what stalling looks like. - Hey NEW People!  
I've been in this nice cushy Post New York bubble. Ignoring my flist and anything that reminds me that I'm not Home. For I am terribly homesick. Homesick for people. There's no one to visit here. I only go places when there are errands to run and job interviews to do. Oh and sometimes I drive around in the dead of night to familiarize myself with the landscape. But [livejournal.com profile] permetaform pointed out the other day that I tend to drive towards the sky scrapers in the next town over. SO RIDICULOUSLY HOMESICK. So I'm going to talk about myself and things that make me happy.

Yes I'm wanking this into a Welcome New People post. I'm an excellent wanker. [HORRIBLE PUN!]


This is, primarily, a fannish journal. Fandom lives here, slash fandom mostly. Mmmm gay boys and men. Recently I visited my girlfriend [livejournal.com profile] gelasius in New York. There I met and befriended a bunch of her friends. WHO ARE AWESOME. They, many of them role players, were perplexed as to WHAT THE HELL I DO ON THE INTERNETS. I don't write fiction, I don't vid, I don't role play... WTF ELSE IS THERE?!! HOW CAN I LIVE!!?? Okay well nobody actually *yelled* at me. But a few people were ALL CAPping at me with their eyebrows. So what DO I do with my time?

I leave feedback. Yes, that is time consuming b'c I don't really leave "great story" feedback at all. I leave h0rry long winded feedback that can often sometimes take HOURS to type up. HOURS.

Plus I spend a inordinate amount of time downloading procuring (and viewing) television media. I spend an almost equal amount of time watching movies. I'm a media junkie. Some would say I Have A Problem. ::shifty eyes:: But they don't read this journal. ::koff::

I post sporadically about those things which I procure that give me joy. Sometimes episodes, sometimes music, other times movies. Media Junkie.

I'm not exactly "involved" in any one fandom specifically. I hover around many many fandoms. Please be to seeing my userinfo for a complete list of TV shows. Oh god I need to update that list with the movies and actors. ::headdesk:: Supernatural and Bandom are about as involved as I get. Oh right Bandom.

I hunt down canon for Bandom. Fall Out Boy and Cobra Starship mainly. There aren't any weekly episodes to download so I scour the interwebs for canon. I think I have almost every picture of Gabe Saporta published EVER and am currently archiving every single video clip of Gabe I can find. I have articles I don't even know how I found.

I name drop. Thusly: San Francisco is my hometown. I miss it dearly. I'm currently living with my Hetero Life Wife [livejournal.com profile] permetaform - we're straight for each other - in Southern California. I HATE IT HERE! HATE IT HERE SO MUCH OMG!! But my Wife is kind of having a nervous break down and needs on the ground support. So SoCal here I be. To keep the hatred at bay I spend a RIDICULOUS of time talking to my other BFF [livejournal.com profile] lierdumoa. She links me to cool things - like the good SGA and Bandom fic. B'c the only fiction I'll actually hunt down myself is Supernatural.

I beta fiction when my friends are writing it. ::stern looks all around:: I HAVE NOT BETA'D FICTION IN MONTHS. BITCHES!!

Oh and I love chan. Kind of a lot. I take it with my to every fandom. Or well I try b'c mostly they only give me jailbait. Bandom at least gives me canon jailbait. Pitch Black gives me chan occasionally. ::pets it::

Then there are the non-fannish things.

I talk about things some people just don't or at least not as openly and publicly as I do.

Ten years ago I escaped a sadistically abusive relationship where, for three years, I was totally controlled, occasionally beaten and regularly raped (for the last two). That was Biff*. But before Biff there was Brodie, a high school boyfriend, who never laid a hand on me but, when I was 16, raped me just the same. And let's not forget Adria*. My MoO (Mother of Origin) who was never very fond of my femininity and punished me for it every chance she got. She hasn't spoken to me in 10 years (outside of family emergencies) b'c the only place I'll agree to see her is a counseling office. Which she steadfastly refuses.

I know that sounds really shitty but I'm in pretty good shape. Thanks mostly to my step-Mom. And two of the most awesome brothers in Fred* and George*. People have tried to *trade* me. Oh and lets not for get my Dad, who loves me like burning and named me Angela b'c I'm obviously an angel. Yes he's said that out loud - to my face even. So I got lots of suck but I also have lots and *lots* of awesome. What my life lacks is mediocrity. Srsly.

And b'c I'm so ridiculously open and kind of an attention h0r feel free to ask me whatever. And uh... insert witty closing line HERE.

* Names not real.
89 days
grooving to: Cobra Starship - It's Warmer In The Basement
mood:: focused
30 June 2005 @ 03:17 am
Healing filter