Things I Want to Blog About:

male feminists: possible, impossible, helpful, or not.

in a similar vein, the larger question of identity politics, and whether or not they have run their course in today's society.

sister has gotten into medical school! heart-shaped balloons and confetti!

the koreans in l.a.'s korea-town are not in fact evil. they just had a dodgy internet connection.

trying on clothing makes me feel fat.

my face is covered in zits.

why do i not trust people who are open and honest and emotionally available/accessible? is it partly because they end up sounding like they take themselves really seriously? or is it just that i don't happen to speak that language? or is it in this instance, that the person in question has a slippery grasp of the english language when typing? because yes, i am that petty and shallow.

why do my neighbors think that it is appropriate to have a "lawn-jockey" like statue of an american indian outside their house in honor of thanksgiving?

what level of hell do i go to for enjoying thanksgiving, even though i know all i'm celebrating is the genocide of an entire complex world of indigenous cultures and peoples by uppity white folk lacking senses of humor and articles of clothing that DO NOT feature a large buckle on them somewhere?

why does shopping for clothing drive me so incredibly fucking nuts? and not in the good way. in the "take an anxiety pill and have a lie-down" way.

at the end of wednesday yoga session, we were all instructed to think a good, kind, and loving thought, and i usually send that thought, image, feeling, etc, out into the room for everyone else to partake of. well, this time, i sent it to me, and it just about knocked my socks off. it really surprised me. i'm not used to being treated nicely by myself. and that's really sad.

and the thought was: lying on soft grass, being showered in fresh petals, like the japanese idea of a beauty so fresh and full and perfect and ripe, its represented by that spectacular moment when the cherry trees all over the islands have burst forth into blossom, flown open into creamy explosions of whites and pinks, and the flowers are so big, and perfect, and at the utter height of their short lives, that one or two have even begun to fall from the branches, floating softly to the ground; not a speck of rot or wilt on them, just a strong ruffle by the wind to spin a few away. i thought of being rained on by that kind of utter softness and beauty, that unsullied and pure moment. i thought that everyone should feel that way, that everyone has that beauty and purity and joy in them.

and then, like a suicidal christmas elf, i turned my joy-gun back on myself, and while i was COMPLETELY defenseless, nailed myself between the eyes and thought, "you feel like that. you make other people feel like that. you are a distillation of that purity and glory and jubilation. you are all that is good because it knows no other way to be. you are being showered by a million petals, and you are a million petals."

something happened to my heart when i thought that thought. i'm not fully sure what. but i felt warm, and i felt loved, and i smiled that stupid goofy smile that you half want to stop, and half don't, and aren't really able to stop anyway. it just creeps up on you.

it knocked my socks off, saying that to myself. it left me weak in the knees.

and now i'm going to bed.

goodnight!