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This section of my website is just where I run my yapper.

One of my teachers in elementary school (roughly ages five to twelve, for those of you not in the loop about U.S. schooling) sent a piece of my schoolwork home to my exasperated parents with the word Talkative scrawled across the top in red-ink cursive. I had never heard the axiom that schooling is for "socialization" -- a word no one ever seems to use correctly anymore -- but I lived it daily; friends and friendly classmates were basically the whole point of my academic life. Who the fuck needs P.E.?

Until my adolescent years, when the boys took over the conversation and we girls were meant to shut the fuck up, sit down, and gaze admiringly at their crotches while they nattered on endlessly about shit that didn't matter and shit they didn't remotely comprehend.

Not much has changed in adulthood.

It doesn't help that despite my motormouth in my grade-school years, I've always been an introvert (the motormouth appears to be a family trait on my dad's side, irrespective of personality type, and tends to get us into more than our fair share of trouble) and, while I can make my voice carry at full blast when I put my mind to it, I'm usually a fairly quiet person. Between those facts and my being female and thus subject to social devaluation, I tend to get run over in conversations. It has been very irritating, because even the most ignorant high-school boy learns a few things and even most men have one or two interesting topics to discuss, but you can't take part in a discussion when no one can hear you.

I'm not terribly fond of parties, mainly for that reason.

Ditto bars with loud music.

("So only have conversations with women," you're thinking. Word. The problem is I've never been to a party with women in it that didn't also have men in it [including baby showers!], ditto bars with loud music. If we did try to set something like that up for ourselves, I guarantee that men would find a way to crash it. I shit you not: this is already happening.)

(And that's when the women have something interesting to talk about. There is a certain social type of woman who feels she is not being Properly Feminine if she doesn't come across all Empty-Headed Mommybot. I am 99% past the mommyhood stage of my life, though I will always be a mother, and I just do not care anymore. The world is burning. Pick a fucking topic.)

ANYWAY. Over the years I've found that the internet has great potential as a field-leveler in the realm of conversation. You can't shout over anyone, because everyone's speaking at the same volume; even going to all-caps just makes you look dumber than everyone else, not sound louder. It has definitely sharpened my debate skills, because I was fortunate enough to be online during the email-list and message-board eras where people could routinely poke holes in your flawed argument without some frat boy's goon squad banning them for "bullying." And I can present my argument myself right where everyone can read it without their having to take someone else's word about what I actually said.

Doesn't mean they'll actually come to the source. Just means they can.

My ex-mother-in-law used to say I go online for the power trip. Close, but no cigar. I'm here because in offline conversation, I am powerless. People like her would have preferred me to stay that way. I am not. fucking. having it.

So: here I am, saying what I think. Some of it will be serious. Some of it will be silly. Some of it will just be sharing. I make no promises as to the overall quality of my writing; I have it on no less an authority than some random idiot commenting on LiveJournal many years ago that my writing is "bad." She was commenting to a woman who later became a published author, and here I am still being a nobody, so maybe she had a point.

It doesn't matter. It seems I don't know what to do with myself if I can't write. People already find me irritating when I'm not completely off the rails. Imagine if I didn't have this outlet.

You don't have to read it. Just be glad I write it.

Or -- I dunno -- who cares what you think. That's not what this is for. It's for what I think. The end. Moving along now.

Back to stuff.

Last updated: 07 November 2021