allichaton | Entries tagged with family

I want to go home, I want to go home, I want to go home.

I just went into the kitchen to get something to eat. mom came into the kitchen as I was pulling out the stuffing. "We're going to be eating diner in a little bit." "When?" "Soon." "Oka, but I'm hungry now, I want something to tide me over." "Allison, don't eat that, we're going to be eating dinner soon."

Mrowwwwwwr.

I was going to grab Oreos, but I figured I should probably eat something a little more nutritious. So much for that.

Damnall, I'm used to eating at 5:00-5:30 at school, when I'm hungry, and I told her that It's 7:00 now and she's telling me NOT to eat? When I've been hungry for two hours and there is NO sign of anyone even BEGINNING to make dinner?

Why the fuck am I not allowed to eat when I'm hungry????

And--

She just discovered that one of the dogs peed on the floor, because someone closed the dog door. She yelled at the dogs as she threw them outside, then the first the she shouted when she came back in the door was, "DID YOU CLOSE THE DOG DOOR, ALLISON?????"

*sigh*

I yelled back at her, telling her I didn't touch the damn dog door, and not to yell at me. She said she's not yelling at ME. She's a bloody hypocrite. I can't count the number of time's she's gotten pissed at me because I was upset while I was talking to her about something, and she said not to yell at her, then refused to believe me when I said I wasn't yelling at her and I wasn't upset at her, I was just upset.

*deep breath*

Just one more day, and most of that will be on my own. She has work tomorrow, and D has school, and they both leave very early in the morning.

Damnitall, I do NOT want to come back here for Christmas break. *vhs* :(

Er...

I told Mom about the internet problems I'm having. Mistake number one, but oh well. Told her I couldn't get on to AIM, and a bunch of websites, like the AIM website, and AOL's website. She got all skeptical and went off to her computer, and came back a few minutes later to tell me that she got onto AOL perfectly fine.

I told her, "AOL the program, or AOL the website?" "AOL the program." "No, Mom, I'm not having a problem with that. I'm talking about AOL the website." "But I'm on AOL the website." "You're on AOL.com?" *confused pause* "No." "That's the one I'm having problems with. That's the one that's not working for me." *another confused pause* "Well, it probably doesn't help to be going through all these doors." (we've got wireless internet in our house, and I'm in my sister's bedroom with the door closed.)

Okay. Is it just me, or is my mom being incredibly obtuse? The number of doors the signal has to go thorugh should not affect only SOME sites, and not others, right? Am I horribly off my mark here?

Grrrr. She never accepts that there's a problem when I tell her I'm having one. Always has to go and try it for herself, and contradict me. Never mind that I've got vastly more experience with computers, and especially the internet, than she does.

Grrrr.

(The first draft of a post I'm going to make to my family blog)

"Family's Guide to Who I Am"

This is a bit of a coming out for me. For a long, long time, only my closest friends online have known the true me. Lately, I've become comfortable enough with who I am that I can be honest to all of my friends online. But only recently have I begun trying to hint to my family about who I truly am. And those timid attempts have largely been met with teases and brush-offs. That upsets me--because I love all of you guys, and it hurts that you don't/can't/won't accept all of who I am. So here it is, a primer on who I am, what I like, what I'm coming from. I don't ask that you understand it, or that you agree with it. But I do ask that you accept it. It's who I am, and all the censure in the world wouldn't be enough to change it.

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I am goth. Not turning, not considering it. Am. Now before you start expecting me to show up on your doorstep wearing a spiked color and black leather, let me explain that there is more than one type of goth "style". I like antiquity goth. This basically means that I like rich, jewel-toned colors, and old styles of dress. Medieval, renaissance, victorian, etc. I'm exploring the punk goth a little bit, but antiquity is where my heart is.

I know that I've never dressed goth before. This has nothing to do with being goth. Goth is a mentality, not a look. And when you consider that I've never bought my own clothes, it's not hard to understand why I've never dressed goth. Hard to do when your parents/gift-givers aren't. With the formation of my christmas list this year, I tried to get some additions to my wardrobe that more accurately reflect the clothes that I love. And I was met with teasing, "Are you turning goth on me?", and then, when I insinuated that I've been goth for a while, "You weren't goth. You wore jeans and sweatshirts. That's not goth."

See above comment. What I am and what I wear are not analogous. I am goth. It's not going to change. Accept it.

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I am a writer. This is what I want to do for the rest of my life. This is how I want to earn my living. This is who I AM, first and foremost. I understand that for the vast majority of authors, this is not a lucrative career. I may not be able to own a large, expensive house. I won't make as much money as a doctor or a lawyer, or some other prestigious profession. But I will be happy. No, scratch that. I will be ecstatic. I will be doing what I love. I will love my job. That's more than most people can say of their jobs. I don't need money to be happy.

There are a few things that go along with being a writer. I spend massive amounts of time on the computer. This is a necessity, and it's not something that can be negotiated. In order to write, I have to use a computer. I can write longhand, but it still has to be typed up and added to the rest of the manuscript. In this day of technology, it's a requirement. Perhaps it isn't the greastest for my health--but I would rather be ill and writing, than a perfect specimen of health, and not. I love writing. I can deal with the health complications that come from that. Every job has its hazards. Writing is no exception. I know of them, and I accept them, and that is my choice to make. It's my life, my body, my choice. Please don't try to make that choice for me.

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Going hand in hand with the writing--I write erotica. Yes, this means the stories tend to focus on sex, but please don't confuse this with porn. It's not sex for the sake of sex. It's the difference between a porn picture of a man, and the David statue. Naked people does not equate to tawdry. Sex does not equate to porn. I write erotica, and I enjoy, and now that I'm eighteen and an adult and legal, I don't have to pretend not to.

Take it or leave it. It may not be your thing. I'm not going to shove my erotica down your throat if it's not what you enjoy reading. You don't have to like it. But you have to accept it. It's who I am and what I like. And considering that many kids my age have children, and even more have had sex, it's a rather harmless way to deal with teenage hormones.

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I am a geek. This sort of goes hand-in-hand with being a writer. I'm a computer geek. I love computers. I love spending time on the computer. I have met most of my best friends online. I've met the man I plan to spend the rest of my life with online. I'm an internet junkie, and an amateur programmer. Much of my life is on or involved with the computer, and this is not sad. This does not mean I'm deprived. This does not mean I have no life. This is reality; it's how it is.

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I am an adult. I turned eighteen in November. The law recognizes it. It would be nice if my family did, too. I'm old enough and mature enough to take charge of myself. I'm not "normal", which means some of the decisions I make for myself may not be decisions you agree with. But once again, it's my life, my choice, and I'm the only one who has the right to make them. I don't need rules to structure the formation of who I become. I'm done becoming--I am who I am. And I'm happy with that. Let me be who I am. Let me be in charge of myself. I am an adult, now let me be one.

*sigh* Okay, Mom doesn't get to read my writing.

I've been home for less than 24 hours. When I was on the computer last night, Mom was making snarky comments about the artwork that I had on my desktop--it's fantasy artwork by Luis Royo, and it tends to be explicit. Nana had a few reactions of shock.

Throughout the day today, I've been distracted, hanging with the family, so my screensaver has been on pretty frequently. It's set to shuffle through all the Royo art that I have on my computer. My aunt Michelle and uncle Pete are visiting for Thanksgiving, and they've all been making comments about the art, joking about me having "softcore porn" on my computer, etc. The jokes have gone on all bloody day about me having porn on my computer. I decided to stop being annoyed about it, and just smiled when they kept making the comments, and let the comments go. Didn't let 'em bother me. Well, tried not to let them bother me. It's hard not to be upset when your family is mocking your taste in art.

I came out of the bathroom a little while ago, and Mom had closed my laptop. (She's damn lucky it was plugged into outlet power, otherwise it would have turned off, and I'd have gone homicidal.) When she saw me, she said, "We find this offensive. We don't want to look at it."

Well excuse the HELL out of me! It's not like I was forcing everyone to stare at my screensaver. My computer was out, because I've been using it, but it's not like I was projecting the images across the living room wall. No one forced them to bloody look at the pictures, and dammit, people have been making comments about the content of the art all day. It's not like they didn't KNOW what kind of images they would see if they looked at my screen.

And if she's offended by the Royo artwork...most of it is pretty tame. She's going to have a stroke over my erotica writing. So...she doesn't get to read it. I write what I love, because I love it, and because I want to share it with others who feel similarly. If she doesn't, that's fine. She doesn't get to read it. End of story.

*scowls and stalks off, fuming*

I posted my last rant, about the treatment of intersex infants, to my family blog, as well as this one. This morning, I got a response from my grandpa that infuriated me.

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Dear Allison,

Thank you for your borgs - especially the one about professor Boellstorff and his views on hermaphrodites. My dear, it certainly sounds to both Thelma and I that this man is just pulling your leg a little. Everything you say he said cannot possibly be true! As a simple explanation of that, you know that only a female can ever have the internal oprgans necessary to be a female. Sexual sensations? Yes, maybe some, but probably not the real thing. Conversley, only a male can ever possess the organs and capabbility to be an host-to-God male. The penis (or clitoris) size has very little to do with these procedures. This man would have us believe (if I read you right) that the sex of a newborn baby can be changed at will - RUBBISH!

Certainly, some sex change operations do happen, but they cant change the insides. Also, I'm sure some infants have had their gender operationally enhanced to reflect their TRUE gender, buit what would be the point in changing an obvious male with small penis to an inferetile female? It may even be possible that in some parts of the world these things are done at the whim of a physician, but here in America? I dont think they could get away with it for 5 minutes - too much media and immediate public opinion exist today. Even the attendant nurses would sue the hospital. Some shenanigans may have been pulled a few decades or more ago, but today? I dont think so.

If I were you I would have some very succinct questions for that gentleman.

[snipped stuff irrelevant to the topic]

Love 'ya Papa

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MROWWWWWRRRRR. This stuff DOES happen. Today. In 2003, and no amount of denial is going to change it. Open your mind, accept it, and then DO SOMETHING ABOUT IT.

Anyway. Ahem. Here's the response I'm sending him:

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Hey, there. :) Glad to hear from you.

[snipped stuff irrelevant to the topic]

As for the blog rant about hermaphrodites...yeah, the information surprised me, too. It's difficult to accept that such things DO happen today. I've attached the article that we read for class, "Hermaphrodites with Attitude", to this email. It talks a lot about the gender assignation practices--and you'll notice it's copyright 1998. It's in PDF format, so you'll need Adobe Reader to read it (if you don't have it, you can download it online for free). Things haven't changed much, if at all, in the past five years.

"Conversley, only a male can ever possess the organs and capabbility to be an host-to-God male."

You're right--it's impossible to change a woman into a true male, or a male into a true woman. The gender assignation surgeries don't give the infants the genitals of the opposite sex--they give them the APPEARANCE. Because, as I said, it's more important that they look normal. 90% of intersex children are determined to be female, because it's "easier to make a hole than build a pole". But for those that are deemed male, and are given a surgically manufactured penis, it doesn't function as a true penis. It *looks* like one, but it doesn't get an erection, and the urethra is located beneath the "penis", so they don't urinate out of it, either. It's there for appearances, so that the child looks "normal", to try to get rid of the "matter out of place".

Also, you appeared to miss the point of these being intersex infants--children whose genetic, hormonal, or physical makeup differ from the commonly accepted norms for "male" or "female". They're given these surgeries in order to make them appear normal, to get rid of the "matter out of place" that crosses our cultural boundaries of what should and shouldn't be. They aren't how they should be, so doctors have to fix it.

What about true hermaphrodites--people born with genital material of both genders? There are people born with a vagina and undescended testes, for example, or reproductive organs that are neither male nor female, but part ovary, part teste, fused together. This is much of my point--that instead of accepting these children as they are, we feel the need to "fix" them, and in result, often emotionally as well as physically harm them for life.

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That's as much as I've got right now. I'm pissed, so it's hard for me to see what I might be leaving out that needs to be mentioned. Any comments, suggestions, additions would be very welcomed.

I got an email response from my grandpa today, about my glum, depressive post a bit earlier today (I've got a family blog set up, where they get the updates about school, etc, but not the things I don't want them knowing). Here's his email in response to me:

NOW You're talking like a real alli-cat ! (chuckle)

Hey, kid - we all get into depressed days and conditions -even when you're 75 years old. You have to know this and remember it. It's a physical condition which affects your mental abilities. Anyway, live with it, it's part of adult human life. As a female you are probably more susceptible than a male, mostly because you are mentally more emotional. As for the person you care about the most, guaranteed he/she cares just as much about you, but only time will handle the problem - the time it takes you to mature into a lovely 23/25 year old woman!

I'm just laughing my ass off over this. Sexism and ageism, all in the same email... *roflmao* And gotta love how he puts an age barrier on my maturity...gee, that goes right back to my whole issue with the age of consent laws...

*smiles sweetly at her grandpa* Papa, you obviously haven't spent much time getting to know me. Boy, have you got an eye-opener coming...

Current Mood: giggly
Current Music: Truly, Madly, Deeply -- Savage Garden

Got 2k done today, and early, so I'm going to take the time to have a little rant, because this really bothered me.

My grandparents came up from San Diego for Thanksgiving, and stayed until Sunday morning. My grandpa took me driving around my high school parking lot, where he proceeded to tell me (again) that I was going to make my mark on the world. It was a nice thought, and flattering, so I just grinned and ducked my head and didn't really say anything in response. He went on to talk about Einstein, and people who come up with ideas like that and are remembered, and how everyone knows who Einstein is, and someday everyone could know who I was, and how I should go to college, because "learn-ed" people go to college and get Ph.D's and come up with theories like that. And through all this, I'm thinking "yeah, sure, it's a nice idea" and basically going along because he's peppering his "go to college" speech with "do what you love". And then, he goes and says "Writing a novel is fine, but it's just writing a novel..." and then goes off to talk about "learn-ed" people and college again. It was about that time that I started tuning him out and not really LISTENING to what he was saying, because that pissed me off. Maybe writing a novel was just writing a novel to him, but it's not to me. I LOVE writing. That is what I want to do for the rest of my life. And it's not "just writing a novel" to me. There have been writers who made differences, who everyone knows. Why do I have to be someone that everyone knows because of science or math? Why can't I be someone that everyone knows because of literature? I don't like math, I don't like science. I like writing, damn it, and I don't put up with with people putting it down like that! I love my grandpa, I really do, but I think he's old-fashioned and too focused on what HE thinks are accomplishments. Science and math can change the world, but they can't change a life the way words can. They can't move people to tears or laughter. It's that power that I love, being able to write something that moves people, not machines. And that's what he doesn't realize. What I'm afraid he'll never realize.

Man, I made out like a bandit. T gave me a $50 limit at Barnes and Noble, plus one extra book so that it could be Danielle's present. I got Glenraven, by Holly Lisle and Marion Zimmer Bradley, Chicks in Chainmail, an anthology edited by Esther Friesner that looks like it's going to be drop-dead hilarious, The Blue Sword by Robin McKinley, Killashandra by Anne McCaffrey, Fairyland by Paul J. McAuley, The Pillars of the World, by Anne Bishop and Assassin Fantastic, an anthology about assassins edited by Martin H. Greenber and Alexander Potter. I'm so excited, I don't even know where to begin. I wanted to get Women at War so I could read Holly's short story "A Few Good Men," but they didn't have it. :P So I figure I'll have to convince my mom to order it for me off of BandN.com.

Happy birthday to me! Today's my 16th b-day. Yay! I've already gotten most of my presents--Jen gave me a butterfly candle, Dad gave me a trip to see STOMP, T is going to take me to Barnes and Noble, Mom gave me a writing notebook, a set of HUGE spiral-bound index cards for story ideas, a fat pencil 'cause I lost mine, an Into the Woods DVD, and two Big Kat bars, 'cause it's my sweet 16. :) Danielle said she was really upset 'cause she didn't get me anything, but that's okay. Really, the only specific thing I wanted was Into the Woods, and I got that, so I'm happy.

Gotta get back to writing now. 700 words to go, and Blade and Zak just made it to the shore. Yippee!

Wow. I only got about 500 words written yesterday, because Dad took me and Danielle and Jen to see STOMP. Wow! That is such a totally awesome show. I loved it! Not only was it fun and entertaining, but there was a lot of comedy in it. I had a blast. I'll have to make up the words this weekend, but I don't care. I'd do it again.

I've got about 700 words left to write tonight, and I dont' know WHY I'm on the internet. I shouldn't be and I know it, but I got sucked into procrastinating. Drat. Anyhoo, it shouldn't be too terribly difficult to get the rest of the words. The characters are rather confused, and confusion makes for good writing.

I just had a total meltdown. Today's been miserable, although really it's nothing uncommon, but I think that my mom and sis yelling at me on top of being sick all week and worrying about having to make up my schoolwork just caused me to snap, so now I'm bawling and the crying is giving me a headache, which is making me cry more, because I was so happy this morning when I thought my headache was gone. I just need a big hug, and some time to myself, I think. I don't think it'll happen today though, not with three of D's hyperactive friends coming over and spending the night. I hope I'm not like this in school on Monday.