my horoscope yesterday
Fri Dec 2: Telepathic.Trust your natural telepathic abilities today and listen to your gut feelings if all else fails. Romantic relationships may stumble as misunderstandings abound, but this can be avoided by listening with your heart.
what had happened: i saw the womyn of my dreams last night. this isn’t new, of course, because i fucking love womyn and there’s something real special about a confident womyn of color that makes me stumble all over myself. she was so gorgeous, and so were her shoes! she was so poised and graceful (and basically the opposite of my slouchy bummy awkward ass). i paused my not-terribly-surreptitious staring to actually look at some of the art on the walls, turn back and bam! she was gone! ouch! not that i’d had a chance anyway~
but then i see her again at the bar we’re going to watch the burlesque show at. my second chance! …to stare like a creeper and look away when caught, apparently.
later, as i passed her on the way to the bathroom, she stops me with a hand on my arm and suddenly those sharp eyes are on me. i’m speechless, of course. she asks if i am cody(?), who i gather is a model i resemble somehow(?). i shake my head and maybe manage to say no. she says, oh, you’re very beautiful.
what i should have done: smiled, told that womyn i wasn’t who she thought i was (but that i’d like to know her anyway), and fucking introduced myself
what i did instead: …thanked her. goddess help me, i thanked her and scampered the fuck away as quickly as the crowd would allow. katie demanded that i go back and say something, because duh, wtf that is obviously a line. and even if it wasn’t! a gorgeous womyn touched me(!) told me i looked like a model(!) and that i’m very beautiful(!) and i ran the fuck away.
i somehow always believed that by the time i hit this age, i would know what the fuck i was doing when it came to womyn. failllllllllll
tumblr got my shit all outta wack
because now, when i walk down the street and see a gorgeous womyn, i start thinkin “damn, i would reblog you so hard. you’re tumblr fine.”
Day Eighteen: Describe your day in great detail.
considering the fact that i’m not doing shit today other than laying about, reading, tumblin, and watchin criminal minds, i figured i’d save you from absolute boredom by describing yesterday instead.
- woke up at marco’s place in the morning. talked shit for a little while then hopped on my bike to head home.
- when i got home, sarah was playin music and drinkin coffee and getting ready for dyke march! but i had to tumbl just a little bit, because i was still feeling all shaken up about the news involving mia
- turned up some phat tunes, jumped in the shower, washed my ass
- dried off, walked about naked just because i can. sarah is pretty much used to this
- put on: black underwear, torn fishnet tights, black booty shorts, studded rainbow belt, thigh-high rainbow socks, black vest, bedazzled rainbow bandanna, and beat up old chucks with rainbow shoelaces.
- i don’t have pics of this. sorry. but i looked gr8!
- made sure my fro was even, because an unintentionally lopsided fro is not on. and nonblack people won’t even tell you if it’s lookin funky/raggedy!!! come on, people. that shit ain’t cute.
- walked with sarah to the bart station, discussing the implications of the idea that beyonce represents powerful womynhood: on the one hand, she’s got success all over the fuckin place and exerts divahood, a take-no-shit mentality, and she looks fabulous while doing so! but on the other hand, if she ever decided she actually had something real to say on her music (or at all, ever), that success would be gone in a blink. not to mention the helllllaaaaa problematic ideals of black patriarchal (heteronormative) relationships running rampant through her (contradictory at best) lyrics. yet at the same time, put that shit on, and we will dance. nonstop. and channel that diva energy because in all honesty, sometimes beyonce is the best we can do. (as much as it pains me to say)
- waited for the train with sarah, rode the train with sarah, discussing our lovelives (or, more accurately, her lovelife and my sexual possibilities).
- walked to michelle’s house! ate pasta and hung out with juliana and lupe and michelle and jason and emily and stephanie and ami and sarah before heading out to dolores park
- did i mention what sarah was wearing?
- went to the park! where all the beautiful people were. and i’m gonna be real: i fucking love dyke march. it’s one of my favorite days of the year. it’s like the only time you really get to see the diversity of lesbian/bisexual/pansexual/queer womyn and it’s so goddamn beautiful.
- i don’t have any pics. i was busy being high and coloring(!! because lupe brought coloring books and crayons and evern let me color in a seahorse!!) and looking around and repeating again and again how much i fucking love lesbians.
- because goddamn do i love lesbians.
- stood in line for the bathroom for an hour. this is not hyperbole.
- smoked a buncha weed. because that’s what i do.
- put on my damn sweater because i was freezing my nipple rings off.
- lobbied for the group to go get sushi! and eventually convinced sarah and toni to come with. asparagus rolls for the mufuckin win, g.
- decided to go home. see, i have been looking forward to gaypocalypse for weeks! 5 of the moast awesome queer dance parties in the bay collaborated to make one huge dyke march afterparty, and it was probably off the fuckin hook, BUT
- i was fucking exhausted. like, megatired. and as much as i love queers, we had spent sufficient time together. now was time to take care of me, so i rolled home to be in my bed.
- got in my bed. =) =) =)
- smoked another bowl, watched an ep of criminal minds, masturbated and went to sleep.
i know. that was too much excitement for you to handle. try and calm yourself now.
ry-tuck replied to your post: Day Thirteen: List your favourite fictional couples.
you’re going to have to explain ship and OTP to me…lol.
ship comes from the word ‘relationship’ and refers to the act of imagining a relationship that may or may not exist in “reality.” usually used as a verb (ie “oh my god, the unresolved sexual tension between robert downey jr. and jude law in sherlock holmes, i cannot even. i will ship holmes/watson until the end of time”).
OTP is shorthand for One True Pairing. (it’s not that i have a problem with brendon/dallon, it’s just that brendon/spencer is my otp; they’re Made For Each Other)
if, for some reason, I am ever famous, you’d better believe I am reading all of the fanfiction about myself
aaaand a post about scratching my boobs was my 600th post
it’s sunday morning* and i’m drinkin tea, listening to korn and doing my nails.
*yes, it’s after noon, but it still feels like morning.
philosophy paper done. tonight’s looking like a bubble bath, possible hotboxing of the bathroom during said bubblebath, pasta and internet.
(basically, business as usual, but now it’s called ~relaxation~ instead of procrastination)
i am too cool for my own good, clearly.