kethrai's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Fuck this, I'm going to Vegas. Well, dear NSR's, I haven't touched this in a bit, but faire season is ramping up and life is moving into a hectic summer pattern, so there we is. I was at faire last weekend, down on Cape Cod--it was an SCA event, and the site was a boy scout camp, very pretty, and had hot showers. All of these things rank high with me--I appreciate the amenities. Not-so-hotness included rain, rain, and more rain--I'm constantly checking my toes, waiting for the webbing to show up--the Darling Husband getting wrapped up in Other Folks' Problems (I love it that he's empathetic-- but the way the dynamic plays out is that he gets so wrapped up in their stuff, that I don't see him or hear from him for days....) and one of the Wanton Hussies from last year (for those keeping score, there were two--one has been dealt with, one supposedly the Darling Husband dealt with) and Hussy Number Two either didn't get hit hard enough with the cluebat, or the Darling Husband never administered it out of a sense of "well, it might hurt her feelings". Um, hello? What about my feelings? Whilst everyone was sitting around thinking of ways that the Clue could be conveyed to Hussy Number Two, and worrying about the poor dear, um hello? Person over here whose marriage Hussy Number Two is trying to tank? Sympathy? Empathy? Hell, a cookie? I don't know exactly how it happened, but apparently I've become one of the people who is supposed to be "sensible" and "level-headed" about the world. Goddess alone knows how this came about--I spent the first half of my life being excoriated for being a flighty twit. (Well, by family standards, anyway--perhaps worth noting that my family isn't the flappin' and wailin' kind, so most of this stuff is by comparison only). Maybe I've just screwed myself by not taking full advantage of the image of the artist--maybe people would take my emotional life seriously if I was filling the bathtub with multi-colored blocks or something. It's possible too that people are discounting my ability to be an emotional being just because I'm so damn big--I've seen that before, a wierd kind of sizeism, where people assume that because you've got more acreage to disperse it through, that you're unable to feel any intensity of emotion. Who knows. But welcome to another faire season. Apparently it's another one where I'll be marginalized, ignored, and regarded as a useful resource, not a person in my own right. Happy fucking summer. I'll be the one in the back, the one who has no rights to say anything, do anything, or even retain her husband for herself. 8:42 p.m. - 2003-06-23 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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