My name is Eve… sometimes
by V.E. on December 29th, 2011
filed under meta, personal, politics
My name is Eve. I believe in the right to privacy and in voluntary information disclosure, and that’s not a contradiction.
My name is Eve… sometimes. When I was young, my parents made clear to me that I had to use a fake name online so that I would be protected from predators. I chose the name Gabrielle, and it’s still one of my favorites. My online persona grew up with me, and eventually I took the name Eve, which is the name I most often use today.
And yet my parents (and others) are surprised when people call me Eve in real life (that is: not only online), and then tell me that my “real friends” would know my “real name” if they were truly friends. But do they not realize that some of my friends have never known me by any other name? To some people, my name is Eve, and that’s fine with me. I am Eve. I am Gabrielle, too.
Maymay’s name has been with him since he was nine. “Maymay” is just as much his real name as his legal name is. He writes, “Young people are routinely admonished for giving out personal information online, but the services they use increasingly demand that very data.” I’m looking at you, Facebook. I’m looking at you, Google+.
The networks and services online that require legal names are trapping us into the use of those names, whether we like or want that or not. Imagine a school teacher who goes by her maiden name in her class but her email provider forces her to sign her emails—even the ones to her students’ parents—with her married name. Nobody wants that (or needs it) and that’s only considering that person’s legal name, not her chosen one!
I don’t understand why (mostly) older people seem to want to protect young people online while at the same time discouraging them from using chosen names in any sphere besides the internet. If a young person uses his or her legal name online, he or she is reckless and unsafe. If they use their chosen name in real life, they’re dealing in fantasies. Kinda makes for a no-win situation, don’t you think?
My name is Eve. And Gabrielle. And V. My name is me. Respect my privacy and I might just be more willing to give you my information freely.
Pagan Survey
by V.E. on December 27th, 2011
filed under personal, quizzes/surveys, spirituality
B A S I C S
Do you have a magickal name? I’ve had one in the past, but I don’t anymore.
How did you find Wicca/Paganism? I read an article in Teen People when I was… 13? I think? Maybe 12. I don’t remember.
How long have you been practicing? um… 13 years. Or 14.
Solitary or group practitioner? Solitary.
What is your path? Polytheist.
Are you out of the broom closet? Not really. To a few people, yes, I guess; but generally I don’t talk about it one way or the other.
D E I T Y
Who is your patron God? I have no patron god, though I revere Hermes.
Who is your patron Goddess? I don’t have a patron (matron?) goddess, either, but I listen for Athena and Artemis.
Do you fear darkly aspected Gods/Goddess, or rather respect them? I fear them sometimes, but I fear lightbringers, too, so I don’t know what fear really has to do with it.
Do you worship the Christian God? No, I don’t.
Do you ever worship animals? No, but I believe that god is everyone and everything…
Or plants? … including plants. And rocks.
N A T U R E
Do you regularly commune with nature? Not really. I mean, I walk to work sometimes, but it’s on a street the whole way and the freeway is RIGHTTHERE, so it’s not like I can really even hear any nature that’s not human-made, you know?
Ever walked barefoot in the woods? Yes, but not recently.
Taken a camping trip just to talk to nature? No.
Describe the moment you felt closest to Mother Earth? The day Bennett took me up to the roof of a building overlooking Central Park when The Gates were still standing. That was powerful.
What is your power animal? I don’t have one, though someone once jokingly told me it should be Pikachu, and Hermes thought that was the funniest shit ever and wouldn’t let me hear the end of it for a long time. >_>
Do you have a familiar? No.
Have you ever called upon the powers of an animal in ritual? No.
Or a plant? No.
Do you hug trees? Haha, yes, I have.
Give them gifts? I try not to litter and stuff, but I don’t know if that counts as a gift.
What is your favorite flower to work with? Lavender, Rose, Poppy, Forget-Me-Not, Bluebonnet
What is your favorite tree to work with? The ones close to me. I don’t have enough knowledge of trees to work with any certain type.
W H E E L . O F . T H E . Y E A R
What is your favorite holiday? Imbolc
What is your least favorite holiday? Honestly… Yule.
Have you ever held a ritual on a holiday? Yes.
Ever taken a day off work to celebrate a pagan holiday? Yes, though I didn’t specify why I was taking the day off.
Do you celebrate Yule on the 21st rather than the 25th? Yes, though my family is Christian, so I tolerate their Christmas traditions, too, including the birth of Jesus on the 25th and whatnot.
Have you ever felt the veil thin? Yes.
Ever danced the Maypole? No.
Know what the Maypole symbolizes? Yes, and that’s the least a person should know before they dance around it.
How do you usually celebrate the pagan holidays? Quietly and alone.
D I V I N A T I O N
Do you use Tarot? Not often.
Do you use runes? No, though I own a set.
Do you use a pendulum? Yes.
Do you use dowsing rods? No.
Do you use astrology? Sometimes.
Any other form of divination? Mirror scrying, tea leaf reading
S P E L L S
What was the first spell you did? Damn… I haven’t cast a spell in such a long time. I don’t even remember.
What was the latest? Like I said, I don’t remember the last spell I cast. It’s been a long time. Like… years.
Ever done a love spell? Yes.
A job spell? No.
A healing spell? Yes.
What was the most powerful spell you’ve ever performed? I can’t properly write about it, poor writer that I am.
What deities do you usually call on? Athena, Artemis, and Hermes. Sometimes Brighid, the Morrigan, or Quan-Yin.
C R Y P T O Z O O L O G Y
Do you believe in Vampires? Not in the traditional sense, no.
Werewolves? No.
Shapeshifters? I haven’t thought about it.
Elves? I… don’t think so?
Faeries? Yes.
Dragons? No.
Nymphs? As in “wood nymph”…? Not really, but I wouldn’t be surprised either way.
Sprites? No.
Mermaids? No, but it would be cool, right?
Sirens? Absolutely yes, but not the kind of legend.
Satyrs? No.
Ever seen any of the above? No.
Ever talked to any of the above? Yes.
Ever used any of the above in magick? No. Well, not to my knowledge.
Do you have one of them as a personal guardian? No.
R A N D O M
Do you see a rabbit, a man or a woman in the moon? I guess… a man. I don’t know. I never thought about it.
Own a cat? Yes.
When you mediate what does your happy place look like? It’s too complicated to explain and I wouldn’t even if it was simple. Sorry; it’s personal.
Do you work with Chakras? No.
Do you believe in past lives? Yes, and future ones, too.
If so, describe a few briefly: I don’t know any of my past lives in much detail.
Do you believe in soul mates? Yes.
Do you have a spirit guide? Not that I know of.
Is it always love and light? No, nor should it be.
How I do the season
by V.E. on December 25th, 2011
filed under personal, spirituality, thoughts, work
So, I work in a retail store wherein Christmas songs are playing nonstop every single day from November 15 until Christmas Day. I don’t dislike Christmas songs, generally speaking, except for “Santa Baby” and “It’s Cold Outside”, but hearing any song over and over and over for any extended period of time is going to make me hate it.
Here’s how I do Christmas where I work. A customer says, “Merry Christmas!” and I say, “You, too!”
A customer says, “Happy holidays!” and I say, “You, too!”
A customer says, “Happy Hanukkah!” and I say, “You, too!” I’m sure you get the idea, here.
I’m not against anyone celebrating their own version of the winter holidays. Seriously, I’m not. And I say it as non-curmudgeonly as I can, which—I admit—after a few hours, isn’t saying all that much. But I honest-to-gods try to be nice about it.
What irritates me is two-fold. First, that people assume I celebrate what they do. That’s… overlook-able, I suppose, since (1) people are afraid of what they don’t understand, (2) they incorrectly assume that everyone is like them, and (3) it’s in the “giving spirit” of the holidays, no matter what words actually came out of their mouths.
Second—less common and more irritating—that when they find out I that I don’t celebrate what they do (let’s just be honest here and say that it only happens with Christmas because it’s never happened with anyone except the Christians) they get offended and either (1) try to convert me on the spot, or (2) immediately tell me that I’m “part of the problem” in the “war on Christmas” (seriously??), or (3) immediately try to guess whatever holiday-of-the-moment I do celebrate and then explain how that’s actually just another way of celebrating Christmas because Jesus is in everyone no matter what.
I mean, really. You think all that is going to get me into the “spirit of the season”? Ugh.
Since before November 15, I have been complaining trying really hard not to complain about the Christmas music, putting up with the ridiculous Santa hats and reindeer antlers, tolerating everyone’s apparent (and, I hope to gods, temporary) lack of taste in clothing (when else, after all, is it acceptable to wear such gauche sweaters and jewelry?), and trying not to be bitter about everyone suddenly being “nice” and “caring” when I would rather just have them be decent all year round instead of hateful the rest of the year and sickly sweet for a month at the end.
So, fine. I’m Scrooge. I’m the Grinch. Whatever. During the holiday season, I just (1) accept presents that are given to me—because who doesn’t like presents?—and (2) try not to strangle anyone.
Ten Years
by V.E. on December 12th, 2011
filed under fyi, meta, personal, recap/review, school, thoughts
I’ve had this journal online, in some form, since 12 December 2001. That makes today my tenth birthday. I’m double digits, guys!
I really wish I’d thought of this ahead of time because I would have commissioned some art or something from one of my artist friends to post here as a birthday present to myself. It’s not every day a website turns ten years old, after all. ^_^
Unfortunately, I didn’t plan anything, so: here, have a clip art birthday (cup)cake instead. (I couldn’t even find one with ten candles haha. One candle, yes, obviously. Five? Yes. Even seven and eight candles, but not ten. Oh well.)
I’m ancient, in internet time.
Here’s to ten more years! I’m sure they’ll be as interesting as the last ten.
holiday_wishes 2011
by V.E. on December 12th, 2011
filed under anime/manga, fyi, personal
I think I may have skipped on this project last year and that’s just plain sad for me, since I really like gifting things (especially things that are basically brand new but have been sitting in my room taking up space for heaven knows how long).
In any case, I’m going to try to fulfill a few wishes this year—I’m pretty stressed out at this point, but I really think I should at least give as well as I (potentially) get AND sometimes giving things (making people happier) helps the mood, anyway. We’ll see.
But, there’s no giving without at least having a list for myself, too, since I also like getting things in the mail!!
1. Mail from other parts of the world. Like, real mail. Honest-to-God letters and holiday cards (Pagan ones, if you have them!) and postcards and whatever. It’s just nice to get something in the mail that’s not a bill, you know?
2. Unused United States Postal Service stamps in any denomination. I send a lot of mail and I will use the stamps you send me. Doesn’t matter if they’re “H Rate Make-up stamps” or “Forever” or whatever as long as they’re not cancelled out (y’know, so I can still use them!). If you’ve had a bunch of old stamps sitting in your drawer because you just don’t want to bother looking up how much they’re actually worth, send them to me!
3. A new battery for my Mac. (I have a 15-inch Macbook Pro.) A long shot, I admit, but I’m just throwing it out there.
4. Anything related to Mobile Suit Gundam Wing, especially Duo Maxwell, Heero Yuy, or Trowa Barton. I actually own the entire series itself (including Endless Waltz), so I don’t need that, but I would love GW icons, fanfiction, fanart, etc. (And I ship 1×2 pretty hard /cough*otp*cough\, just in case you’re looking for inspiration haha.) Also, I cosplay as a Preventer when I attend anime conventions, but my jacket has been worn so much that it’s fraying at the seams… Hahaha ^_^;; I would love for someone to give me a decent pattern for a new Preventers jacket, since the one I used for the first jacket is lost to the sands of time.
5. I really, really love retellings of old fairytales, especially Beauty and the Beast, so if you could point me in the right direction of any versions of fables/fairytales you’ve heard of/know about/have written yourself (!!), I would be very grateful. I already have a lot of versions of my favorite (so many that I can’t name them all), but I’ll happily take repeats. But, just in case you collect retellings, too: the more rare/unknown, the better.
6. I’m visiting New York City in January and I have some decent cold-weather clothing, but I don’t have any good gloves. I’d really like someone to give me some cold-weather gloves that fit my hands. I’ve been told I have long fingers, and it turns out that most gloves I’ve tried on almost fit. I don’t know how difficult it is to make gloves (or find/buy ones with longer fingers), but I thought I would ask just in case someone on this community is a master glove maker or something.
7. My all-time favorite theme park is Six Flags Magic Mountain in Southern California. I don’t get to go very often (I’ve never had a “year pass” or anything, for example), but I really love saving the park maps from the times I’ve been. I have park maps from the last couple of years, but I didn’t start the tradition of saving the maps until recently, so I don’t have any from the 90s and early 00s (and before!). If you just happen to have a Six Flags Magic Mountain (Southern California) theme park map from any year before 2008, I would be happy to take it off your hands. I know this is a different kind of long shot than #3, but still… If I don’t ask, I’ll never know, right?
8. An image of your favorite tattoo and why you got it (or, if it’s someone else’s, why you like it). I know some people are really protective of their tattoos, so if you’d rather not post your response for the whole community/world to see, please email me at iwasborninjune[at]gmail[dot]com (correct symbols, of course) with “holiday_wishes tattoo” or something similar in the subject heading. If the tattoo is someone else’s (and you know whose it is), please get permission from that person before sending the image to me. I really love tattooing and sort of collect meaningful and unique tats because it’s like a little window into that person’s world; it helps me know them better. I will never post your image—what you share with me will stay with me.
9. My little not-that-little sister is an artist (see her deviantart); she just opened an etsy shop and is anxiously awaiting her first orders. She doesn’t have a lot of stuff up yet, but I think it would really boost her confidence if she got more views and maybe even a couple people to buy some of her work. I humbly request that you click through and see for yourself is her jewelry is your style, and—if it is—please buy something! If you have a friend who likes jewelry, please pass the link along. I’d really appreciate it.
…and, last but not least…
10. Anything from my Amazon.com wish list
non-book | writing
fiction/poetry | nonfiction
words/maps | fairytales
feminism | natives
religion/spirituality | self-help
socio/psych | shoes/boots
In shoes, I wear a US woman’s size 10 M. (It’s in sections because I organize like someone with OCD, but if it’s not kosher to have more than one link, let me know and I’ll fix this post.)
Thank you so much, guys and gals!
Here’s my address:
[REDACTED]
Also, if you grant a wish of mine, please feel free to link to your list so that we can all share the love! Thanks very much again.
Dr. Strangelove
by V.E. on November 30th, 2011
filed under entertainment, personal, recap/review, writing
Show me the way home
I’m lost
Show me the way home
It hurts too much—Phil Roy, “Show Me the Way Home“
So, let me explain about Dr. Strangelove (wiki).
I dated a guy during my first year of college who was basically in love with Dr. Strangelove (the film, not the character) and wanted me to see it. I refused—first out of apathy, then general disinterest for war movies (satirical or no), and then just to irk him a little… because that’s just how I am. (I had a different boyfriend later who let me needle him and still made me do whatever it was that he wanted… because that’s just how he was [and is]… like go to see Casino Royale even when I was an avowed James Bond hater.)
Anyway, this guy was just waiting for the nuclear apocalypse so that he could take his KA-BAR out into the wilderness and fend for himself once and for all. He was a right-wing, gun-loving, self-proclaimed libertarian who hated affirmative action and thought that feminism had run its course because men and women were equal already, just different. Oh, and he was also against a woman’s right to choose.
But that’s another story. I never did see Dr. Strangelove while we were dating, and at the end of our first year in school, we broke up. We remained friends throughout college (he hated that other boyfriend I mentioned, for example, and eventually I told him to just suck it up) until one night in December of our senior year, when our relationship was irrevocably damaged. That is to say, he raped me.
I’m still taking ownership of that idea—the idea that what happened to me on that night was rape—but no matter how I put two and two together, it still adds up to… that. It’s hard to think about; I have many triggers—his name is one that I had to deal with when I got a new job and one of my supervisors not only had the same first name but also the same last initial. Usually, I don’t think about it. I’m not over it. I mostly know my triggers, such as they are, and I avoid them.
What the hell does this have to do with Dr. Strangelove, right? Well, this semester I’m taking a creative writing class because such classes—even though I already have a terminal degree in creative writing—help me and force me to write, and if I want to call myself a writer, I need to actually do some writing.
This writing class is split into three parts—poetry, fiction, and screenplays/playwriting. To help students learn about characterization, plot development, timeline, structure, and so on in the last category, the teacher has taken to showing the class good film examples of said. Tonight, that meant watching Dr. Strangelove. All of it. And then talking about it for 45 minutes afterward.
The teacher told us he was bringing in the film last week, and I was… disgruntled. I mentioned after class that day that I had an ex-boyfriend who loved the film, but we hadn’t parted ways amicably (an understatement if I’ve ever said one) and that I wasn’t really keen on remembering that bullshit. But after my off-handed comment, I honestly didn’t think much more about it.
Then, when he actually did bring it in today [Tuesday evening, 29 November 2011], I said, “Are we seriously going to watch the whole thing?”
And he said, “Sure, why not?”
And I rolled my eyes and said, “Fine.”
And then I sat through the entire film. And you know what? Objectively speaking, it isn’t a half bad movie. Stanley Kubrick is nothing to shake a stick at, so to speak. But I sat there, unable to really focus on the movie to really enjoy it (or scoff at it, or have any normal reaction at all)… because all I could think about was him. Because it had been his favorite movie. And it had been his hands on me, even after I’d told him “no”.
Half way through the film, I slid down in my chair, sick to my stomach, and wrote in my notebook:
watching this movie all I can think about is [him] holding me down in that geology lab @ [our school] that night.JUST
KILL
ME
and then I scribbled over the entire page to mark it out.
As soon as the film was over, I knew had been a terrible, terrible idea for me to have watched it when the only thing I could really see was… that, and as soon as the teacher gave us a five-minute break, I was out the door and down the steps to find a relatively unoccupied restroom.
I went into the nearest available stall (the very first stall had a sign taped to it that read “OUT of ORDER”—ridiculous, the things I remember) and threw up. Or rather, I would have thrown up, except that I hadn’t eaten much before the class since I was intending to eat when I got home. (I’m sure you can imagine that didn’t happen.)
After a few minutes, I stood up and went to the sink to wash my face. I went back to class (“You okay?” the teacher asked, and I nodded) and sat silently while the class discussed the film’s characters and structure, fists clenched in my lap. I was so wrapped up in my own crap—just trying not to explode or implode, just trying to stay in that holding pattern until I could go home and fall apart in the privacy of my own room—that I didn’t even notice the film has a single woman character (thereby utterly failing the entire Bechdel Test) until someone pointed out that she’d been wearing a fucking bikini in her only scene.
Finally, at the end of the discussion, the teacher turned to me and said, “You haven’t said a single thing. What do you think?”
And I said, “I’m not going to talk about this film.”
And he said, “What? Having some ex-boyfriend ruin one of the greatest comedies ever to grace the silver screen? What a tragedy.”
And I nearly just cracked up and laughed out loud because he really had no idea how right he was. It is a fucking tragedy, and you know why? Because I sat through the entire thing. I could’ve gotten up at any point and just said, “Fuck this. I know when I’m being triggered” but I didn’t. I didn’t really know it was a trigger at first, but the moment I realized it, I should’ve removed myself from the situation. I had every right to do that, but I didn’t because—as one of my waterbrothers said—I’m “certainly a committed student”.
Really, though, it’s because I still want people to like me, want people to not dislike me, want to not rock the boat, want to be “a good girl”, want to believe that if I do the right things—say the right things, wear the right things—that I’ll be safe. But I wasn’t safe that time. I had thought I was safe, and I wasn’t. I was with someone I trusted, and he betrayed me.
I left the class and started shaking. I called one of my waterbrothers and hung up the phone on the second ring. He called me back. I told him I needed him because I knew I was about to have a panic attack and I didn’t want to be alone. I drove home on autopilot and he found me there, sitting in my car, hyperventilating. He took me back to his house and held me while I cried and told me that I was safe, that whatever had happened was over now, and that he would hold me for as long as it took.
And then, after I’d calmed down some, he kissed me. And he kept kissing me, and I was thinking to myself, “Again? Please, not again.” But I was kissing him back because I actually do like him that way sometimes and I was just reacting, but it was too soon—still, even after all this time—and too fast, and after a few minutes, I was trying to get away and saying “no, no, no” over and over.
He held me there, and it wasn’t the same kind of hold as the one that time because suddenly he was whispering urgently in my ear, “God, I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry” and I was shaking and crying again and he was holding me tightly, saying, “Goddamnit, I’m so sorry; you were vulnerable and I took advantage and I’m so sorry”.
And I wanted to scream at him, “Yes! Yes, you did take advantage!” but I didn’t because I couldn’t get the words out in between my sobs. When I could breathe again, he stroked my hair and let me just lean against him, listening to his heartbeat, for a long time.
Finally, just when I thought maybe he’d fallen asleep, he said, “Something happened tonight that made you remember something traumatic that happened to you, and I was supposed to be safe for you, but instead I made you remember twice. I’m so, so sorry. I’m no better than him.”
I was silent for a minute, thinking about it, thinking maybe I should agree with him, and then I leaned up and looked him in the eyes and said, “Yes, maybe you did, but you know the difference?”
It was his turn to be silent for a minute, and I could tell he didn’t believe there was a difference. Finally, I prodded him further, “Do you?”
“What?” he asked gruffly.
“You stopped.”
2222
by V.E. on November 20th, 2011
filed under meta, personal, spirituality, thoughts
This is, somehow, my 2222nd published post. Since December 2001, I’ve actually published more entries than this landmark shows because this past August I deleted a bunch of my old posts up through about June 2006. (Hahaha, bet you hadn’t noticed that.)
This month, my family and I celebrated International Pocky Day (11/11/11), so named because it’s possible to use Pocky to write out the entire date!
Now, it’s my 2222nd journal entry here at duncan heights.
I’m waiting for something with 3333 in it. If that happens in the next month or so, I’ll have to add an extra sprig of holly and ivy to my altar to Athena. She’s been on my mind a lot recently, and I think it might be because She wants me to either (1) get my act together for once in my life, or (2) just let my life finish falling apart so she can help me pick up the pieces.
We’ll see.
Here’s to 2222 more entries!
