(no subject)

Halloween both exceeded and fell short of my expectations. I have no words for my frustration with certain parental units. And there are certain threats which actually send tremors through my abdominal muscles.

However, the night was fun, if a little more orthodox than my usual 31. I hauled for the group, then bartered with Ally's brother, then took it home... Had a good howl at the end of the block. There needed to be more fire, but the conversations were good to listen to (I was engaged in a slightly less advanced one all night, concerning aforementioned frustrations). And of course, seeing the people was reassuring and comfy.

SAT was surprisingly stressless this morning. Unless I made a whole lot of stupid mistakes, I have no fear for my grade.

I feel like a weight ought to be lifted from my consciousness, and it is, somewhat, with all the ARTS stuff done (I ended up doing only 1 shortstory and 1 essay) and mailed. But I'm still intimidated by English. Luckily, I have this atrage assurance that I can procrastinate mightily and then get it all done at the end... and it never turns out badly, with English. Maybe not as well as I can do, but not badly.

However, I ought to do it now anyway. Woewoe.

(no subject)

Looking at my last post, it looks like I had no fun. That's not true. I had a lot of fun. Though I was weirded out all day by the difference in the way people treated me. It's both entertaining and disturbing (in more than one way).

I realize I am not the epitome of femininity, as Bryce stated on his cell to his girlfriend, explaining my costume to her. I do not try, as I prefer to be a person rather than a Girl (tm). Thus I should not expect incessant expressions of interest. And I don't, and I'm fine with that. But it's disturbing to realize that I could. And it's disturbing to realize that it makes such a difference to so many people when I do go all out and costume myself as a member of the lamentably female race.

It's a blow to the solar plexus of my subconscious self-esteem (rationality discarded for the moment) to realize that I'm only interesting if I try. It's also a wider glimpse into the general unpleasantness of the world to realise that they do react that way, it does make a difference to them, and they do treat me like a different person because I dressed like one.

My mother related similar tales to me, of losing weight and suddenly being an object and not a conversation. I don't feel objectified, but it's a matter of slight frustration that they don't see all facets of me anyway. Perhaps it's unreasonable of me to expect that, though.