You log in to facebook and send one last parting message begging people to contact you with their email address/etc so you don’t lose them once you permanently delete your account.

The responses are heartening. I migh

I’m not good at funny.

1. Both partners should be sober the first time you have sex.

Ok, I know this sounds unfair and mean and terrible and all that. I get it. Most people like using a little bit of social lubricant. As a veteran of a lot of hook-ups let me say that it is hard to have appropriate judgment when not-sober.

2. Ask for consent.

I’m serious. I specifically choose not to tell you how many people have been flabbergasted when I said, “I would really like to have sex with you. Right now I am getting some signals that you would like to have sex with me too. Am I reading you correctly or should I back off?” Men have expressed shock that I would ask. Women were delighted with me. If you do it in a sexy way I promise it isn’t a boner killer. Instead it is hot and fun and a major turn on. Male partners have told me that I am the only partner who has *ever* asked for consent. That breaks my heart. Women can rape too. I don’t care if you are a guy or a girl: asking permission is all polite and stuff.

3. Only use physical force during sex if you have had calm, rational before hand negotiation.

I’m a flaming pervert. I’ve done things that would freak out just about anyone. This article is not about those stories. What I say to you, the generic unwashed Cracked.com masses is: physical force is not inherently evil. Using physical force someone doesn’t think is sexy during sex is abuse. It is only sexy if you both like it. The difference between bdsm and abuse is consent. If at any point someone decides to withdraw consent then the physical forcefulness must stop on a dime. If you don’t have the self-control to stop on a dime you have no business being physically forceful during sex.

4. If you can’t have a conversation about STDs and pregnancy prevention before sex: don’t have sex.

We cannot afford to think that sex is no big deal. Sex is wonderful. I’m a huge fan of sex. I’m even a fan of sex with lots of people with relatively few strings attached. I’m anything but a prude. If you can’t have a conversation about your health and the health of your partner then you are not grown up enough to be rubbing sticky bits together. Stick to masturbation.

5. Think of yourself as someone with potential power.

This one is one of the hardest ones. This is the most serious, in my judgmental and experienced opinion. Having sex seems like a basic thing. Most humans do it at some point. But the hormones it floods through your body can have a very lasting impact. I know that most of us go through childhood conditioned to think of ourselves as weak and powerless. That is how at least America wants children to feel. It’s not true though.

Once you have your hands on someone else’s private parts you have just become a person with power. I understand that it is kind of daunting to think about. You can hurt someone on accident because of all the hormones and emotions involved even if you are kind to their body.

Sex is wonderful if both people want it. Sex is awful if only one person wants it. (Or it can just be boring–that’s the ideal if it is just for one person’s benefit; as someone who went through hellish pregnancies I can say that having sex for your partner’s benefit is sometimes a kind thing to do even if you aren’t in the mood.)

I’m not feeling productive today. I know what I need to do. I don’t want to do it. I’m tired and grumpy and I have a distinct lack of caring.

I’ve been reading other home school blogs. It is going to be very weird for me over the next fifteen years that most of the people I have the most in common with are extremely Christian or rabidly atheist. I don’t seem to have stuff in common with moderate people. This is a little odd because I have a lot of hang-ups about the Christians.

If someone tells me they are home schooling because Christ told them to I figure they don’t want to talk to me. I’m not home schooling my kids because Christ told me to. I’m home schooling my kids because I am a selfish daughter of a bitch and I want to enjoy every single minute of their life and not let some other asshole get the benefit of all those smiles. Yup, I’m that selfish.

I love that I get to watch what they do all day. I get to know what they like and don’t like. I get to benefit from how gosh darn nice and polite they are.

If you take the faith part out of the equation I am very much trying to raise my kids in a way that is consistent with the religious home schoolers we know. I believe in being polite to people. I believe in learning that your needs are not the only ones in the room–how do you learn how to anticipate and accommodate needs other than your own? I do not want my children exposed to the idiocy of most modern curriculum. I know how they are created and I flat don’t approve.

Sometimes it feels like what I am doing must be a sin. It must be a crime for me to pull my kids out of the herd. They are not going to be just like the neighbors. We have a relatively homogeneous sort of neighborhood. We are distinctly at the edge of the bell curve in a variety of ways.

I am going to educate my kids. They will know a freakish range of things. They will understand a lot about the world. Will they be normal? Almost certainly not. But we’ll see.

I want to know what people are like when they are protected from the awful of life but are continually exposed to the fact of their own protection and privilege. My kids are incredibly fucking privileged. What will that mean to them? Will they grow up like their dad and my shaman who get very angry about the word because it sounds to them like “Everyones opinion but mine matters”?

I go back and forth with this American idea of “boot-strapping” yourself out of poverty. Some folks think I did. I think I had $1200/month tax free until I was thirty because of an unfortunate incident when a pit bull ripped part of my face off. I don’t feel I can call myself a boot-strapper with a straight face. I had support. I didn’t have family support and that is what people expect if you have support.

What would life be like if all young people had an equal amount of support? John Holt believes that the government should guarantee a small income in the name of all citizens. You don’t have to claim it if you don’t need it–if your parents do adequately you can choose to not ask for it.

Actually how awesome would it be if even the rich kids were cut off at 18? What would it be like if every 18 year old in America had the same salary and access to education? How would that change things? It is an interesting thought exercise.

I can’t change everything. I can’t change society. All I can do is change my family.

I feel haunted by this whole family tradition thing. People tend to pass down traits and behaviors and activities and hobbies. That’s how families work.

Suicide and incest go back generations. What does that mean? How broken are we to start with? Most of the research on how damaging such lives are on a DNA-level says that the damage can be mostly repaired by excellent parenting. Am I managing? My children are not anxious. My children have very few fears and anxieties. They are extremely connected and secure.

My children have never been seriously hit. I have hit Shanna on the foot a few times when she kicked me but it wasn’t hard enough to hurt her foot or my hand and I apologized. I was deflecting her from hurting me so I don’t feel that bad. I think those kinds of contact are part of life.

I am scary sometimes. I have broken things in front of them. You aren’t supposed to do that. When I break something my kids say, “Rats! Good thing it is easy to fix!” It is just… automatic. My children believe I can fix anything. My kids are not afraid of me. When I am acting in a scary way Shanna has told me, “Mom you are scaring me and that has to stop.” I told her she was right. I thanked her for telling me. I don’t want to scare you. If I scare you then I am doing it wrong. I love you so much.

I feel so much guilt for being as limited as I am. I sometimes think longingly of working. More money! Time when I’m not being pawed! But I think I would hate it. I think I would have way less patience for the kids. At this point my kids get to have ~80% of the patience I have in this world. If I had a job they would get less and that would be bad. I would not be very nice.

I see my friends hold down jobs and be good mothers. I feel ashamed of myself. I cannot be like any of you. I don’t have enough to give in this lifetime. I wish I had somewhere to go every day where lots of people appreciated what I did and needed my help. But most people don’t have that experience from work. Work sucks. So I opt out because I have this overwhelming privilege.

It is a privilege to be as functional while not-very functional as I am. I have luxury and help. I have money. Let us not under rate the very important function of knowing that I am financially safe. I check www.mint.com every day. I am very aware of our financial position. I feel very annoyed with myself for not having more self-discipline and saving a higher percentage of Noah’s income. But we already run into a lot of awkward because our friends spend money differently and it makes it hard to do things with people.

My life is set up around doing work and mostly playing for free with my kids. We play at parks and at peoples houses. Somewhere with an admission fee is way less interesting.  If we have to pay to play a bunch of games it is pretty much a guarantee that we won’t be playing any games. We can watch. It’s ok.

Our money is going into our house. If my kids resent that, well… I don’t owe you endless trips to a bounce house. That’s not a god-given right. If you resent me for my choices you will just be joining the legions of children who came before you. *shrug*

I tell my children more or less every day, “It is not my job nor my responsibility to entertain you. One of the most important things you need to do in this lifetime is figure out how to make your own fun. If I do it for you then you will never learn.”

I wonder if one of these days if I will start tracking my mood more carefully during the month. I started bleeding yesterday. The week before that I cried all the god damn time–well, any time I wasn’t being looked at by another person. I have a paranoid “oh shit someone is looking at me” switch where I can turn it off. When they turn away the tears start again.

Yesterday I felt crampy and slow and lethargic but more numb than bad. I didn’t cry until I was going to sleep. That’s pretty good for me.

It is a Godmama weekend. Thank goodness. I woke up on the wrong side of the bed yesterday. I bailed on Hindi class because I was feeling like such a raging asshole. Then I had a good phone call with a friend and that did a lot for my mood. Now I have plans to go visit her on Monday. W00t.

Then we both got massages from our wonderful friend. (If you want a massage and you live in the bay area within 25 miles of Berkeley-ish you should call him. He’s awesome-sauce.)

extra money and all for it

I told Noah I am probably headed towards a food dehydrator. He said he had already thought of that.

Some days I wake up feeling angry and hateful. But I’m not allowed to hate anyone in my life. So that means I just spend a lot of time hating me.

I know I’m a whiny pathetic person. No one needs to point it out. I am spoiled and ungrateful and stupid and bad. I know.

It is hard knowing that I absolutely deserve every person who has stopped wanting to know me. I am not easy to know. I support people moving away from sources of toxin in their own lives. If I am toxic to you then you probably shouldn’t know me. I agree.

With every passing year I feel more like I am just not good for people. This feeling makes me hate myself a lot for wanting connection so much. I feel about as evil as HIV+ people who have nonconsensual bareback sex. It’s just not cool to put toxin like this into the air.

New study. Childhood abuse causes a different manifestation than adult trauma. I mean, well duh and all.

But it made me think.

The hardest part of changing my writing is assuming that my reader has never met me before. I think for so long I’ve just been writing for Noah.

Anyway. So I have this friend Mollena. She’s a speaker, a writer, a presenter, a performer, she’s been a working actor since she was five. She’s been a lot of places and done a lot of things that would probably make your head explode. If you ever get her in a room say, “Tell me about when your dad took you traveling”. I promise you that you will like the story.

Mollena is someone I met in the bdsm community. Specifically she is a sex educator. She teaches classes about dynamics in relationships. She was asked to speak at Yale among I just don’t wanna give  her resume. It’s way more than a page long. She’s cool.

Specifically

She’s awake and responsive but she’s in so much pain that she’s not able to breathe consistently. They need to put in a feeding tube. She needs another surgery. Her broken ribs are complicating everything.

Apparently there are strong wishes for no prayers. I’m allowed to send positive

It occurs to me that there is a word to describe the problem I have with female friends: “Codependent“. I’m an enabler. I like to take care of people and “fill in the gaps” on what they “can’t do for themselves”. I want to take care of people so they will turn around and fill my emotional needs and take care of me.

I totally set myself up as the victim and feel like people are persecuting me when they choose to step out of the dance of dependence. I’m a serious asshole that way. When I stand up for my needs I feel like shit. I feel like I am violating the contract.

So I tend to not take care of myself until I completely explode and pull a nearly Borderline black/white thinking trick and decide that the person who can’t meet my needs has to be cut out of my life entirely. That’s not helpful.

I need to learn h

We put in ~ 40 screws out of 66 before the battery on my drill died completely. Not bad. The corded drill isn’t buff enough to do this work so I’m waiting till tomorrow. No biggie. We didn’t test the tent.

I’m up to about three weeks of having one normal poop a day. For the last few days I’ve been eating a fair bit of garlic. I’m breaking all the FODMAP rules and still pooping normally. I’m done tracking food.

In the past ~20 days I’ve had a few days with one normal poop and then a small squirt of diarrhea later in the day. I consider that acceptable. I don’t have any desire to continue tracking. It doesn’t seem to be doing me any good.

I am deeply frustrated that I did the process and found… no clear connections. I *am* pooping normally… which is a big change. Near as I can tell the fast or some combination of just dropping foods out for a while was good for me. I don’t know.

I’ve spent the last two days reminding myself that how other people feel about me isn’t my business. I’m having really big feelings. I am so ridiculously insecure. But I’m not reaching out for any validation. It is inappropriate to ask and ask and ask.

Sometimes I feel very sad that there has never been a period of my life that is safer than right now in which to make mistakes… and I still don’t feel safe enough to make many kinds of mistakes.

I don’t even know what I would “want” in terms of validation from people. I feel like folks have generally been very decent to me for a while here. Well, my friends are being fine. I haven’t had a sticky moment with a friend in several weeks. Notice how I’m not going out as much as usual. I think there’s a connection.

I’m not having good luck with all people but that’s different.

I feel like I am not good at figuring out perspective. Either I am underestimating or overestimating how important something is.

A long time ago I spent a lot of money trying to have a cross country relationship with someone. I found out that person got married on my coast just recently. Interesting.

I lose people. Lots of people. Mostly I think of it as “my fault” but I shouldn’t. I can’t have relationships with thousands of people–it isn’t physically possible. Given how many people I know I probably can’t be closer to anyone than I am.

Sometimes it is really hard knowing that I have to carefully balance out not seeing people for too many hours in a year or we have problems.

I lost that relationship partially because the person in question could only handle the strain of so many bi-coastal relationships and I was an outlier. Everyone else was wound into their life more fully. So I… just didn’t fit.

I’m used to that.

Day before yesterday we went to the gym for weight lifting. I hear it is “good for me”. I hurt. Sleeping is hard. I spent yesterday compulsively asking questions about “Do you think it is my fault?” Noah is so good at answering that question–he never tells me I was just fine but he implies that I tried. He’s cagey.

Bitch, asshole, cunt. Why do we love these words so much? It isn’t just me who has a love-affair. I self-identify easily as an asshole. Yup, I’m self-absorbed and I’m going to default to thinking my needs are more important than yours. I’m not sorry. Bitch is harder for me. Asshole I view as more passive–not attacking anyone but not doing anything unless motivated by selfish need. Bitch is more aggressive. Bitches attack. Bitches are willing to savage people just because they are having a bad day.

Notice how gendered these assumptions are? When men withdraw and refuse to engage… they are an asshole. When a woman chases cause she’s pissed… she’s a bitch.

Sometimes when I talk about my friends in therapy (because holy crap have I processed about *all* of you in therapy) my therapist says, “Wow. You know a lot of survivors. Do you understand that you are finding the most extreme people in society and these experiences aren’t average, common, or easily understood by most people?”

To that I channel Big Mac and say, “Yup.”

It is hard