sev @sev@witches.town

oops follow requests don't show up in my notifications. Sorry that took so long, y'all.

...we worked hard to reclaim 'queer' and I'm not really willing to give it back up. I don't need you to use it. But it's still my word for me.

On the gripping hand, I'm pleased (even though I'm sometimes confused) that 'gay' has lost the connotations it had when I was a baby queer. See, back then, 'gay' was the word assimilationists used -- it signified you weren't one of *those* "scary homos". You weren't "queer as in fuck you". So I hear people nowadays self-id as 'gay' and my first thought is, wait, I didn't think you were that conservative? And then I figuratively slap myself and try to catch up with the times.

On the one hand, I strongly believe that each generation of activists gets to define their own terms. Every couple of decades our vocabulary shifts, and that's a good thing! That's people coming into their own as the driving force of the movement and that's how movements actually last longer than a single generation. So that's why the queer & trans vocabulary I learned in the waning days of second-wave feminism is dated at best, and a lot of it's even offensive -- and so are the words I learned to replace them. Feature, not bug.

On the other hand, history *does* matter and I dunno how to feel when I encounter (frex) "queer's a slur, don't use it." (cont'd)

ugh I sketched today but it was all *terrible* so I'm not inflicting it on anybody.

I really like necks. They're sensitive, smell super-nice, and I can bury my face there without breaking length-of-body contact and my ears stay up where I can still (mostly) hear whispers and whimpers.

But I'm very nearsighted *and* my up-close vision is failing due to age, so I don't have much sense of what they look like.

Yummy, though.

Just walking, and then there's pain fizzing and popping up my thighs, playing electric connect-the-dots with the spray of purple fingerprints they left behind

Satisfaction dissolves back into wanting so quickly. I close my eyes and I'm there again, pain and pleasure and fear and orgasm, all at once. I come *so* *much* *harder* when I'm afraid.

I wanna post something smutty but everything I write just comes out *smug*.

Oops. Had too much fun, can't talk about it.

I am *so* lucky.

"default" has a really funny meaning around here. *sets default post privacy to 'unlisted,' for the third time*

I'm engaging with social media in the bathtub. 1994-me & her IRC habit are soooo jealous.

I'm liking the color-coding for different instance mentions that @mykola has implemented over on a.weirder.earth.

According to https://mkremins.github.io/genderquiz/ my gender is "Under Construction."

I know I'm a work in progress but I hadn't realized everybody can tell.

*gets self-conscious, hides*

slept twelve hours. Now I'm disoriented, dehydrated, and menaced by an anxious cat.

I am confused; the private-account setting says "...defaults post privacy to followers-only" -- how should this manifest? I've set that, but the compose window still seems to default to whatever I last used (which is public, because reasons.) Not that I'm complaining, because I was more interested in the "manually approve followers" part (because enough with the followbots, really).

But the way I describe it is: everybody's a lot happier if I'm getting the shit beat out of me every so often.

It's possible that a good fuck followed by a challenging workout has filled a similar purpose this week: I certainly feel better today.

My boobs fit fine today. The shirt's a little snug, ever so slightly. But today I'm wearing my body like it's mine.

My therapist and I were reminded that maybe I haven't been sitting firmly in my body this week because jetlag. Yesterday I described the feeling as "skittering over the surface". Today I'm feeling a little more grounded. Also, not in the mood for pants; enjoying a floppy little skirt instead.