am i getting cynical? i got this email today that said:

I’ll let you know more details about the info session as the time gets
closer. WICS sounds like an ideal organization for CollegeHire.com to be
in touch with. The majority of our client companies are looking for
students with a computer science background or one that is similar.

doesn’t this translate to: “my employees want women to fill their
status quo and you are women who happen to program which is even better to
fill quotas!!! i mean, otherwise, why not approach “dug” or the general
department?

am i getting synical? i got this email today that said:

I’ll let you know more details about the info session as the time gets closer. WICS sounds like an ideal organization for CollegeHire.com to be in touch with. The majority of our client companies are looking for students with a computer science background or one that is similar.

doesn’t this translate to: “my employees want women to fill their status quo and you are women who happen to program which is even better to fill quotas!!! i mean, otherwise, why not approach “dug” or the general department?

i am starting to make sense of what i am feelings… of course, starting is the key word in tha sentence.

one of the weirdest things has happened to me over the last couple of months. i met these two people when studying abroad and they really fucked with my mind.

before going abroad, i used to always think that i just thought in a “weird” fashion and would never find others who thought like me. before going abroad, i went through all of my interests and desires and attempted to come up with the associated label for each element of me by which others might identify. then, once i thought that i had a term by which people are categorized, i attempted to find others who also identified under that term. in this way, i tried to find a “community” of others who thought like me. i sought out geeks/nerds, women/womyn/feminists, lesbians/bisexuals/queers, punks, deadheads, ravers, cyber-fiends, goths, preps, hippies, literary folk, christians (the loving thing…), buddhists, intellectuals, etc. this did not get me very far. many of these people were cool and often we had something or another in common. but, they were not my community. they did not fulfil my needs, mentally and emotionally. i continued to walk around devoid, lonely and frustrated

see, the core of me never identified with these people. in particular, my sex and sexual identifications. it is as though all of the communities thrived on these binaries, these definitions. queerness rarely implied fluidity and all of the communities were about adopting a definition of oneself and being proud of it. unfortunately, their definitions were frequently as destructive to those who were not included as they were benefitial to those finally included in something. frankly, i just wanted to find a place to feel included.

i never really looked into groups whose identifications didn’t match mine. this was not intentional (well, in some cases – such as the muslims – it was) but rather out of a lack of time and energy. you see, each time i found a new group to explore, i put my heart and soul into it. i tried to do everything they were doing so that i fit in visably so that i could see if they were right from me. my appearance changed constantly but i was never really comfortable. it was getting to such a degree of frustration that i had given up completely. my wardrobe became standard and i stopped dressing to please. i began the constant appearance of overalls and white t-shirts with a few exceptions depending on my mood. i stopped doing my hair except when i was bored and curious. hell, i shaved it outta annoyance. at first, being abroad was frustrating. although i had a similar identity to the people i was with, we really never clicked. and then i met these two people who really changed my reality.

the two i met sorta identified as queer, sorta identified as trans, sorta sorta sorta. neither really felt entirely at home with any group they were often portrayed to be a part of. but i wasn’t getting to know them in a group setting. they were my friends, individually primarily. neither had chosen paths of life similar to my own, yet somehow they seemed to understand me and i them. we didn’t have all that much in common, yet we thought alike on so many levels. it really boggled my mind and fucked with me head to foot. even as i sit here writing this, i don’t really know how i connected with them but somehow i did. unfortunately, i was there temporarily and i am back to my haunch in the states, feeling a bit lonely and sad. only now i know that my community exists out there somewhere, only scattered all apart and with no clear cut indentity. i just hope to find more people who think like me.

the one thing i know through all this is that sex/gender “crap” (for a lack of a better expression) is really what most people don’t see eye-to-eye with me. i don’t identify as trans because i am not trying to be something i am not nor am i trying to transcend anything. i just don’t think much of it. i like my body and i like giving it pleasure. i like certain touches and textures, pressures and caresses. i like doing certain things to people, partially dependent on their own desires and pleasures, and partially on mine. i like thinking and dressing, acting and thinking the way i do. i don’t really want to put it into a box nor do i want to box people with whom i am sharing pleasure. frankly, i just want to be left alone. left alone by society and his expectations and binaries. (i mean, if society was really an it, do you really think it would have such expectations of us??) why does it matter who shares a bed with me or how i dress when i am going to work? i mean, as long as pleasure is shared and work gets done, what else matters?? it just seems outright dumb to me.

sure, some people share those general feelings as part of a group… but they don’t really live it. the two i met abroad… they really got it and damn did i enjoy their company.

i wonder how much i am like a boy. i am very comfortable in my body, don’t get me wrong. i really feel like the body of a woman belongs to me and that i belong to it. i get annoyed at my breasts and my period but i think that is normal, not really attributing that to a hatred of my body. i get angry because it is not athletic or because my ass is too large but i don’t see myself as a boy, physically.

the funny thing is that i like to envision myself as a skaterboy punkchild androgynous creature. and when i interact with men, i feel like i belong more than when i interact with women. there is a small subsection of the dyke community that i feel identifies like me, but it is peculiar. and i don’t like dating femmes… i like looking at them but i don’t like being masculinized like that. i like staying in androgynous land, uncertain of where i stand. and i like being able to get all girly when i want to.. this makes me happy. but i don’t really see myself as fitting in as a girl, thinking like a girl.

maybe its not identifying like a guy, as much as having learned to assimilate too well and now feeling alienated from my own community. all i know is that it does make me feel aweful to not be accepted by either community and the older i get, the less i feel welcome on either side. it is peculiar, and painful, infuriating. it makes me feel so uncertain about myself as a person. i am not certain where a home exists, or how to find it. i see a sexual devide and it makes me sad, mostly because i don’t feel as though i belong.

and yet, i feel as though i am being forced to belong, which is only making me more depressed and frustrated. i just want to be myself and be accepted. but isn’t that the cry of most people?

i have never really understood how people manage their lives without education. when i spend three days without intense thinking, my mind aches for some types of stimulation. for the past 3 years, i have constantly stimulated my brain in one fashion – logical thought. upon reading a variety of texts the other evening, i realized that, above all else, my brain was truly craving philosophical stimulation. i genuinely miss truly and vehemently disagreeing with someone’s beliefs and philosophies. mentally questioning the way things work is necessary for me to be happy. what a refreshing realization

it is one of those nites; the nites that frustrate you to the point that you question your existance in a quasi-serious manner. i know, deeper than anything, that i would never harm myself yet i contemplate that idea in my state of loss.

i know that i am not a perfect person – hell, i don’t even admire myself. my temper is short, my frustration high, my demeanor depressed, my outlook hopeless. i only respect one person fully and that is because he can withstand me. others come close and i respect them with the appropriate levels. i desperately want self improvement and make an honest effort … so long as things seem to be going ok.

the problem is – lately, nothing is going ok. as a result, i feel that as a person, i am becoming more deplorable. the frustration enters that i don’t see how i can balance doing what i am _supposed_ to do and what i feel as though i _should_ do. no matter what, i always go about seeking advice in the wrong fashion and as a result, find myself in a worsened predicament. tonite was no exception.

as my grandfather noted, i have spent the last three years of my life pointed adamently in one direction. currently, i am questioning that direction for a variety of reasons. while i view those experiences and reasons in a very personalized and emotional manner, others can only view them in the way that i express the experiences and in the way that they can decipher them from their point of view. as a result, i am certain that my traumas seem petty to others, as they do to the two generations above me. i have multiple paths in which my life could follow, choices that my ancestors did not have. yet, these same choices make me horribly miserable. they don’t understand my difficulty. reality is, while i am learned enough to know that they shouldn’t understand, my heart wants them to. even my current pleasure book (reviving ophelia – i strongly recommend) reminds me that those older than me cannot understand my frustrations.. so why do i want them to understand me so badly?

i have never been so good at accepting my mother’s disapproval and feel as though i have to justify myself until she understands; this never works.

who am i? what do i want to do? i swear these are the questions that every person my age asks but i too need to ask them. and the answers are so extremely frustratingly confused. i know i have a great deal of opportunities that those before me did not have. i know that i am lucky even for my day and age. but yet, i am picky and not being picky is against who i am and only depresses me. ok, but this is off the point. everyone but me sees all the advantages to continuing on my current path – getting a degree in something extremely marketable and desired and continuing on to work in that industry. although i am aware of the positives, the negatives terrify me. so let’s list them:

advantages
– economic stability
– pleasing adults
– interesting material
– strong recommendations

disadvantages
– sexist environment
– demotivating myself
– inability to explore external opportunities
– possible lepracy syndrome

basically, in the end, it comes down to emotions versus logic. i am battling something that i can never debate – does it make more sense to do something that will protect myself and my (future) children / mother from economic despair and give myself a quality of life that i deserve? or should i prepare myself to be emotionally happy and sound with the hopes that my general eduction can lead me through and that i will be a sound and happy person. the problem is that everyone i know is too damn logical. my grandfather’s role was to be the stable one, the male. my mother was forced into that role and as a result, is emotionally a mess. where does happiness reside? and why do i have to make this decision at the age of 21?

should i commit myself to the next ?5? years of misery in order to create an economically stable environment? will this completely ruin who i am emotionally? intellectually? will this ruin my only solid emotional relationship? can i afford to do this? will i risk not getting out of my $130,000 education what i could possible have done with different decisions? is it worth it?

am i capable of devoting myself to my largest frustration in life? will not doing so hurt me in the future? will working hard make me so miserable that i don’t even consider working in the field post-graduation?

in the midst of all of this, i think i made a decision – take what i need to complete my degree, but nothing more. be a mediocre graduate from an exceptional school and hope to make enough money to pay off my debts and move on to what interests me the most.

voices spring from my head, reminding me that i am not alone. the voice of women past, strong-willed and powerful through all the torture give me strength. the voice of today’s fighting women give me comfort.

fresh-eyed and excited, the young girls play in the schoolyard. as i watch them mature, i cannot hold back the tears, the only sign of life present on my hardened face. to them life is nothing but fun and games; they have no responsibilities and are free to explore every curiousity they can imagine; they are invincible.

like new england, a women’s life is represented by the passing of seasons. spring, the time of birth, color and excitement. everything is pure and beautiful, carefree and wonderful. there are no questions, only happiness.

next comes summer. the sun of peers and family wears hard on a young girl’s morale. everything is intense and hard to bear. every part of a girl’s body screams to be free of the pain and suffering. she is pure fire.

but the fire of life cannot last. soon, it is too much and autumn creeps in. all that could fight slowly starts to wither and fall away. she becomes colder and harder. her beauty and excitement fade.

by then it is too late; winter has arrived and the woman is no longer full of fire and life. everything is cold and harsh, the world is miserable. slowly, she waits to pass away, waits for her time to come because it is no longer worth the effort.

“how can we stop this progression?” i wonder as i rock in my chair. it has been so long since i have just enjoyed life and froliked with joy. if only the girls knew where they were headed… if only i had known.

it is a saturday nite and i just entered the building others call my home. the stench ripped through my nose and nauseated my body. it is no wonder I have not eaten this week. it is the smell of the rotten bodies, growing grotesque with age and decrepit with time. i look down and my gloves are unwrapping, sign of the mummy’s time spent decaying, decaying in the building for some unknown goal. it is an understanding that i seek, an understanding of myself. why, when i have so much that i could do, do i perch in this same seat as my back grows hunch and my mind dripples through my spine? all energy has been zapped from my system and the future’s brightness has dimmed to the color of this room, this eternal hell.

a dash of purple, a touch of red, a dribble of black seeps through my brain. i am about to collapse from lack of nurishment but the retch of food only appalls me. i wish my body would collapse as my mind has already 10 miles down that road. an ending would be appreciated but i cannot even gather the strength to do that. it doesn’t matter because nothing matters. the world is a void and i have the unfortunate luck of ending up as a part of it. i seek an alternative.

i felt rather blah today. correct that. i feel rather blah today. i haven’t quite figured out why though. a nice person told me that i might be depressed and i wouldn’t be suprised. actually, nothing would suprise me today. it is a blah day.

when i was five, my mother told me to think of exciting things when i was blah so i envisioned kaleidoscopes of rainbows. there is something intriguing about color. it made me want to be outside and i realized the source of my problems. i am always inside, always working on what i want to work on in an environment i don’t want to be a part of. damn stanford and its external modems. one day. the world will be beautiful when nothing depends on any location. i can code in the middle of the jungle, surrounded by zebras and giraffes. i hear zebras are cruel; i hope that is not true because they are cool looking. for now, i will stare at the geckos. they too are pretty; it must be the colors.