From: cortese@skid.ps.uci.edu (Janis Maria Cortese)
Subject: Re: another poem
Newsgroups: alt.pagan
Organization: University of California, Irvine
Date: 26 Sep 92 22:04:42 GMT

In article <1992Sep26.001746.23988@ncsu.edu> blchapma@eos.ncsu.edu (BEKKI LYN) writes:
>
>In article <NagiRB1w165w@ailanth.UUCP>, ailsa%ailanth.uucp@wang.com (Ailsa N.T. Murphy) writes:
>
>|> ailsa%ailanth.uucp@wang.com (Ailsa N.T. Murphy) writes:
>|> 
>|> > blchapma@eos.ncsu.edu (BEKKI LYN) writes:
>|> > >
>|> > > In article <2ABA69A5.8204@news.service.uci.edu>, cortese@skid.ps.uci
>|> > >
>|> > sure is!  i've either sent pictures to or met in person three women on
>|> > the net, all of whom have said i am attractive.  do i belive it yet?
>|> > nope.  more like, what is WRONG with these peopel when they find me
>|> > attractive when i am clearly not?  (tongue only mildly in cheek here)
>
>This reminds me of when I was in Junior High School.  Guys would come
>up to me and compliment me and get me to believe what they say, just
>so they could laugh and make fun of me for believing them.
>
>A mild example:
>Them: "Why, your hair looks wonderful!"
>Me:  "Thank you"
>Them:  "So wonderful a rat would want to build a nest in it!!!"
>(Wild laughter splitting their insides)
>
>And they would make sure they had a bunch of people around to watch.

Yep.  I got this, too.  I was EXTREMELY tall for my age (I'm now 5' 8"
and would be 5' 9" if my spine were straight), skinny as all hell, with
crooked teeth, aquiline nose, and frizzy, crackly, dry brown hair.  Now
if someone compliments me, I accept it, but must keep a defense of very
vicious comebacks JUST IN CASE.  When shit like this happens to you, you
learn reflexive defenses.  I just can't take someone who compliments me
seriously.  I just wonder what they're pulling, and I'm waiting for them
to do something like this to me -- AGAIN.

I do, however, take a really perverse pleasure in dressing up in heels
and a really tight little dress (Sally told me the same thing; she's 6'
tall and blond with mint-green eyes -- very pretty but painfully tall
and skinny in school) and going out with friends or whatever, and
stomping on the ego of one of those bastards who looks like he would
have pulled that shit on me.  And boy, I grind `em hard.  And like it.
It many be defined as "mean" and "small," but I really don't care.  I
have some demons to exorcise, and I'm going to do it.  

When one of them comes up to me, I can feel myself trying to protect
that skinny little kid in me.  I can almost HEAR myself think, "Get away
from her, you son of a bitch!  GO FUCK YOURSELF!!!  You're not getting
NEAR her!"  Maybe the recovery thang means more to me than I realized. 

>|> > > This sort of thing seems familiar.  I went to a public school, but I
>|> > > can remember getting punched and kicked and all around tormented mys
>|> > > I guess I looked pretty much like anybody else then, but that didn't
>|> > > seem to make a difference.  Once the other kids had you picked out
>|> > > as a victim, you could look anyway you liked and it still wouldn't
>|> > > stop them from their meanness.

It does seem to happen like that.  Once you're stamped on the forehead,
there is little you can do.  You can look like Christie Brinkley, and
you're still the school dog.  Reality just doesn't matter. 

>|> > i remember it well...  having rocks thrown at me on the playground,
>|> > hiding behind the teachers' cars and getting detention for it, and no
>|> > explanation of WHY i did it was good enough,  swinging and swinging at
>|> > home plate because the teacher ordained that NO ONE was going to strik
>|> > out, and the pitcher tooka couple of steps forward with each pitch
>|> > until i could have beaned him with the bat (wish i had!),
>
>Ooooooooooooh, was I wishing I would have knocked the lights out of
>some of those kids.  If I hadn't transferred to another school for
>High School, they probably would have driven me to a rampage!

I know this is illogical, but every time I hear about someone who went
back to their old high school and blew someone away, I have to ask
myself what hell they went through while there.  I'm not a really
violent person, but when I imagine someone doing that to someone else,
and that someone else turning around and blowing them away, I shed nary
a single tear.

When I was little, there was one particular little kid who used to make
my life absolutely miserable.  He was the most vicious, bloodthirsty
little monster you could imagine -- I mean vicious.  

During the winter (I add this explanation for people who live in hot
areas), when it snows, the stupider kids grab onto the back bumpers of
slowly moving cars and slide along on the packed snow in the streets.
This kid did it with a truck and never did it again; his head went under
the wheels and he was killed in moments.  His mother had warned him not
to hang on the cars, and he did it anyway.  Even in his death, he ruined
the lives of his mother, his brother, his father, and the poor, poor man
who drove the truck.  Even in DEATH, he brought only pain and hurt into
people's lives.

His cousins lived two doors down from my family, and when my mom went
over to have coffee for some reason or another, the subject of this
bastard's death came up; this was the first my mom heard of it.  One of
his cousins -- about my age -- was there, and when it came up and his
mom said, "Yes, we'll all miss Kevin," her son said, "I'm not going to
miss him.  He was mean," flat out.  HIs own cousin said this about him
not two days after his death.  When my mom came home, she also said to
me, "That little son of a bitch Kevin Dever is dead."  We're talking
about a woman -- my mom -- who adores kids.  She didn't even give a damn
that this bastard died so violently.  I myself felt only great
satisfaction and relief -- he was gone and wouldn't hurt anyone else.   

How awful does a person have to be before things like this are said
about them?  What does this say about someone when no one even cares
about their death, especially such a violent one?  I feel bad for his
parents, his brother, and the man who drove the truck, but as far as
that little monster?  I feel only satisfaction that he can hurt no one
else.

And the worst of it is, no one but others who have gone through this
will understand.  "What's wrong with YOU?" would be the question, not,
"How horrible is school and how torturing can some kids be that they can
leave this legacy behind them?"  
 
>|> > > It took me a long time to get used to the idea that it was okay to b
>|> > > a female.  I had identified myself for so long with males, that I lo
>|> > > down on other girls/women, I guess.  Now, I know that I was terribly
>|> > > wrong to believe that.  I suppose I was just trying to forget the fa
>|> > > that I was one of the "inferior ones" myself.
>|> >
>|> > try using that sort of a defense and being a lesbian! 
>
>Even though I've never been lesbian, I've had people believe that I 
>was.  Unfortunately in those days, I thought being a lesbian was some
>evil thing.  Only weirdos were gay.  Later, I didn't care whether they
>thought I was a lesbian or not.  Now, I'd say "What's wrong with being
>a lesbian?  What is it that you're afraid of?"

If a guy asks this, try, "What?  Are YOU my alternative?" 

>     all of my
>|> > friends were male.  i KNWO i looked down on other girls.  they were al
>|> > stupid, and if they weren't, they did their best to act like it.  they
>|> > had no tolerance for diversity and got mebarassed by every little
>|> > thing.  they never wanted to take any chances or be caught doing
>|> > anything undignified.  they never read, or if they did read they read
>|> > stupid romances and teenage ick books, and looked at me VERY STRANGELY
>|> > for reading science fiction.
>
>Now this *does* sound familiar!  I was always bringing some sort of
>"strange" book to read.  I still hate those dumb Harlequin romances
>the other girls thought were so cool to read.

These things are so incredible.  "Heaving breasts," indeed.  I have a
pair of breasts, and while they have at times done some unusual things,
they have never ONCE done ANYTHING that can be remotely described as
"heaving."  Makes it sound like my breasts get carsick or something.  

>Then again, sometimes I'd go for the "male" look when I got really
>irritated.  I chopped my hair off real short and wore unisex-type
>shirts and jeans.  I didn't really like my hair short, but I would
>get so angry.

 . . . that you'd punish yourself for attracting this torture.  At
least, when you punish yourself, you have some control over it.  When
you put yourself down, you know it's coming.  It took me the longest
time even to buy CONDITIONER for my hair.  Shitty, dry, crackly, brittle
hair felt like home.  So did thick glasses -- I was almost out of high
school before I got contact lenses.  Even now, when I dress up, I
sometimes have to fight this little voice that tells me that I'm just
another ugly dog who's playing dress-up in a pretty person's closet.  

>By the time I reached my senior year, I had transferred out of the snob
>schools I had been forced to go to because I just happened to live near
>them.  when the magnet program opened up, I took the chance and got out.
>It was then that I discovered that I hadn't caused all my problems, but
>those other kids had.  I was generally accepted in my new school.  I 
>hadn't been marked 9 years back.

This was what happened to me after my parents had the money to get me
out of St. Gabe's.  I went to another private school that was a lot
nicer.  I had problems there, but I was dealing with them; I had the
opportunity to relax and start.  I still give money to the school (when
I have it, which isn't often), and think fondly of it.  I still feel
badly for my brothers -- stuck in that hell St. Gabe's because my
parents weren't secure enough to pay for them to go elsewhere. 

>People still saw me as a bit weird, but they saw that as a good thing --
>more like an individual thing.  But by then, I had gotten into liking
>heavy metal music, and tended to dress in leather, blue jeans, and
>Iron Maiden shirts.  I am still very much like I was in high school, but
>I don't look down on all the other women as I used to.  The scales have
>fallen from my eyes!

My mom is convinced that Holy Child was filled with all the rejects from
the parochial school system.  I think she's right.  Everyone could play
an instrument, or dance, or sing really well, or act, etc. etc. etc.

As far as looking down on other women go -- well, I lose total patience
with them.  I probably still look down on them, but I've been stuck in a
male sphere for too long.  I'm glad I'm out. 

>|> > i still don't like traditional women (but then i don't like traditiona
>|> > men either) and women with those meek little whispery voices very
>|> > nearly drive me to violence.  i always want to slap them and tell them
>|> > to speak up and stop being such wussy little fragile flowers.
>
>YES!!!!!!!!!!  They aggravate me to tears still too.  I know they've
>been conditioned to be like that for the most part, but I just want to
>go over there and wake them up and tell them they deserve to be
>a full individual person too.

Evidently, breaking a nail means more to them than getting paid on
parity.  

>|> > l feel my stomach sink and get cold in the same old way.  I a
>|> > > |> feel like there is that little kid that was me, and she's trapped
>|> > > |> in the past with no one to protect her and tell her that she'll g
>|> > > |> through what she's going through, and I have to protect her and g
>|> > > |> a voice for all those silent years she spent suffering.
>|> > >
>|> > > Yes, I can identify.  My parents never believed me when I'd tell the
>|> > > was going on.  They thought I must have brought it on somehow.  The
>|> > > advice they gave me was to ignore it and it would go away.  I'll say
>|> > > even now that that never worked.  Now, I've learned to be more asser
>|> > > and people actually like me, that no one believes that all those kid
>|> > > would have hated me as much as they did.
>|> > >
>|> > me too.  one time while i was at minot school (which went from first t
>|> > eighth grade) i was sitting at the table telling mom about how awful
>|> > things were at school, and i noticed her zoning out.  i accused her of
>|> > not even listening to me, and she answered that that was because it wa
>|> > always the same thign and it got boring after a while.  so i didn't
>|> > bother telling her much until after my dad died, and i skipped every
>|> > monday without fail for teh rest of the time i was at minot.
>
>I hear ya!  I had an awful lot of fun at the last University I attended.

I don't think I was really aware of what I had to do to recover until
about two years ago; college wasn't reaslly wonderful for me, although
it was pretty okay.  I also had to deal with my dad dying VERY suddenly
the beginning of my second semeter there.  I was pretty much on
autopilot the whole time I was at the main campus.  I missed a lot, but
there wasn't much I could do. 

>It was a small Southern Baptist school, and I was certainly *not* 
>mainstream.  Ah, the good old days...it was great to have them assume
>stuff about me, and then watch their amazement when I'd prove their
>assumptions wrong.   

GOD this is fun. 

>|> > every woman is a real woman.  every woman is womanly.  anger, pride an
>|> > aggression are feminine.  intelligence and logic are feminine.
>|> > strength willpower and determination are feminine.  everythign a woman
>|> > any woman, is is feminine, and so is everythign she does.  all my
>|> > clothes are women's clothes because i own them, no matter what rack th
>|> > store placed them on.  rejecting uncomfortable restricting trraditiona
>|> > women's attire does not equate to rejecting one's womanhood.
>|> > ere, and
>
>I feel exactly the same way.  Although my mom will complain:  "You never
>dress up anymore.  Why don't you ever wear anything decent for a change?"
>Arrrrrrgggggghhhhhhh!!!!!!

For me, permitting myself to dress up and look nice was a big step in
recovering; you know, "Im ugly and deserve to look it."  Now, I have a
tendency when I dress to think of myself (as I've mentioned before) as a
big middle finger.  Wearing dull, shapeless clothing was my way of
punishing myself.

It's kind of nice now, though -- as I mentioned before, I get to scrunch
the egos of a few guys who desperately need it.  And don't tell me I
don't have the right to judge them, and I can't tell who needs it and
who doesn't.  After YEARS of dealing with this shit and having to defend
myself from it, I can spot a bastard a MILE OFF.  You learn how to do
this when it's life or death.  Spotting assholes and avoiding them is a
survuval skill.  I can size up a person's basic personality in seconds,
so if you're going to tell me how awful I am to do what I do, just shut
up.
 
>|> > it is always good to find kindred spirits.  (and i like dio too!)  pit
>|> > we aren't all in the same place - i've always wanted to form the
>|> > Castrating Bitch Coven.
>|> >
>|> >                                         -ailsa
>
>Heh heh heh :-) :-)

Here we go . . .

Blessings,
Janis the Castrating Bitch