My First Sexual Experience

I was thinking about my sexual experiences.  I'm not terribly sexual, and I've had sexual experiences with 6 people, all men, and only one of those experiences was enjoyable for me.  4 of my sexual experiences happened before I was in high school, before I was 13, and they continue to shape me today.

I should also make a point that I never felt violated or abused, maybe I should have in a few cases, but I didn't at the time.

I was planning on including all of my sexual experiences, but just my first one was very long, so I may hold off and do the others later.  I might not do them at all, but I definitely needed to get this out, and I always somehow manage to talk myself out of getting out thoughts once I've had them.

*~*~*~*~*

When I was 6 or 7, my mother gave my brother and I the "no-no" zones talk.  She said we were old enough to wash ourselves, so noone could touch us in these places, not even mom and dad.  Our crotches were no-no zones, and for me, so was my chest.  I think this lecture roughly coincided with me having to wear clothes around the house, rather than being able to run around in my panties, so I was annoyed, and the discussion was boring, anyway.  I don't know if she meant to expand on the discussion later and forgot, or if that was all she planned.

When I was 8, there was a family who lived down the street from me.  We saw a lot of them because their house was right next to the bus stop, and the mother had apparently babysat my brother and I when we were younger.  I don't remember that bit.  I do remember they had an obnoxious number of kids, like 5 or 7, most or all boys.  My brother was friends with some of them, I was indifferent.

Now, my parents left for work before my brother and I got up, and we came home before they got home from work.  We weren't allowed to be out of the house when they weren't around, and I would frequently forget my house key inside, especially when it was approaching summer and our house would get hot and stuffy, because we weren't allowed to open the windows, either.  In hindsight, I probably just wanted an hour or so outside, free of parental supervision, and was just fooling myself.  I never intentionally left my key at home, but.

On one particular day where we were locked out, one of the older boys from the house down the street, Evan, called out to me.  He was 11 at the time, and he was usually mean enough to me that I had no great love for him.  But he gestured me down the street, and I had nothing better to do, so I went.  Rather than wanting me to come in the front door, he wanted me to come through the back gate into the backyard.

Now, their backyard was sorely neglected, with plants of all kinds growing up over the fence, so it was kinda gross, but I was curious.  Evan asked me if I wanted to go down to the basement with him.  My answer was no, and I remember wondering why I would want to go down there.  My house had a basement, it wasn't interesting, and I couldn't see how his could be interesting.

I know we had small conversation for a bit, where he tried to convince me his basement was cooler than the hot outside, maybe had a place to sit, something along those lines.  Then he stepped forward and kissed my cheek.  In that moment, I don't know how I knew, but I knew he wanted to do something sexual with me, and I didn't know what he wanted.

I had no idea if I could give him what he wanted, but I knew I didn't have long before my mom came home, so I wouldn't really have time to find out.  I also knew that if I was in the basement with him when mom came home, I would get in trouble for not being near the house.  I can't remember if I was scared at all, but I know that everything froze and shifted for me.  I remember thinking that this meant he liked me, and wondering why he'd been so mean to me if he liked me.

More than that, I knew this was going to have something to do with my no-no zones, which I knew was a bad thing, but I didn't know why it was a bad thing, just that it was, and I still didn't know what he wanted.  So I started asking him questions.  What if your mom comes down to do laundry?  She won't.  What if your other siblings come down.  Daniel will watch out.

Now, his younger brother, Daniel, had been prowling around the yard most of the time Evan and I had been talking, interjecting annoying things, but not really part of the conversation.  At some point during the conversation, he had gotten up on the roof and began throwing roof tiles at us while we were talking.  I remember being annoyed, but keeping an eye on him and the tiles he was throwing.  I think I got closer to the house so that there was less chance of him hitting me.  This was who Evan was saying would be the lookout.

I knew Evan wanted something from me, but I also knew that I didn't know enough to know if I could give it to him.  So I kept stalling, with his brother throwing roofing tiles at us.  Even to this day, not knowing stuff scares me, because I never want to be in another situation where I'm being asked for something I don't know enough to know if I could provide.

I was running out of ways to refuse Evan's invitation when I heard my mother's voice, calling out to me from down the street.  I told Evan my mother was home, and I ran past him, out of his backyard and down the street.  I have never run so fast before in my life.

When I got home, I was embarrassed and ashamed.  I didn't get in trouble for not being near the house, but I felt like I couldn't tell my mother what had happened.  I felt like I had done something wrong, and I didn't want her to tell me what I'd done wrong.  I didn't want her to know I'd done anything wrong.

I didn't even understand what had happened, and I was sure I'd somehow get in trouble if I did tell her.  I just didn't know enough to know if it was worth telling or not, and there was no need, in my mind, to bring her attention back to the fact that I'd been down the street when I should have been at home.

I told my father about it when I was 11, and I didn't tell my mother until I was 15.  I only told my father because I had somehow managed to come to the conclusion that I hadn't done anything wrong with Evan.  That was a hard-won conclusion, though.

Empty Spaces

There is a hole in my soul

Where you cannot see

It bleeds and it aches

It hurts and it burns

I do not want this hole in my soul

But if it stops existing, so do I

The one where I whine a lot

I'm sure I've mentioned it before, but I am currently living with my aunt.  She is not my aunt by blood, she is chosen family, and she is white.  As I'm sure you can understand, this has made things complicated, because she has a variety of issues that aren't mine to share, but she is prone to shouting when she's upset, which distresses me, because yelling distresses me.

She makes me anxious, but I keep wanting her to be loving and supportive towards me, and even if she wants to, and she does, she is not mentally capable of offering me the emotional support I need, even though she is very generous about financial support, I've been living in her home rent-free for several months.

Now, I've known about some of her issues since before moving in, and others I learned after, but I will admit that I have fallen prey to dismissing a lot of her stuff, making her the bad guy in my personal narrative, just because I feel like I have no power over my life, and at least if I know who the enemy is, I have that much more control.  It's not right of me, and it's not fair, but that's what I've been doing.

Recently, I've been hearing more about issues that pertain to my aunt, but not me, and it makes me uncomfortable.  It frustrates me and it angers me and I wish it weren't so.  Because if I think of my aunt as human, I can't think of her as the bad guy anymore.  And if she's not the bad guy, does that mean I am?

Obviously, I know that there aren't really people who are purely bad or purely good and I have privileges just as she does, but I knew it academically before, in my head knowledge.  Now it's emotional knowledge that I really don't want to have.  The old adage of ignorance is bliss really holds true.

I have to reassess my perception of myself and my privilege as it pertains to her and to other people.  I just have to keep in mind that I am responsible for growing, noone is responsible for making me feel comfortable in my privilege.

So the long and short of this post is "I don't WANNA!"  With a temper tantrum for good measure.  As long as I do it anyway, I can pout in my head and just a little on my blog, I think.

Merry Christmas From the End of the World

This is a $25 commission and criminally late, but I just started work this week, and I'm still getting used to it.

*~*~*~*~*

The world ended in May.  Well, that wasn't completely accurate.  There were still people, the world still existed, so it was much more accurate to say that western civilization ended in May.  For three days, people kept trying to go to work and school, kept trying to live their life as if the world hadn't changed.  After a week, the looting began, everyone stealing everything from local stores, even stuff they couldn't used anymore, like computers and televisions.

Then came the parties.  For weeks, every corner smelled like food cooking, over gas generators and handmade fires, barbecue grills, anything anyone could cook anything on, they did.  Everyone ate and drank, shared, fucked, fought, and while there were a few people advocating restraint, everyone agreed that cooked meat would probably keep better than raw meat, that unrefrigerated fruits and vegetables would go bad if they weren't eaten or somehow preserved in jams, pickled, that sort of thing.

People who knew how to do that sort of thing stepped forth to offer their services, taught anyone who wanted to learn.  People who knew how to make jerky, they did the same.  People who could hunt scoured the nearby bastions of wilderness for more food, because eventually the bounty of the mall would wear out.

After two months, people began to run out of prescription medicines.  Many were violently ill, became depressed or suicidal or violent.  Others were re-exposed to pain that medicine had been protecting them from, sometimes after years of not feeling it, and some people just got annoying.  Some survived, others didn't.  The deaths sobered everyone, as people realized that civilization as they knew it was really over.  They had to make a new one.

Adeidra was blessed to find herself turned to as one of the leaders.  She was wheelchair-bound, and some clever bastard had attached solar panels to her chair to charge the battery, as well as rigging it so that it charged itself a bit as it moved.  The young woman had sheepishly confessed to Adeidra that it had taken a lot of tries to get it right.

Adeidra was shocked how much people came together, how the boys came together to run interference on that one kid who was off his medicine and kept muttering at the girls about re-population, how teens and people with adult children watched the babies, to give the parents time to breathe, sleep, mourn, whatever they needed to do.

Yeah, there were the kids who went off into abandoned movie theaters to fuck, the adults too, and people who menaced others with weaponry, guns and knives, over stale popcorn and old ramen, people who tried to turn everything into a competition it didn't need to be, but everyone just left those people to their own devices.  They'd figure it out or they wouldn't, but either way, they didn't need those people.

She'd feared it would turn out like every zombie movie, her twin daughters making nervous Walking Dead jokes, but people came together.  Humans were social animals, and there were many lonely people who just didn't want to be alone, everyone gathering at churches, school gymnasiums, the middle of picked-clean stores, anywhere there was space to be, to talk, bond, learn.  Everyone had a theory about what had happened, where they were all going from there, but noone knew.  Not really.

But it was getting cold.  Adeidra had Roshona and Samantha prepare to leave.  They wouldn't be able to manage in a Chicago winter.  They were city women, born and bred, and it was just easier to travel south, where it would be warmer and there would be more plants and animals to find and hunt.  Adeidra wasn't the only one, and she'd actually gotten the idea from other women.  She hadn't been difficult to convince.  Most people weren't.

They got news from the south.  South Carolina, to be precise.  They were doing things down there.  California, too, and Florida and Texas.  Most of the southern states with access to water were doing things, people were gathering and making civilization.  People thrived and worked.  Noone wanted to suffer and die.

There were something like a thousand people left where Adeidra and her girls were, most of the others having fled to other states, other family and friends earlier in the year.  And the ones who died.  But Adeidra tried not to think of those ones so hard.  Everyone began packing up, doing what they could, and soon everyone was ready to migrate.  They lost people as they went, some people choosing to go to Florida, California, Texas, for pretty much the same reason Adeidra pointed her family at South Carolina.  They had family there.

They also gained people as they traveled, also migrating south for the winter, or because they'd heard there was civilization, or simply because a huge group of people was passing through, and they didn't want to be left alone.

Adeidra had no idea how many of the group from Chicago made it to South Carolina, but she and her girls made it, along with Rudy, their dog, worth his weight in food for being able to brighten their moods, even if he wasn't precisely the best guard dog in the world.  They had just crossed the North Carolina-South Carolina, camped for the night, when a young woman, about Roshona and Samantha's age, began moving through the group, pushing a grocery cart full of leaves wrapped in red ribbon.

Adeidra had no idea what the gal was doing, but she kept showing people her wrist.  As she came closer, it became clear she had a watch.  It hadn't even been a year since civilization ended, of course watches would still work.  When she reached the Jenkins family, she passed out small sprigs of what smelled like mint, wrapped in red ribbon.  Mint was so nice, it tasted good, and it made water taste cooler.

Then she wished the quartet a Merry Christmas, to their mutual bemusement.  A quick check of the woman's watch revealed that yes, it was December 24.  Christmas Eve, but still.  It was startling, thinking of life only a year before.  But she had her daughters, who were alive and well enough, and a shining future ahead of them.  She couldn't complain.

About

There's something mysterious and sweet

About the way you move your feet

About the crimson in your sheet

About the massive moving beat

About the things that come and creep

About the way you make me weep

About the joy you help me reap

And I would never be the same without you

Feelers

I think it's been a bit since I've just sort of told you what's going on with me and my life.  Part of the reason for that is that I feel like this blog should be my super serious, super professional place to Do Stuff, and that's not even what I wanted this to be.

I mean, yes, I do want this blog to be known and respected, but I want it to be known and respected for everything that it is, everything that I am, and I am so much.  Besides anxious and incapable of putting forth a full, dedicated effort for fear of failing and falling and looking foolish, I am a writer, a poet, I am so much and so many things.

Today, I am afraid.

This is really not a surprise, I have anxiety, I don't sleep or eat well, so that exacerbates my anxiety, and my aunt is prone to yelling when stressed, which, naturally, helps nothing.

I have to admit that I'm afraid of putting in effort, like really and truly trying to make things work, because what if I try and try and try some more, and I still can't do it?  What if I do it, but badly, and everyone laughs at me and judges me?

I don't fucking know.

What I do know is that I have a job, a way to be gainfully employed, even though it's over the internet, and that terrifies me beyond all reason.  What if I don't make enough money? What if I get stuck writing terrible articles about things I don't care about or even hate for the rest of my life?

So basically, the usual things I always get bogged down in when I've been awake too long or had too little to eat.

There is candy in the house, I can earn money, my phone bill is paid for at least another month, I know how much it'll cost to repair my laptop, I know how to find out how much I'll have to pay in taxes for what I'll be earning, my commission post has been redone and is queued, I know how the Champion series is going, and there is c h o c o l a t e in the house.

I need to take two deep breaths and go.  The fuck.  To sleep.

On an unrelated note, earlier, I was feeling really crummy, and I remembered something I read in a Christian book, one of the few Christian books I ever read, but it's called the Shack, and there's one scene where the main character is talking to a representation of an aspect of God, and she tells him something to the effect of, "If you knew you had to fail 99 times before you succeeded, wouldn't you be excited to fail the 90th time?"

I don't remember what his answer was, but I remember that he generally agreed with her.  I told you that to tell you that earlier, when I was feeling shitty, I reminded myself that I didn't know how many times I had to fail before I could succeed, so I just had to keep trucking.

Also, my aunt got really upset today when she was cooking for a going-away party for a friend, because the sauce she was making came out catastrophically wrong in ways it usually never does, and she's prone to running around and yelling when she's upset, but I was really proud of myself, because rather than also freaking out, or freezing when she got upset, I was able to stay centered and mostly calm, so I'm really proud of myself for that!

This post sort of ended in a completely different place than it began, but that's probably because I took a bit to finish working through my panic before continuing, so that may contribute.  I don't know if this is going to be one of my best posts, but it's real and it's me, and I said I was going to make a mistake, so I'm going to make it hard.