fever

I have caught a fever, and I am unsure how it will end.

After living through over 4 decades as a dedicated anti-sports-fan, suddenly the turns of my life depend upon whether one group of people, is able to get a ball into a set location, more or less times than another group of people (in different coloured clothes).

A few days long of a year ago, I was in this same situation.  And here I am again.

Do I REALLY love him, or am I rooting for the other team?

Last year it was the Matildas versus England.

Today it is Carlton versus the Dockers.

(for context, for sports fans).

(I am leaving the different choices of names there as evidence, my instincts to be analysed by sports fans).

Last night we had a choice - spend time together, or only he watch the game.  He chose the latter.  (They won).  Today another team of his lost, despite my best screaming at them and (often successful) willing of the other team to miss.  But now... the Dockers could still make the finals... Carlton have already lost... but the Dockers will fuck it up anyway...

So...

Do I want the Dockers to have a chance at finals?

Or do I want my lover to love me?

almost ready to write again?

              Dearest Reader,

I have been thinking of you.  Have you ever thought of me, I wonder?

Either way, I would like me to write again.

But what and where?

And as who?

I have supporters.

As long as I keep it fictional. 

                  (Or at least, not about them).

on success and men

 

This isn't really about success, but this is the antidote to my last post, "on failure and men".  And "successful" was a word used to describe me - by a man - not too long ago.  So let's go with it.

I previously removed, and then recently republished, my last post.  I am aware that it is very negative - against myself, and against men.  But weren't they some clever observations that I made in a clever way?

But today I'm feeling more positive.  And I owe the men an explanation.

Firstly I want to clarify that when I complain about "men", I don't really mean "men"... I don't have a problem with half-the-adult-population.  (I mean sure, as a feminist I do somewhat have a problem with y'all... but that's about power structures and all that horrid stuff.)  When we're talking about PEOPLE, of course I like men.  As family members, colleagues, even as friends.  Some of my favourite people are men don't you know... even some of my greatest champions and wisest counsellors.

What I wanted to quit was of course not a whole section of society, but my own warped attachment to certain members of the group.  By "men"... I mean the humans that I made into sexual-romantic objects.  Which is my doing, not theirs.

Secondly.  Hmmm.  Well first I need to state that I'm still annoyed at all the older women who hear my plea that I have quit men, and dismiss it.  The answer "you'll meet someone" is... infuriating.  I mean, for one thing, you're just ignoring what I am plainly stating that I want.  Which isn't very nice of you.  For another, it does sound a bit like you're siding with the MEN.  Why are you on their side and not mine?!  (Not that it's a battle.  See above.)  But still... aren't we modern feminists who don't need men?  Why do you insist that a man is the answer to my life?

Well... it is because you are romantics.

And so am I.

Yes, ultimately, it is a defence mechanism.  I had vowed off romance because I don't believe it is something that I get to have.

For me finding romantic love is like chasing the end of a rainbow.  There's that rainbow, clear as day, and seemingly so close... and then it vanishes should I ever dare to approach it.

I still don't know anything about anything.  But I wonder if the rainbow could teach me something.  About enjoying beautiful moments while they exist, instead of trying to pin them down.