The Fanstastic Ms. Fox

Just now, I was pondering getting some tattoos.

One, reading "registered mutant " with a number below it. A signifier for finishing transition. Likely on my hip; somewhere you'd expect an impersonal government agency to mark you so they can ID you if they really have to, but not so it shows in public.

A second, some sort of signifier of the victory over the CFS which I presume we will have in January. On my arm. The same sort of place you'd expect an authourity-based uniform stripe, or a regimental tattoo. (A regimental tattoo? Ironically, the Fed business was stressful but something you can safely walk away from, being a tranny though, that can get you killed)

And maybe a third one for the end of the renaming ritual. In a ritual-epistemological sense, I'm not actually alive y'know? Or at least I'm haunted.



But wait, I think, Do I want to do something that permanent to my body?

Because I'd never do anything weird and permanent to my body y'know? Can you think of even one example where I...?

...

No. Wait. That makes no sense at all.

There's a a blast of cold on your skin, a pulse of heat and flash of light, a varying amount of pain, and then rhythmic "whump." Repeat once per second.

I even have that relaxed/hungry feeling after the fact.

Of course the stench of burning hair might make it a poor choice for parties.

My facial hair has been abused into a pale and sparse shape, and the electrologist need no longer curse and swear because it comes out real easy now.

Speaking of ASC/kink, electrolysis would also do nicely. Dark room with one bright light. Needle goes into a pore. Pulse of heat and/or electricity kills hair, hurts skin. Clicking noise. Needle comes out. Tweezers pluck the hair out. Repeat.

The only complication with both is that you have to grow it out to get it removed. This said, 3-day stubble is now less obvious than 1-day used to be. I hope to stop shaving come January.

Progress.

Before venturing into the land of the damned, I require a protective amulet.

Erk - uh, too much Prehistory of Religions for me!

I should say before I go to Ottawa for the CFS conference, I want to get my ears pierced. I'm looking to do this on Monday.

Any suggestions on where I should go? Where I should avoid?


In any case, my Prehistory of Religion class kicks ass insofar as it takes "an experiential approach to the foundations of human spirituality."

Or, in other words, "assignment due in week 2: talk to a tree. Week 3: find the sacred axis in your house, and report on the closest thing you've had to an ecstatic experience. "

And so on.

    I went to see the laser hair removal people.
    I gotta say, this laser business is cool: you wear goggles with the same salmon colour as the dress I'm in (more on this later), and they put the tip about five centimeters from your skin. Then there are two simultaneousish flashes on your skin: one's the colour of frost, 'cause that's what it is - a wee patch of frost forming as a jet sprays coolant on your skin - and the other is about the same shade as sunset. Or at least this is what the goggles let through - I imagine that if you weren't wearing them, it'd be none too good for your eyes.
    Anyhow, the hairs on your skin shrivel and let off a puff of smoke which smells, unsurprisingly, like burnt hair. And your skin feels all tingly - or at least mine does: other people say, "your skin feels all FUCK THAT HURTS!" but it doesn't seem to bother me; but neither does electrolysis, nor do I bruise easily come to think of it.
    What's impressive is that all this happens in about seven deciseconds.
    All the little coloured hairs are curled up, and should fall out in a couple of days, then stay dead for four weeks, then come back lighter and thinner or not at all.
    If I'm satisfied, I go back for a full run, instead of little test patches.

    The dress. Right. Like I said: salmon-coloured. I found on SFP!RG's shelf of reciprocity - where you can ditch old stuff that someone'll probably want and pick up the same from others. It fits. I'm wearing it, but have the curtains drawn. Am I actually scared of some sort of negative reaction and subsequent violence, or is there something else going on here? Screw rhetoricial questions: there is something else going on here, and that's a deeply rooted fear of ostracism. I realized this was a bit silly when I was afraid to dress funny even when no-one was watching. This behaviour is silly; the underlying fear of ostracism is most definitely not.
    Ostracism isn't the worse thing that you can do to a person, but it's pretty bad. Consider: isolated people go crazy, and people will do really stupid shit to be accepted. So we obviously need an accepting social environment (also known as friendship and love), not in the same way we need food, but in a similar way to how we need nutritious food.
    The really fucked up thing is that our society doesn't get this. It forgets that we are both an individualistic and collectivist (and subindividualistic, but that's another story) species and concludes that social contact is a luxury (and that social management is either unconscious or an oxymoron). Therefore it sees nothing wrong with encouraging a social system where we are raised to fear the scorn of jocks and cheerleaders, and hence, to fear being anything other than mediocre - it's not like we're being threatened with violence is it?
    Actually, I remember preferring the violence, I think it was not so much because at least I knew how to kick whereas responding to even jovial taunting still eludes me, but because it made sense as a form of unfair externally-inflicted punsihment. The pain was not a reflection of some failing in myself - it was someone else being an asshole. Not so with being hated, which we often blame on ourselves - soon we learn to take our turn and surveil and hate each-other and ourselves, and fear the salmon dress even whon no-one is watching.
    Not a good system: it needs a sociological mechanic. And a nice dress.

Also: I'm watching Firefly and coming up with crazy aesthetic ideas. More on this later.