A Bitch By Any Other Name

January 20-24

No-Name Calling Week is here once more…

Time to be reminded that words can hurt; that we need to be mindful of what we say.

Usually, as part of the exercise, I change the name of my blog and become a wench for the week. But I'm not feeling particularly wench-like at the moment and I'm sufficiently snappish that, in the spirit of full disclosure, "bitch" had probably better stay put. (Perhaps even be highlighted…)

Which leaves me with only one option for a temporary title change - I have to find an appropriate replacement for "Reluctant".

The dictionary gives as synonyms:

afraid, averse, backward, calculating, cautious, chary, circumspect, demurring, diffident, discouraged, disheartened, disinclined, grudging, hanging back, hesitant, indisposed, involuntary, laggard, loath, opposed, queasy, recalcitrant, remiss, shy, slack, slow, squeamish, tardy, uncertain, wary

and related word options include:

contrary, immovable, inflexible, intractable, negative, obstinate, ornery, perverse, sorry, stubborn, unbending, uneager, unhappy, unmanageable, unpredictable, unruly, unwilling

I'm going to throw out all the related options from the start, because too many of them are applicable to me even at the best of times. I couldn't possibly choose between them.

So let's look at those synonyms, instead.

I know I'm Weenie Girl but "afraid" just doesn't feel quite apt. 

I eschew "cautious", "circumspect" implies a more considered approach than I use. 

"Discouraged," "disheartened," and "disinclined" are possibilities, but not quite the right note.

"Hesitant, indisposed, involuntary, laggard, loath, opposed" -- no, those don't feel right.

"Queasy" - well, yes, I'm certainly that. But as a type of bitch? nnnnn, I don't think so.

"Remiss, shy, slack, slow, squeamish, tardy, uncertain, wary"
   Sure, all of those at times... but I still think we can do better.

But, look! 

Hovering there in the R's…

There's a word I've even discussed changing to in previous posts:

       recalcitrant - (adj) \ri-ˈkal-sə-trənt\

: having an obstinately uncooperative attitude toward authority or discipline.

Not the most submissive of adjectives perhaps, but then again, I'm not the most submissive of submissives, either...

So, A Recalcitrant Bitch it is!
Welcome to No-Name Calling Week, v. 2014

A Brief Non-Fluff Interlude

So, I was already a huge Lee Harrington fangrrrl…

Then he released this.

Right about the time my life went over the cliff, along came this.

(really, take the 15 minutes.)

I laughed through my tears.

I nodded and shook my head -- both with equal violence.

Because, yeah.

The Voice.

that….

And, ugh, the trying…

I just don't know.

not now anyhow.

But my own journey still fits early in the first five minutes.

Heck, I haven't even gotten to the point where someone offers me a Dr. Pepper yet...!

So I certainly have a ways to go before I can find redemption at the end.

This reminded me that I might, however.

And I thank him for that.

(and can I just mention that I would kill to have my voice go have tea with his voice?)

Reliable Albion

(I just can't call it "perfidious" in this context!)

There's a folder in my drafts called, "When Having a Bad Day"…

The contents have been amassing for quite a while but this one touches on sin's request for book talk, so I'm going ahead and pulling it out for posting…

sin asked what we do when we're down.

I had taken a slightly different tack to a similar question...

Where do you go when you're upset?

A lot of people head for the liquor cabinet or the medicine chest. 

As one of the probably eight non-devout adults in the world who've never been drunk or high, that's really not a good fit for me tho', so that one's out…

Others go to the gym or work outdoors.

Healthy -- and I do think about doing these things -- but sadly, they act more as crew members for the Road to Hell Paving Company than anything else.

No, for real distraction, I go to Britain - in my mind.

I think this traces back to my first serious break-up, when my sedative of choice was anything written by James Herriott. I would sprawl despondently on my bed and slowly be transported to another time, another place, with friendly, quirky people and lots of gamboling lambs. (It is very difficult to mope when surrounded by gamboling lambs.)

Mind you, in all my real life trips to the UK, I have never actually seen any sheep - of any age or activity group at all. Dogs, cats, and pet rats, yes. I've even been lowed at by more than my fair share of Highland cattle, but sheep? Nary a one.

(Just more reason to go back again, I say!)

Yorkshire is still a very popular anti-depressive, but now I'll often toss in a little jaunt up to the Hebrides with Lillian Beckwith, as well. I know some people wrinkle their noses and call her "a bit precious" but I rarely play literary critic when I'm enjoyably entertained. I love the characters (they remind me of the folk in my own small town) and she makes me laugh. What more can you ask?

I don't limit my mental visits to books, however. It's also a lot of fun to do Oxford (with Inspectors Morse and Lewis,) but I keep getting distracted by fantasies of blissful days spent studying in the Bodleian, and then I completely lose track of the plot line…

(See, even on the rare occasions when I watch TV, I'm thinking of books!)

Lurking in the Lacuna

Once upon a time, I took a class in Marxist Postmodern Feminist Literary Criticism (*gesundheit!*) in which we were painfully and painstakingly led through the murky waters of Lacan, Derrida, Kristeva, and Cixous - only to be brought triumphantly to a conclusion that anyone who'd ever studied the politics of the Soviet Union was already fully aware of:

  The unspoken is often even more important than the spoken.

It's human nature to overlook the inconvenient. We talk around it and hope our rhetorical skills will keep others from noticing the gaps in our arguments. Yet in reality, the things we marginalize are often the biggest threats to our complacency. By circumventing any discussion about the threat, we're really doing nothing more than pretending that if we ignore it, it will go away.

That's certainly a valid technique for the short term.

Long term, however, it's gonna bite you in the butt. And I know that. 

But for now, my goal is short term endurance, because much is still unresolved. 

So I'm going to continue on -- but ignore the elephant in the room. 

For the moment at least, this blog will feature fluff and silliness and mundane matters only.

Sex and submission will be left to lurk quietly in the lacuna.

This may not be what you come here to read, and if you need to leave, I'll understand. 

But it's what I need to do for now - as I hope you'll understand.

Reliving the Past?

The last time we were this close to total annihilation, I at least had pain, nausea, and vertigo to distract me. (Not to mention some seriously impressive limericks.)

But I don't have those this time 'round.

Not that my body isn't trying…

I'm nauseated from nerves and have largely lost my appetite. 

(Only *2* stroopwafels eaten! I'm almost embarrassed…)

Both my heart and my pride are seriously stinging at the moment.

(and at war, but that's a post for another day...)

And I'm experiencing head rushes that are causing me to clutch at the furniture.

(oooh, when did there get to be so many of you...?)

But the distraction thing is just not kicking in.

I really don't want to have to go fracture my skull again to make this feel better...

Ha!

Sinterklaas sent provisions!

(Honest, these arrived after I wrote the previous…)

I got these and some chocolate.

My ravine is a slightly less unhappy place today.

(Until the "stuk" count reaches zero, anyhow.

If you have good eyes, you may notice it already doesn't match the 10 listed on the label...)

Diverging in a Wood

It sounds so grand - to follow the road not taken.

To throw timidity to the winds, straighten your shoulders, and say, "I choose the adventure!"
To move boldly forward, exulting in your courage, delighted by your audacity, ignoring the probable outcomes.

The thing you might forget, however, is that the beginning of an adventure isn't necessarily the point where courage is most required. Rather, you may find yourself in even greater need when that road unexpectedly bumps you over a cliff and you're left dazed at the bottom of a ravine, cataloging injuries and gathering up the broken pieces around you.

Because that's when you have to figure out how to put yourself back together, haul your butt up out of the gorge, and decide whether or not you want to keep going along that road or just head back to the safety of town. That's when you need courage the most -- to help you figure out a plan -- because all you really want to do is just sit there, gibbering and replaying what went wrong…

Unhappily, in it's role as point man on your journey, courage is frequently the first casualty of a bad accident. It's usually been flung several hundred feet away and lies whimpering beneath the bushes, sorely wounded and unable to be moved just yet. 

I suppose that makes it a good time to sit...
And hope your provisions hold out.