(no subject)

The feeling of not doing enough while desperately needing to do something is back with a vengeance. This really struck me last night when people kept asking me what I'd been up to, and I could only manage to say, "Not much", over and over again.

(no subject)

I need to read this book. I've read lots of references to it that get me thinking, the most recent of which is Anne Fuasto-Sterling's Sexing the Body. All of this is really just background, possibly name-dropping (I read books! Aren't I cool?). I don't think gender should be a continuum; I don't think I think of it that way, and I know I try to think of it as larger than a line, even a long line with many stops (part of the problems is a lack of common language; how do you express something for which there are no words?). I think I'm doing OK, all things considered, but I keep coming back to bodies, and that's where I tend to get stuck.

My thinking thus far is that, to my knowledge, sex (innie or outie) does seem to be a continuum, with many stops. I suppose the elegant and/or efficient (maybe just Alexandrian) solution would be to sever the connection between sex and gender, but it doesn't do me any good if I'm the only one playing by those rules; a reality in my head doesn't offer me much protection from realities outside of it. I'm really not speaking metaphorically or hyperbolically here; fear of being so out of touch with the realities of others is a big deal to me. I don't know how I can be prepared for dealing with them if I can't envision them.

So, I'm stuck, again. Damn, I whine about that a lot.