Writing again! Yet starting over.
Or maybe you're one of my steadfast friends or family members who have continued to push me to write even when I was literally* screaming on the floor, pounding my fists and kicking my feet, refusing to write one more goddamn twenty five cent word or another terrible pun or, gawd forbid, a pithy turn of phrase. And, for that, I thank you.
Some people make money off their art and, for that, I applaud them. That's the fucking dream, it'n'it? Get to make art and make money and then you never have to sell your damn soul to The Man ever again. And, let's be clear, I never made much money off my blog before. I made something like $300 off a couple articles I wrote for the delightful yet now defunct websites Lefty Pop and Sprocket Ink (I'll never forget you, Sprocketers!), but I never made a living off my writing necessarily. And I've come to think that's okay, because, for some of us, our art should be a hobby.
So, yeah, I wasn't raking in any money. Zero. Zilch. Nada. None. But my resentment of the blog wasn't that I wasn't making money (though the timesuck it took for no compensation offered not much incentive); it was the obligation. Writing wasn't fun anymore! It was work, work I did for free. And my motto has become: don't work for free.
Don't. work. for. free. dumbass!
Now, I like my day job. I plan events (and some other shit) and I like it a lot! I get to do creative things and have fun and bring people smiles and see all the details come together in front of my face. It's awesome! But it's still not awesome enough to do for free (though I'm planning my own wedding now, which is the freest I'm ever doing this job, I tell ya). If I'm working, I'd getting fucking PAID, okay?
So then why was I so obligated to the blog? Certainly wasn't for the paycheck and it just wasn't bringing me joy anymore. For the first couple of years blogging, it was spontaneous. I'd see something or hear something or read something and my mind would begin to tick and all of a sudden, I'd be writing away in my head. I had to write it out to keep from bursting (how Anne Shirley is that thought?)! I started keeping a little notebook around to capture all my topic ideas. I had so much to say, even when it was something silly.
But, then I stopped talking politics because I was writing about that elsewhere, and then I increasingly talked less and less about my personal life because it was becoming something I wanted to protect and keep private, so then I just ran out of things I wanted to say, but I felt like I was obligated to post something, so I started writing about the goddamn weather, and we all know that's the death of a blog. Nobody gives a flying fuck about the fucking weather.
Don't worry, though, if you haven't realized by now, I still curse like a fucking sailor on death row. If you wanted a family blog, you came to the wrong place.
It's been a few years and I no longer write anywhere and, between the state of our festering turd of a nation and my lack of a creative hobby, I've found my head full of topics again. I have things I want to say and I'll write them out of my head whether anyone reads them or not. I'm not going to edit them. I'm not going to spend hours promoting and fine tuning and monetizing; I just want to fucking word vomit and hit post.
So if you're new here, welcome! Enjoy! Hate it! Comment! Don't comment! Give each other hand jobs for all I care! Or not, whatever floats your boat. Whatever. I'm here for the love of writing and because I have got SHIT TO SAY.
I have no agenda and I'm not entirely sure what I'm going to write about per se. I'll probably write about politics, feminism, racism, religion, atheism, patriarchy, GLBTQ issues, rape culture, etc., and I'll tell you my stories. I'll tell you about the things that have impacted me for better or for worse.
As to the title of my blog? I think you can guess what it refers to. It's a nod to feminism, a nod to women speaking up in the face of unending oppressive patriarchy, and it's a slight nod to my own journey. A lot of things in my life have conspired to keep my down over the years: my abusive mother, a sexual assault when I was a teen, a series of addict boyfriends who emotionally and mentally abused me, religion, capitalism, biphobia, etc. etc. etc. But I fucking persist and I'll fight for the persistence of others.
Don't like it? Go fuck yourself**.