almost every job i've had, i've been forced to "put up with" some form sexual harassment. in most cases, icing out that person and not laughing it off helped. in some cases, i brought the issue to management, which though it would be backed up by other women upon voicing the issue with coworkers, they would then be unwilling to take the next step with me. in more serious cases, a lawsuit ensued, in which one other worker and myself won the case and the offending person was fired. 

it seems strange now, that the actions for which that one manager was fired turned out to be the most prevalent behavior behind every job i was hired for: because men viewed me as fuckable.  that statement was actually aired, along with it's hilarious physical gestures to a group of coworkers immediately upon my leaving the scene of the interview.

the last job i was fired from was actually due to the non-fulfillment of that fuckability, so other minor infractions were blown out of proportion in order to get rid of me, as no one wanted me around if i was not willing to participate in the incestuous activities of the employee-after-party. 

time is the only true loss as it is irretrievable. 

generally, in life everyone makes the choice of either time or money. 
clearly, i chose time and therefore view it as extremely valuable, not something to be wasted attempting to please men or avoid the unavoidable loneliness of being a single woman with little to no friends. instead, it was spent on the only true love in my life: art and music.

but one has to survive, doesn't one? so i work as much as i have to, but that is all. 
after that, my quota for pleasing and putting up with others is full and every thought and activity turns directly to my true love. 

often, i find myself asking "what year is this?", not only due to the overwhelming frustrations of being taken seriously as a human being with thoughts and opinions that also happens to have a pussy, but when i am confronted with the victorian era thinking of other women who behave as though they must always appear to be the most desired woman in the room to all men present so that she will be taken care of.  even when not aware of this type of behavior, that is usually what is behind the malicious type of girl-on-girl assaults women regularly commit upon each other by spreading false rumors and gossiping in group scenarios. 

it's almost as if, on some unconscious level, women do not understand or fully accept that they are able to work and support themselves and no longer need to be sold like merchandise to a man that will have them because it would seem as though we still view ourselves as second class citizens if we continue to treat other women as obstacles in some deluded competition for whatever it is they are thinking they're gonna win.

it's sad, but now that i understand where it comes from, i try not to feed into it, and instead take the stance of the black wolf, choosing instead to remain on the outskirts of any group scenario, having felt the full brunt of false rumors that have followed me around for years, thanks to having come in contact with several women who get great pleasure hurting other women that they mistakenly view as some kind of threat. a threat to WHAT?! i always wonder aloud to myself... a threat to achieving that great big gold medal made of shit hanging from the sky, perhaps. now that i have embraced hopelessness and am no longer participating in sexual or romantic notions with others, i stay on the outer ring with the black wolf.


i've always wondered why more murders, rapes, and violence of that nature is committed by men than women. statistically, over 80% of violent crimes are committed by males, upon females mostly, but also upon other males. 

recently, a neurologist in germany was wondering the same thing, and discovered after years of conducting research on test subjects, that the male frontal lobe is CONSIDERABLY smaller in size than the female frontal lobe. this region of the brain is responsible for controlling our impulses, so when a man has the impulse to hit something, there is very little gray matter in the form of reasoning that stops him, and he hits something. women, on the other hand, want to hit something, but go through a lengthy mental process that diffuses that impulse, and they don't hit anything. 

it makes sense, cave man: men kill animals to drag home and eat while women have to put up with all the irritations of raising children without reacting violently.

since having learned this, it has made the act of communicating with men completely different. 

less often, i come home seething with rage after having my opinions, ideas or abilities ignored, interrupted or invalidated.

now i see the male brain reacting to my face talking as it fights itself between the impulses to either fuck me in the ass or punch me in the face, and that battle is so loud - "fuck her in the ass! punch her in the face! fuck her! punch her! FUCK! PUNCH! FUCK!PUNCH!FUCKPUNCHFUCK!!" -  it's no wonder they can't hear a word i'm saying...  

for once, i agree with my browbeaten mother's complaint that i expected too much from others. but also, i feel a great sadness for all the things that society has done to women based on their brain size. let's not forget the theory of relativity was a dream that Mileva Maric had, which she then brought to the chalkboard to work out with her fiancee Albert Einstein. of course, her name was erased from later versions of the publication.

i don't have any close friends, obviously, but conversations with men who do not have those fuckpunch impulses toward me, the ones who are actually listening, are usually gay - both in and out of the closet. with most straight male friends over the years, i end up discovering that they will never view me as a person of equal value to their best friend from college, and when i break through the i'm-a-feminist-too display, i'm still viewed as simply a vessel or trophy in reference to them. always in reference to them. never as individual. never as an individual who does something well in their own regard. something to be won and possessed, and then, inevitably destroyed. strong women are of no interest to men, as these victorian era social standards still make men abhore being viewed "as a satellite" to a woman. just ask venus

when you feel like people are performing their mating calls and strutting around you to win your affections, it is in fact, in their greater interest to win against the other competitor, and you are just the pawn in the middle of a massive pissing contest.  and is it just your orifices they want to win, not YOU as a whole human being? without then imposing controls on what now belongs to them?  i've discovered this sad fact with both men and women.....so....yeah, no more for me ma.  there are more important things in life i'd like to concentrate my efforts on, like basic human rights....

and leaving california.

   *u can call me ph!*



i've been searching for the origin of why, for as long as i can remember, every february of every year, i would experience a severe deathwishism.  a pattern i had not noticed until 3 years ago when it got so severe, that a month-long mantra began: 
just hold on 
just breathe 
do not hit yourself in the head with that hammer 
this feeling will pass 
just hold on 
do nothing rash
on march 1st
remember february last

i had remained convinced that it was yet another childhood trauma that might never be discovered. i even asked my parents about chronological events, which of course, produced no results. 

this morning, while watching a documentary about jung called "the wisdom of dreams", there was a scene of basel fasnacht, the yearly festival in switzerland, germany and some parts of the netherlands in which the city turns out all of it's street lights and for 3 days celebrates the end of winter and the coming of spring. predating christianity, it has been incorporated into the week before lent when all pantries are emptied of sweets and fats and consumed in feast - similar to fat tuesday, also called dirty thursday. most other festivals during the year are male-dominated, but fasnacht enters as the woman in black, she is allowed to kiss every man she sees and cuts the ties of all businessmen that cross her path as this is her celebration of the non-workday. it is also imbued with open mockery of political figures, and allows people to speak truths while wearing hilarious and grotesque masks and marching through a flurry of confetti to the cocaphany of drums and piccolos wailing. 

it was a scene of the fantastically painted lanterns, spinning from out of the dark alleyways at the festival's start time of 4am that triggered this memory of The Something That Caused Deathwish February, for without an annual celebration of Truth, Liberation, Free Speech, Mockery Thru Art and The Small Beautiful Light In The Sea Of Total Darkness that Fasnacht represents during the first four years of my life, i sensed subconsciously that something was not getting expressed or released at this time, and would then, like clockwork, turn inward and attempt to self-destruct.

in the same way that the disneyland ride "it's a small world" seems boring to an adult, to a child in the darkness, trapped in a small boat, surrounded by strange faces singing funny and frightening songs, it is a nightmare...and nightmares are the key to awakening lucid dreams, those dreams then bring you to the doorway of the higher mind, whereupon the realm of collective consciousness is discovered. 

*u can call me ph!*