Warmest greetings to you, the Ladies Jane!
Personal crises and health issues have kept the partner admins away -- Putting out fires, trying to survive, and generally tending our lives is all in a day's work for a Jane!
A spousal employment change, the birth of a child, a cross-country residential move, frequest (but necessary) road trips, plenty of overtime at work, extended-family drama, and other assorted items have conspired to distract us from our love, The Jane Project.
Those of you who have kept us on your RSS feed (bless you!) have already seen today's posts. We hope you enjoy them.
One admin will do the best she can until the other comes back online. Until then, please remember that this blog is all about all of us, so please contribute and please spread the word!
~Admin.Jane
Portrait of an Anxiety Attack
Personal emergency today, friends. Dropped my bank account down to almost nothing. Freaking the fuck out over it, I am.
Waaaay too much money has left my possession today. $1600 for this . . . almost $6000 balance on a credit card . . . I ain't broke yet, but I'm panicking. Welling from deep within my soul . . . The panic threatens to wash me away.
I can't catch my breath, for I am bordering on hyperventilation. My pulse is fast and weak. I am as fidgety as a Ritalin-withdrawn 8-year-old boy. I have an overwhelming sense that I should be ducking and looking over my left shoulder. I'm maintaining a low-grade sweat. My neck and shoulders are locked. I hear my own blood pressure in my ears, a tsunami of sound. I sense a large shadow approaching. I am running my hands through my hair spasmodically, alternating between grabbing and tugging handfuls trying to bring my mind back home and all but gouging my scalp with my fingernails because I've lost most tactile sensation. I am nervous, angsty, afraid. I want to arm myself. I want to back into a corner so that nothing can get me from behind, so that I can stop spinning around, flailing my arms, trying to locate the the invisible threat that I can sense is damn near upon me.
Something wicked this way comes.
THIS is what happens when I am poor. THIS is what happens when I know that I have no resources. THIS is what happens when I know good and well that I am not able take care of myself.
Not only had I thought I'd outgrown this, it's never come on this severely this quickly. This is anxiety in its purest, most cleanly distilled, most primeveal form. This is panic barely held in check by sheer force of will.
This is the lion at the mouth of the cave.
This is the howling winter wind drowning the cries of the starving child.
This is the Inquisitor's knock at my chamber door.
~Riot.Jane
Waaaay too much money has left my possession today. $1600 for this . . . almost $6000 balance on a credit card . . . I ain't broke yet, but I'm panicking. Welling from deep within my soul . . . The panic threatens to wash me away.
I can't catch my breath, for I am bordering on hyperventilation. My pulse is fast and weak. I am as fidgety as a Ritalin-withdrawn 8-year-old boy. I have an overwhelming sense that I should be ducking and looking over my left shoulder. I'm maintaining a low-grade sweat. My neck and shoulders are locked. I hear my own blood pressure in my ears, a tsunami of sound. I sense a large shadow approaching. I am running my hands through my hair spasmodically, alternating between grabbing and tugging handfuls trying to bring my mind back home and all but gouging my scalp with my fingernails because I've lost most tactile sensation. I am nervous, angsty, afraid. I want to arm myself. I want to back into a corner so that nothing can get me from behind, so that I can stop spinning around, flailing my arms, trying to locate the the invisible threat that I can sense is damn near upon me.
Something wicked this way comes.
THIS is what happens when I am poor. THIS is what happens when I know that I have no resources. THIS is what happens when I know good and well that I am not able take care of myself.
Not only had I thought I'd outgrown this, it's never come on this severely this quickly. This is anxiety in its purest, most cleanly distilled, most primeveal form. This is panic barely held in check by sheer force of will.
This is the lion at the mouth of the cave.
This is the howling winter wind drowning the cries of the starving child.
This is the Inquisitor's knock at my chamber door.
~Riot.Jane
Tags:
personal account,
Riot.Jane
Sex vs. Gender
Family is where I stem.
Mommy was exchanged-
a mother with babies is more important than her name.
Mommy plus daddy, then came brother and others, is that what family is?
I am one of their cultural artifacts, through time I pass through ideas
Of boy vs. girl
And
Girl vs. boy…
Like a game of pong or air hockey I jockey
Myself into position…
Sex…
Top!
Bottom!
Am I still woman?
Woman vs. man
And Man vs. woman.
Which is more appropriate?
If Gary loves Harry and Sue loves June?
How is that taboo!?
Have things come too far too soon?
Time and evolution, genes are key…
Does that a gender make, one for society to take
for granted it’s what I see in the world around me.
Different people, different views,
STOP!
It is not all about me, everyone must see it is about us as we, a Union of you and I
Man vs. woman
Woman vs. man
Is that gender or sex I spy?
Mommy was exchanged-
a mother with babies is more important than her name.
Mommy plus daddy, then came brother and others, is that what family is?
I am one of their cultural artifacts, through time I pass through ideas
Of boy vs. girl
And
Girl vs. boy…
Like a game of pong or air hockey I jockey
Myself into position…
Sex…
Top!
Bottom!
Am I still woman?
Woman vs. man
And Man vs. woman.
Which is more appropriate?
If Gary loves Harry and Sue loves June?
How is that taboo!?
Have things come too far too soon?
Time and evolution, genes are key…
Does that a gender make, one for society to take
for granted it’s what I see in the world around me.
Different people, different views,
STOP!
It is not all about me, everyone must see it is about us as we, a Union of you and I
Man vs. woman
Woman vs. man
Is that gender or sex I spy?
Tags:
glbt,
heterosexuality,
poetry,
relationships,
sex,
submissions,
taboo
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