My name is Trixie (aka TastyTrixie). The Wandering WebWhore is my personal blog. I'm a 30-something indie pornographer whose journal covers a variety of topics: mundane daily life, work-related reflection, sex stuff, current events, and more.
Earlier today I wasn't sure how much power this victory would have over me. I was sure I'd be relieved, but to feel THIS GOOD . . . I had no idea. I feel like we've been given a huge gift. I do feel like a huge weight has been lifted and I'm bathing myself clean in tears of joy and hope. It's so cheesy, but I feel psychically, spiritually renewed. I loved McCain's speech, loved seeing how deeply affected so many people are by this win, and loved listening with everyone else to a president elect who leads on so MANY levels.
I know not everybody feels this connected to each other and so reassured that there are truly good, morally and ethically upright people ready to step up and lead our country. You can read this and laugh, but there are a whole bunch of others of us who feel transformed by this and are looking forward to positive forward movement in an atmosphere of greater love, respect and empowerment.
I feel changed. Our country is changed.
My mom is coming over tomorrow and maybe my sister and nephew, too. This week I am getting many of my wishes granted.
I don't know why I assumed my dad would be buried with his Masonic ring since I knew it was a family heirloom that had been passed down to him from his dad, so it was both a blessing AND a surprise when my aunt, mom and sister all agreed I should have it. Normally I keep it on my "altar" with other trinkets and items of greater and lesser power. Here it is (upside down; sorry):
I have no idea what the monetary value is of this ring (nothing extraordinary), but it was the fanciest piece of jewelry anyone had in my family and the only diamond I ever felt familiar with. It was ALWAYS present on my dad's hand and seemed imbued with secret, mystical powers.
It's totally against the rules for me to wear it since I'm not a Mason and not a man, but sometimes I do it anyway to have my dad present. I wore it on a chain to my sister's wedding, and sometimes I wear it on my finger when I want to have him near me. I've put it on at times when I needed to be reminded of the depth of his values, patience, kindness and boundless love for others. His vehement opposition to hatred and distaste for petty anger, mean-spirited criticism and silly conflicts. When I need a reminder to be a better person and my dad isn't here to do it for me, I put on his ring. I should do it more often.
I wear it pointed at me so I can look at it the way I saw it on his finger, pointed out because he was a past Master. I'm wearing it today because I know how excited and happy he would have been to vote for Obama. I know how he would celebrate the progress being made and be proud to be part of these positive steps forward in history. One of the things that bothered my dad about Masonry was the segregation (white lodges and black lodges) and the really ugly, racist history and associations a lot of Masonic groups and individuals have.
During my dad's life they'd at least gotten to the point where they recognized each other's lodges and visited each other, but it was still really . . . ummmm . . . old-fashioned. When my dad was still mobile he took to visiting a black lodge in Seattle regularly and petitioned for membership there -- the first white guy to do that (how welcome that idea was to the Prince Hall Masons I don't know; if they were opposed to it my dad was totally oblivious to that). It was our state's white Masons, though, who made up some bullshit to block him having a dual membership (I can't remember the details and only happened upon them when I was going through his papers; if I remember correctly they lied and said he wasn't a member in good standing with the state; of course there may have been a lot more to it behind the scenes that I don't know about). My dad just contented himself with his honorary membership and waved off my protestations as stupid politics when I asked him "what the fuck??"
My dad is the one I went with the first time I voted for a president. We were SO excited about Clinton and I was SO young and optimistic I really felt hope in the marrow of my bones. I was positively WIGGY with optimism! Like a lot of people, I've naturally lost that feeling as I've gotten older and seen how even the good guys, when they're ALLOWED to do their jobs, aren't really all for progress and the last two presidential elections have been enough to seal me permanently in cynicism. I'm not even sure I will be able to feel anything more exciting than RELIEF if/when Obama wins. Not relief that everything or even most things will get better, but just a small assurance that I'm not living in a country dominated by the hopelessly brainwashed and criminally selfish. Relief that we can at least be proud of doing SOMETHING right.
I wish my dad could be here for this because his enthusiasm wouldn't be tempered by my black-spirited pessimism. I really wish my whole family were together for this and there would be hugs all around and crying and hysterical joy that we would always remember sharing together. Maybe we can get together on Inauguration Day. But today, tonight, and tomorrow I'm wearing my dad's ring and inviting him to be present when Delia and I celebrate here at home together. I hope.
My favorite Christmas present was having Juno come to our town's theatre and getting to watch it with Kris, and seeing Diablo Cody win an Oscar last night for writing Juno was like an early birthday present.
Here's a video of Kris and I at the movies GUSHING over Diablo:
For me, Diablo represents the very best of what the blogosphere and web voyeurism/exhibitionism offer: the opportunity to watch another human's story unfold and experience success along the way. To develop high hopes for someone and cheer for them when things go well. To recognize someone's talent, observe that recognition snowballing, and see her REWARDED for it. It's very fulfilling, and not in a vicarious I-can-now-imagine-it-happening-to-me way, but just in the basic sense of caring about someone and being extremely happy for her.
Of course, she *is* also a symbol to me, too (on top of just being an awesome human); seeing a woman on that stage who has stripped and worked the peeps doing hardcore masturbation shows for money now getting respect for her non-sex work while everyone knows about her stint in sex work is Pretty Fucking Cool.
Anyway, we have (one of) her shining moment(s) recorded on our DVR now and have watched it about 35 times in the past 23 hours; I have cried every single time. And can I just say that she looked fucking fabulous, too?
Not too great, but I have good excuses: I still have a cold and yesterday had to get cavities filled; it sucks to have to keep your mouth open while you're congested and someone fills your mouth with sharp metal implements, cotton, juices, and powdered teeth. None of these things can be bonafide as horrible, but they're just bad enough that I feel pathetic and in need of comfort from warm, sloppy attire and TV. Since it's also *possible* (but unconfirmable at this point) that I'm pregnant, I don't want to take more than some Tylenol and plain one-ingredient Robitussin.
Anyway, we HAD to watch the tube last night to enjoy coverage of the Iowa caucuses. We both cried watching and listening to Obama. I hope (nay, I PRAY) he'll win. At the very least he'd be a President we can see and hear without mass quantities of people wanting to rip their ears off and gouge out their eyes just to stop THE PAIN from entering their brains.
I know my simplistic perspective on this will sicken some of my readers, but I seriously believe what matters most is that our next president is someone who leads our spirits and inspires us. I'm tired of being depressed. We need someone to restore our faith on a whole bunch of levels and he totally does it for me.
Barack is THE ONE. I look forward to him winning more than I ever looked forward to losing my virginity.