I'm all stoked right now because I just found out Elizabeth can go to the AIDS walk in Madison this weekend. I was going to just go with the Alliance anyhow if she couldn't, but it's great that she can, all the same. We're really close, despite only knowing eachother a month, now--and it's always awesome to have someone else there for the team.

Aced the Japanese dialogue check. Again. I've got to stop freakin' worrying about those things. It's not like my professor is going to whip out the gun if I forget "ka" for a second and then blurt it nervously when asking a question. I thought I was going to screw up all the sono and kono and kore and dore and asoko and dare and so on-ness, but I didn't. All the stuff seems to be sticking rather well, and it's really great having a class where I'm not writing essays and reading books all the time. Not that I hate that--that's my prefered field, you know--but it's good to mix things up a bit with one-page assignments and class periods spent pointing out which book is Tanaka's. Because Tanaka, whoever s/he may be, owns all the books my professor draws. At least Suzuki owns a few pairs of shoes...

I've been shopping around for vinyl bondage collars/bracelets online for the Fetish Ball and for Rocky Horror--both coming up very soon. However, most places seem intent on selling leather, or else not marking clearly what material the stuff is. I really shouldn't buy vinyl, either, as that also harms the environment, but it's even more difficult to find rubber BDSM accessories, and, after all, my pants are already red vinyl, and it's good to match. I think it's safe to assume more shiznit goes into leather, anyway--what with the amount of petrol you have to use transporting the cow, the corpse, to power the machines which slaughter it, to even grow the feed it consumes--and with the chemicals that go into tanning. So, with the laziness of any woman trying to get a good, cheap bondage outfit, I turn to the lesser of two evils. That shiny, shiny, vinyl.

I did, however, find some truly awesome catsuits. Those cost about 200 dollars, though, so that's a no-go. This vinyl sailor outfit almost convinced me, though, at 120. I shouldn't get carried away, though. I ought to just save up for stuff I need. Like Nick Cave CDs, and someone to decide if I'm transgendered and just too lazy to not dislike being female (and too poor to invest in that new penis) or if I'm just a gal with a really strong masculine persona. It's bizarre. I just really, really feel as an effeminate man, identity-wise. If you couldn't tell, I have issues gender-identifying. I don't know. It just messes it all up when you feel as a bisexual man, and not just a straight one--a man who'd wear eye glitter, and not one who'd go to a Packers game.

However, I don't know that I truly think I'm transgendered, either. I just feel... I don't know, in-between. Very happily androgynous.

But it seems like the whole freakin' world wants to put a label on you, and lord knows, you also want to label yourself.