Sup. Bored.

So, I was supposed to stop by one of the nearby reservations for a healthcare appointment. ~shrug~ Someone told me to show up.

By coincidence, it was at the same time as w small, informal gathering of villages... which... basically means the opportunity to kidnap a handful of younguns to ditch the dances wnd smoke pot in the bushes. This is... fairly normal.

That's where the irony sets in.

Somehow, and by long prayer of the departed ancestors, the few people who would try to stop my sister and I from smoking pot in the bushes are the exact people who stay home. We didn't ask them to, they just did, and the people who remain are those who roll their eyes at both of us (frequently), and feed me dinner in about a week.

But... no. It's a gathering... of villages. Maybe you've heard that there are a handful of traitorous villages?

The problem is that everyone else came by land and we on the other hand are santa claus. Don't ask what we do in the hut, but that's the actual religion.

Basically, I have no idea which one of these fuckers is going to stab me.

My life so far leaves me pretty well prepared for this. Just wear a pretty gown - not neccecarily strapless - and wait for someone to stab you. It does a pretty good job of sorting everyday stupids from those that need personal attention.

I... am short a few things I need for a pretty gown... and despite quick reach of god-knows-what, every stick and tree, a mainstream-looking pistol is not one of them

I'd be perfectly safe running off into the bushes and groping them; I know this for a fact. If I was stupider than I usually am, my sister would just look at me like an idiot, or giggle about me when talking alone with their cousins, and that would be the end of it -- perfectly safe. Usually, they ask their mother/grandmother/aunt/grandfather/whatever to watch before asking me to kiss them/attacking me like the couch cushions/whatever.

Actual queers are perfectly safe... it's just a fucking blood war.

The irony of this is that... none of the families torn apart by this are on the list of traitorous villages. The villiage I was asked to stop in with... isn't. And loved ones are still seperated and communities torn apart; it's an incredibly destructive force.

In the long run, it hasn't been so bad. The neighbors brought the one I have custody of - and the dance - to me. One of my sisters swung by to drag me into the bushes to play while everyone else was doing their thing, so a certain amount was never missed... and when you're the voice of your nation on this earth, you can find other social services. You probably administer them.

So nothing was really lost, but i have nothing to wear to the ball. I really need that black jacket and a selection of nail polish.

At least my life to date has left me well prepared for this. How has SORNA affected your life, gc? Because the answer in my life is that looking at a bunch of canadian residential schools - which if one looks at the sf/oakland dichotomy, timing, and japan, may have actually crawled out to perform the xinjiang/fresno stabbing personally - and this shit at the same time while worrying about a bunch of mostly-preadolescent kids who are not going to leave or avoid the front, but in the smaller picture, looks like this.

How does it affect you?