Oct 28, 2010

Day 9: Someone I wish I could meet

There are so many people I wish I could meet, like Obama, George W., Angelina Jolie, Nicolas Cage, Tom Hanks, my aunt Kathy, the Queen of England, my old penpal from Egypt, countless scholars and authors whose work I admire and minds I wish to probe. Instead, I want to act like a thirteen year old girl and write to the person who I feel has had most influence over my life in the last two years.

Dear Sara Quin (and, yes, you are sort of included in here as well, Tegan),

There are so many things I want to ask you, tell you. I wouldn't say I am a crazy, I wouldn't say I am obsessed or think we are soul mates, and in full disclosure, despite all of the shows I have gone to, I have never tried to meet you for fear I won't like you and it will screw up my love for your music. Your music is the only thing that got me through my first real heartbreak, through the first stages of exploring my sexuality, through the perilous waters of flirting and first dates. I can't thank you enough for writing from your soul in such a way that it feels as if you were taking words from my own and giving them life.

You never leave anything in the dark. As a fan of yours, I know the basics of who you have dated and who you haven't, how you feel about yourself, your family, being single, being 30. Your self depricating humor is endearing, your accent charming, the way you get pissed off with Tegan onstage is amusing and all too reminiscent of my relationships with my siblings. It feels as if every move you make is real, and for that I admire you much more than all these other fake artists with autotuners and stylists.

You are well educated, always thinking, reading, writing. Your taste in books is incredible, your arguments about political issues well thought out. But most of all, you feel. You feel so deeply, are so sensitive, that a look, a phrase can cut you to the core. I have a thick skin; I have dragon scales protecting my heart, and those scales have numbed me. Listening to your music helps me feel all the things I have blocked out. Maybe it makes happy, sad, sick, heartbroken, or miserable, but I am feeling. For a moment I am no longer numb, but a breathing, feeling human being.

For all the times I can't cry when I am supposed to, I know I can listen to your words, your fingers, and experience what it is like to have life inside of me.

Thanks, Sara,


Oct 27, 2010

Day 8: Favorite Internet Friend

This letter is supposed to be to my favorite Internet friend.

Dear @S,

We have had so many good conversations over the last year, and I feel as if we connect on so many levels. You and I live very different lives. You are raising a son, living in a big city, and are falling in love. I have no kids, live in a small town, and am getting past a recent breakup (recent, as in a week ago).

Still, despite all of the differences, our core values are the same. We still care about the issues gay people are facing in our country, both wish to end prejudice against bisexuals within the gay community, and both hold kids near and dear to our hearts.

I look to you when I need help, or someone to bounce things off of. I am so glad that you and I became friends, and I hope we can keep actively talking and listening to each other as time moves forward.

Day 7- My Ex

Day Seven is the day that I am supposed to write to my ex, but that is not something I am sure I want to do here and now. Several times I have started to write a post about first:girl, but have always held off in the interest of giving you the full story from the beginning.

I think it is important that you see her, know her, love her the way I did. I don't want to give you any predispositions, any judgements based on my pain at being scorned. Therefore, I am going to write this letter tonight, and post it after I post my series on my relationship with first:girl, which is actually coming along quite well. I have four parts written and am trying to keep it under ten.


Oct 25, 2010

Day 6: Stranger

This 30 day letter challenge is getting harder and harder every entry. Today's challenge is to write a letter to a stranger.

Dear Stranger,

Young or old, gay or straight, hermit or social butterfly, there are a few things that I would like to tell you.

You are loved by someone. Maybe it is your neighbor, your child, your mother, your pet, or the person who smiles as they pour your coffee every morning, but someone does love you.

You were the catalyst for a major change in someone's life. Some little action, that you never thought would have consequences, has completely changed at least one person in the world.

The planet is full of Oxygen. Use it. Take deep breaths, smell the fresh air, take a walk and stop to smell the ozone after the rain, or the flowers basking in the warmth of the sun. Never forget where we live, because it is all so beautiful, and it all sprouted from one tiny little organism.

Love with all your heart; believe in love at first sight. What would life be without the ecstasy of infatuation, and the misery of heartbreak? Without one we would never have the other, and they are both the most you will ever feel in your whole life.

Try to accept and love others, even when they do not accept you. As those who have been hurt in the past, we must work toward preventing others from being hurt the way we were.

Love yourself. If you can't look yourself in the eye, you will never look anyone else in the eye either. And trust me, there are some gorgeous eyes out there in the world.

Oct 24, 2010

Day 5: Dreams

This letter is supposed to be to my dreams. What dreams? The dreams that plague me every night? The dreams of who I wish to become?

Dear D,

Sometimes you eff up my day. Sometimes I wake to find myself alone and uncomforted in the darkness. Sometimes you show me things I can't unsee: gory, bloody images of distruction. Some nights you taunt me with something worse- with images and touches, traces of warm fingertips across my skin. I am not sure which is worse.

As I lay here in my sleeping bag, I can help but to wonder where these dreams live when I am awake. Do they linger just outside my vision, waiting for a moment of weakness to position themselves in full view when I am least expecting them?

As for you: my dreams, ambitions, aspirations, where did you go? Didn't I ever want to be something? I have always known I want to have money, want to take care of my family, but didn't I have a passion? When I was 7 I wanted to be a paleontologist, but my love for digging up dinosaur bones faded. I cycled through career paths: author, cartoon animator, tap dancer, marine biologist, but when I got to high school, you left me. I resigned myself to being a wife and mother. To popping out a new baby every year while my husband brought home enough money for us to survive.

I took an acting class. Acting became my therapy, my catharsis. My acting teacher believed I had potential. He gave me a way of of the life I had settled for. He set up an audition for a prestigious college for the performing arts. I got in and spent two years there, enjoying myself but detached from the lessons. I graduated with no plans to pursue a career in any of the performing arts. I decided to become a journalist, but hated taking the classes. I went back to writing plays, books, songs, but have no way to build a career out of that.

I feel lost and abandoned by you, Dreams.

Oct 15, 2010

Day 4:Sibling

Today is day 4 of my 30 day letter challenge, and the recipient is supposed to be my sibling or closest relative, but as I have so many, I want to pick one and really write instead of short messages to each one.

Dear K,

You have been such an important person over the last several years of my ore, and I am not sure what I would have done without you by my side as a pillar of support. Even though we are not blood related, I feel that you are such a firm part of my family that I know if something were to ever happen to my brother, we would take you in and care for you as if you were our own.

At a time when our parents failed me, when my blood brothers and sisters let me down, you were there to accept me, to comfort me, to talk about all the things that seemed so taboo with everyone else in our family.

I regret now that so many in our family gave you a hard time when you first married my brother. So many thought you were concerned with money, that you were taking without giving back. As a child I was not fond of you. I grew up in a house with no rules, with unlimited freedom and a lack of supervision. You made me come in at night for a steady bedtime, made me help with the dishes or babysit your daughter. As a seven year old, I hated having an authoritative figure, and took it out on you. Now, as an adult, I can understand that you were one of the few people who cared enough about me to want to give me a stable home. You tried to fill in where my father failed, and I wish I could thank you enough for that.

Somewhere as I grew into an adult, you became one of my best friends, and I love you deeply. Thank you for being my sister.

Oct 14, 2010

Day 3

Today is day 3 of the 30 day letter challenge. Because of my relationship with my parents, I can't write 80 pages worth of letter for one day.

Dear Mom,
I love you dearly.

Dear Dad,
I wish you had never met my mother.

In other news, I spent the day with an old friend, and we got onto the subject of Glee. "Wasn't that risqué? With Arnie losing his virginity and the kisses between Brittany and Santana?" She sounded scandalized.

"I loved how Brittany picked him up and carried him to the bed! She is so buff!" I responded, but I was being polite. 'They didn't show anything with Brittany and Arnie, and Brittany and Santana didn't even kiss! If that seen was between a man and a woman, no one would think twice!' I wanted to scream. But I didn't. Because I can't change the world by shouting at someone.

It's just difficult to know how much my relationships are not accepted by mainstream society. Sometimes I feel defeated before the fight even begins.

Oct 13, 2010

Day 2: The Crush

Today's letter challenge is to write a letter to my crush. Well, I don't really have a crush at the moment, so I am going to take this time to write to my celebrity crush whom I have never met and obviously have no chance with.

Dear Sonya,

I admired you from the moment I saw your work. You inspire others to dance the music that lives within your heart. I can see your emotions, your blood running through their veins for a few precious minutes.

You seem so tough, are so tough. You have a backbone that allows you to kick down doors and stand up for yourself and others. But when you speak, Sonya, that's when I see through the bad ass exterior to the more vulnerable state within. When you cry, it is because you are so moved that it is the only way you can express yourself.

You move your body like no one else I have ever seen. You care about the world, about our kids, and genuinely want to make life better for others. You pour your heart and soul into your dance, and when I watch it, it is like seeing through to your very core.

And your hair, I mean, my God, could you be more amazing/gorgeous/awesome/badass/insert adjective here?

I respect you, I admire you, and I think you are totally hot.

Oct 12, 2010

Day 1- My Best Friend

Courtesy of notjustafemme I learned about the 30 Day Letter Challenge about ten minutes ago, and decided to jump right on it. As I can't afford therapy right now, I think maybe this will be a nice substitute. I'm never going to send these letters, but I'm going to post them here and get out everything I need to say, and hopefully discover something new about myself as I do so.

Day 1

Dear D,

You and I haven't known each other for very long, four years, and most of that just as acquaintances. It has only been the last two years that we have really gotten close begun to love each other. We are so alike: low maintenance, funny, a little geeky, a history with Wicca, and a love for Disney.

I don't think I have ever thanked you for being the one friend who was there with me when first:girl turned my world upside down and was totally okay with it. I never had to tell you I was gay, and you never tried to talk me out of it. You just asked, "You love her? Okay, then." You were there all of the times that I was selfish and wanted someone to listen to me bitch. Just in the last few months, I have gotten the chance to be there for you, and I hope I have been a good listener.

I love that you called this morning because you needed someone to talk to, and I was that person. But I have a secret. I think that you need to dump your boyfriend. I would never actually tell you that because I know you love him so much. I have never encouraged you to dump him, or said anything bad about him, to you or anyone else. It is entirely your business. But ever since that night that he got drunk in a public place and made you bawl your eyes out for three hours by being a belligerent asshole, I just feel like you deserve so much more.

I love that you have an innocence about you, that you believe you can do anything, make any dream come true, no matter how unrealistic. That quality is infectious. Ever since we started talking about forming a band, I've been struck with the inspiration that, even though we are starting late in the game, maybe we could do it. Maybe we could make it. Not big, not famous, but enough to make it a full time job. You inspire that hope in me. In everyone you touch.

You don't realize how beautiful you are, or how everyone wants to be your friend. You still think of yourself as the geeky girl from high school who plays computer games and isn't cool. But you are, D. You are so wonderful, and part of me wishes you could see it, but the other (smaller) part worries that if you did, you wouldn't be friends with me.

You are the most unselfish, most accepting, least shallow person I know. I don't know what I would do without you and I don't want to find out. Even though we now live hundreds of miles apart, I know we can go a month without speaking and still be each others' lifeline. You're my best friend and I love you dearly for that.

Oct 11, 2010

National Coming Out Day

While I don't know anyone who has come out on National Coming Out Day, I think it is an important time to reflect on what it was like to be an individual confused, disoriented, pained, or upset by the struggles with their sexual identity. While my own discovery and coming out was relatively pain free (until first:girl broke my heart), I have taken this day to listen to others and imagine what life is like for those past and present who have come out in awful situations. I think this is also a time to reflect on those we have lost because of their sexuality, whether death was self inflicted or not.

This morning, I couldn't imagine what it would be like to come out in a world where everyone hates you for being gay, where you feel isolated and abandoned by friends and family. I couldn't imagine what it would be liked to be pushed around, bullied, threatened, beaten up, mentally and physically abused.

I still can't imagine most of that. No one has ever beat me up because of my sexuality. But as of this afternoon, on this celebratory day for the LGBT community, I felt fear, despair, because someone didn't like that I was gay.

I was in the parking lot of the local supermarket when an old classmate recognized me. He was three years older than me, but he knew me well enough. He asked me if it was true, if I was a lesbian. "Yes, I am gay. Funny how things work out, isn't it?" was my witty Chatty Kathy reply. Instead of laughing, his whole face darkened, and he moved in so close I thought he might kiss me.

If you had seen the look in his eyes as he grabbed my arm, you would have felt that cold knot of fear slide into your throat too. He whispered that he couldn't do anything here and now, wouldn't get arrested over someone like me. "You better watch your step," he said. "I know you think you are winning now, but there are a lot of us who don't like what queers are doing to our country. Quit now, or you'll all end up in camps, and there won't be any homosexuals."

"Yeah, like the government will ever let that fly. Good luck with that." I should really shut my mouth in situations like this, but when I am backed into a for er, logic goes out the window. I am one of those people who spends too much money and then keeps spending because, fuck it, I've already used the credit card today.

Well obviously he didn't like that and I've got a nice abrasion on my arm to prove it. I can't remember his exact words, but the gist of it was that the government didn't need to know "officially" and there are many politians who would turn a blind eye if it was kept quiet enough.

He then told me that even though it's a small town, I shouldn't go out at night, because even though we all know each other, there are many who wouldn't try to save me if I were, say, raped in an alley.

He didn't hit me, didn't really hurt me, didn't even solidly threaten my life. But he shook me to my core. I think that is exactly what he wanted. He knows where I live, work, shop. Worst of all, he liked me in high school. We were friendly to each other, and he always called me funny and sweet. How can you like who I am, and then hate me for who I love? I think that scares me the most.

Update: December, one year ago, I wrote "Can fear actually make you a more confident person? Can you be so afraid that you put on a brave face, and through that facade become a more courageous person?"

Maybe this encounter has nothing to do with what I'm going through now, but maybe it does. Today, I am writing about first:girl, something I have never talked or written about with anyone. The secret is coming out, and my heartache is finally lessening with every paragraph.

Oct 4, 2010

More Ugly/ Truth

I have a confession. I may have mentioned it before, or maybe I left it in a dark corner of my mind to deal with at some other point in time. I have dealt with an eating disorder for the last seven years of my life. For the first three years I was in denial. I was still eating, so obviously I didn't have anorexia.

I never got down to 80 pounds, I never looked like a skeleton, but I was depriving my body of the nutrition it deserved. After I dropped to a size one, and mind you, I'm built like a Viking, so a size one was pretty spectacular, I realized something was wrong. I wasn't eating the foods I liked, wasn't eating hardly anything at all. I forced myself to eat, slowly, gradually, stretching my stomach so I wouldn't throw up if I ate normal sized portions.

After three and half years of depriving myself, everything tasted so good. I went on a two year binge. I gained weight without realizing. I looked at myself in the mirror and saw a size one girl when I clearly wasn't. I still see that girl in the mirror, and don't understand why I can't see what I look like now.

Last year was a turning point. I ran out of money, and eating out less often helped me drop a few pounds, temporarily. I came home to take care of my family, and could afford to eat like I had been. I gained back the fifteen-twenty pounds I had lost.

Last week was another turning point. I had to have a minor surgery, and it effected my ability to eat. I've been eating next to nothing for a little over a week and already lost five pounds. I feel better than I have in a long time. I feel more energetic, feel the urge to exercise and take care of myself. The way I felt when I was anorexic.

I can feel where this road is headed. I look ahead and see where I will be walking in a few weeks, a few months. I understand, intellectually, why anorexia is wrong and unhealthy, but it always feels so right, so comfortable. I feel happier when I choose not to eat.

I see where this is going and will do nothing to stop myself. Anorexia has best my best friend for so long, been my coping mechanism, been the only rock I have to lean upon, and even though it is unhealthy, it makes me feel good. Right now, after so much rejection, so much pain and stress, I need to feel good. I need to feel this. I wish I could be stronger, but the reality is, I am not.

Apr 27, 2010


There comes a time in every person's life where they discover a flaw in themselves. As humans, we discover superficial flaws all the time: too fat, too skinny, one eye is larger than the other, one breast is smaller than the other, etc. The internal flaws are hard to discover, and even harder to admit to, unless low self esteem is in play.

I have always been fairly confident in myself, even while admitting to myself that I have several ugly internal tendencies. Over the years, I have come to terms with the ugly sides of my personality, but showing them to others remains hard for me to do. I am cynical, I am jaded; I picked up a book in Target today called "100 reasons every daughter needs a father" and wanted to write the author because I never had a father and I'm just fine. (The urge to rip the book into pieces obviously says that while I'm not psycho because of it, I still carry a penny of daddy issues in my pocket.)

There are ugly tendencies I wish I could change, or get rid of, but there is one thing I am selfish about, and I wouldn't change it for the world.

After first:girl, my mind was jumbled about. I had an affair with a boy that felt dirty and unsatisfying, and then went out partying, looking for people I could connect with so that I didn't feel so alone. When first:girl and I stopped talking, I felt like I had been thrown into a churning ocean with no way to float or scream for help. A few short months passed, and a new girl came into my life.

An:girl was cute, in her own way, a little loud, funny, a soccer player. She was a little rough around the edges, but she was bi-curious, and I looked at her like a drowning man looks at a life raft. We hung out, talked, laughed, but she was young. An wasn't much younger than myself, but girls were a new concept to her. I had had time to begin to adjust, begin to find myself, and she clung to me, taking who I was as the ideal lesbian figure.

I just wasn't emotionally ready for that. I wanted to be with someone older than myself. Someone who would ground me, who would look at me and say, "Go change. You don't look like yourself, you're imitating Tegan Quin." I wanted someone to guide me through sex, to understand that sometimes it doesn't end in orgasms, and it's okay if it doesn't. With An, I felt as though I were carrying two worlds on my shoulders, my world, and hers.

I didn't want to stumble through this tangled web of do-be-do-be-do complexes, stereotypes, and uncertainties with a young girl. I wanted someone who would walk alongside me on my path, and maybe knock a tree branch out of the way or pull me out of the way when a wolf attacks. I still want someone like that. I'm older now, and know more about myself (I can occasionally pull my guide out of harm's way as well), but I am still new enough that I want someone who has been through this a couple of times.

So, I broke it off with her. Abruptly, and without any real explanation as I could not put what I was feeling into words that had enough worth for her to hear. I handled it badly, and I was selfish. I put my own emotional needs first, an ugly, awful thing to do. I could have handled it better, but even now I believe it was the right thing to do.

I've shown you one of my selfish priorities, and have justified it for myself, and for you as well. I write with a bias to portray myself in a better light, another ugly habit I cannot break. It is human nature. And with this justification, the ugly seems more beautiful inside my head.

Apr 7, 2010


Constance is now a household name for those active in LGBTQ cultures. We look to her as part of a larger movement, we look to her as a bearer of LGBTQ rights in the next generation, we look to her as a girl who has been wronged for just being herself. We are all trying to do the right thing for her, as she has done the right thing for herself and the LGBTQ rights movement.

She has been wronged. She was wronged by small minded people who belittled her views, her beliefs, her sense of being. She was wronged by a bunch of whinging teenagers who are ego-centric and wanted their special night. Those whinging teenagers did what they felt was justified. The kids didn't say that Constance couldn't bring a date of the same sex, those were the school officials. Those same officials canceled the prom for everyone, devastating the teenagers who were raised to believe Prom is the best night of one's high school days. So the kids threw their own prom, and felt justified in doing so. I can understand that, from a psychological perspective.

I honestly think that except for a select few, the kids didn't invite Constance because she was the reason their prom was canceled, not because she was gay. Call me idealistic or naive, but these kids have gone to school with Constance for years, and I'm sure most know her well enough to look past her sexuality and regard her as a person. And Constance is, above all, one of the most loving, tolerant teenagers that I have ever heard of.

This is why, when I heard about the "Constance quit yer cryin'" Facebook page, I was shocked and appalled. I decided to head over there and check it out. Instead of posts from the kids of the school, I found a huge backlash from the LGBTQ community. There were countless posts saying "You homophobic, bible thumpin', rednecks, with IQs of 98, don't have the right to judge anyone!" among the few and far between posts of "Don't stoop to their level and call them names because that won't do anyone any good."

This was horrifying for me. The amount of hate spewed onto the wall of that Facebook page overwhelmed me. I could see the blood oozing from the old battle wounds of LGBTQ people, which had been ripped open and gouged anew by the hateful act done to Constance. It became clear that this hate crime (because really, that's what it is) was a personal assault against everyone in the queer community.

However, I was upset with the way people jumped in the fray to backlash against these teenagers. Hate begets hate; tolerance begets tolerance. By flaming those teenagers, we are reaffirming the belief that LGBTQ people are hateful, sinful, mean, and angry. We are doing nothing to change the views of the people who do not accept us. Constance's own quote about this was taken up as a battle cry. She wrote:

"ok i think that if people that are supporting what i am doing really support me they need to stop sending messages to people at my school because some of them are mature and stay out of it some of them support me and then there are the other people who are against me but since you dont know who is who please stop doing that because its not their fault. thanks."

"thanks everyone and you know i dont agree with what the school did obviously but i never wanted my classmates to have to suffer from it and many of them dont get that and want to blame me for everything and think i am doing this all for a faulty reason but i just want the negativity to stop because i try to be respectful and positive i find it to be more effective. please tell all your friends so as to get the word out."

This was immediately followed by posts saying that Constance was afraid that the students would take it out on her, and that caused for, wouldn't you know it, more hate towards the students. Well, Constance is a teenager in high school, dealing with peer pressure and being accepted. If you look at everything she says, every action she takes, you will realize that she is the type of person who wants everyone to like her. On top of that, she wants everyone to accept diverse sexualities. A good view of LGBTQ sexualities starts with the queer community taking the high road, not cussing out some 14 year old who didn't have anything to do with the original decision not to let Constance take her date to prom.

"Kill them with Kindness" was the phrase I grew up with. If someone didn't like me, I made them like me. I baked them cookies, I shared my lunch, I drew them pictures in my sloppy 5 year old way. In high school I was nice to everyone, helped everyone. As a community, if we want to change minds, we need to (figuratively) help little old ladies cross the road.

We have had names thrown at us like daggers, names which summed up who we were into a disparaging phrase or hateful word. Aren't we proving just how small minded we are to blame their bigotry on Christianity (which has a huge queer tolerant following) or "redneck towns" (my brother is a 'hick' and he has no problem with LGBTQ people) or any other generalization?

The fabulous Jesse James wrote something that struck me to the bone:
"Every day I get up and for some reason or another, in some moment or a few, I have to fight a little, stand up a bit at least, JUST TO BE ME.I’ll call Violet sweetie in the grocery store and when that guy stares at me, well, I’ve spent years now practicing how to be brave enough to stare back and not to let myself look away until after he does...We wake up, we brush our teeth and then we put on some combination and specific variety of armor that let’s us walk out the front door without dying, so that we can take the blows if and when they come. "
I fight every day by letting all those disparaging comments slide off of me, and I pull myself together, put on a bright smile, and charm that person like crazy. I am the girl who brings tulips to the lady on the corner that thinks I'm going to hell, I am the girl who brings a crying child back to its mother in the store. Every day I fight in my own way, and it is just as draining as fighting a full blown war. However, everyone I know says, "Oh, isn't she a darling girl? She's so thoughtful and compassionate." Occasionally there is a "It's such a shame that she's...that way," tacked on at the end. But everyone likes me, and I believe that's the first step.

Maybe the way people jump to violence, name calling, and cussing upsets me so much because I feel like it undoes the daily progress I make. I am trying to change minds, one at a time, until I can change my neighborhood, my town, my state, my world; every time there is a blurb on the news about a violent LGBTQ response to something, I have to start all over again.

If you want to make a real difference (I took this information from the wonderful Dorothy) write a letter or sign the petition:


Itawamba County Schools Superintendent Teresa McNeece:

662-862-2159 ext. 14

Itawamba Agricultural High School principal Trae Wiygul


One more way to speak out. Sign the HRC petition to say "I stand with Constance McMillen.”

Apr 5, 2010

Lesbian/ Bisexual

There was a post done over at Sasha's Card Carrying Lesbian entitled "Bi-sexual Lesbians...An Oxymoron?" which brought up some fun things for me. There were several comments which brought to light how prominent Biphobia is in LGT circles, and I personally think that is a little strange. We, as members of the queer community come across a lot of prejudice, and I feel awful subjecting someone else to discrimination because of their sexuality.

This is my hastily typed post after I first read the article:

"I think that there is always a chance for the right person to come along in a gender that is unexpected for the individual, no matter if the person is gay, straight, or any other sexuality.

I don’t date men in hopes that one of them will be right for me. I date women with that hope. However, if I fell in love with my best male friend without trying, I would probably try out a relationship with him. I think that closing yourself off completely to the opposite or same gender is just reinforcing the gender binary. All the movies where the straight girl falls for the lesbian gives hope that love transcends sexuality, and that can happen in any direction, in my opinion."

However, looking back on it, I half-lied. While I believe sexuality is somewhat fluid, I'm not the true definition of bisexual, and it would take a potential soul mate for me to venture into seeking a relationship with a person of the other gender. If I found myself inexplicably in love with a man I'm not saying that I would close myself off and dismiss a possible relationship with him, however, I don't think that I could ever have a lasting relationship with a heteronormative man, even if I was in love with him.

I take such comfort in my own personal ability to perform outside the gender binary that I feel, right now, as if being in a heterosexual relationship would cause me to feel trapped in a heteronormative female role.

There are so many freedoms in lesbian relationships that seem awkward and ill fitting in heteronormative relationships. I love to pay for her dinner, tuck her stray hair into place, open her doors, tell her she's beautiful, etc... What I am poorly trying to convey with awful, cliche examples is that there is an understanding in lesbian cultures that these sorts of gestures help to reinforce a certain identity for an individual, or a mood for that particular evening.

When a woman curls into me and buries her head in my shoulder, she is giving me her vulnerability and simultaneously reaffirming my own identity as a strong, nurturing individual. When she kneels down on the elevator floor and slips off my heels, carrying them for me as she wraps a stable arm around my waist, she is enabling my vulnerable side, providing me with someone to lean on; she is showing me that it is okay to acknowledge a side of myself which I am less than comfortable with.

There is a dynamic in my lesbian relationships that allows our identities to flow, transferring the weight between the two of us. I want to be in a relationship where I feel butch because of how she treats me, or how I feel femme because of her chivalry, and how I play into her. I don't feel like I can have that sort of dynamic with a man, and that dynamic is a huge part of who I am, sexually and emotionally. That power play is one of the things I feel is crucial to my being.

Being with a woman feels less lopsided to me; it feels more equal. In past relationships with men I was constantly playing the damsel in distress, which made me feel so weak that I would close myself of completely and be stone cold, until I was afraid I couldn't feel anymore and cycled back to the damsel in distress. This was an unhealthy emotional environment for me, and it never felt equal.

There are always exceptions, but for the most part the heteronormative male seeks to stay within the gender binary, rather than stepping into a foreign dynamic. While the heteronormative male is becoming increasingly more open to options other than the gender binary, I am still not as comfortable being myself (taking and giving power as I see fit) with men.

I have felt more comfortable with a few bisexual men, and I feel like they understand what I need more than the straight male who has never stepped foot inside LGBTQ territory. So while I feel that I could potentially fall in love with anyone, I also feel like I need to date inside the LGBTQ world because LGBTQ people seem to be the only ones who really understand what I need, and possibly share in that same need.

(I do realize that by writing this post, I am, in fact, reinforcing the gender binary for myself, making me a hypocrite in my own words. Unfortunately, as much as I try to erase the gender binary for myself, it's very hard to get rid of all that the gender binary encompasses and the impact it had on me while I was growing up.)

(I also did not mention my intense physical attraction toward women and lack thereof toward men because I try to write about more than just that physical attraction and focus on the emotional needs.)

Apr 3, 2010

Lavendar Lens/ Part 2

I received a comment to my original Lavender Lens post and figured I should respond to it in part 2. This is the comment I received:

"My impression is that the standard word for a three-person relationship is "triad."

I feel like the losing-ground-for-gay-marriage argument is a dangerous one. If there's a majority shift away from monogamous relationships, wouldn't that indicate a problem with prioritizing marriage, and therefore prioritizing the recognition of monogamous queer relationships over multipartner relationships? Monogamous gay politics often takes a worrying "us first" attitude towards polyamorous lifestyles, just as cis gay politics sometimes does toward trans folks.

The marriage debate in general tends to do this -- many of the rights associated with marriage are things that people in nonmonogamous relationships want and deserve, and even that single people want and deserve. People sometimes neglect the need to challenge why it makes sense to be restricting these rights to people in particular kinds of relationships in the first place, in the process of trying to expand the category of relationships to which they're restricted -- and by doing so, they can leave out not only poly people but asexuals and single people."

Here's where this gets tricky. Let me just state here that I've never been part of a polyamorous relationship, so my views are relatively young and sheltered, and I am more than willing to listen to others' views and opinions to help enlighten myself on this topic.

When discussing the multi-partner relationships I had originally assumed there is a level of fidelity involved. I thought that, though there are more than two people in the relationship, sexual interactions would be pretty limited to the people in the relationship, somewhat like a group marriage. A group marriage has no main husband or wife with whom the others interact (polygamy), but rather everyone interacts equally(polyamory). I had imagined this scenario with love and lasting affection.

That is my ideal multi-partner relationship. A group marriage situation, where everyone is equal, individual, and safe. I feel like if I were in a relationship with two or three people and those individuals were having sex outside the relationship, I wouldn't be able to handle it. I would feel "cheated on" because that person is having sex outside the relationship we have established with however many people.

Is there a level of required fidelity in these types of situations?
As of right now I don't know.

This is part of the reason why I'm reluctant to get into a marriage debate here. At what point can you give everyone equal rights to marriage without spreading the umbrella so far that people can cheat the government? Marriage is to bind. Marriage is to become family. Marriage is to show that you are the most important thing in each others' lives. So while I see a group marriage situation as one that definitely qualifies for the right to bind to each other, I'm not sure how like that example most polyamorous relationships are.

To be realistic, American mainstream society is more comfortable with gay monogamous relationships than they are of polygamy or polyamory. The Mormon sects who promote polygyny (which means one husband with multiple wives) have created a bad public image of having multi-partner relationships that fall under many catagories. To gain equal rights, I feel like gay marriage has to come first. It has to be a stable stepping stone before mainstream society will even think about the possibility of legalizing group marriage.

Expect more pros and cons as I mentally think this through, day after day.

To be continued...

Apr 2, 2010

Train/ Part 2

After a long day in the city, I was more than ready for the train ride home. I would have loved to take a nice nap, however, two things kept me awake. One, I did not want to fall asleep and pass my destination, and two, I was so excited about being on a train that I didn't want to miss a minute of it.

Unfortunately, the fluorescent lights were on throughout the train, so I was not able to look out the window and see anything in the dark night. I didn't sit next to anyone, so it was a fairly quiet trip home. However, the person announcing our stops was getting tired and wasn't really giving fair warning, so I became nervous that I was going to miss my stop. (The train does NOT stop for long. You have one minute to get on or off and then that sucker leaves whether you're in the right place or not.)

He gave a warning call for my station, so I made my way downstairs to the doors. It turns out he gave advance warning on ours, because there was a huge group of us waiting downstairs for a good 5-10 minutes before we arrived at the depot. There was a pretty woman waiting next to me, with black hair and several piercings. She was very laid back, and had an easy smile. She didn't shy away from eye contact and it felt like we had several conversations without speaking a word. I would bet my right arm that she was queer.

There was this awful elderly woman next to us who complained about everything. "This is unsanitary. We're waiting too long. Public transportation is filled with germs." And I'm pretty sure we all wanted to say "So why are you on it, then?" but we politely refrained from saying anything. The girl and I did share a look, a smile, a stifled laugh.

It was a connection. Just another nameless connection with another girl who I will probably never see again. Her smile bloomed across her face effortlessly, and she winked at me as we disembarked. I smiled in return. There was a jostling of the crowd, and I lost her in the darkness as we both made our way home in the night.

I smiled even as I thought of my empty bed. Even though I have no one to sleep next to, I have the ability to take five minutes and make a connection with a stranger. In one moment, I had a shared thought, an unspoken conversation with a human being who did not exist to me before that moment. That seems like a good reason to smile.

Train/Part 1

The other day, I had the opportunity to take the train! I somehow grew up with the notion that no one on the west coast takes the train, so this was to be my first experience with trains. I had thought they were practically obsolete until I arrived at the train station only to be jostled by families, college kids, business travelers, and everyone with either a book, an iPod, or both.

I boarded the train and prepared for my two hour trip by choosing a seat at a table next to a pretty blond with a book in hand. Conversation was awkward at first, far less graceful than the smooth motion of the train. (I thought trains were supposed to be rickety and loud, not smooth and quiet. I could hardly tell when we slowed to a stop and took off again.)

I took a trip down to the cafe on the first level and grabbed a coffee just as we were passing the cliffs down to the ocean. I stopped at the doors and watched the ocean fly by through the huge windows. The silver sky blended softly towards the dark, swirling ocean: beautiful in its ferocity, stunning in shades of gray.

I made my way back up the staircase to my seat across from the shy blond. After offering a banana, she began to open up. She was from Washington, originally came to California to go to school and ended up staying. We talked about how I want to move to Washington, and the beautiful scenery of both our states. She takes the train often, and since it was my first time, she talked me through the experience. We shared a few laughs and it was easy to see that whatever social barrier she usually carried, she was beginning to relax. The conversation moved fluidly for quite some time and I was happy to be sitting near her.

Eventually we fell into a comfortable silence, staring at the ocean. I was reading a book as well, but noticed when she pulled out a notepad and began to compose a song from notes inside her head. She used all string instruments, cellos, violins, violas, harps, etc. It was wonderful to watch, though I hope I was subtle about it as she did seem very shy.

We both got off at the same destination, and I saw her several times afterward, strolling about the city. Each time we would laugh at each other and wave, a common bond formed over a simple train ride. It wasn't until I got home that I realized we never asked for each others' names.


I thought I had written up a draft for a new post the other day (which apparently I didn't), and instead stumbled upon a draft I had written up after the last time I saw first:girl. I saved the draft instead of publishing it because I was hurting, and I didn't want your first impressions of first:girl to be biased. I want to start from the beginning with her.

To do that, I have to talk about M2 and Patty, so that you can see the position I was in when I met first:girl. I want it all to make sense and go in chronological order. However, it's been a long time since first:girl and I stopped talking, and I still have a hard time writing about her.

It'll be posted. Eventually. I'm going to make that a goal. Talk about first:girl. Before June. In June, we enter each others' lives again, so I better be ready to deal with her by then.

Mar 28, 2010


I read an article in The Lavender Lens, (a San Diego lesbian oriented magazine) that dealt with the lesbian relationship cycle. It's advice in breaking that cycle was to become part of a multi-person relationship.

I read this article over a month ago and am just now finding a fraction of the words I want to say. I am for this idea, I am against this idea. My own personal beliefs and my wish for mainstream society to accept LGBT relationships are at war with each other and themselves. This idea of a relationship is tearing me apart, mostly because it makes me question my foundational beliefs.

Do I want to get married? Am I a monogamous person? Can I love more than one person at a time? There are so many aspects of a multi-partner relationship that I can really see myself fitting into. Economically, it's a fabulous idea. However, mainstream American society has not been very accepting of multi-person relationships in the past.

(Can I just jump in here with how I'm reluctant to use the word threesome? It seems so sexual when I'm actually talking about a full relationship, more than just for sexual gratification. Does anyone have a better word for this?)

One of my biggest fears? I'm worried that by moving toward multi-partnerships, gay marriage would lose ground and be dismissed entirely. For those who are monogamous, a majority shift to multi-person relationships could ruin their chances of the happy marriage that they have always wanted.

I also have felt disgust for polygyny (the relationship consisting of one husband for multiple wives) in the past. While hopefully a multi-partner relationship in the queer community would promote equality among the parties involved, I worry that a weaker partner could feel exploited. Then there is jealousy, who loves who more, time spent together and apart.

I know I have felt extreme love for more than one person at a time before, but can a relationship with more than two parties really last? Would I want it to last? Do I believe in being in a relationship that would span the majority of my lifetime, or do I wish to experience a series of meaningful relationships with many different people?

The Lavender Lens proposed a model where each person in the relationship has their own bedroom in the house. It is a sanctuary. Permission would be asked to enter a room or engage in sexual activity. This part of the model makes me feel safe. Safe because I would have control over what sexual situations I want to participate and when. If one person is better at handling me while I'm emotional, I could go to her for comfort and cuddling. If I'm in a particular mood and crave a specific kind of sex, I could go to another person for that. If I wanted multiple partners, or for all of us to be together, I could request that they come into my room. They can say no, I can say no; everything is within our own personal control. I love the idea of that.

Expect more pros and cons as I mentally think this through, day after day.

To be continued...

Here is a link to Part 2.

Mar 26, 2010


It's been a month since my last post. A post about dreams. A last ditch effort to try to keep myself going, to keep writing, to keep track of what I was doing. However, I wasn't doing much. It's hard to write about new experiences when you're not putting yourself into new opportunities or situations. I think I needed time to go out and live a little.

I went to a Tegan and Sara concert and realized that I looked like a completely different person than I was two years ago. The person I am now looks ridiculous (not to say that the older me didn't look ridiculous either because I was trying to be bottle blond and that was a disaster). Anyway, the point is that I generally look ridiculous, but I usually look ridiculous and like myself. Now I look ridiculous and like a stranger. So, obviously, that's got to stop.

Secondly, I am forgetting things left and right. I forgot two of my niece's birthdays in one week! I forgot that I had a paper due, I forgot I had class, I forgot that I was supposed to go to the doctor, etc. I started watching Bones, the TV show, and basically held myself hostage trying to watch 4 seasons in the shortest amount of time possible. I got through one and half before I realized that I was beginning to look peaky and needed some sunlight. I took up yoga and tai chi chuan again, which is already helping me to gain back a lot of the flexibility I had as a dancer.

I went to Disneyland and pretended it was my birthday :)

I read a new book.

I met new people.

A friend of a friend was telling a story that he found highly engaging whilst I got distracted by a gorgeous girl walking by. After he asked me what I was looking at and I responded with "She's super hot," the poor boy (who has been surrounded by his church group his whole life) went red, stuttered, laughed, and tried to jump back into his story several times over before he gave up and excused himself. I laughed.

Now, I'm posting again. I think this means that I have finally experienced something again. But I'm not making any promises.

Feb 24, 2010


As if the fates wanted to prove my point for me, today is m:girl's birthday. Twenty ninth.

Last night I had this terrific and somewhat explicit dream, but there was one aspect of it that was slightly bewildering. I was writing in a journal on a blanket amongst the grass, and I was with an older woman. She complained of feeling tired, and laid down by my side, curling into me under another blanket. I made the first move, and she willingly kissed me back, melting into me and under me with a beauty I had never experienced before. Without being too detailed and explicit, we made love. (And, oh my gosh she had a piercing that drove me wild.)

After it was over, I looked up and she was one of my acting professors from college. Granted, this particular professor is a gorgeous older woman whom I love and admire very much, but I love and admire her with an unprecedented respect that makes a sexual desire for her out of the question. She hadn't turned into another person, I just hadn't recognized her face before we made love. That is the start of our relationship, glowing with satisfaction on an old picnic blanket in the middle of a field of green grass.

The scene moves, and we are inside a room somewhere (it looks like a spaceship), making a movie about her life, her sexuality, and the scene is set for us to make love. It is the same conversation we had before making love on our picnic, however, the blanket is gone and it is clear that we are on this spacecraft. Though they are the exact same words we said to each other during our lovemaking on the picnic blanket, they are now harsh, false, and ugly. In the end, I can't stand to look at her, and as I walk away, I wake up.

Now that I am awake, I feel ashamed for having a dream like this about someone that I feel should be put above sexual fantasies. I feel dirty for having dreamed about her that way. However, I also wonder about the shift in scene. I wonder about how all of the sounds she made in the grass could sound like the sweetest of music, but under cameras and lights could sound so false and wrong.

It makes me wish I had a therapist or dream analyst who could tell me what my subconscious is trying to say.

Feb 22, 2010


I have always been most attracted to people who are older than me. The first woman was 4 years older than me, and the next was 5, the next 7, the next 7, the next 8...Do you see a pattern here?

I am wondering if it is because there is something missing in my age group. It is so hard to find decent women who aren't 5-15 years older than I am. Most of my generation is rude. Most people my age grew up to be disrespectful, impolite, without manners or rudimentary etiquette. Maybe this is part of the reason why I go for women at the extreme ends of the butch/femme spectrum, because they have a beautiful set of mannerisms and behaviors that endears me to them.

With the butch and femme women that I have encountered, there has been self study into their identities. They are intelligent, there's a thirst for good conversation and enlightenment. I can't imagine going out with any of the people I have met and seeing them yell at the waiter or stiff a tip. They have respect for each individual. They are polite. They hold doors or say thank you when someone holds the door for them. That simple thank you is what endears me to a person, and the lack of that simple phrase will make me end a relationship.

The queer girls my age are mean, angry, and bitter. They enjoy protesting and yelling at people who don't understand us. But yelling doesn't help them to understand us. I want to be with someone who respectfully talks to the religious, the traditional about who we are. There are some people who have never encountered an LGBT individual. Bitching that person out isn't going to make them like us or want to treat us like equal citizens. That's not the way to go about it.

So I date the people who were either raised with better manners, or have gotten past the rebel stage in their life. I date the people who help me pass out cookies around the block and chat with the neighbors about the flowers.

Just to clarify: I think age is just a number. It just occurred to me why I date older women than myself, so I wrote about it. I also know that there are exceptions to all of this, I am just generalizing.

P.S. Just wait till I get to why I (for the most part) don't date girls younger than myself, though there are plenty who want to. That post should be a real treat.


I used to be the most compassionate person that people knew. An old lady trying to water her flowers would bring out the best in me. I would offer to help her, strike up a conversation, and spend the afternoon looking at old photo albums of her with her late husband.

Where did I go? Somewhere along the lines of jesting about being bitter and jokingly telling people to suck it up, I lost all of my compassion. Has my life gotten so bad that I really think everyone's life is easier, or have I had the strength to stand alone and think of other people as weak? Or am I jealous that other people are used to having support systems while I have stood alone since kindergarten? Or do I just not respect anyone anymore?

My life is not that bad. It's not ideal, but whose is? So why have I become this bitter old hag? My god, I'm barely an adult. I've barely made it past puberty and being a teenager. How did I become this angry, cranky, awful old lady who wears all black and lives in the shady looking house on the corner surrounded by 72 black cats?

I can't go around telling people that they are weak if they cry. I can't tell people that it's not okay to lean on anyone else or be emotionally needy for 5 minutes. That's really not okay (as I am beginning to see).

Maybe somewhere along the way my hatred for emotionally clingy women got to me, and now I take it out on everyone. Maybe I tried to rescue too many people who shattered me over and over again. Maybe I got tired of being the one everyone leaned on for support. Maybe I was upset that I am always the rock of the family, and I am not allowed to lean on any of my family members in return. Maybe too many people invited me to their pity parties and took advantage of my compassion. Maybe too many people asked it of me, whereas I feel most compassionate for those who do not seek pity. Maybe it's that too many people are fake, and I only want to see truth.

Point is, I have to find that little girl that can't resist mending someone's broken heart.

I'm going to blame the tears here on lack of sleep and emotional overload. And who is here to see me shed them? The interwebs. Who will hold me as I cry myself to sleep? My own arms.

Maybe if I can find that compassion again I'll let someone lean on me, and maybe she hold me as I fall asleep.

Feb 20, 2010

Impressing/Truth Telling

Here is the point where my blog becomes difficult. It has become increasingly hard to write in this blog, now that it is connected to people I know and admire. This is the point in time where I have to resist writing fictional stories to impress the people of the interwebs who are so much more experienced than myself, in writing and in relationships.

This is the point in time where I want to write about my sexual prowess, and about how my relationships have gone so well and it turns out that my small town is full of lovely gay women whom I respect and admire.

But I would be lying. And it is so hard not to lie, but I will refrain from doing so because I want one aspect of my life to be pure, upright, and honest. I want one place where I can be me, and look back on it and see me, the real me, through the years. I want to strengthen the relationship I have with myself, and lying is a sure way to break up any relationship.

I have not been dating anyone new. My heart seems to leap beyond my reach, crossing states and countries, clinging to those in relationships, or those who identify as heterosexual. I haven't been having sex because I've never done it before, and I want to be with someone that I have a spark with; someone who will be open with me about what she likes and what she wants. I want to be with someone who isn't afraid of being clear about what she likes, and who is gentle enough to teach me without breaking me.

I have, however, been shaping up. Taking classes, seriously thinking about where I want to go to uni, and how to propel my career from that point on. Journalism, a fleeting dream, is now coming into realization. Not that I won't have a long way to go, but I feel like I am finally taking responsibility for where my life path is going.

My psychology class has been giving me a lot to think about, one being that maybe the reason that I haven't taken responsibility for anything in my life is that I honestly didn't think I would make it this far. When I was about six years old, I was sure that I couldn't live without my mother, and vice versa, so we made a pact. I told her that we would die together in a car accident, so neither of us would have to grow old alone. It seems stupid to think that this would come true, but I believed it for so long. I was sure I would never live past my high school years. Now, into my 20s, I realize that it might take me a long time to die. It could be 5, 10, 20, 30, 50 years. I have not been prepared for the option to live that long.

Now, I'm trying to adjust myself to having a longer life path. This includes a steady career, budgeting, saving up for future occasions, all things that I've never had to plan for before.

But I'm trying. As a direct quote from a psychology peer: "She says that she has always been independent and gives credit to her mother for bringing her up this way. However, [Tabitha] also says she is unable to focus on a clear path for life due to the lack of guidance she got in her upbringing. She says that now she feels lost and passionless and this really doesn’t sound like independence at all."

Well, I meant independence in more than a career fashion. As in, I emotionally lean on myself, take care of myself, all matters that have to do with me are dealt with by me. However, she does have a point. What good is being independent when I don't take up the responsibility to become a functioning adult in society?

So that's what I'm trying to become. And that's the truth.

P.S. Women's curling is on again today. America vs. my favorite girl Eve Muirhead, captain of the Great Britain team.

Feb 13, 2010

Olympics/New Stuff

The opening ceremony for the Olympics was brilliant. I loved it. The flying man, the whales moving through the ocean, the ice breaking, the dancing! It was all so beautiful!

In other news, it has been over a month since the last time I have posted. Though I don't have much to say, I have to get back on the horse.

I'm taking a psychology class, and it is making me analyze myself way too deeply. It has gotten to the point where it is starting to unnerve me and make me wish that I'd never taken the class at all. Since this is an eight week class followed by a term 2 class of Human Sexuality, I just can't wait to see what the effect of a sexuality class will do to this blog! (That was half-sarcastic, half real excitement.)

In personal news, I got a perm! I have curly hair now, down to the top of my shoulders. It's cute, and when I wear a wrap around headband it makes me look like I have an Elizabeth Bennet, regency styled updo.

Note: That is not me in the photo. She has an actual updo, where as mine is short enough, and curly enough, that I just drape it over the headband in the back and it produces almost the same effect.

Jan 9, 2010


It's been a while since I've really written about sexuality and gender theory. It seems that somewhere during the holidays I became very self involved and only wrote my personal issues, which was not how this blog was intended to be. Yes, it is about me, but it is about me exploring my sexuality and becoming more acquainted with the LGBTQ community and issues.

I'll admit I have been overwhelmed by the term "spectrum banging" (Yes, Mr. Sexsmith, I blame this piece of enlightenment on you). A few years ago, I had big boobs (which I emphasized all the time), long (blonde) hair, never left the house without mascara, equally loved jeans, blouses, and dresses. I liked to play dress up, and I loved to use my body to entice classmates into having dirty thoughts. I liked feeling sexy, liked feeling used (Read:CoDa).

Then, after I found out first:girl was not in fact falling madly in love with me as I was with her, I explored different ways of being. I started spectrum banging, which I'm just starting to figure out was a huge part of my underlying identity struggle. Since the me I was wasn't cutting it for first:girl, I did everything differently. I cut off all my hair, dyed it back to its natural brown, stopped wearing makeup, wore jeans and wifebeaters, never wore jewelry, and made myself as masculine as I could (without binding). That's when I started reading SugarButch, and found a piece of myself in his writing. That is when butch started feeling sexy. I found my love for femmes, and the deep traits of chivalry and respect. After reading for months, I then started to feel sexy and butch without needing the physical appearance, but it still just didn't fit. I think it was because I wasn't doing it for me. I was doing whatever I thought would get first:girl back. I tried this for so long. A year, maybe more? That didn't work either. She still didn't want me, and I was tired of trying so hard.

That's when my old habits started creeping back in. I still had short hair, but now I spent time on it, curled it, straightened it, wore a beret, whatever. I started wearing mascara every day, bought new skinny jeans and two pairs of converse to go with my shirts and tank tops.

During this blog, which has not been running for very long, you have seen me swing from one side of the spectrum to the other within days. I went from wondering if I was butch or femme, to wondering if maybe I should be ftm, to being full on femme for a week.

My hair has grown out to my shoulders now, I wear makeup when I know I'm leaving the house, and occasionally I'll wear a bra, or something that highlights my breasts. I'm not femme, but am definitely more on the feminine side of the spectrum. Do I still have butch days? Occasionally. Maybe more soft butch, or just butch in manner rather than appearance.

I can't say that I'm done spectrum banging, but I can say that I'm finally more comfortable in the middle, at least for a little while. For now I can be a homogeneous mix of the two ends. And wouldn't you know it, I feel a lot like I did before first:girl came along. I still can't tell if that's a good thing or a bad thing yet. Feeling like I did back then makes me uneasy. It makes me feel (and I'm embarrassed to admit it) less gay. Maybe when I started to change myself for first:girl, I also started to change myself to feel more gay, because (of course) being gay should feel different. That should be a load of crock, but it's ingrained in me to feel that way: that straight!me and gay!me should feel differently.

I'm still waiting for that unease to go away.

Jan 5, 2010


Mr. Sexsmith wrote a post which got me thinking, and alphafemme wrote a response that moved something inside of me. She mentioned CoDa. It's a funny name, and I didn't know it existed. Co-Dependent. Which, I think it's safe to say that I'm not really a co-dependent, but I do have a few CoDa tendencies and habits that I think I need to break.

I do the gesture thing a lot. I buy my friends dinner, I bought all the pots and pans for my last house instead of letting all the roommates pitch in. I stay in harmful relationships too long, take sex instead of love, use sex to gain approval, believe others incapable of taking care of themselves. I take on all the responsibility in a situation and then collapse under it's weight. Over this last week, I've seen exactly where I get this behavior from, and that is my mother. She is definitely a Co-dependent, and she needs help.

Here's where I get lost. Is it the CoDa in me that wants to take on the weight of getting her some help, or is it the daughter in me? When does being a loving, caring person cross over into the unhealthy danger zone of CoDa? How am I supposed to recognize when those boundaries are crossed?

Nothing on the love-life at the moment; still sorting out all my thoughts. Also nothing on the road trip so far, as, well, maybe just because I'm lazy with that one :P

On the flip side, Happy New Year!