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.