Birthdays

I had so much fun part of today. The part where I was swimming with my friends and taking photos and playing games. The part that felt carefree and relaxed.

And still you turned away from me. I didn't wake up with you and you rolled away when I tried to snuggle. Instead, I was awake at 6am on my birthday, alone and drunk in the dark in the pool. I watched the sunrise and thought it would help me feel hopeful about the year to come. A new day, a fresh start, a new beginning. 

Instead, my new beginning felt lonely, disjointed, cold, shaky, and disappointing.

And now I'm ending the day the same way. We fought, I cried. I'm sitting here and you're sitting over there and you don't want to touch me or be near me and I get worse. Everything gets worse. 

The loneliness increases. The feeling that I'm going through this and there is no hope it's going to get better hits and I just sob and sob and sob. 

This is what my birthday is this year.

I hate it. 

I want to feel better. I want you to love me and hold me and never stop. 

I want a lot of things. I don't think I'm going to get them. 

Feeling Proud

LA Pride was a big hit with me. Of course, you know that I live in a little tiny village where my neighbor churns butter and we all sing in the streets as we bake bread and open our shops, so Pride seemed huge.

I spent the day with the boifriend and a bunch of friends. There's something about being surrounded by people who are happy and excited, by people who are a part of our culture, by people who smile when I hold hands with my boi, or we dance together, or kiss. There's something about making friends with the people standing nearby, walking down the street, passing too close, ordering at the bar - something about the easy way our bodies ebb and flow and belong to everyone and no one as the good vibes keep rolling in.

The parade went on for forever and a day and I made out like a bandit with stickers and a free flag and lots of other stuff. I was fairly tipsy and warmed from the sun by the time we decided it was going to continue forever and moved into the shade of a bar. I don't drink a lot, especially in the beginning when my boi's friends made me nervous and I wanted to make a really good impression.

I felt so comfortable, so alive, so happy and free, so in love, that I felt free to drink and keep drinking, though I had water between - felt free to enjoy myself and my relationship and our friends and this beautiful community full of beautiful, glittering people all around us. I felt connected to all of them.

Of course there was some drama, I mean, we're still lesbians, but none of it was between me and my boifriend. I feel so lucky for that. Lucky that I feel like we're on the same page. Lucky that I feel so loved, lucky that we're communicating, lucky that we fit in all these little jigsaw ways, lucky that we can see an outline of something on the horizon that doesn't seem crazy, that's not a complete compromise for one of us.

I feel proud to be gay, proud to be part of this family, proud to have found friends in my boifriend's group, but the most proud to be with the one I love.

Radar

Some people spend every minute of their active days noticing the people looking at them. Maybe it is the touch of makeup he is wearing or maybe she is paranoid because she is still so closeted and uncomfortable, or maybe because the danger of being gay is still so very real in our society. But they walk down the street and they worry.

I don't ever think about watching, because no one looks twice at me. Some days I stop to peer into the faces of passers by with a broken heart, wishing that someone would recognize me for what I am. Some days I long for a kindred spirit, for a judgemental glare, for some sort of reaffirmation that someone else can see in me what I see in myself.

A gay woman.

But they all keep walking, so absorbed in their lives. I'm not pretty enough to turn heads, nor odd enough to attract attention, and so I am invisible to them as they talk on their cell phones or rustle up their children or dig their keys from pockets and purses.

And I spend long afternoons with my boifriend's head on my lap or our fingers interlaced and my heart swells with joy. Our eyes meet and there's so much between us and I know someone is seeing me, really looking into me.

I'm so glad someone else can see it. I'm so glad I can have this loving, caring relationship with someone so wonderful and beyond my wildest imaginings.

But I also can't help but wonder sometimes what's wrong with me, that everyone else pings on the radar, and I don't.

Dreaming/Reality

If I talk about my date you're going to think I'm lying, or making it up. It was that fantastic. I wasn't dreaming. It really happened.

It's the kind of date you see in movies - fun, full of laughter and warm fuzzies, a wholly unnecessary sappy love song playlist not-so-discreetly playing in the background at the restaurant - when the table seems to shrink and it all feels very intimate.

And then the setting moves and I love being in the car with Prince because we sing and we talk and we're so close and I can't help but touch, constantly, compulsively, because touching is so rare across the distances and in public places and in not-friendly-to-gay areas and the car feels safe and warm and comfortable and I want to touch and be touched.

But then it has to be a movie because I've never seen the sun set over the ocean like that, never seen someone smile at me with heaven in the eyes, and I feel so amazed, bewildered, content, and I don't even want to run off for sex because I just want to stand here, forever, drinking in the sunlight with our arms brushing, laughing at the little girls next to us and all their questions and comments.

I could have sat forever and watched as the city flickered to life at our feet, almost as the Egyptian Pharaohs must have done thousands of years ago from their golden thrones and their city blazed to life in the darkness. I felt like royalty from my stone seat, hand in hand, the world laid out before us, the stars shining overhead, the moon casting a silver blessing over us, so bright, so clear.

And it's laughter, laughter, between all the other moments and places and quiet and feelings, there's this laughter. When Prince laughs it's the most wonderful sound in all the world - the sound I want to hear every moment of every day. I want to be the cause, I want to hear when others inspire it. I want Prince to laugh all day long and I want to be there for every moment and open myself up and fill myself with golden laughter, because just maybe there is real magic and this laughter is it.

Maybe I'm just an idiot :)

I don't have a five year plan and I don't know what I'm doing or where this is going. But I know I never want to hang up. I hate going to work and sleeping alone, and I get really nervous and pack two weeks of clothes for a three day trip. I know that I'm flawed, so flawed, and I want nothing more than to be better - than to be the best - than to be deserving of everything Prince is.

Dating

This may possibly make you want to throw up, because I'm going to be that girl right now.

If I was exceptionally quiet here, it's because I was on a date. A lovely date. A very lovely date with the person whom I've been crushing on.

Real life gets in the way and you can't stay on a date 24/7, but I'd like to. All day at work yesterday, I was reminded by the small piece of folded paper in my pocket, by the picture on my phone, by the taste of cherry cough drops and chapstick - all tangible evidence that I wasn't dreaming.

It's the smile, the eyes, the hair, the skin, the tattoos, the way the waitress comes up to the table and I blush because I'm pretty sure she can see what we're thinking when we stare at each other like that over our water glasses. It's those stares. It's the collar tugs and the hands in my hair and the sweet, amused glint in the eyes when I just can't stop myself from feeling all that soft skin.

It's the door opening, the effects of two beers, the laughter when I'm awkward and silly, the sleepy smiles, the hot hand on my back through my jacket, the singing and the dancing. It's the protector and protected, it's the talking and the not needing to, it's how everything feels like we've done it already - the easy rhythms and moments that should feel so uncomfortable but don't.

It's in the way I didn't feel self conscious once, about my body or my hair or my makeup. It's in the way I felt proud, in the way I never wanted to let go, in the way I wanted to hold hands and show off the amazing person I was with. It's in the quiet way I wanted to go unnoticed, in our little bubble, invisible and free to make out without my hatred for PDA getting in the way (looking back on it you'd have no idea I hate PDA.) It's in the way we say things and then look to see if we got the reaction we wanted, and if we didn't, we try to fix it. It's in the way we listen.

If I go quiet here, it's because I'm finally speaking out loud.

Crushing

I've never run across this problem before. This problem where I'm talking to someone who knows I blog, who reads my blog, who understands what and who I'm writing about.

Does this take away from my "safe space?" Will this cause me to censor myself? I'm not sure. I've always tried to keep this as a space where I can take off the filter about everything I want or need to write about. I'm still sort of feeling this out and how it's going to work for my blog and the things I write on here. Usually it's all personal, personal, sex, personal and now I need to be considerate. And that's okay :) I'd like to be considerate.

I'm crushing and I'm crushing hard, and I don't think it's something you guys have actively seen me go through. You see the beginnings, perhaps, the flirtations and the putting myself out there, and then of course you've been privy to the aftermath. But this, here, this in-between, this something new but something familiar coiling inside of me is not something you've borne witness to.

I can't sleep. I can't stop smiling. I can't stop checking my phone or hovering my finger over the "call" button even though I know I'll eventually tap the lock button and put it away. There's a nervous feeling fluttering inside me and I feel like an idiot but I also really enjoy it. I am now I'm exactly like all those girls I make fun of. The irony is not lost on me.

Is it always like this?

Apocalypse

I'm pathetic
You know that song-
I realized you guys have never seen me when
Ugh. You know how many different times I've written this post?

So, I'm on wonky meds, I'm flirting with someone, I'm coughing all over my guitar and spending my days watching things like Pitch Perfect and reading books and trying not to let my fever reach boiling status.

The apocalypse is coming because I'm running out of meds and all out of orange juice and will eventually have to go to the market.

How's your day?

Dreams

Many people don't put any stock in dreams. There are a few who take their dreams literally, as premonitions or an opening to some understanding that their consciousness could not receive during wakeful hours. I fall somewhere in the middle - receptive to the ideas and themes inside my dreams but aware that some may just be folly.

The wonky meds have been influencing my dreams a lot. I had one the other day where I was married to a man, screaming and crying and shouting my protestations that I was a lesbian, but he was adamant that by tying me down and dying my hair I would become straight and docile. Then another, in the shower,  a pretty girl softly and gently washing my hair under the spray of the shower as she nipped at my neck and her skin slid wetly across mine. Then another, this morning, curled up with my head against a thickly beating heart as my hair was brushed away from my face, and the steady fingers continued down my back before starting again at my temple.

Do you see the pattern? So I looked it up and this is what I got:
"If feelings of satisfaction or contentment accompany the dream, this likely indicates welcome, positive change. Since hair is inextricably linked with image, a positive feelings also indicate an image upgrade. If the dream feels disturbing, it symbolizes damage to self-image. Negative salon [cutting or dying] dreams can be interpreted as symbols of unwanted or undesired change or they may be intuitive urgings that a contemplated change will be disastrous.

Hair is not only an image symbol, it is also a sex symbol. Women especially use hair to increase their sexual attractiveness. Some women also play with their hair when trying to attract attention of the opposite [or same] sex. For a woman, dreams about playing with her hair can indicate a playful attitude toward sexuality or a desire for attention. Dreams of long, healthy dream hair are representative of confidence, power, contentment, and spiritual, mental, and physical well-being."

Shocker? No, I feel like my dreams were pretty forthcoming. I do find it interesting that there are enough people who have these dreams that certain things become symbolic and our psyches can use them at will. For me, hair is also comforting, a soothing gesture at the end of a long day, something to ease my pain when I'm ill, a way for people to get close without me feeling self-conscious.

Perhaps I miss that comfort because I'm sick, or perhaps it's a whole bunch of other things :) but for the most part they've been very good dreams.

Disneyland

Alright, now that we got all those gross feels out of the way, we can talk about the rest of my Disneyland trip, which was thoroughly enjoyable. This was the first year I've seen the new Buena Vista St and Carsland all trussed up in holiday spirit and it was thoroughly enjoyable.

It was packed. The wait times were out of control, so I'm glad we'd all been there before and were okay with taking it easy. I nabbed a sour cream, bacon, and chive potato and shared with my niece which was delicious. We snagged our way onto Haunted Mansion, her favorite, Pirates, where my necklace was commented on, and Thunder Mountain, a fast ride, before we hit the parade and ice cream for the kids. Then it was Astro Blasters, where I got demolished by everyone, including the five year old, so obviously my gun wasn't working. We nipped over to the other park for a few rides and watched World of Color which, as always, was gorgeous.

My first day I totally overdid it by only having a milkshake and cotton candy for dinner, mixed with 98% of my brother's mojito, which he took one sip of and didn't like (in fact, the majority of the trip continued in this fashion before he realized he should just drink beer.) The resulting sugar crash mixed with carrying around my two year old nephew in heels and dancing with him on my hip at the Mad T Party was hilarious/ridiculous as I stood on the bus and had to keep my balance on the way back to the hotel over speed bumps and with abrupt stops.

Alice :D

The second day started off at the Ghirardelli shop, with chocolate filled croissants and a white chocolate mocha :) Healthy? No. Delicious? Yes. After having my picture taken with all my chocolate and being hounded by a very gay lady castmember who wanted a piece of my croissant and also loved my necklace, we were off to Carsland for the day. Thank god we are all funny or we would have been so bored in line for two hours. Some ice cream and cold water later and I've got a kid on my hip eating string cheese between rides like California Screaming and Tower of Terror, and then night fell and I took over as babysitter and went cavorting through Bugsland before making our way back over to the Mad T Party where I had a very nice conversation with Alice, who also liked my necklace, and serenaded us with a great version of No Doubt's "I'm Just a Girl."

The Tweedles

"Dee" and "Dum" then commented on my "hoodlum" nephew and posed with him while a flamingo peckishly photobombed behind. We made our way back over to Tomorrowland for some fun rides where my niece got creeped on by an adult male and my nephew fell in love with Princess Leia, and we watched the fireworks on Main St.




At this point my brother's family was tired, so they left and I stayed behind to enjoy life's little pleasures. A jalepeno-cheese pretzel, single rider lines, the Casey Jr Circus train at night, talking to cast members and getting free things :)

View from the top floor

The next morning I woke up with a sore throat, lounged around in bed, said goodbye to my brother and fam, and then drove home - where I found out yesterday that I have strep throat. Remember all that food/drink I shared?

Oh crap.

Gross Feelings

Premium fireworks view: armchair, footstool and music!

Gross! What are all these maternal feelings? Disneyland was a blast, of course, with my brother, his wife, and their 3 children- 12, 5, and 2.

My niece is very theatrical and loves to sing, hum, whistle, dance- you name it, she does it. It's very entertaining in line. We stood in line for a ride and an older boy (somewhere between 17-24) started to talk with her, flirt with her. She's almost as tall as me, and as it was nearing the end of the night, she had put her Minnie Mouse ears in my hair, making her look older than she seemed before, more like a teenager. He was downright creepy in his advances and it didn't stop once he learned she was 12, and finally we all stopped in line to do one thing or another and pushed her to the head of our group, effectively cutting off their communication.  The Minnie Mouse ears went back in immediately.

My older nephew is a crack up! He's in love with Princess Leia and likes to make everyone laugh because that means fun is being had. My younger nephew? He took to me like Sam took to green eggs and ham. I'm not sure if he remembered me from this past summer of if I remind him of his mom and dad, but he would not let go. My arms are sore from dancing with him and carrying him around the park. He shares my fascination for the stars and started break dancing (spinning on his head and all) at the Mad T Party at California Adventure.

I think my nephew would have more fun in a club than teenagers and 20-somethings

The 5yo. He likes to wear his hat backward :)

I work with kids constantly, and I love what I do, but I don't ever feel this tugging in the pit of my stomach. Maybe because most kids whine all the time, maybe because those kids view me in a workplace environment/relationship, maybe because my brother's kids look like little carbon copies of me- but there it was. That little knife twist as I held my five year old nephew in the last ten minutes of the hour line. As he brushed my hair out of my face so gently and said "There you go!" like he knew it had been bugging me - kissed my cheek, grinned like a devil, and then pulled it back out from both sides and over my eyes like a blindfold and yelled "Can you see me now?!" and started cracking up like I couldn't feel him in my arms.

It was there as I held him in the crowded square, with the fake snow falling around us, the last sparks of fireworks fading into the dark sky. It was there as he caught a fake flake and tapped it on my nose, in the awe of his smile, the gleam in his eye, the shared laughter between us and his sister. 

Post snow  - Merry Christmas from Disneyland!

There is a piece of my life that I may or may not ever get - watching the fireworks and laughing with my wife and child, the awe of raising such a gorgeous creature together and shaping him or her to be a playful, compassionate individual. Of course, I am twenty *mumblewumble* years old, so I have plenty of time before this ever becomes a problem, and having or not having kids is not a deal breaker for me. It was just a moment, an exquisite moment, bonding with a loving, awed boy over a shared experience, and I wouldn't trade it for the world.

Gay Talks/Tues Tunes

So, everyone is either listing out 2012 or making out what 2013 is going to be, but I don't want to do that. I can choose a new outlook and attitude at anytime, and a calendar year isn't going to motivate or stop me :P

Lately it's been music, music, music, in my conversations with various people and I love it. I'm getting nostalgic about the mass produced synthetic pop from the 90's that I so dearly miss. Last night I was slipped a TLC line "don't want no scrubs," and I finished the rest of the song in my head.



I remember that song was on a burned cd of mine with some Britney Spears music that never got popular. Actually, I listened to Britney Spears a lot, and as a result, my singing impression of her early years is pretty stellar and hilarious.



I remember my brother buying me a little red MP3 player which required Musicmatch Jukebox (remember that, you guys?) and I played t.A.T.u. constantly. Blame it on my fascination with all things Russian or whatever for having the album in both languages, but I wish someone had noticed that I was a glued to a music video with girls kissing and singing about wanting to be together.



In fact, I wish someone had put together a lot of the pieces and sat me down to talk when I was fourteen. I wish someone had asked me about the way my Snow White barbie made out with all the others and touched their breasts, the half-naked Christina Aguilera posters, the t.A.T.u music videos, the lesbian pornography, the makeshift sex drawer, the things my boyfriends would have to say to me to get me in the right frame of mind to do anything, the way I panted after this sarcastic, bitchy, emo, 50s housewife looking lesbian in high school and called her by a different name just so I knew it was something only I got to call her (and she let me, and she didn't put up with anything, which meant she liked me and that meant the world).

When I look back, it's so obvious, so why didn't I realize it, and why didn't anyone else? I guess it's too late and in the past. I know who I am now, so I shouldn't let it bother me.

Note: All those bad 90s fashions and wet schoolgirl uniforms are still so in. Good choice, ladies. I approve.

Familial Bantering

Welcome to my family:

It's Christmas Eve, so the phone calls have started pouring in. When you're in a family as big as mine, somebody has got to start early otherwise we're all going to end up on call waiting. Ladybug called first. I sent him a package full of goodies and he called to thank me for them. He sounds like he's having a good time, but he also sounds lonely.  

And then I remember - it's not his first year in the Marines, but it is the first year he's been away for Christmas. We spent an hour talking, laughing, the longest I've ever spoken with him on the phone, and hopefully he comes away from it feeling a little better. I've come away from it feeling a little more heartbroken. I didn't have the time to realize how much I miss him, but now that I've slowed down and we've spoken - I miss the boy who jokes with me in broken Russian and draws comics we plot out together and understands my jokes.

My other brother called tonight, "I heard you're going family-less this Christmas?" he jokes. His humor is dry and biting.

"That I am. I'm just too tired this year. I need a break. You get a break every year!" I accuse. He lives 20 hours away from our parents and his wife makes the trip more often than he does.

"Yeah, well, this year K's mom is coming over," I wince for him. "You at least getting laid? Spending it with a girlfriend?" I wince again.

"Fuck you, I'm working on it," I groan into the phone.

"K, she's in a woman mood! This is your problem!" I start to protest but he hands the phone to his giggling wife. I love K, and even though we're not blood-related, she was the first sibling I came out to.

"Hello? What's wrong with you?" she laughs.

"He's just being a jerk," I smile. "Wants to know if I'm getting laid for Christmas."

"Ah," she pauses. "So, do you have a girlfriend?"

"K! Seriously?!"

"Jeez, you're blushing, even through the phone! Tell me!"

"I don't have a girlfriend," I pout. "Leave me alone. Merry Grinch-mas, I hope your presents suck."

She laughs and calls to my brother, "Someone's got her in a twist!" I can hear him answer faintly in the background "Tell her to work it out! She needs to relax!"

"Goddamnit, I'm hanging up," I threaten.

"Wait! So, you don't have a girlfriend, but you obviously like someone, so what's the hold up?"

"I-" I'm frustrated and embarrassed and don't want to talk about this, but I also do because I feel like my heart is going to explode. "We're just talking," I say instead, and keep my deep, dark secret to myself.

"Oh, okay," she sounds disappointed. "You got kicked out of class every single day in high school, so I know you've got a back bone. Use it," she threatens good-naturedly.

"Noted. Merry Christmas, K. Love you. Tell the kids I'll Skype with them tomorrow." We hang up and my heart feels heavy. I want to confess. Want to write her an email, but I know how crazy it sounds. It sounds crazy to me!

I've been having dreams that I'm married. I imagine having the courage to tell her. I don't know who she is, or if it is psychological and just means that I'm finally ready for a real relationship again, but she's been plaguing me for months. My brain says "No, it's fake, find a real-life girl!" but my subconscious drags me back in, and amidst her laugh and her hands in my hair, I drown.

But I stare at my phone and the screen is black. All my courage is gone.

Crushing/Lesbissues

Crushing is hard for everybody, but I think crushing is especially hard for lesbians. I see this on Sasha's site over at CCL all the time, where girls are constantly asking for advice on how they know if another girl likes them back. Girls are damn flirty creatures. Myself included. I love to flirt. I flirt with girls, I flirt with boys, I flirt with babies and bunnies and unicorns and Albus Dumbledore. Okay? I'm a flirt.

But when it comes to crushing on someone? It's so hard. I practically clam up. My physical and mental ability to flirt dies and leaves me alone muttering something unintelligible about tamales, and I've got nothing intelligent or witty. I understand that the only way to figure out if a girl is a lesbian/interested in you is just to ask, but I'm afraid of the asking the silence that follows.

You know the one I mean - the two hours of your day that used to be filled with talking to her, that are now empty. The endless minutes, the sparks of thought and conversation that you want to share with that one person who you know will get it - but wait, it's radio silence from her end. Because those words, "I like you," "I'm attracted to you," "I'm crushing on you," "my feelings for you extend beyond a platonic friendship," all seem to spell sudden death for my friendships with girls. And rather than push for a relationship, I'd rather at least have someone to talk to.

Not that it ends that way every time. If I have a pretty clear signal I'll go for it, but most of the time I can't be the person who says it first. Because I'll be honest: I'm afraid I'm going to be left alone, pining, with an outstretched hand and an empty text message inbox, and I know I'm not the only one. So when there's two of us who feel this way about each other, who the hell plucks up the courage to make the first move, or are we just tunnel-o-love boats that pass in the night?

Note: lesbissues (lez-bee-issues) is my new favorite term. Put that right at the top with mo' homo.

Elise

I want to talk about last night's dream because it was lovely, hot, heart-wrenching, and weird. It's been a while since we've talked about dreams, so: I was living in this underground community which was divided into two factions of unrest, but not really fighting. I had been dating, and was totally in love with, this wonderful girl named Elise, and we went on a date to a place that was filled with giant gumball looking machines, but I think they were arcade games or slot machines. It was the go-to place in our community. Afterward, she took me back to meet her parents.

All throughout dinner, these huge spider things kept crawling toward my foot and were scaring me but Elise's father told me to lift my foot up and they would scuttle away, so I held my foot aloft and noticed there was a thick web attached to my shoe, but when it was held up they stayed away. I put my foot back down for a moment, and this giant (I'm talking foot-long) spider bit me.

Elise started freaking out and so did I because the spider had metal jaws and it hurt. Her dad started laughing about how I would pivot my whole world around Elise and it would be the thing that destroyed my faction. I realized he was part of the rebellion and the spider was a man-made metallic instrument, perhaps poisonous or explosive, but definitely bad. Elise started to fight, reaching for me, screaming at her father that she loved me and didn't want to spend her life apart from me. He held her back and threw me into another room.

There was an explosion. I woke up on the surface with hundreds of people around me, digging for Elise and the "lost family" that had been buried under some sort of freak accident or earthquake. I pounded on the ground, screaming for Elise, crying. Someone rubbed my back and I looked up to see Elise, smiling at me. She pulled me into a hug and I burrowed into her warmth.

"I don't want this to separate us," she told me. "I didn't know what he was going to do. I'm so sorry. I love you, I really, really love you," she pleaded, brushing away my tears. I nodded, heart in my throat, only glad she was alive. I swept her hair off her forehead and tried to memorize her face, still so worried she'd disappear.

"The machines!" someone cried in the distance. "All the buttons are loose and it's a code violation! They're going to take them all down!"

"Everyone, go! Turn them clockwise- to the right! We can fix it!" I shouted out directions. I knew Elise would be with me on this. Our reunion could come after. The machines were important to the happiness of our community, and they were special to us as well. I lost sight of her as we all ran amongst the machines, tightening, fixing. After a while the inspectors backed down. Everyone made their way back to the digging site, but I couldn't find Elise.

"We haven't brought anyone up yet," the foreman told me when I questioned him about her. "Haven't even broken through."

Had she come out through a secret tunnel? Had I been dreaming? Had anyone else seen her? 

Frantically, I began to dig.

Day 27 Hannah

30 Day Letter Challenge

Day 27 — The friendliest person you knew for only one day

These are getting so hard! Maybe it's because I slammed my head into a slab of concrete when I was a teenager, or maybe I've always been this way, but I don't have the best memory. I can remember every dream I've had since I was 8 with one trigger word, but people, places, events? Holy mother of Cheezits, how am I supposed to remember everybody I've met for one day?

I did go to see a Tegan and Sara concert a few years ago, and a friend let me stay with him and his grandmother. Her name was Hannah, she had been born in Scotland and was in her 80s. I brought her a pot of tulips as a hostess gift, pretty, yellow and capable of being planted outside just as easily as thrown out - rather than cut flowers, which die and have to be thrown away in a few days time.

She loved me. I barely saw her that night before the concert, but was up early the next morning and we talked for hours. She talked about what it was like to live in Scotland before they grew wheat, so she was forced to eat porridge as a girl and abhorred the stuff now. She cherished soft bread and refined flour.

She talked about what it was like to move with her husband to San Francisco in the 60s, watching the city bloom as her husband checked phone lines and she raised the children and learned to paint. She slipped in and out of time, weaving her tale with her Scottish brogue never diminished. She talked about how she'd love to paint the tulips, regal and strong and unbending, and how I seemed to understand her more than her own daughter, who brought flower arrangements spilling over with bushy leaves and baby's breath. She connected with me. And even if I never see her again, it was a few hours where she felt like she could tell her story to someone who cared, who would understand, and I loved being a part of that.

Musical Expression

I thrive on confrontation, but only with people I see often and know well. People who meet me tend to come away from our interaction thinking that I’m sweet, quiet, agreeable, and kind. I’m a shoo-in with families and old people. When I was 14, I dated a very Jewish boy whose overprotective mother didn’t want to meet me. One lunch later and she wanted us to get married and have tons of cashew babies.

I like when people like me (kill them with kindness), which is why I tend to present myself as vague and agreeable upon first meeting. It's why I don't tell people I'm gay right away. My point here? People are shocked when they find out that the sweet, quiet girl loves to listen to rock music. I like all sorts, but I stumbled onto rock a few years ago and was so struck by the “I'm going to say what I want to say and I don't care if you like it or not” attitude. Lately I've been listening to more and more rock, and maybe it's because I'm clamming up so much in daily life.

We’ll take Aranda’s Satisfied for example; this guy is talking about his bitchy ex and the main lyric is “I never wanna see you smile, and I never wanna see you satisfied. Are you satisfied?” I could never say this. I thought something like this for 30 seconds before I took it back because I know Karma would strike me down, and because generally I want people to be happy. But for a band to lay it all out there - that takes guts.

Rise Against has been stuck in my head for weeks on repeat, and if you've never heard of them, you should take a listen because they're very catchy. Savior just makes me want to dance and sing and create a mosh pit in my shower. Except that I don't really want a mosh pit in my shower and I don't want to be naked and have strangers slamming their bodies into me. I'm determined to see a strong, badass, female vocal and guitar cover of Rise Against on youtube, so I'm buckling down and learning the chord progressions.

But this one. This one just breaks my heart. Gaza and Israel's conflict is all over the news. I understand war, even if I don't like it. I come from a military family, watched my little brother enter the Marines, see the family troops band together to create, but have heard my dad's horror stories from Vietnam. Rise Against are brilliant songwriters and musicians. Listen to it all the way through, or look up the lyrics.

And then listen to this and remember that a song can make you want to dance and also have a theme and great lyrics. That sometimes music can say everything you want to say but trap inside.

Day 23 Kissing

30 Day Letter Challenge

Day 23 — The last person you kissed

There are different levels of kissing. There's the kiss your best friend's mom gives you because you're being great to her baby girl. There's the kiss a child gives you because you just lit up their whole world. There's the kiss your girlfriend gives you and you feel like you can't breathe because your mind is running so fast and you're feeling all the feelings. And there's the kiss that makes your heart click into your chest because you're in love and you've never felt so whole.

My best friend's mom kissed me goodbye when I was visiting them during election week, a nice motherly smack on the cheek which filled me with a warm tenderness. A small child refused to let go of me at work today, as she does every day, because her time with me is considered precious to her. I treat her with kindness, compassion, and respect and give her upset feelings the same consideration I would give an adult's instead of writing them off as a tantrum. Lots of hugs and occasional cheek kisses from that little one.

The redhead and I broke up a while back, so it's been some time since I've had a really great, passionate, all the feelings, kiss. I miss those. I love those. I love the adrenaline, the affection, the happiness, and the heart pounding and the swelling chest and the mile a minute thoughts and the pulse throbbing through my fingertips.

It's been longer since I've had an "oh, this is what it feels like to have my heart stop bleeding because the other half is finally back in my chest" type of kiss. The kind of kiss that can be so simple, so sweet, but so electric, so absolutely against every law of physics and biomechanics that it bends the universe to the lips of two people.

Thank goodness I've got my dreams, or I'd go crazy. I guess if all else fails I can just sit outside a Domino's Pizza and write erotica ;)  Did you miss that tweet? Don't worry, it was nothing special. :D

Update: She appeared again last night - the girl I don't know. But this felt more like an early dating phase in our relationship. We were biking down a trail near a large river, filled with people. We stopped to take in the view and she hugged me to her, my head on her chest as she stroked my hair and I traced my thumbs over the skin above her waistband. It was the happiest, the calmest I'd felt in a long time.

A sweet moment, soon interrupted by threats and grumbles from those around us. Uncomfortable and a little afraid, we began to walk until we came upon a precipice with the river far below, and on the other bank a Tegan and Sara concert was starting up. Happy to find an ally, we shouted their names until they noticed us and turned a spotlight on us.

They decided to play a game for our freedom, and two of their stagehands brought us microphones, declaring that we would sing two songs. Thinking they would be Tegan and Sara songs, we agreed, and she started first. It was an old song, and they had changed all the lyrics to make it funnier, but she stuck to the original (something about a "corvette built for two" and "how I love my boyfriend" that she sang to me and made me giggle). I could tell they were displeased. My alarm went off before we ever got to my song. It was a roller coaster of a dream, but all the ones with her in it leave a lingering happy feeling.

Day 22 Hearts on Platters

30 Day Letter Challenge

Day 22 — Someone you want to give a second chance to

Yikes, um, I'm a pretty decisive person when it comes to people. If I want to give someone a second chance, I already have, and if I don't - I haven't. If I change my mind and want to give them a second chance, I will, on the spot, no real thinking about it necessary.

I tend to give my heart away on a platter. If people want to use it, cherish it, destroy it, whatever, I've given it away and that's their prerogative.  I give people that choice, but I don't exactly background check the people I give it to. I don't go around making sure the people I meet are good people before I decide if I like them or not. I meet you, I like you, bam! we're friends. Or I meet you, I don't like you and bam! we're not friends.

Anything else and it takes me a lot longer. Ask me what I want for dinner and it'll take half an hour to decide. But people - that only takes half a second. It's a big flaw, I know, but it's a hard habit to drop when I've been doing it since I was 18 months old.

Day 21 Impressions

30 Day Letter Challenge

Day 21 — Someone you judged by their first impression

I'm not really one to judge on skin color, clothing style, piercings, or appearance in general. Looks can be decieving.

However, when I toured my college campus, I met another boy who was planning on attending. He was a few years older than me, short, stocky, beady eyes, with facial hair groomed intricately. I hadn't spoken with him but was so afraid of him. He had this weird vibe that just screamed "I'm going to rape you" and made me want to hide from him. Eventually, I discussed my uneasy feelings with another guy I had bonded with instantly, who laughed at me.

"What?! Cal? He's gay! Like, so gay!" Oh man, I was embarrassed. This guy I had percieved as a total threat was actually harmless. "I'll introduce you," my new friend proposed.

"Cal, this is Tabby."

"Oh, hey girl! We were in the same group this morning, right? I recognize you. I said my favorite song was Halo, by Beyonce. What was yours?"

"Um, I don't remember. I was nervous. Beyonce is good, though."

"Right? I love her music. Do you listen to Lenka? She's kind of quirky but I like it." He chattered on and made me feel totally at ease. He's definitely not a one trick pony (a stereotype) but he did go on to become one of my best friends. He's one of the nicest people on earth, loves to laugh, enjoys Disneyland as much as I do, worries about his family, is always down for pancakes, is never two faced, sings like no one's listening and dances like he's only got today left.

I'm so glad Omar introduced us, or I never would have gotten to know and become great friends with Cal. He's the person I've been most wrong about, the complete opposite of the vibe he was casting. I still follow my intuition a lot because it's gotten me out of a lot of scrapes, but I've learned it's not everything.

Day 19 Family

30 Day Letter Challenge

Day 19 — Someone that pesters your mind—good or bad

I'm going to ignore the word "pester" because it has a negative connotation and declares the "good or bad" irrelevant.

My family has been on my mind recently. My very vast, extensive family, and whenever I talk about them people always ask "Are you Mormon?" No, friends, my family is not Mormon - they're Catholics and Mennonites. If you're not real knowledgeable on the Christian scene, you'd say they are pretty much the same thing. They're not, but they do like to have lots of kids.

My family has had strange encounters with Christianity - my uncle was studying to be priest but left and refuses to go to church or talk about the faith, and my aunt used to be a nun, but is now married with lots of grandchildren and is still involved in her local church. When I came out, I had some people react well and some react poorly. A distant aunt or second cousin or something is also gay, but she was disowned, though I still get a Christmas letter from her and her partner.

Lately I've been having dreams of my extended family in the forms of videotapes. Like, I'm watching a home movie (that I've never seen in waking life) with scenes of me as a baby surrounded by this huge family, all laughing and talking and drinking and playing The Beatles and Johnny Cash on guitar. It's this din of tons of voices all mixing together, bottles clinking and children giggling, and the sleepy look everyone gets when a few guys take center stage, and their melodious voices and strings of angels lull the children into golden slumber on the notes of Gordon Lightfoot.

I think I miss them, I know I miss them, and the joy of being immersed in so many people. You don't have to talk much when 70 people all have something to say. You can just relax and enjoy it, feel the embrace of all these people who accept you, no matter what. We're not all blood, but we're all family, and the feeling of being connected to all of them, of standing in a room full of people and seeing a glowing thread from your heart to the hearts all around you, is so rare, something to be cherished.

Sometimes I talk too much, and I miss when I'm around them and can be silent.