Traveling

Tonight I'm packing. One of my brothers lives in Nevada, and as I wasn't able to see him for Christmas, his, his wife's, or his 3 kids' birthdays, all which fall in November and December, we are meeting up at the Happiest Place on Earth. That's right kids, I'm ditching you for Disneyland!

It's been a while since I've been there during the holidays - the last time I was there was before my best friend had surgery. She, ever more chic than I, likes to pretend that I'm her life size barbie and dresses us in matching outfits whenever we go. We took a tour of the park last time and no one was quite sure if we were twins or dating - It was neither! (Though this time I'm bringing along my So Gay necklace thanks Sasha! so that will be an interesting experience!)

The brother I'm visiting proposed to his wife in Disneyland on Christmas day x years ago, during the "snowfall" portion of the fireworks show, maybe the one romantic gesture he's ever made in his life. I'm sure we'll be spending lots of time trading off his one year old and fighting over who gets to go on Star Tours :)


I received a pretty, pretty teal stylus for my iPhone as a Christmas gift, and have since then been partaking in drawing random pictures which take anywhere from 2-10 minutes and posting them on Twitter. I have no real artistic talent, but it's pretty fun to doodle. In sticking with this post's theme I drew Winnie The Pooh :) I'm not a huge fan of Winnie the Pooh, but my drawing of Dumbo looks awful, so, "nice work if you can get it!" Also, these are what I've posted on Twitter over the past week. I'm having a good time with them :) Happy New Year! See you soon!

Carding

I love seeing the fam and old friends from high school and college years, going out for drinks, gambling, pool, bowling, and all that fun stuff. What's not fun, and I'm not sure if I've talked about this here before or not, is how short and sweet I am. I have a seriously sweet face, and it gets me carded all the time. I went out a few weeks ago with friends and the bar came up to my collar bone. I felt like a six year old. When I requested a Shirley Temple because I had to drive a long, curvy, country road home, the bartender actually said "Thank God."

I get carded when I want to buy lottery tickets, I've been pulled off casino floors and gotten my hand stamped to enter (did you even know they did that at casinos because they do), I've had to pull out credit cards to prove my ID isn't fake. I'd like to say it's flattering. What girl in her mid-twenties wants people to think she's forty? But seriously, yo, stop thinking I'm under 18. It's not cool.

I've learned certain things over the years: when I wear my hair in a braid, it takes off 2 years, add glasses and it knocks off another 2 or 3, pair it with skinny jeans and some converse and I'm a high school kid. But even busting out the boobs and throwing on high heels doesn't seem to help with the carding dilemma. What else can I do? Paint my face in clown makeup?

Tonight was fun, nonetheless. I had a good time catching up with people I've missed. It's always a little awkward around high school friends because they knew me as a completely different person. They knew "pre-gay, baby wanting, Mormon marrying, Tabby" and don't know what to do with the "out, single, comfortable, happy with her life and her sexuality so I don't-need-to-discuss-it-every-second Tabby."

Whenever my sexuality comes up in conversation, people think it's okay to ask for details about my sex life. "Do you do this? Is scissoring a real thing? I've always wanted to have sex with another girl but I don't want to taste it." I don't find out somebody's straight and say "Hey, do you like the taste of his sperm and let him do crazy shit like sign you up for gangbangs?" No, I don't, because I have manners. I'm going off on a tangent. I promise I'll do a whole other post on that topic. For now I'm just trying to deal with the carding sitch.

Also, I've been updating the first:girl series, so if you haven't signed up, email me or leave me a comment with your email and I'll send you the password.

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.

26 Pinky Promise

30 Day Letter Challenge

Day 26 — The last person you made a pinky promise to

I made a girl pinky promise to do her English homework the other night, but I wasn't promising anything.

I promised someone that we'd die together. I think I was eight or nine at the time, and I couldn't imagine living alone. A car accident, we decided, so that we couldn't grow old and die in a hospital room that smelled like bleach and hurt our ears with high pitched machines humming.

I pinky swore to my childhood best friend that we'd be best friends forever. I promised Ladybug we'd never lie to each other. I pinky promised my grandfather that if he stopped smoking I'd clean up the shop, every day. She moved away, I've never outright told Ladybug I'm gay (I'm terrified), and my grandfather quit smoking for the rest of his life but I only kept my promise for a few months.

I think I do better when I don't involve pinkies.

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 16 Driving Lessons

30 Day Letter Challenge
Day 16 — Someone that’s not in your state/country

This one is boring and vague so I'm boycotting. I know I'm technically off by one day, but I'll try to post later "today" to make it up. The reason I'm off is because I went to go visit the BFF! The drive takes many hours (as all drives do in California) which prompted the real idea for this post.

How to Drive Like a Californian - a humorous but not entirely advisable take from an actual Californian's point of view.
I take no responsibility for anyone who actually follows this post as real driving guidelines.

1. Whatever the speed limit is on a freeway, that's not what you're supposed to be going. The courtesy is 4-8 miles over. Any more than that and you're dangerous and attract attention, any less than that and you're holding the rest of us up, babe.

2. Right turn on red. If you sit there through an entire red light and you have an opening to turn and don't take it, someone behind you will honk and it will scare the hell out of you and you will spill coffee all over your nice shirt and your day will suck. If you get this rule down, CA drivers will love you.

3. Some of our more rural freeways and roads require you to play chicken with oncoming traffic in order to pass. This is legal only when the center line is dotted. I'm very good at this game - the goal is to pass the car in front of you without crashing. Play it safe.

4. Don't buy a jeep. People in jeeps can't remember how to get out of the fast lane when they are going slower than the person coming up behind them. Remember how to get out of the fast lane when other people are faster than you. The fast lane is the left one.

5. If you're having a time accelerating to the appropriate 77 mph on a 70 mph freeway, turn off the overdrive on your automatic transmission vehicle. If you're in a manual, learn how to drive stick better.

6. When a cop pulls out behind you, do not go five-ten miles under the speed limit. You will just piss the nice copper off, bottleneck traffic, and then get pulled over and questioned for being old/stoned/illegal. You don't want any of that.

7. Ask people nicely, aloud, to move out of your way and they probably will. If they don't, then it's okay to mutter bad things. But remember, if you start with negative carma, the only person negatively affected is you.

8. If it rains, freak out like the world is ending. Once you can do this you will be a true California driver. 

:)

Visits

As you may know, I've been visiting with my best friend who is very liberal, socially progressive, tolerant - the first person who told me it was okay when I came out. And she's not voting Obama. In fact, she's not voting at all.

I already voted and I believe it's a secret ballot and I'm not going to tell you in detail what I did and didn't vote for, but it's pretty obvious I'm pro-Obama and at the very least anti-Romney and completely terrified of what will happen if he becomes the president. So, urging people to vote on the candidate of their choice has been fairly important to me. I never talked to her about it, never pushed her because she is so smart and I just assumed it was a no brainer. Of course if you're an informed citizen you would vote, right?

Apparently, wrong. It's hard for me to comprehend. Especially since so many of the people I follow on twitter are zealous about voting and knowing the issues. Social media caused me to be very well informed as I cast my ballot this year. I just can't believe that bright, informed people in demographics where rights and privileges are at stake would sit this one out.

Day 14 Drifting

30 Day Letter Challenge

Day 14 — Someone you’ve drifted away from

When I was two years old, my best friend moved into the house next door. She was the coolest kid around. She would beat up the mean boy down the street for me. We would sled down the muddy hill, watch Xena and Hercules after school (you know, with Lucy Lawless and Kevin Sorbo), spend all day in the back room with jolly ranchers and a Tremors marathon (so many Kevin Bacon jokes), or start up our own Jedi training academy.

She had a little sister too, and she's who I would play barbies or dress up with, but most of the time I was outside rock climbing with my best friend. We lived right next to the river, and would swim for miles up or down stream.

Anyway, she was a badass. But two weeks after she graduated from high school, she eloped and moved away. Not that I really minded, I mean, it sucked that she never told me what was going on or included me in the whole shebang, but she was always a private person when it came to feelings, so I wasn't really that hurt. Even so, I still had two more years of high school to go, so while she moved on and away, I was stuck doing the same old thing, except without her.

We talk online sometimes, send each other cards. I see pictures of her kids occasionally, but I've never met them. I thought I was going to be more involved in her life, but now I hardly know anything about the person she's become. If she ever needs me, I'm there. Until then, we're just drifting.

Day 12 Sunshine

30 Day Letter Challenge

Day 12 — The person you hate most/caused you a lot of pain

I don't really hate anyone. When I'm in pain it's a momentary thing. It hurts and then I learn from it, I grow, I become a better or worse person and how it changes me is up to me, and only me.

It's hard to be negative, to think about the past and people who have caused me pain, when my day is so bright. When my sheets remind me of a tropical, white sand beach; when the sun shines through my window and the aqua color is reflected in muted patterns on my walls. When I am warm under the rays of the sun, and it erases the chill lingering in my toes and seeps heat into my bones. When I can lay on the concrete and feel the rough, hot surface beneath my cheek.

I love days when I don't have to work :) and I get to see the best friend. Can't tell you how excited I am for this!

Also, have you voted? Go! Do!

Day 10 Friends

30 Day Letter Challenge

Day 10 — Someone you don’t talk to as much as you’d like to

This is farther than I got last time, so go me!

Dear Adam,

I miss you. That might be my most honest sentence in this whole letter. It used to be that you needed me, or I needed you, and that need kept us close. But now you're engaged (congrats! I love her! Can I just take a minute to boast that if I hadn't made you fully aware of how much whats-her-face sucked you never would have met your beautiful, amazing, talented future wife? Chalk one up for me) and I'm doing well, and we don't need to talk like we used to, so we don't.

It's interesting that in all the years we've been friends, we've never gone out for pizza, or hung out at your house or mine, or gone to the movies. We don't spend time together unless we're ducking out of a religious activity, out walking or sitting at some park talking about our issues! You have to realize how weird that is, right?

Anyway, I've known you my whole life and just because our lives don't suck anymore (relatively) doesn't mean I want you to exit stage left. Who else is going to help me find the little dipper? Who else would talk me out of dying my hair yellow? You're important and I like having you around. Plus, my life is going to suck eventually and no one knows me better or can get me to talk better than you do (including best friend from Day 1 with whom I have a hard time communicating). You make me say what I feel. You don't assume and let things slide and let me avoid and I love that about our friendship.

Thanks for being there,

-

Day 8 Redux kcnightfire

30 Day Letter Challenge

Day 8 — Your favorite internet friend

I'm going to direct this to kcnightfire, considering she comments on my blog more than anyone else lately. Go check out her blog!

Admittedly, I probably have really bad taste in art. I dated someone with a Salvador Dali in her living room but the beauty of it was totally lost on me. What does a pig in a tree have to do with Alice in Wonderland? I guess I should probably read the story and not base my opinion off the Disney movie :D But, if you asked me to name the most wonderful painter of all time I would say Vincent van Gogh. Starry Night has to be one of my favorites, but the other? I love his entire Wheat Fields series- not so much the haystacks or the reaper and sower, but the Plain at Auvers, Harvest in Provence, Wheat Field with Cypresses.

They all bring me comfort, fill me with wonder. When I look at any of his paintings, it's like looking in a window, except the world inside is richer and more beautiful than the one around me. They make me wish I could see the world the way he must have, and they all remind me of home. Sounds weird, I know, considering he lived thousands of miles away, but if you stood on a hilltop across the river from my house, you would see his environment. Everything he knew, down to the windmills and gold fields, the sky so blue, the clouds bright and crisp, all rippling through my backyard.

I don't have any talent in the painting arena - I've tried. I took exactly one art class in high school and realized I can draw a pretty decent duck and paint a sunset well enough that you'll figure out what it is eventually :) I also took ceramics for a semester before I failed out because I was too much of a perfectionist to get anything in on time. I can pick apart a sonnet and discover the undertones and symbolism in a heartbeat, but interpreting art is so different. I love reading your posts about certain pieces and galleries because I'm so in the dark about most of it and it's kind of like you're handing me a flashlight.

I love reading your blog. We must have some similarities in our thought process because it's easy to follow where you lead. You're smart, informative, funny, and dnt spel lke thIs. All things I enjoy in a blog :)

I could say this is a day late going up because I was asleep/hallucinating all day from my spider bite yesterday, which is half true, but also because I was avoiding this letter, the other half truth. This letter series isn't really meant to be read by the people they're addressed to, so I wanted to share something where you wouldn't be obligated to write back - I didn't want to drag you into it.

Sorry I'm such an-!

-Avoider

Ouch

My fingers are a little swollen too, but you can definitely see my knuckles aren't supposed to be that size

I think this must be what it feels like to get in a bar fight. I'm not exactly sure what I did last night, but I definitely didn't punch anything. However, when I woke up this morning, my knuckles were swollen, red, and raw and all the bones in my hand are throbbing. There is one small mark next to the first knuckle on my index finger.

From the swelling, the confusion, and all the weird dreams I had last night where I died, I'm a little worried this is a spider bite. Like, a really bad spider bite. We've got a lot of deadlies here (the scorpions seem to have disappeared over time, but those used to crawl in every so often), so it's possible that when I was moving stuff, cleaning stuff, and up in the rafters, something might have gotten me. I've never been bitten by one of the baddies before, so if this is what it feels like, it hurts like a bitch.

As for Sandy, all my friends in Harlem and Astoria still have power, and my family in Boston is hanging in there. They had a rough time with the river behind their house, but no real damage, and they're gonna be okay. So glad my old roommate left NY last month to tour. During Irene I was yanking my hair out worrying about her, and this time she was safely on this side of the Rockies. Thank God for the nomadic nature of musical theater.

Day 6 Redux Stranger

30 Day Letter Challenge

Day 6- A Stranger.

Dear Stranger,

We don't know each other, but if we did - if we met on a bus at 2 am and poured out our hearts, whether you are 8 or 80, we would relate. I could probably love you if I met you. That's just who I am. There's a part of you that would love me as well, but as to what kind of love and how much- that's unique to us. To you and me and how we fit. I think it's hard not to find one thing to love about each person, even in someone you've only just met, or passed by on the street.

I'll probably remind you of someone you already know, and yet I'll be completely different, and it'll be the same for me. In a world of seven billion people, it's amazing how no two are ever exactly the same.

Maybe I'll hate some part of you, as it's easy to do. It could be easy for me to be jealous of an ex-lover's new relationships, easy to feel as if you've been handed the world on a platter, or easy to feel betrayed by your lack of interest in the world around you. Mostly, I have issues with intolerance. If I see any of those qualities, I'll try not to hold any of that against you :) I try to see the heart lighter than the feather in those around me, whether Anubis would agree with my judgement or not.

I would try to cherish you, and hope you could do the same for me. I don't require gifts or constant attention and affection, just a thought now and then. A gift could never compare to a shared laugh or a conversation on the rocks in the river, or to a glance and warm smile when the clock reaches 1:23 and the words don't have to be spoken because we both understand.

I hope you find someone to sit with, someone who makes you feel warm, happy, and bright.

Thinking of you,

 -Stranger

It's a bit boring, I know, sorry. Just in case you're interested, here's the 2010 version. I didn't read it before I wrote this one, but I did read it after and it was interesting for me to see how I've changed and stayed the same.

Day 2 Redux Dream Girl

30 Day letter Challenge Redux

Day 2 — Your Crush

Ohhh man. I have so many kinds of crushes. How about a little something different?

I've never been a dreaming kind of girl. My sleeping history has been riddled with mostly nightmares, not dreams, so when I met you, dear friend, what a surprise that my nightmares paused. My normal ratio is something like 3:1 in favor of nightmares, but for weeks it seems to have reversed.

Even in my happy dreams, I've never dreamed of a relationship with someone in future tense. I've never had a sleeping dream where my partner and I were happily together ten years down the road. For someone who has feared commitment most of my life, I am now dreaming of you in the most interesting of ways - introducing you to friends as my wife, watching as you stand up for me against an old adversary. These dreams are not sexual in nature but imply a deeper bond, a trusting, warm link that makes me feel safe and comforted - things which are hard for me to feel during my waking hours.

The fact that I barely know you makes this even more interesting. I hardly know anything about you, and yet, in my dream you become my everything: my fierce guardian and protector, my giggling companion, the person smiling and pushing hair out of my face as we linger in the quiet kitchen of a social gathering.

Who are you, and why do you make me feel so safe? Is it a psychology thing? Have I become more accepting of love and kindness, more willing to lean on someone else, and this is being personified through you?

Now when I wake I still feel distress, but only because I wish I could fall back into slumber with you.

-

Day 1- Redux BFF

I started the 30 Day Letter Challenge two years ago and never completed it. This bugs me- a lot.

So I'm starting over- I mean, it's been two years. Should I link to the letters I wrote in 2010? I will for this one because you can't answer me before I post this...

Day 1- Your Best Friend

Luckily, my best friend hasn't changed :)

Two years and it's been you and me, babe, through thick and thin. 2011 seemed like the time of our lives :) I got over a lot of stuff, you dumped your jerk boyfriend, and we just spent time together, having fun, being ourselves, learning, growing, laughing.

I love that we can go days, weeks, months, not saying one word, and then I can text you a picture of the most random thing in the world and all of the sudden we are on the same wavelength again. You know exactly what I'm thinking, what I'm trying to say and you say it better than me.

Our relationship works out so well because every time I say "I really miss you," you know I'm saying I love you, and every time I say, "I could so go for one of your homemade cupcakes!" you know I mean everything is falling apart and I wish you were here so I could talk to you. 

Because I don't talk. I'm a failure when it comes to communicating (Remember Avoidance?) I try and I try to work on it, but sometimes things eat at me from the inside out and I can't share them with anyone, even you. But when we talk about how upsetting the last episode of "Grey's Anatomy" was, you know that I'm spilling my guts about everything I just can't say.


I'll never tell you all this, chica, but I don't need to. You already know it.

-Tabs

Consequences

Okay- so back to that part where I was dead. Want a recap? Go here.

After the nothing, I remember something around my waist, dragging me down, choking me.  I couldn't breathe.  I threw back by head and a sharp pain lanced through me, but the thing let go and I propelled myself to the surface.  I broke through, gasping, coughing, crying.  Oh, god, my head hurt.

My best friend came up behind me, clutching her cheek. I had launched my head straight back into her face. I wanted to say I was sorry, but I still couldn't breath, couldn't think. My vision was blurry and I felt like I was going to vomit.

The two pulled me out of the water and I tucked into a ball and tried to breathe.  Crying made it hurt worse, so I tried to stop.  I think they were talking about calling 911.  "No," I objected, "my mom will be so mad," because getting in trouble was so important right now. But we were trespassing, and they were good kids, so we all tossed out the idea of emergency services.

"Did you hit your head? What happened? We didn't hear you come up for like ever but you can hold your breath so long that we didn't know anything was wrong for sure..." I could tell she felt guilty under her valley girl accent.

"I can't remember," and at that point in time, I couldn't. I remembered diving in and then waking up, floating above the floor of the pool with her arms wrapped around me.

"My mom's a nurse. She'll know what to do," so they half carried me to her car and I curled wetly into the back seat, sobbing quietly like Harry Potter clutching at his scar.

I'm sure we didn't tell her mom the whole story. If we had, there is no way she would have put a bag of frozen peas on my head and told me not to fall asleep. I had been underwater for more than a few minutes. There could have been serious brain damage.

I had hit the bottom of the pool hard enough that there was no bruise. When the blood vessels broke, all the blood had been squeezed out of the area into my scalp (yeah, found that out later) and left the area of impact bone white. Luckily, that made it easy to cover with make up. I never told anyone about that night, not even Ladybug, because I was pretty sure he couldn't be trusted not to tell anyone.

A few weeks later, my friends decided I should get over it. I had gained an aversion to the pool (I almost drowned, you guys) and they wanted to see the old me restored. They brought our boards to a special section of the beach where the waves crest higher because of the rocky shoreline. It's a secluded area, and it requires scaling down the side of a small, shale cliff to get into the cove. I shimmied down the rope and we made our way out into the water. The waves were maybe three or four feet. I made my way out cautiously, smacking a huge piece of bubblicious to keep the extreme taste of salt out of my mouth.

I took one wave and started to relax. The sets got closer together, making it hard to get past them into open water. I made my way back out and grabbed another wave. I lost control and was pinned against a huge rock near the cove.

The waves battered me as I tried to keep coming up for air. I panicked. I started to remember hitting my head in the pool.  I remembered hands around my waist, fire in my lungs-in my panic I couldn't remember what to do or how to get away from the rock, the waves, the current. One of the guys grabbed me, pulled me behind the rock, and towed me to shore. I gagged on saltwater and fear. I lost my board somewhere in the undertow but I didn't even care. I never wanted to go in the water again.

A scan later showed that I had fractured my skull in two places during my shallow dive. Twice since, I've felt the blow of hitting the bottom of the pool. I've gone to the ER both times. Now I can pay attention to the signs and take the right medication to hopefully prevent it from happening again. The doctor says that it's my nerves reliving the moment of impact-I say it's dying, over and over and over again.

This summer I was comfortable with spending a lot of my time swimming in the ocean. I was able to remember why I love it so much, but I still can't bring myself to dive. The sound of bubbles rushing near my head is the most terrifying sound in the world. The thing I most loved is the thing I now fear most.

These are the consequences of my arrogance. 

It would make a great story. Too bad I'm not Greek.

Hubris

When I was a kid, my cousin/ basically my brother (from this point on be under codename: Ladybug-don’t worry, it’s a loving nickname) and I were enrolled in swimming lessons. I began when I was four or five and he started a few years after when he reached that same age. I would take the earlier, advanced class and he would take the younger class right after mine, so we were around to watch each other.

The classes were held in our outdoor community pool, which was absolutely freezing so early in the morning. For whatever reason I can't feel the cold. By the time the car pulled into the parking lot I always had my jacket off, shoes in hand, ready to jump in the pool, and when my lesson was over I refused to come out.  

Ladybug, like most other kids, had a much more difficult time. He would shiver and shake and most days he would beg to climb out early, wrapped in a thick towel as his teeth chattered, while I would eagerly ask if I could take his spot and jump back in.

I excelled in swimming, could hold my breath for two pool lengths or dive off the diving board and forget to come up until a worried instructor feared I was drowning and pull me out. (That tended to make them mad) I thought diving was the most wonderful feeling in the world and I practiced all the time.

Since I grew up right next to the ocean, when I wasn’t in the pool I was at this crap strip of beach ten minutes from my house. The waves were never very big unless there was a storm coming in, and each crest was filled with kelp and/or seaweed that tangled its slimy way across every inch of skin. I didn’t enjoy the shore much, but once I got past the breakers I loved the freedom of being able to swim in the (very cold) water when the pool wasn't open for summer.

I swam all year round, and because I can't feel the cold, one stormy January day I stayed in for more than 3 1/2 hours without a wetsuit and almost came out with hypothermia. It took several piping hot showers on the beach before my skin turned pink and I could uncurl my hands. But I was fine, a teenager, invincible. I didn't let it bother me.

It was this excellence, this confidence, this arrogance, which would be my undoing.

I was 16 and "pool hopping" with two of my friends. They were both 17 and enjoying the freedom of legally being able to drive friends after dark. We were in the spa of a very fancy hotel for only a few minutes before I left them. I could never take the heat for long, and preferred the cold water of the pool a few yards away.

The deepest section was only five feet, but I was 5'1" at the time and had been in this pool many times before. Shallow diving was my specialty. I dove in off the side- once, twice, six times. The rush of bubbles along my cheeks was thrilling, the ice water refreshing against my skin. It was a cold night and the stars were especially bright overhead. My breath puffed into the air as I climbed up the ladder.

I dove again, casually, carelessly, no longer thinking or making an effort. I'd done it a thousand times before. I cut through the water, too quickly, too steep, and couldn't stop myself. The bubbles rushed by my ears and I tried to arch my back. I couldn't pull up. The angle was all wrong. A tremendous pain lanced through my head, my neck, my spine-a pain so intense I could never have imagined anything like it.

And then there was nothing.

Lez Get Real

Okay, I want to talk about something that I'm not sure many people talk about, mostly because it's a little uncomfortable.

Do you go the restroom in groups?

Seriously.  The whole taking-other-people-with-me-to-pee thing is sometimes necessary to avoid becoming a social outcast, but I have never felt comfortable with it.  The whole idea of someone being able to hear every move I make in a stall half an inch from someone else is a little creepy.

When I was ten my best friend liked to come into the bathroom with me (like the ones in our houses) and would fiddle around in front of the mirror while I tried my hardest to ignore the fact that she was there and simultaneously keep her talking so she couldn't hear me pee.

Those were some of the most uncomfortable moments of my life.  But I loved her in the way only best friends can (the sleep in the same bed for three weeks straight, borrow clothes so you wouldn't have to go home, and cry when your parents ripped you apart after a month and forced you to sleep alone in your own bed type of love) so I let her do whatever she wanted.

However, I still get bladder shy when I feel like someone is listening in.  Is this normal?  Men's public restrooms have urinals, no stalls necessary!  They just whip it out like "whatever" and it's fine, but if I feel like someone is within 30 feet all urge to pee just dissipates.

So lately whenever I visit my mom, I've noticed she'll linger outside the door of the bathroom when I'm inside.  She'll answer a text message or write a note or talk to herself or god-knows-what else, but I feel like I'm on Vomit Watch 2012.

Never mind that I've never enjoyed throwing up and my issues with anorexia are totally different than bulimia, but I feel as if she's purposefully keeping an ear out for me.  Which, naturally, makes it hard to find time to pee!  I don't care if she's my mother, I still have this weird aversion.

Am I nuts?  Is she really just there by chance?  Is she coming from a good and helpful place? (I don't doubt this one at all.)

More importantly, do you feel this way?  Or do you invite your friends into the bathroom with you and one person straightens her hair while you pee?  It's not about being naked.  I don't care if friends are in the room while I shower- it's the privacy of the act that I wish to keep intact.

P.S. Someone explain full parameters of NSFW- is it only sexual, or is it stuff like this?  Because I'm never sure but I thought I should give fair warning if you don't want your boss to know you're reading about some girl's insecurities about being in the restroom with other people.