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.

Safe Space

I use theater terms a lot - terms which have come to apply to all aspects of my life. "Safe space" is a favorite. A physical, mental, and emotional space free of judgement, filled with support and understanding and trust, where honestly is valued about all else. I think of this very much as my safe space.

Sacred space - a place to connect, to breathe, to become a part of something or someone bigger and you leave your personal crap at the door. You come in as a blank slate, ready to learn, to be open, to explore.

I have a sacred space that I enjoy visiting, a short hop, skip and jump from my front door where the sounds of running water and birds whistling take away everything I was ever worried about. It's here that I can curl my fists in the sand or dip my toes in the water and feel as if the earth is surging inside of me. It is here where I become grounded.

I haven't visited in over a month, since my two jobs became exhausting and I wasn't sleeping at all, so I was shocked to come upon my sacred space and find it violated.

Because I place such importance in this place, the attack felt awkwardly personal. Horrifyingly meant for me. On top of that, the ducks who usually swim to me and beg for bread at my fingertips swam upstream immediately at the tall, dark figure I presented on the bank. They were terrified of me.

I was upset. I was angry. I seriously wanted to yell at someone or stand as a watchdog with pepper spray and a slingshot. I understand that kids tag urban areas and I've seen some really cool, beautiful street art, but this is in the middle of nowhere, in the middle of nature. This was an ugly word for an ugly reason and I hated it with every fiber of my being.

But I'll go back. I'll get used to it. I'll take it back for myself and find a way to make it part of my place. If there's ever a kid with a can of spray paint down there, however, I may just slap him/her.

Orgasms/Twitter

For an account which started out so anonymously, you all know much about me. We've talked about this before, and recently. I spoke how I wanted to take some of that "anonymous" feeling back - feeling more bold, daring, fun.

I must admit, Twitter got the better of me tonight - has gotten the better of me over the last week or so - has had me posting like all those years ago when I was truly anonymous. And here we're going to get back to what I was posting about so long ago: Sex/Orgasms. Since I've come back to this blog, a few months ago, I've avoided the overtly sexual topics which I used to thrive on in the past.

For whatever reason, this week was bad. I mean constantly aching, edge of your seat, hair's breadth away from climaxing, bad. All week. I couldn't make it go away. I'd have an orgasm and the feeling would come back five minutes later. It was heaven the first day, hell the rest. It was distracting, it drove me crazy. My dreams were erotic, my every thought somehow twisted and turned because my body was so close. A hand on my hip could make me whimper, a look could make me tremble.

This week's stories on Rainbow Sprinkles were all driven by this week's dreams -by my constant state of whatever-it-was and you can tell. Well, not with Maroon just yet, but you wait and see ;) Finally, by some Christmas miracle, I was able to have a shaking, wrenching orgasm in the early morning hours and it eased. It was just my normal always-ready-for-sex and not the extremely-sensitive-going-crazy sensations. The peace lasted a few hours, and then I was back to watching porn Christmas afternoon and talking about my bedroom preferences on Twitter.

My sex drive has been higher than normal the past few days and Twitter took full advantage of that tonight. What started off as playful banter eased into sexual banter, actual productive sexual conversation (which I love!), flirting, and outrageous behavior on my part.

Am I embarrassed with my behavior? A little. I have to remind myself that twitter is not private and these people who feel like friends are actually virtual strangers (the term "catfished" comes to mind) but I also enjoy giving people the benefit of the doubt and they all seem very lesbian to me. Am I turned on? Yes. Because, let's be honest, I don't have a girlfriend right now, and talking about sex is beautiful and glorious and something I desperately need.

I'm not ashamed to talk about what I like or what I need. I'm not ashamed to talk about how I like to be touched or what turns me on. And hopefully you can find comfort, confidence, glory enough in your sexual self that you aren't ashamed either.

Day 29 Love/Fear

30 Day Letter Challenge

Day 29 — The person that you want tell everything to, but are too afraid to

First post from the new computer! Can I get a cheer?

Love and fear coincide more often than you might think. I'm afraid to disappoint my friends, my colleagues, my boss, my family, my girlfriends. I like when people like me, so much that you might call it a fatal flaw. So, when people set me on a pedestal, I try very hard to stay up there instead of letting myself tumble down.

 I have so many sides to my personality, like everyone does, but most only see two or three. I suppose that by reading my blog you see more of me. You see when I get pissed and want to fight, the moments where I break down and want to cry, my huge ego and my complete insecurities, my gangster moments, and my need to fix the world. You see how I want to believe there is good in everyone, how little I guard myself against people, and yet how I constantly guard myself by not letting anyone in.

I suppose I tell everything to you, like I would a diary, considering you're almost as quiet. I don't mind the lurking readers - I know what it's like to read and connect and feel like you're not alone and someone else is going through all this crap. It's why I started a blog in the first place. It's just interesting that you all across the interwebs, who have never met me, probably know me better than my best friends. In a way, that's horribly sad, but in another way, I guess it's to be expected.

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.

Disasters

This post has been in my head for days, but I haven't been able to piece it together. The only reason I can do so now is because I'm a procrastinator and avoiding something else.

When something like Sandy hits on the opposite side of the country, I feel useless. And it happens every few years, like with the Aurora massacre, Japan, Hurricane Katrina, the 2004 tsunami, 9/11 and the Oklahoma City bombings and all of these horrible things that happen in other places where I'm not and can't help.

I mean, I do what I can, I donate and try to be active and informed but it never feels like enough. I'm never doing enough. I didn't go to Haiti to rebuild houses, and I wasn't in the search and rescue after the tsunami in Japan. I'm not a firefighter or an EMT and I want to do more than take five seconds to donate and then live my happy little life where I try to make kids succeed in school and bask in the sunshine as long as it lasts. I'm living the California dream and it's times like these, when my countrymen are starving, trying to rebuild, have gone without power or clean water, that my life feels so gross.

It's almost like survivor's guilt. But what else can you do when you're not supposed to donate items; when you live on the other side of the world? I can't just pack up my life every time a disaster strikes, although I'd like to.

How do you help? How can I?

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.

Don't Touch

It's long, so if you want to skip to the end, the last three paragraphs are my favorite. I'll bold it for you :)

Recently I wrote about Sexual Objectification and this, that, and the why-fors of appreciating and abhorring it. Whenever I write a post the subject seems to stick in my head for a time, and then suddenly life seems to revolve around it.

All week I have been hyper-aware of my personal space. While I like my physical traits to be appreciated, I don't enjoy being touched by people I don't know well. Handshakes, hugs, and pats on the back are fine, but lingering contact with strangers/brief acquaintances unnerves me.

Whenever I know someone will be touching me in a professional context (masseuse, chiropractor, doctor, gym trainer, etc) I shower and shave in the few hours before I go. Feeling fresh, wet, and clean is very important in those meetings. It makes me feel like I'm courteous and hygienic, and helps reassure me that particular setting will be strictly professional.

Whether this is normal behavior or this is because I have had problems with molestation in the past (ex-boyfriend and prior) is somewhat irrelevant considering I don't find the behavior harmful.  I don't go ballistic if I can't shower in the hour before I have to go to the doctor- it's just a general guideline. Although I wonder how many other people do the same thing.

When I'm with friends, family, and romantic partners, touching is wonderful- warm embraces, lingering brushes, harsh hits, surprising grabs. I'm not on the defensive when I know who is around me and all sorts of touching is great.

So, when I was at the gym the other day, my trainer (who is a woman because, yeah, I admit I'm just more comfortable with that) called over the big-boss-man to ask for help working out this jumping muscle issue I was having. He put his hand full on my pelvis between my hipbones (God, his hand was large, like a baseball mitt) and it felt far too close to my vulva, even though it probably wasn't.

He was just measuring something because he calculated a few things and moved his hand around, and then he pressed into a particular spot on my upper thigh. Wouldn't you know, the tiny muscle in my lower leg stopped twitching immediately! That part was kind of cool.  However, the fact that this guy that I didn't really know (I had talked to him a few times before and he seemed nice) was all up in my private business kind of freaked me out.

It reminded me of my first year in college, before I came out, when girls would grab at my boobs or other body parts at parties. There was one girl who would constantly sit on my lap and slip her bra off underneath her tank while hovering her breasts in front of my face (at multiple parties) all as an act to get guys to pay attention to her. (I didn't mind her so much as she never groped me, just sort of got into my personal space) There was this unspoken rule that we were all girls and our bodies were all communal property. If it enticed a guy into a bedroom for one of them it was even better.  But gay or not, it's not any more okay for a random girl to grope me than it is for a guy. If I don't like you, if I don't know you, it's an unwanted advance.
 
Sometimes I can meet a person and get comfortable with him/her/z in less than five minutes.  Other times it takes weeks, months, years, and occasionally I never get comfortable with that person.  Some people have a vibe that I can never quite get over. Some strangers never feel like strangers, and some people I've known my whole life still give me the creeps.

The point is: my breasts, my body, is my property, and the ability to touch it is not a right you are entitled to, it's a permission I give you. It's a trust I bestow you with.

Don't abuse it.

Sexual Objectification: Part 1

I like to be sexually objectified.  Except that I don't.  Not in what that term really means.  Have you ever looked it up?

Objectification: depersonalization - representing a human being as a physical thing deprived of personal qualities or individuality;

I even found this from a Stanford article:

Objectification is a notion central to feminist theory. It can be roughly defined as the seeing and/or treating a person, usually a woman, as an object. In this entry, the focus is primarily on sexual objectification, objectification occurring in the sexual realm. Martha Nussbaum (1995, 257) has identified seven features that are involved in the idea of treating a person as an object:

1. instrumentality: the treatment of a person as a tool for the objectifier's purposes;
2. denial of autonomy: the treatment of a person as lacking in autonomy and self-determination;
3. inertness: the treatment of a person as lacking in agency, and perhaps also in activity;
4. fungibility: the treatment of a person as interchangeable with other objects;
5. violability: the treatment of a person as lacking in boundary-integrity;
6. ownership: the treatment of a person as something that is owned by another (can be bought or sold);
7. denial of subjectivity: the treatment of a person as something whose experiences and feelings (if any) need not be taken into account.

Rae Langton (2009, 228–229) has added three more features to Nussbaum's list:

8. reduction to body: the treatment of a person as identified with their body, or body parts;
9. reduction to appearance: the treatment of a person primarily in terms of how they look, or how they appear to the senses;
10. silencing: the treatment of a person as if they are silent, lacking the capacity to speak.

The whole article is interesting but it is seriously confusing, derogatory, against pornography, and hard to fit into the lesbian dynamic- especially with how femmes feel about their bodies, their gender, and their sexuality.

Point being: I don't like the depersonalization aspect of objectification.  I love that I am an intelligent, opinionated, respectful, witty woman.  I love when people recognize those qualities in me, and I don't want those qualities to be lost or pushed aside so I am viewed purely as an object to be used for sexual gratification.  I refuse to be treated "as if I lack the capacity to speak."

But I do want those wonderful qualities of mine to step into the background occasionally.  I find it thrilling, arousing, to have all thoughts of how sweet or smart I am fly out the window because of an all consuming sexual desire.  Perhaps this is because I have always felt pretty, not sexy.  Perhaps it is because I have always felt body conscious.  But there is something about when someone turns to me with that heat in the eyes that makes me tingle all over.

Even when I'm not attracted to that person, I'll find myself doing little things to keep up the crush.  I'll dress nicer, keep up my makeup, make an effort.  My smiles are a little slower, my eyes a little warmer, my blouse a little more low cut.

Is it teasing?  Is it wrong?  Am I not supposed to do it? I've never really seen the problem in looking my best.  As long as I'm not flirting I don't feel like I'm leading anyone on.  I'm careful to not give the wrong impression, careful to not say anything that would be interpreted as interested in a date, but I'm a flirtatious person by normally, so I have to cut back and I can't say I've never accidentally slipped.  What do you think?  Is the body language too much?  Am I being unfair to the other person?

Am I, in turn, objectifying/using someone else as he/she/z sexualizes me, in order to boost my own self esteem?  Do you think this is a better or worse form of objectification?  Do you enjoy when your body is sexualized by strangers, acquaintances, your partner?  Or do you prefer that your mental attributes be your sexiest qualities?

Day 6: Stranger

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

Dear Stranger,

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Train/ Part 2

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

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

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

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

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

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

Train/Part 1

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

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

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

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

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

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