It's really funny that the scene from "Sound of Music" that usually sticks in my head is the one where Julie Andrews is comforting the Von Trapp brood with a listing of a few of her favorite things. This confounds me first of all because I don't like musicals really and also the movie has Nazis and escape over the Alps which should be much more memorable. In any case this scene is the one that always pops up, seemingly for no reason.
I realize I've been in a bit of a funk this week. I can't quite place it, but since most of what happens to us is perspective, I thought I'd try and brighten mine. Blow the stink off so to speak. So, for today, I'll set aside my sturdy and well-worn soap box of semi-self righteous indignation and just write about a few things that make me more human, which i can't stand. I'm sure I'll regret this later...
I love the sunshine. Spring and summer have to be my two favorite seasons. I always marvel that for all the damage the sun can do, how comforting I find it that it still rises every morning. I don't care how awful you feel, I'm pretty sure that the first time you feel the sun on your skin when you step outside is a soothing moment. At first touch it's warm, soft, comfortable. A friend's touch almost. I like to think it's the smile of God.
Second to the sun is wind. Not the devestating wind of a tornado or the gust that leaves your hair a mess, but a nice sift breeze. For me that's God cupping my chin, looking me in the face and telling me he's glad I woke up this morning, even if I might fuck it up later, at least for that one moment, the air current swirling around my face, through my hair and rippling across my nose and eyes, I know there is a higher power.
Early morning, just before dawn and right after sunup is my favorite time of day. Unless something extraordinary happens I'm normally awake at this time. It's easy to imagine poised somewhere in the light and shadow, wrapped in pinks and yellows and deep soft purples that this is what the birth of the world looked like. No matter what has happend or will happen, there always will be a chance to start over.
I love coffee, any time, any place. Not only is it a legal drug that has no consumption warning on the outside, but I think, it's the ultimate facilitor and I like nothing more than being able to sit and linger with a mug warm in my hands. It is the definition of leasiure to me. Take a cup of coffee, the paper and a good breakfast and I can't think of anything better than sitting in your pj's till 10 or 11 not really giving a damn about what you have to get done or what you haven't gotten done.
I love horoscopes and reading mine in the paper, or for me on my Yahoo! homepage. But in the paper they're also right next to Dear Abby or some random on this day in history business. I never think knowledge is useless. At the very least it makes for a good story at a party after which someone invariably says "Bitner, where do you get this shit?"...
For being super lazy about it a putting it off I like chores. I love the smell of starch and a hot iron (in fact I'd hang out at the dry cleaners all day for this smell). I love how the fabric smoothes and becomes stiff. Perfect looking and serene all at the same time. I love towels right out of the dryer (this is a leftover from childhood and I can't even begin to place why I feel like Snuggle the Bear when I pull towels from the dryer). I like the cleanliness and order once everything is put away, shining and disinfected once you're done. I may not be able to change the world or always move mountains. This is some order in what I find to be a chaotic world.
I love laughing, and being sarcastic and not giving a rat's ass about what folks might think afterward. People are only going to see what they want anyway.
I love running. If I could I would run all the time, for hours and days and years and never stop I would (Think Forest Gump but not slow). It's the only time the contradictions in my head silence enough for me to focus. It's the only time I feel like I could ever hear God, and so even if I'm not in the mood to listen to Him, when I'm running I know the chance exists.
I marvel at how the smallest circumstance like smiling at someone or even the flip of a switch can turn into the best thing that happens to you all day. Call it fate or divinity, I don't care. It's still neat to step back and look at what happend because of it. The little choices can make big changes and that always surpises me. I rarely regret. Even if something turns out to be awful or I could have made another choice, I learned something from that particular instance. I became stronger or wiser. My brain got a wrinkle for it, my heart perhaps a scar, but for better or worse that is now who or what I am. Generally I don't think that should be changed.
I'm always continually surprised at my friends. Or maybe, I'm flabbergasted at the fact that they might want to be friends with me. I am not an easy person to live with. I think my little sister was probably more right than not when she told me this weekend, "I know I'm a bitch, but Steven sometimes you're an even bigger bitch than I could ever hope to be." I'd say the "business of living has made me so." I'm not sure if it's because I came into the world fighting but I believe that is my basest instinct the one that always pops up no matter what obstacle I'm confronted with. I'm positive I'll fight with God on my death bed, shake my fist in his face and tell him that's not how I need things to be. Needless to say this can rub folks the wrong way. Sometimes the tough shell, the sarcasm the weapons I use to fight every day, are all any one can see. I'm always amazed that even if that's all I'm capable of showing right then that my friends see past this. This is my redemption. It is not that I may be steadfast, loyal, funny, smart or willing to do whatever it takes to make someone I care about happy, it is rather, the simple fact that my friends see this even when it's not visible because I'm waging war with some force they can't see and can only guess at. I'm awed that in spite of most of my shortcomings (which are ALWAYS visible) they still seek me out, include me, bring me into the fold and ultimately bolster me up. This all seems so easy for them to do. No questions asked, nothing else required. A family not because you might have the same eyes, or nose or hair color, but instead because fate and circumstance threw you together to lean on one another at the same time, and so there you are. Your family can't choose you, but your friends can, and when they continue to do so in spite of whatever your shortcomings may be (and I have many, more than you can count on fingers and toes) I find that is my most favorite thing of all.
Thursday, July 31, 2008
Wednesday, July 30, 2008
Making love in an alley
I just read this morning that the 1913 law that was being used in Massachusetts to impede the marrying of out of state same-sex couples was being repealed. But I'm not going to talk about that, so if you want to read it click the link.
http://www.nytimes.com/2008/07/30/us/30marriageweb.html?ref=us
And no, this isn't going to be a story that features me with my face mashed against grimy brick, under a flickering street lamp, behind a dumpster in the throes of man-love. Get serious folks, I have some class. Instead I want to talk about this article and the back alley. Same-sex marriage is unprecedented. Not just because years of social stigma and legal discrimination are slowly coming to an end, but also, and perhaps more radically because it presents the gay community with a chance to change the way it's perceived by the world. We are, finally starting to be seen as normal. Long term couples, professionals, some with kids...those are the faces confronting my parents and the rest of middle-class, conservative America on the evening news broadcasts. These images are also confronting the gays themselves. For the first time we are seeing ourselves outside the context of our enclave of gay bars and trendy night spots found in more liberal cities and towns outside the country. Even more alarmingly is that a chorus of support is welling up outside of these "pink ghettos" as well.
While I do not consider myself a "good" homosexual (you now the kind that are so gay they set folks on fire when they walk down the street) I do not think I'm out of the norm either, but parts of gay marriage are surprising me, making me confront things, feelings, if you will that I had long left buried in the back of the closet that I walked out of. I decided a while back that I was tired of being "selectively out". The kind of out that you can talk and joke about with your friends but makes you go white in the face when someone brings it up in mixed company. Now that doesn't mean I just introduce myself, and while I'm shaking someone's had casually mention that I like men. That's just tacky and certainly not the quality I want to be highlighted in the whole "first impression thing". That alone has made me confront a number of issues that have been hounding me since 7th grade. Silly things like being afraid I'm lisping my essses or talking overly with my hands or if something looks "too gay". There are some things you just have to learn to live with.
The demons I now seek to exorcise are of a deeper, more intimate nature. They are tied to the beliefs I was brought up with, shackles that never seem to entirely come off, the invisible Scarlett Letter I wonder if all gays and lesbians continue to wear on their souls no matter the outside appearance of their bodies. Marriage makes a long term relationship not only possible but also actual and binding. Now instead of being forced, like my gay ancestors to live with a "roomate" I can now have a husband, and we can send everyone a Christmas news letter! Marriage is also giving a new level of acceptance to gay kids and teens who are now seeing themselves not only on the news but also prime time tv. They are coming out sooner, stronger and healthier than I ever did.
Instead of quick liasons and furtive glances,a quick exchange of sexual currency, they're dating, out in the open, with out getting the shit beat out of them all the time. The need for the back alley is disappearing. Since it's safer to date today than it used to be, the need for a quick sexual encounter to validate yourself is also going. They're making the older generation change the way we look at ourselves and in confront whatever vestiges of shame we still possess.
I've never made love in a back alley. But I have moved in the shadows, looking for love, wanting to be noticed while at the same time hoping not to attract the wrong kind of attention. I've learned (as I think many gays have) that casual sex is far less damaging (in the short term) than a relationship you can't recognize, a love that you can only whisper. I wonder if we have a hard time investing in relationships as a community because we haven't ever seen one up close that's long lasting and healthy. I never saw a gay couple growing up. And certainly when I was coming out, casual sex was a way to be gay without having to look at my face in the mirror and tell myself that. I had my gay self (that I tried to ignore) and my other self, the person that everyone saw. Merging the two was long and hard and took an eating disorder to accomplish. Sometimes I still look for the safety of those two divergent personalities, only to discover they are now a Siamese twin that can't be seperated.
And so same-sex marriage is working on ending the need for making love in the back alley. I think however, changing everyone's mind about doing it there is another story. Until we learn, as a community to stop looking for the quick fix, for anyone's love and for trying to ignore our gay self in these things, that is where we will stay and that is all the outside world will see.
http://www.nytimes.com/2008/07/30/us/30marriageweb.html?ref=us
And no, this isn't going to be a story that features me with my face mashed against grimy brick, under a flickering street lamp, behind a dumpster in the throes of man-love. Get serious folks, I have some class. Instead I want to talk about this article and the back alley. Same-sex marriage is unprecedented. Not just because years of social stigma and legal discrimination are slowly coming to an end, but also, and perhaps more radically because it presents the gay community with a chance to change the way it's perceived by the world. We are, finally starting to be seen as normal. Long term couples, professionals, some with kids...those are the faces confronting my parents and the rest of middle-class, conservative America on the evening news broadcasts. These images are also confronting the gays themselves. For the first time we are seeing ourselves outside the context of our enclave of gay bars and trendy night spots found in more liberal cities and towns outside the country. Even more alarmingly is that a chorus of support is welling up outside of these "pink ghettos" as well.
While I do not consider myself a "good" homosexual (you now the kind that are so gay they set folks on fire when they walk down the street) I do not think I'm out of the norm either, but parts of gay marriage are surprising me, making me confront things, feelings, if you will that I had long left buried in the back of the closet that I walked out of. I decided a while back that I was tired of being "selectively out". The kind of out that you can talk and joke about with your friends but makes you go white in the face when someone brings it up in mixed company. Now that doesn't mean I just introduce myself, and while I'm shaking someone's had casually mention that I like men. That's just tacky and certainly not the quality I want to be highlighted in the whole "first impression thing". That alone has made me confront a number of issues that have been hounding me since 7th grade. Silly things like being afraid I'm lisping my essses or talking overly with my hands or if something looks "too gay". There are some things you just have to learn to live with.
The demons I now seek to exorcise are of a deeper, more intimate nature. They are tied to the beliefs I was brought up with, shackles that never seem to entirely come off, the invisible Scarlett Letter I wonder if all gays and lesbians continue to wear on their souls no matter the outside appearance of their bodies. Marriage makes a long term relationship not only possible but also actual and binding. Now instead of being forced, like my gay ancestors to live with a "roomate" I can now have a husband, and we can send everyone a Christmas news letter! Marriage is also giving a new level of acceptance to gay kids and teens who are now seeing themselves not only on the news but also prime time tv. They are coming out sooner, stronger and healthier than I ever did.
Instead of quick liasons and furtive glances,a quick exchange of sexual currency, they're dating, out in the open, with out getting the shit beat out of them all the time. The need for the back alley is disappearing. Since it's safer to date today than it used to be, the need for a quick sexual encounter to validate yourself is also going. They're making the older generation change the way we look at ourselves and in confront whatever vestiges of shame we still possess.
I've never made love in a back alley. But I have moved in the shadows, looking for love, wanting to be noticed while at the same time hoping not to attract the wrong kind of attention. I've learned (as I think many gays have) that casual sex is far less damaging (in the short term) than a relationship you can't recognize, a love that you can only whisper. I wonder if we have a hard time investing in relationships as a community because we haven't ever seen one up close that's long lasting and healthy. I never saw a gay couple growing up. And certainly when I was coming out, casual sex was a way to be gay without having to look at my face in the mirror and tell myself that. I had my gay self (that I tried to ignore) and my other self, the person that everyone saw. Merging the two was long and hard and took an eating disorder to accomplish. Sometimes I still look for the safety of those two divergent personalities, only to discover they are now a Siamese twin that can't be seperated.
And so same-sex marriage is working on ending the need for making love in the back alley. I think however, changing everyone's mind about doing it there is another story. Until we learn, as a community to stop looking for the quick fix, for anyone's love and for trying to ignore our gay self in these things, that is where we will stay and that is all the outside world will see.
Tuesday, July 29, 2008
More than just a pretty face
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I'm not sure how to begin this post, but it's something that's been nagging at the back of my mind for a while now. I am more than what you see on the outside. In fact the onion analogy (peeling back the layers you know...) doesn't even begin to suffice. In fact at 25 Anne Frank's "little bundle of contradictions" doesn't even do me justice. In fact I'm more like the gay brother on "Brothers and Sisters".
To look at me today, you never guess that just a bit ago, I was what I'd call the "ugly girl." Well not really, I was more like the less-than-good-looking chubby friend, which in the homosexual world means I was somewhere in the doggish catagory in the desireability scale. That coupled with trying to come to terms with my sexuality and just discover who I even was to begin with was kind of like a science experiment gone bad. A chemical burn you know must be harmful but you can't leave the room to save your life.
So what happend- well as it turns out I got a little aneorexic and pretty crazy and worked out like hell, and after a few years of that finally realized that you can't please everyone, and that being skinny doesn't make everyone like you. In fact I was such a bitch, all of the time, on account of hunger that I'm sure I lost friends over it. So I got over it, at least the not eating part. However I am a regular parishoner at Gold's, praying to the Virgin Mary of the Perfect Bod...
I'd pretty much say that a person's body image is like Santa Clause; it's not so much that you know whether or not it's actually true, but it's all about what you believe, and sometimes, maybe even most of the time, try as I might, I still believe that I'm the less-than-good-looking chubby girl. The point? Well this disbelief makes me totally discount any one who tells me I might be good looking. Plus that's just not humble to go around saying "No shit, I work pretty damn hard" all the time. Don't misunderstand, the attention is great but:
I am more than a pretty face. Just because I'm charming and funny on the outside doesn't mean I always am on the inside. Be prepared to see a change. This isn't Stepford. You get the charm and pretty face because that's what I want you to see. Most of it belongs to me, but some of it is a mask, because I learned that a pretty face and funny jokes make people like you.
I am more than a toy. For those of you who might read this (all 1.5 of you) just b/c I'm the size of a 5th grader doesn't mean I'm this child-doll, gay nypho thing that just wants to lay on my back, swoon and say "You go Big Daddy" all day. It also doesn't mean that I want you to tell me what I want to hear just so you can get what you want by giving me what you think I want. There's nothing wrong with a little lust now and then, but don't hide behind pretty words and then think that just b/c I have a drawl in my voice, something doesn't connect to my brain. Scarlett always said "fiddle-dee-dee" and then closed the trap. I'm not that cunning, not in the least. I do however, use it for protection ( If i want someone to always know what I think, I'd tell them outright) and I can generally spot a game. Plus, I'd respect you more if you're up front.
Here's the other thing. I don't look this way to be a sexual plaything ,orfor the compliements (again they're nice, dont get me wrong). I look this way because I want to, but I'm still more than some pretty face you can tell stories to.
Monday, July 28, 2008
Hi, I'm the Little Ball of Fury, perhaps we've met?
It's Monday. It's been over 100 degrees here for what I'm sure is the past 3 months. It's so hot (and I generally like hot) that I could fry and egg on my ass. I haven't been able to breathe for close to a week now, because of the drastic change between Dallas and the Valley and to top it off it took me for-ev-er to fall asleep last night. I'm not really a person who needs a lot of sleep in the first place but I'm starting to feel like I've been ruffied.
This weekend was pretty good. Friday, after staying up far too late on Thurs. nite, I slept. Saturday was cool because my sister came in town and we went to see Kathy Griffin. Then I took Erin to the Gayborhood (even tho, I know so few gays I should be fucking women, but that's another story). This was AMAZING. Now as far as I know my sister has never been in a gay bar (unless you count drinking w/ some of my high school friends in our hot tub a gay bar). I'm not sure if it's because she works in a bar or frequents so many of them in her earnest desire to kill her liver but she wasted no time in basically getting whatever she wanted. Not only am I sure the gays we ran into loved her, but I also think she got some straight guy play. I love when straight men go to gay bars. It's such a departure from the normal things most gay men do with straight guys like blow jobs on the Down Low or running from a beat down. We then proceeded to raise hell. This was awesome. I really miss my sister, and so I'm in an even worse mood that she couldn't stay longer.
Today the office has been crazy. Here are some of my favorite things I've heard today:
Me: Can I get the last 3 numbers on the back of your card.
This weekend was pretty good. Friday, after staying up far too late on Thurs. nite, I slept. Saturday was cool because my sister came in town and we went to see Kathy Griffin. Then I took Erin to the Gayborhood (even tho, I know so few gays I should be fucking women, but that's another story). This was AMAZING. Now as far as I know my sister has never been in a gay bar (unless you count drinking w/ some of my high school friends in our hot tub a gay bar). I'm not sure if it's because she works in a bar or frequents so many of them in her earnest desire to kill her liver but she wasted no time in basically getting whatever she wanted. Not only am I sure the gays we ran into loved her, but I also think she got some straight guy play. I love when straight men go to gay bars. It's such a departure from the normal things most gay men do with straight guys like blow jobs on the Down Low or running from a beat down. We then proceeded to raise hell. This was awesome. I really miss my sister, and so I'm in an even worse mood that she couldn't stay longer.
Today the office has been crazy. Here are some of my favorite things I've heard today:
Me: Can I get the last 3 numbers on the back of your card.
If you've been living on THIS PLANET for I dunno, say the last decade, and done any sort of online shopping you know that every credit card, and debit card (since they use the same technology) has a 3 digit "security code"on the back...
Caller: No, mine's a debit, I only have 4 numbers
Me: No there will be 4 numbers a space and then 3 numbers...
Caller: No I only have 4
Me: No, there are 3 more
Caller: Wait...
Yea genius who's the dumbass now?
Me: How much would you like to pay?
Caller: All of it
Me:...
This right after I say: "Can I help you?"....so unless I'm working for Dionne Warwick and the Psychic Friends I don't know how much you have to pay or really who the epph you are. Thanks and Gig'em.
My all time, number on favorite:
Me: How much do you want to pay?
Caller: Umm, how much do I owe?
Me: I'm not sure I can't look that up for you since I don't work at the office that gave you the ticket (or misc. payment)
Caller: Well I have a ticket number
Me: Well unfortunately I can't look at their records
Caller: The ticket is under (insert name)
Me: No, again, I have no way of looking that up
Don't we see a damn theme here? Serioulsy unless you rode the short bus to school everyday I don't think this should be that difficult. I would also like to know how "Tax account number" sounds like "credit card number".
I love that people assume you must be retarded or a convicted felon to have a job so lowly as answering phones, but for real some of these folks need to get their IQ checked. That or pull their head out of their asses.
I also hate men. All of them. Including myself for I'm sure, beyond a shadow of a doubt I contribute to my own downfall.
This is why I am fury.
Friday, July 25, 2008
Text from Mom
In case you were wondering: "Made it to SA. Dad has to have closed MRI with contrast before knows what he will do (I take it the doctor) but most likely surgery. Good news is this tumor not fatal even if cancer biggest danger is it could come back even in 10 years as more agressive we will know more Monday after MRI.
So good news and bad news but still news.
Mr. Spock was right
The older I get the more I wish I could be like Mr. Spock. Beside the fact that this is totally dorky (since you now know I was raised on Classic Star Trek) I still stand by it. Rationally, as a human being, I understand that you can't go through life thinking about what is logical and illogical all the time. We are built to feel things. Life is full of feelings, and because it's so difficult to articulate the thrumming of your heart when you get excited or nervous or the butterflies you feel when you like someone life is totally messy.
Growing up, I learned from my parents that some emotions were acceptable and unacceptable. If we were in trouble we shouldn't be sad about it, since our actions led to the outcome. Eventually you learn not to show display when you're hurt or disappointed, or vulnerable. We learn these lessons everyday when we get made fun of in the school yard, when we differentiate from the norm, if we look or act different. I got these lessons at home too. Like I've said before being tough was prized in our house above all else. I don't ever really remember seeing my father cry until he entered middle age and felt that he might have been too hard on us growing up. Pending this midlife crisis I'd been taught, implicitly, that men didn't cry because that made you weak. Dad also taught me to look intimidating, so that no one would ever see past your poker face. I learned to temper this by being charming. Laughing, smiling, slopping sugar as they say in the South. Because this is usually pleasing to the eye, people who see it ask no questions and you stay apart, aloof and in control.
Then without fail, humanity steps in. Something happens and nature pushes a button and all of the sudden you're wanting and needing and swooning and out of control. I am not a relationship expert. I don't get them, outside the realm of friendship. The idea of giving myself to another person terrifies me because then I am no longer in control. In Spanish the term is even more drastic. "Entregandose a alguien" literally surrendering or turning yourself over to another person. For me so far that's just left me at best on my back wondering what the hell just happend and why I bought into whatever bullshit i was fed or at the very worst I'm left trying to find my heart from the dusty fragments blowing in the wind.
I've learned not to believe anyone. They just want to get into your pants. I've become a lot like Humphry Bogart's Rick trying not to ever get hurt again after Elsa. Evasive answers, a smoke screen of questions, a smile, joke or quick laugh just to keep everyone guessing. But I'm tired of walling myself off, posting guards to keep out the intruders. Running, moving, constantly thinking; a mental chess game with no winners. I want to let that down, but the price is too great, the memory of a pulverized heart too deep. For now then, I'm just sitting between two opposite desires, hoping that my logic will hold out, only to stave off what i fear is will be the eventual surrender.
Growing up, I learned from my parents that some emotions were acceptable and unacceptable. If we were in trouble we shouldn't be sad about it, since our actions led to the outcome. Eventually you learn not to show display when you're hurt or disappointed, or vulnerable. We learn these lessons everyday when we get made fun of in the school yard, when we differentiate from the norm, if we look or act different. I got these lessons at home too. Like I've said before being tough was prized in our house above all else. I don't ever really remember seeing my father cry until he entered middle age and felt that he might have been too hard on us growing up. Pending this midlife crisis I'd been taught, implicitly, that men didn't cry because that made you weak. Dad also taught me to look intimidating, so that no one would ever see past your poker face. I learned to temper this by being charming. Laughing, smiling, slopping sugar as they say in the South. Because this is usually pleasing to the eye, people who see it ask no questions and you stay apart, aloof and in control.
Then without fail, humanity steps in. Something happens and nature pushes a button and all of the sudden you're wanting and needing and swooning and out of control. I am not a relationship expert. I don't get them, outside the realm of friendship. The idea of giving myself to another person terrifies me because then I am no longer in control. In Spanish the term is even more drastic. "Entregandose a alguien" literally surrendering or turning yourself over to another person. For me so far that's just left me at best on my back wondering what the hell just happend and why I bought into whatever bullshit i was fed or at the very worst I'm left trying to find my heart from the dusty fragments blowing in the wind.
I've learned not to believe anyone. They just want to get into your pants. I've become a lot like Humphry Bogart's Rick trying not to ever get hurt again after Elsa. Evasive answers, a smoke screen of questions, a smile, joke or quick laugh just to keep everyone guessing. But I'm tired of walling myself off, posting guards to keep out the intruders. Running, moving, constantly thinking; a mental chess game with no winners. I want to let that down, but the price is too great, the memory of a pulverized heart too deep. For now then, I'm just sitting between two opposite desires, hoping that my logic will hold out, only to stave off what i fear is will be the eventual surrender.
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