This little light of mine, I'm gonna let it shine...

Thursday, December 20, 2007


It's been a bit since I've posted anything I consider to be Of Substance and it may be a bit more. See, all sorts of loose ends have tied up which means new doors have opened. I got hired officially to work for the Corporation last week. This is a Good Thing, despite what the the 22-year-old me may have thought. This Good Thing opens up opportunities for me to have a secure income which allows me to write, paint, dig, knit, frolic, dance, travel, dream, eat, love, live, breath, etc. unconstrained by paying-tha-bills-worry. I will also be able to accomplish some boring yet hearty financial goals. Hooray!

The 22-year-old me stills fears suddenly waking up at 40 and doing the very same thing I'm doing now, but the 25-almost-26-year-old me says "shut up you worry-wart, we're far to smart and passionate and curious and Aquarius for that shit. Besides, we read the news."

So as you can see, I'm all over the damn place. I'm living my happy little contradictory world. I'm getting in my trusty Lesbaru early Saturday morning and heading to Toronto to spend 2 weeks with the man who finished my Rumi poems for me, speaks in incantations, and who encourages me say all the beautiful and awful things I find to be real. He even seems to appreciate my tornado vocabulary and wandering and woman lust. I'm told it's been terribly obvious for months that I'm in love, but for 2 weeks, Very Soon, I get to Live In Love, which is an entirely exciting thing.

Anything else worthy of note?
Well there are all sorts of plans, vacations, bike parts and knit sock patterns in my personal hopper. But that will all wait until things quiet down. Probably in '08. Happy New Year Y'all. If I don't see you before then.

Wednesday, December 12, 2007

Romantic Cynicism

I sat in a darkened conference room with 25 of my co-workers and 'bosses'. On screen was a slide show of one of my co-workers Pennsylvania late summer wedding. They had a great photographer, an ex-AP photo journalist with an eye good enough for the New Yorker. There was a Nina Simone song playing along and internally I struggled. I can easily understand the women (and men) who yearn for traditional weddings. It's hard to scoff at a lifetime of people, movies, and music telling you this is how it should be.

I wondered how people would react to me bringing a video of my commitment ceremony and reception with the woman of my dreams. As long as it's aesthetically beautiful and light-hearted, I believe our culture's become accustomed to accepting "other" sexuality, but it would still feel scary to me. I imagined becoming the token lesbian of the office. If they thought about it people would feel confused, perhaps, by my pencil skirts, thrust out curves, and heels. People might feel reassured when I tromp in with my snow and salt covered combat boots and hand knit hats; who knows any more.

These struggles are in competition, of course, with reality. My real idea is that marriage is unnecessary, save the tax breaks and partnership sanctity. My real idea is that I don't particularly want monogamy and don't know if I can even successfully "do" monogamy.

Nevertheless, I haven't let go my histories of the "dream" man or woman. Who doesn't want safe homes and arms to come to?
Well, she was one effective photographer then, wasn't she? Well, I was lucky enough to feed on fairy tales at one point, wasn't I?

Tuesday, December 11, 2007

Inspired By a Phone Call

I stood, straightened my fancy suit jacket and decided to do a walk around the 25th floor perimeter to socialize. I leaned on her cubicle wall, making the usual small talk, when my phone began buzzing in my pocket. "I'm buzzing," I told her, "I'm going to take this." Pulling the vibrating device from my pocket I read Amelia's name on the little screen. I smiled and walked quickly through the copy room to an empty stairwell where I could have a bit of privacy.

"What's up?" she asked.
"What isn't!?" I laughed,
we haven't talked since she moved to Portland in August '06.

When I leapt into the the city I knew Amelia was living here with her girlfriend. I knew I needed to make her, and possibly her girlfriend, the base of what I hoped would become a community, to help me get grounded in the large new city and sexuality I would try calling home. I found myself talking a lot when she and I would get together for beers, or cigarettes, or poetry, or a combination of the three. Her house smelled like all my favorite homes from hills by the woods. I clung to the roots she represented, in my heart, of home.

I used to whine to her about nobody knowing I'm gay, about not looking gay, about not knowing how to approach women, and all the other angsty shit that one encounters when first engendering a new way of being. She helped me turn old office skirts into bar wear with the swipe of scissors, she cut my hair short, and reminded me why rolling your own cigarettes is a smarter choice. I ran with her, to catch buses in sub-zeros, and played darts in smoky Silvie's while she related the unimaginable things that she faced as a dula for inner-city teen moms. When she left for the west coast I told her I wouldn't know what to do. We'd barely known each other 6 months and she was the closest thing I had to home.

From Skin, by Dorothy Allison:
"since I first realized what it would mean to my life to be queer. Home is what I have always wanted--the trust that my life, my love, does not betray those I need most, that they will not betray me."

This yearning fear has been a constant for me, when navigating the ebb and flow, or implosion, of relationships with women. When I began absorbing consciously what the world was saying, at age 7, that culture tore off all the wisdom the pack of women who'd been raising me had instilled and I became homeless in a way. The women, I intrinsically knew I needed, disappeared and were replaced with beauty queens and weight loss groups for 'fat' kids. The children in these groups, ages 9-12, were always girls with their mothers. I was in these kinds of groups, dieting without conviction, for 10 years until I finally gave up my body image for waste.

I have had 1 girl best friend. I didn't realize how strongly I loved her until 5 years after she announced she was moving to California with her boyfriend, two weeks before we were to reunite for our sophomore year of college. I felt mortally betrayed by her and was depressed and bitter for months.
I have had girlfriends, the first one I implored to understand why I wasn't comfortable with kissing her in the small town bar I'd been straight in for the 4 years preceding.

Many of the women I have loved, I have also feared.
I fear she will find something in me she dislikes and leave. I fear she will find someone more exciting or fulfilling and leave. I fear she will think I am too needy or too distant, too loud or too deaf to her language. They all do leave me eventually and create again the same hole that I feel every month when I realize again the meaning of despair: not sadness or depression, but separation from that which I know to be my sustaining home.

Monday, December 10, 2007


I had my interview and got hired for the job I've been temping at for the last 10 months. I get my first "big-girl" paycheck at the end of this week. All sorts of goodies comin' my way. Now, with all the time I'll save not worrying about how to pay the bills this month or the next, I can day dream travels, plot adventures, and buy sex toys.


Wednesday, December 5, 2007

and so I said, "Oh My God That's Awesome."

Another reason to love A Softer World.

Today, I learned of Free Rice through them. It's a multiple choice vocabulary game in which every correctly answered question donates 20 grains of rice to a UN food fund. I won 760 grains of rice in about 8 minutes. I also learned that "nimbus", besides being the name I gave my first car, means halo. I wonder if 760 grains is even 1/2 a cup...

Feel smart, slack at work, and apparently help the systematically disenfranchised and starving at the same time.

What will those wily websiteers think of next?


I keep eating too much. And too much sugar. Both.

I started working out on my abs again. My, haha, abs. Lunges would be good too. I'd like a rounder ass. I believe a lot of "high octane" dance music will have to happen in my apartment. Maybe I'll pretend strip for a pretend audience. Maybe I'll also hula hoop, I think my downstairs neighbor likes when I do that especially. Because I drop the hoop a LOT.

Too much and too much sugar, yes. Once again - damn holidays. All these cakes and cookies.
Though, the xmas cheer is infecting me a bit more. And, on a more comedic cynical note, there's lots more pine in the city now. Even if it's in the form of murdered trees and swags and, I've always liked those twinkly fairy lights.

On Friday I'm getting interviewed to become a "permanent" employee at my job (after 10 months of being a "temporary" employee). Getting hired would mean a big raise, benefits and paid time off. The major hope is that through some "financial security" I'll be able to
A.) pay down some of my more "manageable debts"
B.) learn to live a life less dictated by worrying about not making ends meet and
C.) spend my non-working hours writing, subverting, and making general mischief through artistic expression and fucking. Oh, and
D.)use my paid time off to travel more frequently.

Fear not though Revolutionaries (are you there?), there's a healthy amount of impending doom/dread in my heart at the prospect, but I'm ready to make that part of me wait a bit while I make more $$$ dolla dolla bills y'all.

Monday, December 3, 2007