My resolution: Let it happen in its right and proper time. So I'm not jumping into a bottle of red wine I'm not ready to drink. I'm not haring off on an adventure when there is still plenty left to explore right here. I'm not charging for a goal I'm not sure I want to reach just because I see a deadline in the distance and want to reach some goal before arriving at that deadline.
Happy New Year, everyone!!!!
My friend was having her birthday recently, and had declared it Tie Night. Tie Night is a recurring butch holiday, celebrated semi-monthly or whenever they feel like it. [Aside: Yes, Squirt, I'm aware that Tie Night hasn't been fashionable in mainstream (read: breeder) circles since Annie Lennox passed out of public view, but we have our own little gay fashion oasis. In the lesbian fashion oasis, Ties are Still In!] So, I decided to participate in Tie Night although I'm not exactly what you'd classify as a butch, especially in the last couple of years. Nobody was really sure what to expect. Anyway, judging from the number of jaws I had to pick up off the floor, I think my femmey interpretation of Tie Night was a hit. Here are the photos to prove it...
Happy birthday! Note, in the lower-left corner of this first picture, Marvin the Martian is staring at you. As a jane-of-all-trades, I'm proud to say I'm qualified to tie your necktie or change your oil or paint your nails, whatever needs doing. I was responsible for the tying of that particular Looney-Tunes tie, and I tried like hell to make Marvin be the character on the knot part so that he would be staring out at you from my friend's throat. Now, that Marvin at the tail of the tie is obviously too low to be the knot, but there's another one near the middle that was ALMOST, but not quite, in the right place. Anyway, the end result was that I had to put Daffy on the knot. However, between initially deciding Marvin ought to be on the knot and ultimately surrendering to Daffy's superior placement, there were a number of tie-adjustments that looked like this:
As you can see, we had fun celebrating the birthday. There was much laughter all around, and a good time had by all. I'm very excited to have been invited to join "The Blue Bandits" for their next round of board games, and hope to be able to support all the smack I've been talking to my friend in the picture who is NOT a member of The Blue Bandits. I've REALLY been laying it down thick, too, so I've got a lot to live up to. Any Blue Bandits reading this: take note!
Everyone who’s tired of the media—and Madonna—calling Jake Gyllenhaal and Heath Ledger “brave” for acting in Brokeback Mountain, please raise your hands. Then say it with me: “poppycock”
Quoting from the article by Charles Karel Bouley II, linked here.
And there’s the problem. The media seem to be running with a recurring theme around this movie: the “bravery” of the actors playing the roles, the “courage” it took them to do it, and the “speculation” about whether America is ready for a “gay cowboy movie.” Certainly not a position a liberal would take, so it befuddles me how the media is labeled “liberal.” Because the media has all but compared these two to war heroes for their portrayal of two closeted cowboys in a story of unrequited love and personal deception.
Say it with me: poppycock.
Now, there can be no doubt it took awhile for this movie to be made. And there can be no doubt there was a lot of fear surrounding it. And that’s what the media should be talking about. Instead of playing into the homophobia about how courageous it is to play gay, the media should be examining why it’s OK to play a rapist, a demon, a vampire from hell, a serial killer who eats his victims with fava beans and nice chianti, or any of the hundreds of sick, warped, twisted characters Hollywood puts out and we gobble up. Why do studios green-light films all the time that have gruesome plots or despicable characters, and why did this film languish for years?
I recognize that very few people in my current life know much about her. That's odd to me, because for 4 years, she was the center of everything I did. I can't look back at that piece of my life without seeing her in almost every memory. I just wish I could look back on that time and say that the memories are good. Unfortunately, I can't, so I don't "go there" often.
I "knew" in an instinctive way that she and I were not going to last forever. I knew it in a way that I couldn't explain logically using words, and literal and literary as I am, that made it difficult for me to keep faith in the knowledge. It was easy to talk my way around it, because I could put that into words and I can believe in words laid out logically so much more fervently than I can an amorphous, instinctive idea. I don't know what words persuaded me that my instincts were wrong and that commitment and effort could rewrite the ending of us, but I was persuaded. So much of how our relationship evolved is lost to me. The changes were so slow, so small, so incremental that they don't even seem like changes at all.
FOUR JOBS YOU'VE HAD IN YOUR LIFE:
1. Goofy (yeah, at Disney World)
2. Programmer
3. Environmental Engineer
4. Lifeguard
FOUR MOVIES YOU COULD WATCH OVER AND OVER:
1. The Princess Bride
2. Monty Python's Quest for the Holy Grail
3. The Star Wars sextet
4. The Lord of the Rings trilogy
FOUR CITIES/TOWNS YOU'VE LIVED IN:
1. Colorado Springs, CO
2. Austin, TX
3. Redlands, CA
4. Orlando, FL
FOUR TV SHOWS YOU LOVE TO WATCH:
1. Good Eats
2. House, M.D.
3. Trading Spaces
4. Southpark
FOUR PLACES YOU'VE BEEN ON VACATION:
1. London, England
2. Lake Tahoe, NV and CA
3. Maui
4. The Eastern Caribbean
FOUR WEBSITES YOU VISIT DAILY:
1. LiveJournal
2. UserFriendly
3. Slate
4. MySpace
FOUR OF YOUR ALL-TIME FAVOURITE RESTAURANTS:
1. Any GOOD Sushi place
2. Freebird's
3. P.F. Chang's/PeiWei (same food, different faces)
4. The King's Inn - Loyola Beach, TX/The Two Georges - Corpus Christi, TX (also same food, different faces)
FOUR OF YOUR FAVORITE FOODS:
1. Sushi
2. Lasagna
3. Hot and Sour Soup
4. Funnel Cake
FOUR SCHOOLS YOU'VE ATTENDED:
1. St. Gertrude's Catholic School
2. U.S. Air Force Academy
3. Texas A&M University
4. University of Texas
FOUR PLACES I'D RATHER BE RIGHT NOW:
1. Home, in bed
2. Anywhere, with a big pile of books
3. On the coast
4. In the scrum
Go to your Calendar and find the first entry for each month of 2005. Post the first line of it in your journal, and that's your "Year In Review". My year is short because i just started this mess in July.
July:
Here I am...
so my friend deena said that she thought i'd make an interesting blogger. with any luck, she will turn out to be right, and people will enjoy reading this ramble. for now, i'm at work, so i'll make this one short and sweet. the reason the blog is titled "on one foot" is that i always feel myself working to stay balanced. my life is always being pushed or pulled in one direction or another, and i work to keep it from being pulled or pushed too far from center. when you're on one foot, you have to work harder to stay balanced. at the same time, the only way you can move forward is to get on one foot and put the other one out in front of you. the best part of taking that risk, of getting on one foot, is the fun of getting to see where the forward foot falls.
August:
moving day...
sleep deprivation is a bad thing, kids. don't try this at home! so i slept little, worked a lot, and had a little fun over the weekend. it was good, all in all. there was some lesbian ex-girlfriend drama, but nothing i couldn't handle. last night, i slept like a dead body for about 12 hours, and i woke up fresh as a daisy today. of course, i overslept a bit, and was late for work, but i'll put in an extra hour at the end of the day and erase that transgression.
September:
BOX BITS IMMINENT!!!
so, in a recent (semi-tragic, way too dramatic, i'm-better-off-now-thanks) breakup, i lost my computer. this may not be apparent from my posts, but i'm a bit of a computer nerd. and a word nerd, and a music nerd, and a scotch nerd, and a wine nerd... but i digress. anyway, sans box, i've been forced to rely on my father's very old, very slow, very $hitty laptop hand-me-down for my home computing needs. this is such an unpleasant situation that i stay away from the computer a lot, and that makes me sad. :( so i'm building myself a kit from scratch, all the way up to mouse/monitor/keyboard and all the way down to case/motherboard/cpu. i even had to buy a case fan!
October:
Serenity...
so i went and saw "serenity" over the weekend. it took some phenomenal schedule-wrangling and my dog had to stay locked up in the apartment for about 12 hours as a result, but it was worth it all the way! (don't pity the dog too much, she got a fantastically long fetch/swim/walk before the confinement, and she threw all my clean clothes on the floor so she could bask in a sunbeam on the couch while i was gone)
November:
new book goodness
I bought Anne Rice's The Witching Hour and the two sequels, Lasher and Taltos on Monday night. w00tzoR!!!!1 I love reading. Seriously, I could give up my computer forever, as long as I had a limitless supply of books. Anyway, two chapters in, and i realize now why Rice is such a popular author. Goodness on a Sheet of Paper, I can't believe it took me this long to get around to reading Anne Rice. Diggin' it lots. Thanks, Rose, for the suggestion.
December:
I've been "published"!
Doonesbury (online at Slate.com) has a regular feature called "Blowback" where Trudeau posts the more interesting and relevant feedback he gets. As the invitation to comment says: "If you'd like to send us a comment yourself, please note that civility, if not approbation, counts."
yea! My Little Green Men are no longer on strike. They returned yesterday at about 5 pm, which would have been inconvenient for me had I tried to go home at my usual time only to find my apartment just beginning to warm up. Luckily (?) I had to work until nearly 7:30, so by the time I got home, the Little Green Men had fired the furnace up and heated the apartment thoroughly. Unfortunately, I still had to clean out my fridge and freezer and re-stock them. Last night Dallas/Fort Worth had its annual (we pray it's the only one!) ice storm, so I was out driving around in the ice and snow. I can handle that, at least better than the average Texan, because of the time I spent in Colorado. I learned a few things while I was there, so the ice usually doesn't present problems for me. I'm leary, however, of other Texans' ice-driving skillz. I was much relieved to arrive home with my bumpers intact.
So I woke up yesterday morning around 6. The electricity worked. I went back to sleep. I woke up again around 7. The electricity did not work. Now, I have this longstanding theory that electricity is not controlled (as your science teacher would have you believe) by the principles of magnetism and the motion of free electrons in, on, and among the valence shells of atoms that hover around the metal line on the periodic table of the elements. Nooooo... Electricity is controlled by the flow of the Traffic Of Little Green Men. In your alarm clock, the Little Green Men hold up glowing placards to indicate the time and bang on little gongs or blow on kazoos or flog cats to create the alarm tone. The method of noisemaking depends on your clock. I had one in which the Little Green Men drove a schoolbus in reverse to create that "whoop whoop" backup warning. In your microwave, the Little Green Men run into the dark oven while you're pressing buttons (the number of them depends on the buttons you press) and then stand under your food holding little Zippo lighters that they use to heat your food. When you open the door, they all run back into the walls of the microwave. Different electrical appliances are operated differently, but the Little Green Men get in through the plug wiring and they do what they need to do inside, and then they go out on break.
Well, yesterday morning, all my Little Green Men were on break at once. Apparently they were striking outside my apartment and refusing to perform any further services for me without payment. The nasty thing is, I DID pay them. I sent my payment to them through my online bill pay service over two weeks ago! You'd think the Little Green Men would be aware of this, since they carried the message to the bank in the course of their duties. I guess I should be grateful the Little Green Men are not reading my mail, but in this case it would have been better for me had they been snoopers. Anyway, the Little Green Men were gone, and there was no way to get them back from within my house because I needed Little Green Men to dig up the evidence that I had in fact made the payment and then to find the contact information for the relevant human entities at the bank and the Little Green Men Local Union #4242 (aka: TXU Energy).
The research had to be put off until my work (for which I get paid) was done, which meant I couldn't contact any relevant human entities until 5. Given that I had to talk to various Little Green Man-powered fake human entities for a good period of time in order to reach an actual human entity, I'll just skip to the conclusion and tell you that I had to sleep in the dark last night. That's not so bad, since it would have been dark anyway. I generally give the Little Green Men the night off, except for the ones that I have on call inside my phone. Occasionally I do employ a few of them as candleholders when I'm reading or to operate the Steam Engine that makes Magic Smoke for my computer, but that's mostly on weekends. However, there is one service which the Little Green Men provide that I REALLY missed last night: they tend the Furnace of Central Heat and Air Conditioning at my apartment. With no Little Green Men, the Furnace went out and my apartment was far colder than I prefer it to be when I awoke. I was safe and all, given that I'd bundled up and this is tropical Texas, but I was VERY UNCOMFORTABLE getting out of my warm covers and into my chilly room this morning.
I still don't know who is responsible for the miscommunication, but basically my payment for the services of the Little Green Men went to a gas company in Arizona. It used to be affiliated with Little Green Men Local Union #4242 and now it's not and somehow either my bill paying service or the Little Green Men who courier my messages became confused about the intended recipient of the payment. I clearly expressed my intention to pay money to Little Green Men Local Union #4242, but my payment went to the gas company in Arizona. Sadness.
Anyway, all that got sorted today, and hopefully I'll be reunited with my Little Green Men tonight. Now all that's left is to bash some heads in until I get my lost money back.
... to trilia.net in my "Blogs I Like" section, but this post especially is a good one. She wrote it in honor of World AIDS day last week. It's part of a series of posts that she and some of her friends do called 55 Friday, wherein they have to write a snippet that consists of 55 words on Friday. Being only 55 words, it's a quick read; but to save you lazy I-don't-wanna-click-the-linkers the effort, here it is:
“You look ravishing in that dress.” Obviously. It took months to find this shade of red.
“It would look better on my floor though.” Agreed. I was kind of hoping the night would come to this. “So… you got protection, right?”
“I don’t like condoms. Can’t feel anything.”
“Then the dress is staying on, babe.”
Doonesbury (online at Slate.com) has a regular feature called "Blowback" where Trudeau posts the more interesting and relevant feedback he gets. As the invitation to comment says: "If you'd like to send us a comment yourself, please note that civility, if not approbation, counts."
So I commented on their latest Straw Poll, on the current-event topic of Waterboarding. Lo, and behold: my comment was published. Check it out: http://www.doonesbury.com/strip/blowback/ It's the one from Kim in Fort Worth, and it will scroll further down the page as time passes and eventually drop off.
My friend and I were discussing it last night, and she asked: "If we're not allowed to use those types of methods, how are we going to get the information we need?" I struggle with that, because when it happened on 24 last season, (Jack Bauer used physical torture to get information that probably saved millions of lives) I almost found myself in favor of his actions. At the same time, if we (America) don't uphold the Geneva Conventions and treat Prisoners Of War and Political Detainees and Enemy Combatants with HUMANE dignity, then we are just as bad as those we villainize (Japan, Korea, North Vietnam, Iraq, etc.) for their inhumane treatment of our captured citizens.
It's always a weighty ethical question, whether or not torture is justified, especially when many civilian lives hang in the balance. It's never easy to choose between the principles of individual good and collective good. The end of the line, I think, is that if you DO allow yourself to descend into the use of torture that you MUST be prepared to accept that others will use it against you and yours. You may have high ethical standards governing its use, some way of verifying that the victim actually HAS information that will be relevant to you, and that you are capable of extracting that information within the limits of your tolerance for torture. You must be prepared for the fact that your enemies will not necessarily have those strict ethical standards regarding the use of torture and that their methods will be inflicted on the front-line soldiers and aviators who are most likely to be captured. That is always the way of war, though; the politicians make decisions that never impact them directly, but which are felt in the skin and bones of the fighting men and women.
I don't think there's a "right way" and a "wrong way" to torture. I think whether it leaves physical scars or not, it's wrong. I wish I could say I was opposed to it in all cases, but even as idealistic as I am, I see the need for harming one individual in order to effect the greater good, especially when time is short and I haven't the resources to get the information by other (more ethical) means. It's a dangerous precedent to set, however, because every time you commit such a wrong, it becomes easier to commit it again. Accumulate enough of these lesser wrongs, and you've cancelled completely the collective good you were attempting to achieve.
Thanks to Zoraster for pointing out the confusion this post could cause, if it's not apparent that I've blockquoted an e-mail in here. Below that is my commentary on it. Here's the quote:
CHRISTMAS STAMP
Look who is getting their own 'Christmas stamp', but don't plan on putting a Nativity Scene on federal property?
USPS New Stamp
This one is impossible to believe. Scroll down for the text.
If there is only one thing you forward today.....let it be this!
REMEMBER the MUSLIM bombing of PanAm Flight 103!
REMEMBER the MUSLIM bombing of the World Trade Center in 1993!
REMEMBER the MUSLIM bombing of the Marine barracks in Lebanon!
REMEMBER the MUSLIM bombing of the military barracks in Saudi Arabia!
REMEMBER the MUSLIM bombing of the American Embassies in Africa!
REMEMBER the MUSLIM bombing of the USS COLE!
REMEMBER the MUSLIM attack on 9/11/2001!
REMEMBER all the AMERICAN lives that were lost in those vicious MUSLIM attacks!
Now the United States Postal Service REMEMBERS and HONORS the EID MUSLIM holiday season with a commemorative first class
holiday postage stamp.
REMEMBER to adamantly and vocally BOYCOTT this stamp when purchasing your stamps at the post office.
To use this stamp would be a slap in the face to all those AMERICANS who died at the hands of those whom this stamp honors.
REMEMBER to pass this along to every patriotic AMERICAN you know!
This result makes me ridiculously happy. I've always loved Katherine Hepburn's work. She's my favorite classic dame of all time, this quiz notwithstanding. One of the greatest lines of all time, regarding marriage, is attributed to her:
Sometimes I wonder if men and women really suit each other. Perhaps they should live next door and just visit now and then. ~Katherine Hepburn
| Katharine Hepburn You scored 26% grit, 23% wit, 42% flair, and 23% class! |
You are the fabulously quirky and independent woman of character. You go your own way, follow your own drummer, take your own lead. You stand head and shoulders next to your partner, but you are perfectly willing and able to stand alone. Others might be more classically beautiful or conventionally woman-like, but you possess a more fundamental common sense and off-kilter charm, making interesting men fall at your feet. You can pick them up or leave them there as you see fit. You share the screen with the likes of Spencer Tracy and Cary Grant, thinking men who like strong women.
|
 |
My test tracked 4 variables How you compared to other people your age and gender:
|
| Link: The Classic Dames Test written by gidgetgoes on Ok Cupid, home of the 32-Type Dating Test |
| You Passed 8th Grade Science |
 Congratulations, you got 8/8 correct! |
Is my friend! I've been using Zyrtec as needed and my nasal allergy spray religiously since I had so much trouble last week after I wrapped up the steroid treatment for the asthma. Yea, it's working! I can breathe again! I can even talk to my dog while we're walking and use the stairs at work. Breathing is SO NOT OVERRATED.
Sunday night I was driving through Waco on my way home, and I was subjected to Waco's "best" radio station for a while. A song by Trace Adkins came on, and I believe the title (according to the info showing on my radio dial) was "Honky Tonk Badonkadonk". I AM NOT MAKING THIS UP!
The long lesson to be learned here is "Don't listen to Waco radio late at night." The short lesson to be learned here is "Thou shalt not use the phrase 'She's got it goin' on like Donkey Kong' unless thou canst prove thy street cred." Let me just inform you, gentle readers, that Trace Adkins has got no street cred. This song should never have been written, let alone recorded. So that you might better experience this lesson, I have lovingly copied the lyrics for this piece of "music" from Cowboy Lyrics and you will find them below. Enjoy!
Turn it up some
Alright boys, this is her favorite song
You know that right
So, if we play it good and loud
She might get up and dance again
Ooh, she put her beer down
Here she comes
Here she comes
Left left left right left
Whoo
Husslers shootin' eightball
Throwin' darts at the wall
Feelin' damn near 10 ft. tall
Here she comes, Lord help us all
Ol' T.W.'s girlfriend done slapped him outta his chair
Poor ole boy, it ain't his fault
It's so hard not to stare
At that honky tonk badonkadonk
Keepin' perfect rhythm
Make ya wanna swing along
Got it goin' on
Like Donkey Kong
And whoo-wee
Shut my mouth, slap your grandma
There outta be a law
Get the Sheriff on the phone
Lord have mercy, how's she even get them britches on
That honky tonk badonkadonk
(Aww son)
Now Honey, you can't blame her
For what her mama gave her
You ain't gotta hate her
For workin' that money-maker
Band shuts down at two
But we're hangin' out till three
We hate to see her go
But love to watch her leave
With that honky tonk badonkadonk
Keepin' perfect rhythm
Make ya wanna swing along
Got it goin' on
Like Donkey Kong
And whoo-wee
Shut my mouth, slap your grandma
There outta be a law
Get the Sheriff on the phone
Lord have mercy, how's she even get them britches on
With that honky tonk badonkadonk
(Ooh, that's what I'm talkin' bout right there, honey)
We don't care bout the drinkin'
Barely listen to the band
Our hands, they start a shakin'
When she gets the urge to dance
Drivin' everybody crazy
You think you fell in love
Boys, you better keep your distance
You can look but you can't touch
That honkey tonk badonkadonk
Keepin' perfect rhythm
Make ya wanna swing along
Got it goin' on
Like Donkey Kong
And whoo-wee
Shut my mouth, slap your grandma
There outta be a law
Get the Sheriff on the phone
Lord have mercy, how's she even get them britches on
That honky tonk badonkadonk
That honky tonk badonkadonk
Yeah, that honky tonk badonkadonk
(That's it, right there boys, that's why we do what we do
It ain't for the money, it ain't for the glory, it ain't for the free whiskey
It's for the badonkadonk)
I swiped this from my friend Vulpine who, i believe, swiped it from someone else in turn...
Signs You're Having Thanksgiving Dinner with a Geek
... to be sleeping. But I'm wide awake, so I'm up typing instead. I had a long nap this evening when I got back from walking Molly after work, and then a long luxurious bath. So I guess the current wakefulness should come as no surprise. It doesn't, really, even without the above-mentioned factors. I'm a lifelong night-owl and I've been indulging myself lately. I had such trouble breathing when I woke up this morning that I sucked on my inhaler and once my breathing returned to normal I just kinda went comatose for a few hours. That was great, in one way, because I needed the deep sleep to recuperate from all the struggling I've done with my lungs these past weeks. In another way, it meant I was three hours late to work and had to stay uber-late this evening to make it up. Even that was okay. I got it done, and luckily I had a task at work that was very well-suited to the quieter working evironment one finds at 7 PM in a near-abandoned office. More of the research I was working on last time I posted, actually...
Less okay is the reprimand I got from my pregnant friend about how long it's been since I called her last and the fact that I'm not going to her baby shower this weekend. Truthfully, though I love her dearly, she's a little difficult. We tell this story about ourselves, and we tell it in good humor, but it has a very real element of strain to it. The origin of the story itself is strife. She and I went to college together, and majored in the same thing, and for the last two years of our schooling had all but 1 class together (save summer school). When we were anywhere doing anything, we got along, unless we were in the car. It didn't matter which of us was driving, if we were in the car, we were fighting. We were not just "bickering" or good-naturedly ribbing each other, either. We were fighting like only two old people who've been married 50 years and know the darkest of ugly things about each other can fight. If I was driving, she'd try to tell me how to drive. I HATE IT WHEN PEOPLE TELL ME HOW TO DRIVE!!! I'm all for a navigator. Strategically speaking, I want to know what street I need to turn on, that I have two blocks before I need to be in the far left lane, or that the restaurant is about 2 miles ahead on the right. Tactically, I figure out how to make those things happen, and woe betide the soul who thinks to tell me otherwise. So I nearly killed her on any number of occasions. I have never heard such violently ugly things come out of my own mouth (and to my own great surprise) as when she was telling me how to drive. I can think of only two other people I've ever really wanted to pound with my fists as badly as I wanted to hit her almost every time we were in a car together. She used to expect me to tell her the same stuff when she was driving, and I usually did so, albeit reluctantly. This didn't become a problem until she was the Designated Driver one infamous night in New Orleans. We were halfway back to our hotel and on some freeway bridge across the Mississippi River when she started hollering at me (who? quite intoxicated, eyeglasses removed, seeing sextuple me?) to sit up and help her watch for the exit signs. It was then that it became quite apparent to me that in our former lives, we HAD been and old couple married for 50 years. And one night, we were driving across a river bridge, and she started telling me how to drive (AGAIN) and I deliberately drove over the bridge railing into the river and killed us both to SHUT HER UP! That said, aside from our in-car experiences channeling our former lives, we get on great and I love her to death. I hate to disappoint her. Anyway, she's not thrilled that I'm missing her shower, but I've had this weekend in College Station planned for a lot longer than I've known about her shower and there are more folks I can't disappoint there.
In other news, I'm halfway through The Witching Hour by Anne Rice. Good book!
And now, back to bed. Ahhh, to sleep. To sleep, perchance to dream...
American Cities That Best Fit You: |
65% Washington, DC |
60% Boston |
55% Atlanta |
50% Austin |
50% Honolulu |
be doing research. Actually, I AM doing research right now. And no, you smartasses, "research" is not code for "slacking off". I'm looking up land records to verify that the right stakeholders are notified of an upcoming change so they can voice their feeble objections before we crush them utterly with the weight of good science and boxes (I'm not joking! A report in 5 volumes, each a 3" binder, fills up more than a breadbox!) of charts, graphs, tables, and dry commentary.
The nice thing about the research task is that it affords me a little quiet time in front of a computer while the passive bits are processing. So I can do my own processing...
And now, back to the asthma thing. Yeah, I know, you're probably tired of reading about it. It's okay. You can skip this post and come back later this week. I promise to be more entertaining then.
My sister made an interesting comment last night, when I was describing the suddenness of the attack I had in my office that sent me to the ER. She compared it to being unexpectedly dunked in a swimming pool by a reprobate cousin or bully from up the street. Picture it: you're hanging out, doing your thing, maybe in the middle of a sentence. With maybe half a second's warning, you catch the flash of movement, but before you can react your head is underwater. And there you stay. You struggle, you fight, you push for the surface, for air and breath and light and life. You can't get your feet underneath yourself. You can't reach the side. And here's where asthma differs from a neighborhood bully... Your friends can shove that bully off you and get you to the surface where you start to breathe again and plot your revenge. With asthma, you just stay down there. You know the air is just outside your lungs, just on the other side of the water's surface. You know there's air inside your lungs and you are surviving on it for a while. You also know that the attack can outlast the air you have inside. You could suffocate. Finality.
This round has been different from previous bouts I've had with asthma for three chief reasons: this attack was more severe than any I've ever experienced; there was no clear cause for it; and my inhaler didn't work. Aside from that one time in Aspen, when I was over a mile in altitude and the air was thin and my inhaler was too far away, I've never been scared by my asthma. After the initial, somewhat frightening realization that I had this problem, I realized also that I had a mild and manageable version of it. I knew my triggers, I knew how to treat it.
[Aside: Those of you who know me well should be now puzzling over the fact that I NEVER showed up to rugby without my inhaler. Never a practice, never a game. I sometimes had trouble tracking down the person who was supposed to be standing on the sideline holding it while I played, but I always brought it. In fact, I was likely to be sharing my inhaler with someone who'd forgotten hers. You should also, if you know me, realize that I'm much more likely to forget a detail than I am to attend to all of them. My attention to my inhaler is a fact of grave significance.]
I could never control asthma. I could only recognize when it was coming on and manage my response to it. That was enough for me. I never spent much time in the throes of suffocation, I was always able to get treatment before it got scary. This time, not only do I not know why it came on, all the management tricks I know didn't work. I was doing everything I could do, and I still couldn't breathe.
I said to a lot of people that I thought congestion in my chest caused by that round of flu i had was causing the breathing trouble. Truth is, I was trying to convince myself. I wasn't that congested. I've been lots worse before. And now, because I don't know where it came from, I wake up every day wondering if it's going to sneak up and get me again.
I'm terrified of playing rugby this weekend because I'm afraid that my inhaler will not stop an attack if it comes on. Yes, I know my old inhaler was old and sometimes they lose their potency. However, it worked on Sunday night and then didn't work 16 hours later on Monday. I can't believe the inhaler would go kaput in that time.
...preparing a lesson for tomorrow night's class. Instead, I've been chatting with a dear friend that I'm glad to be reconnecting with. It's impossible to have too many intelligent women in your life. We chatted about the nature of butch/femme, and that conversation helped me to refine my opinions on the subject. It's something I've been thinking a bit about lately for various reasons, so it was good to get to say the things aloud that I've been tossing around in my head. I've also been farting around with my computer, downloading a spyware removal program, toying with my profiles on various websites, ripping my cd's to mp3, generally doing anything EXCEPT what i'm supposed to be doing.
*RINGRING* phone break!
Okay, having just spilled my innermost secrets to my little sister, I'm ready to get down to what this post was supposed to be about in the first place: asthma. I have been doing a lot to keep myself busy and not think about it lately. I was supposed to have a doctor's appointment this morning to discuss it and come up with a management plan. Unfortunately, that didn't work out. The office wasn't where its map said it was, and although my appointment was scheduled for 8:30, when I called to get revised directions to the office, the answering service said the office didn't open until 9. I don't have any idea how the directions and hours got so screwed up, but I'll be finding a new doctor before I set another appointment. Even now, in my post about asthma, i'm doing what I've been doing for a week: thinking and talking about everything EXCEPT how I feel about it.
I'm supposed to play in a rugby game this weekend. Last night was the first time I've gotten more than an arm's length from my inhaler since I went to the ER last Monday, and bragging about it just then made me go all tight and claustrophobic. Honestly, I don't know exactly where my inhaler is at this second, and that scares me. In fact, I'm going to go find it. Be right back.
Okay, so it was in the console of my truck. That's actually a pretty reasonable location for it, as long as I'm driving myself wherever I'm going. I really would like to get a few spares, so I can keep one at home and one in the office.
I've been trying to talk about this off and on for the last week. I haven't done a very good job expressing it to anyone, and if I've personally bored you with the discussion, I apologize. I do not fear. There are so few things in this life I'm afraid of that you might as well say there are none. I'm not scared of any of the typical stuff: bugs, snakes, bats, guns, death, violence, pain, heartache, heights, flying. In fact, relative to suffocation and stagnation (the emotional version of physical suffocation), I can honestly say I'm afraid of absolutely nothing.
So I'm supposed to be playing in a rugby game this weekend. It's an Aggie Alumnae game in which the old ruggers play with or against the current ones. I've been looking forward to this event for months. I was excited a month ago about the prospect of getting my boots back on and getting into my gear and pushing my body to keep up with my brain for an hour and a half. And then this asthma mess started up. I'm plain terrified.
I started trying to get to the root of this fear, because I'm ashamed that I have contemplated sitting a game out due to it. I have struggled with asthma before, and in a rugby context, it's very familiar. But something is different this time, and I'm scared in a way I've only felt once before. I think the difference is that before this, I've always known precisely what brought the asthma on. I've also always known exactly how to fix it. I suck on my inhaler, I wait a minute, air comes back into my lungs, I can breathe, all is well. There was one time in Aspen that it took a really long time for me to get an inhaler, and even longer for the attack to pass, and I got good and snotty drunk that night and cried on my friends' shoulders about it. This most recent attack was similar to that first in that I was without air for a very much longer time than I usually am. The difference, however, is that this time it wasn't triggered by playing rugby or by allergies or by anything I can put my finger on for certain. I'd been coughing a lot, with congestion in my chest, but later it turned out there was nothing unusual plugging up my chest. I was just standing in the copy room at work, having taken my inhaler just about 20 minutes before, and I suddenly couldn't breathe. Well, I could try, but no air moved when I tried to breathe. And here I am again, talking about the mechanics and the situation and the context, but not how I feel about it. I'm doing all I can to keep from facing this fear and feeling it.
So, I've gotten all distracted by other things as I've tried to compose this post, and now my neighbors are upstairs bowling for sex or something, so I'm going to end this ramble. More when I'm more coherent.
The weekend was a Good Thing (tm, pat pend). I had a blast with Brody and Jack and McDonough on Friday. I was a little sad that they had to leave so early, but ever so glad they came to visit. Dancing and laughing and flirting and renewing old friendships and making new friends -- who knew one night could be so good for my soul? I am never going to see the Jolly Green Giant in the same way again, I assure you. (If you want to know what that means, you have to know me well enough to have that conversation face-to-face. And you have to ask.)
Saturday I went and spent time with my sister and her lovely daughters. Her in-laws were visiting, and I love them, so that was bonus fun. I painted my sister's toenails for her, which is one of those fun things I haven't gotten to do much since we were kids living at home. Nostalgia! Don't spill the fingernail polish on the carpet!
Do you have any idea how bad a smell you can generate when you use an entire bottle of nail polish remover on a carpet spot? Do you have any idea how hard you can pray that your dad doesn't light up a cigarette and blow up the house because you used the whole bottle of polish remover?
After our nostalgic spa moment, we watched the Aggies roll over and play dead while OU kicked them in the ding-ding repeatedly throughout the first half. :( Apparently, they kinda redeemed themselves later in the game and it actually finished with a score of 30-36 (OU) so it must've been more exciting at the end. By then, I'd already dropped by to visit my friend who is recuperating from surgery and gone on home from there to cook dinner. I had a lovely dinner with a dear friend, and got to bed early to cap off a restful and relaxing Saturday. Her parting comment was that I need not cook so much or so extravagantly on her account... Little does she know that the cooking was all for me. She just gave me an audience, which is all the excuse I need for a cooking frenzy. (In case you were wondering: Tamari-marinated Sirloin ala The Garden Variety Goddess topped with sauteed mushrooms and onions, Garlic-Gruyere mashed potatoes, and an herb salad with red peppers and avocado)
And that was only 2/3 of the weekend! Sunday I played with Molly down at the river until she was tired (some of you may know how long it takes for that to happen), got a little nap, taught my LSAT class, cleaned my kitchen, and Renee came over for dinner. I laughed so hard I nearly shot asparagus out my nose. Some of you have undoubtedly shot milk or coke or apple juice out your nose at some point. You can imagine, then, how painful it would be to do that with asparagus. It was a standout evening in a signal weekend.
I'm blissed out by the wonderful company I passed time with this weekend. To each of you: my heartfelt thanks for your time and energy and goodwill. You all make my life better for knowing you.
There are days on which I want to shut my brain down. I want to be able to go to the lower left corner of my brainpan, click "Start" (always seemed a silly way to turn something off, to me) and "Shutdown" and watch my brain quietly pack away all its registry entries, close all its processes, park all its drives and close itself to new electrical impulses.
Since I can't do that, I attempt to assign silly little things higher priorities than usual so I won't have to think about the big things that I probably should be thinking about. The penalty for this is that I end up overanalyzing the little stuff. It's not productive and it's not worth the energy I'm blowing on it, but that knowledge doesn't stop the analyses in my head any more than the "Start" button can.
Last night, I rearranged my office. I moved two fully-loaded bookshelves across the room, put the couch against a different wall, and relocated a futon from the living room to the office. The geometry of my hall made it necessary for me to flip the futon over lengthwise and sideways to wiggle it into the room. The result was worth the struggle, though. I love the new layout in my office and I'm sure I'll love it even more once I've got the last of the boxes in there unpacked. Currently, the boxes serve as the Great Wall of Kimmie, separating everything on the right side of the room from everything on the left. I also love having my open living room space back. It was powerfully crowded with the futon, couch, love seat, and kitchen table in there. Now, to find resting places for my entertainment cabinet and a few old CD racks that are hanging around.
To sum up: asthma drugs make me hyper and cause me to rearrange my furniture alone like a mad kitten on the 'nip. PIXY STIX!!!!!! Overanalysis is BAD.
I have, since Wednesday of last week, been suffering badly with asthma. I know this is not a unique condition, and lots of folks out there have it, too. I haven't had trouble with it in over two years, though, so it really caught me by surprise to have trouble breathing last Wednesday. Further, I've been surprised by the fact that it's been ongoing since then. The real waker-upper was that I had a nasty attack yesterday afternoon at work (only 20 minutes after using my inhaler) and ended up in the emergency room.
Luckily, the hospital staff were quick and friendly and got me a breathing treatment very efficiently. I even got a kids' room in the E.R. so i had SpongeBob and Spiderman wall art for scenery, which beats institutional gray any day. Once I'd had the breathing treatment, all was well again. It was kinda scary, because although I'm familiar with this whole procedure (O2 monitor, BP cuff, gown, breathing through a tube) from having seen my sister go through it, I've never been through it myself. Hello: New Perspective!
End result: I got a new inhaler, as my old one was rather -- well, old. I also got a round of prednisone, which is NOT my favorite thing. I've seen family members go on it before, and I'm not looking forward to the side effects, although I cannot argue with the efficacy of its therapeutic effects. Today is the first day in nearly a week on which I've been able to take the stairs.
Lasting effects: ummm... I'm mortal. I forget that sometimes, that my existence will eventually cease, I'll be dead, and everything I know here and now will be no more. Honestly, that doesn't bother me. It's going to happen, I can't stop it, and I don't think it'll be terrible. In fact, I kinda look forward to the adventure of change although I'm in no hurry to get there; it seems there's no good way back. Suffocation, however, is my single greatest fear. I can't craft any words that adequately convey how deeply terrified I am of suffocation. I'm not afraid of dying, and I'm not afraid of death. I am shredded to the bone over suffocation. I keep telling my co-workers who ask after my health that i'm okay and "breathing is NOT overrated". It's shamefully cliche, I know, but it's the only response I have that doesn't get too personal. I don't want to show them this fear and pain. I don't want to answer honestly because that allows them into me too much.
I bought Anne Rice's The Witching Hour and the two sequels, Lasher and Taltos on Monday night. w00tzoR!!!!1 I love reading. Seriously, I could give up my computer forever, as long as I had a limitless supply of books. Anyway, two chapters in, and i realize now why Rice is such a popular author. Goodness on a Sheet of Paper, I can't believe it took me this long to get around to reading Anne Rice. Diggin' it lots. Thanks, Rose, for the suggestion.
I also picked up Rice's "Sleeping Beauty" series, and a standalone novel called Belinda both of which she wrote under pen names. Finally, picked up Anais Nin's Little Birds and Delta of Venus. I read most of Little Birds (it's a collection of shorts) when I was house-sitting for a friend a few years ago, but I'm looking forward to finishing that collection and getting into Delta as well. I was pleased to find pretty, displayable copies at Half-Price books and am looking forward to having them on my shelf for many years to come, almost as much as I'm looking forward to actually reading them.
That's it for me for now. I'm struggling with asthma today, which is unusual, and i'm hoping it's not a sign that this flu turned into something upper-respiratory-related in my chest. I can't shake the cough.
so my dad came over yesterday, and like the knight in shining armor he is, he cleaned my kitchen, walked my dog, bought me nukeable groceries and sick food and got me one or two things he knows i love to eat for when i'm feeling better.
yea, dad! you rock the house!
i had some really bizarre dreams last night. they're a little too personal for blogging the events, but some of the themes are probably worth discussing here. back to the nature of attraction: the star character in my dream was someone i admire deeply. she has the courage of her convictions in spite of a hostile environment and a stark lack of support in those convictions from most of the people around her. she and i were roommates in the air force academy, and i only wish we could have kept in closer contact since then. we catch up periodically, but i would love to know more about her and how her life is going. i was about to say that, ironically, in spite of my admiration for her, i've never desired her romantically. thinking on it, though, i don't think that's so ironic. i've got a pretty well-honed gaydar, and i have never yet set my sights on someone who was straight. if i admire someone that much, and still don't have any romantic inclinations toward her, it's because she's absolutely 100% straight. so, it's not ironic that i've never wanted more from her than friendship, it's telling.
that said, in my dream, she did something i really don't admire: she had an abortion. i know for some people, in some situations, it's the only thing to do. i know sometimes, it's the right thing to do. i know it's rarely an easy decision. but in my dream, she (very uncharacteristically) treated the abortion as a joking matter. she talked about using the "social cache" of motherhood to get special treatment from people, to manipulate people, and then aborted the pregnancy and played it up as a miscarriage for more sympathy and special treatment. the woman i roomed with would never behave like that, but dreaming about it has put the issue at the forefront of my processor today.
i support, politically speaking, every woman's right to control her own reproductive processes and to terminate a pregnancy if she is not prepared to see it through. i don't want any desperate 15-year old girl dying in a back alley under a dirty knife because she had no legal recourse to a clean, safe procedure she was going to have anyway. i feel the same way i do about this as i do about HIV -- i don't want anyone to have to die because they were ill-informed about prevention.
i know that means that i am supporting every woman's ability to have an abortion in any way and with whatever attitude she happens to have. i just wish i could impress upon each and every woman the significance i impart to motherhood, and the way other women like me wish for it. my sister risked her life, literally, to have children. her delivery required some 30 people attending to ensure her safety and that of her girls... she has a complicated medical history and we were all terrifically relieved to see them all survive, let alone thrive as they have. i wish that every woman who can't keep her own baby would be selfless enough to carry that baby to term and see it into the hands of a family who wants it desperately.
so, politically, and realistically, i understand that because i support a woman's ability to safely and legally abort a pregnancy i am also allowing abortion to be taken as seriously or as lightly as the woman in question takes it. i can't impose my point of view on anyone and i usually don't want to, but some days, i wish i could.
I just tried to forage up something to eat. Unfortunately, I'm out of nukable food, so I was going to boil some rice or noodles or something equally bland that has a reasonable chance of making a one-way trip through my body. Yeah, so I get to the kitchen and realize I've been sick and/or traveling for too long, because I have no clean pans. I tried unloading the dishwasher so I could load it and wash some pans (because I guarantee I'm NOT up to scrubbing them out by hand, sorry Dad...) and that went very badly. So I'm back at the computer, trying to heat water with the phenomenal powers of my mind... and that's not working much better. Actually, I could probably just use my fevered forehead as a hotplate and cook something in a Pyrex dish. Hmmm... delirium or genius? Always a fine line...
Blergh. Back to bed, then.
i'm sick. :( bleh. i'm going back to bed now, i just wanted to post out there to the whole world that i feel pretty fscking rotten right now. pour sympathy on me anytime you feel like it, thanks.
p.s. thanks, jerry, for walking molly last night. the sprite helped me, too.
This is the work of Paul Rudnick of the New Yorker and is listed on their web site thusly:
INTELLIGENT DESIGN
by PAUL RUDNICK
Issue of 2005-09-26
Posted 2005-09-19
Day No. 1:
And the Lord God said, “Let there be light,” and lo, there was light. But then the Lord God said, “Wait, what if I make it a sort of rosy, sunset-at-the-beach, filtered half-light, so that everything else I design will look younger?”
“I’m loving that,” said Buddha. “It’s new.”
“You should design a restaurant,” added Allah.
Day No. 2:
“Today,” the Lord God said, “let’s do land.” And lo, there was land.
“Well, it’s really not just land,” noted Vishnu. “You’ve got mountains and valleys and—is that lava?”
“It’s not a single statement,” said the Lord God. “I want it to say, ‘Yes, this is land, but it’s not afraid to ooze.’ ”
“It’s really a backdrop, a sort of blank canvas,” put in Apollo. “It’s, like, minimalism, only with scale.”
“But—brown?” Buddha asked.
“Brown with infinite variations,” said the Lord God. “Taupe, ochre, burnt umber—they’re called earth tones.”
“I wasn’t criticizing,” said Buddha. “I was just noticing.”
Day No. 3:
“Just to make everyone happy,” said the Lord God, “today I’m thinking oceans, for contrast.”
“It’s wet, it’s deep, yet it’s frothy; it’s design without dogma,” said Buddha, approvingly.
“Now, there’s movement,” agreed Allah. “It’s not just ‘Hi, I’m a planet—no splashing.’ ”
“But are those ice caps?” inquired Thor. “Is this a coherent vision, or a highball?”
“I can do ice caps if I want to,” sniffed the Lord God.
“It’s about a mood,” said the Angel Moroni, supportively.
“Thank you,” said the Lord God.
Day No. 4:
“One word,” said the Lord God. “Landscaping. But I want it to look natural, as if it all somehow just happened.”
“Do rain forests,” suggested a primitive tribal god, who was known only as a clicking noise.
“Rain forests here,” decreed the Lord God. “And deserts there. For a spa feeling.”
“Which is fresh, but let’s give it glow,” said Buddha. “Polished stones and bamboo, with a soothing trickle of something.”
“I know where you’re going,” said the Lord God. “But why am I seeing scented candles and a signature body wash?”
“Shut up,” said Buddha.
“You shut up,” said the Lord God.
“It’s all about the mix,” Allah declared in a calming voice. “Now let’s look at some swatches.”
Day No. 5:
“I’d like to design some creatures of the sea,” the Lord God said. “Sleek but not slick.”
“Yes, yes, and more yes—it’s a total gills moment,” said Apollo. “But what if you added wings?”
“Fussy,” whispered Buddha to Zeus. “Why not epaulets and a sash?”
“Legs,” said Allah. “Now let’s do legs.”
“Are we already doing dining-room tables?” asked the Lord God, confused.
“No, design some creatures with legs,” said Allah. So the Lord God, nodding, designed an ostrich.
“First draft,” everyone agreed, and so the Lord God designed an alligator.
“There’s gonna be a waiting list,” Zeus murmured appreciatively.
“Now do puppies!” pleaded Vishnu. “And kitties!”
“Ooooo!” all the gods cooed. Then, feeling a bit embarrassed, Zeus ventured, “Design something more practical, like a horse or a mule.”
“What about a koala?” asked the Lord God.
“Much better,” Zeus declared, cuddling the furry little animal. “I’m going to call him Buttons.”
Day No. 6:
“Today I’m really going out there,” said the Lord God. “And I know it won’t be popular at first, and you’re all gonna be saying, ‘Earth to Lord God,’ but in a few million years it’s going to be timeless. I’m going to design a man.”
And everyone looked upon the man that the Lord God designed.
“It has your eyes,” Zeus told the Lord God.
“Does it stack?” inquired Allah.
“It has a naïve, folk-artsy, I-made-it-myself vibe,” said Buddha. The Inca sun god, however, only scoffed. “Been there. Evolution,” he said. “It’s called a shaved monkey.”
“I like it,” protested Buddha. “But it can’t work a strapless dress.” Everyone agreed on this point, so the Lord God announced, “Well, what if I give it nice round breasts and lose the penis?”
“Yes,” the gods said immediately.
“Now it’s intelligent,” said Aphrodite.
“But what if I made it blond?” giggled the Lord God.
“And what if I made you a booming offscreen voice in a lot of bad movies?” asked Aphrodite.
Day No. 7:
“You know, I’m really feeling good about this whole intelligent-design deal,” said the Lord God. “But do you think that I could redo it, keeping the quality but making it at a price point we could all live with?”
“I’m not sure,” said Buddha. “You mean, what if you designed a really basic, no-frills planet? Like, do the man and the woman really need all those toes?”
“Hello!” said the Lord God. “Clean lines, no moving parts, functional but fun. Three bright, happy, wash ’n’ go colors.”
“Swedish meets Japanese, with maybe a Platinum Collector’s Edition for the geeks,” Buddha decided.
“Done,” said the Lord God. “Now let’s start thinking about Pluto. What if everything on Pluto was brushed aluminum?”
“You mean, let’s do Neptune again?” said Buddha.
I'm feeling drastically improved this morning. I think yesterday's icky-ness must have been caused by the yogurt. (Note to self: throw away the expired yogurt when you get home!)
So I posted last night about the greatness that was the weekend, but I don't think I was enthusiastic enough about it. On reflection, this was an absolute stand-out of a weekend, and I don't think I've enjoyed myself so much in some time. Most of my recent weekends have included a large chunk of time in which I did "stuff" that was important to someone else, and I was obliged to do it or volunteered to do it for some valid reason. Still, the greatest thing about this weekend was that I only did things that I REALLY WANTED TO DO and I had the opportunity to do them with the people I most wanted to see and spend time with.
I would have loved to add Meg, Nancy, Brody, and Eve to the list of people I got to hang out with this weekend, but I would have needed 27 hour days to make that happen. I'll catch them next time, I hope.
Yea! Poingity-Poingy-Poing-Poing-Poing! What an outstandingly great weekend! Even though it was enforced by borderline food poisoning, I thoroughly enjoyed the 15 hours of sleep I got last night. Maybe that's part of why I'm feeling so good today... I'm well rested for the first time in a long time.
So I realized tonight that my blog has recently taken a very Live-Journal-esque twist. I don't think everyone wants to read my deep personal introspections, so I'm going to start myself a live journal for that stuff, and get back to blogging on Blogspot.
That said, tonight's not a great night for blogging. I think I got into some bad yogurt today because I got pukey while teaching my LSAT class. I had to call the class off early and now I've gotta find some time to make up the missed session with my students. I feel positively foul, but I'm up and typing because I simply couldn't lie in bed any longer.
I had a great weekend, and I'll put up a photo of it as soon as Emilie sends it to me. [post edit: as promised, a photo! this is "before". unfortunately, i don't have any during or after pics.] I went to Austin for the Valkyries' Oil Wrestling fundraiser. I used to play rugby with the Valks when I lived in Austin, and I was invited back to wrestle as a guest. :) Thanks, ladies, it was fun!
Bonus prize: I got to hang out with my baby sister at her new house in Spicewood. It's such a precious place and she's rightfully proud of it. My dog likes it out there, too. We went for a nice walk Saturday morning when I woke up to Molly licking my nose. Not a subtle hinter, that dog. Next time I go, Molly will hopefully be able to swim and i can take her all the way down to the lake. She's still recovering from a bad cut on the bottom of her foot, so we couldn't get in the water this time. I just loved being able to walk the dog without a leash and a poop bag and all the uptight-ness that goes along with walking a big dog "in town". I know I'm an urbanite at this point in my life, and probably will be for a good while yet, but there are some things about rural life I miss.
Almostly finally, I got to hang out and have breakfast after oil wrestling with some of my favorite people on the planet. I love to see my friends in good, happy, healthy, complementary relationships. Furthermore, cream-cheese-artichoke-heart enchiladas with lemon-cream sauce ROCK THE HOUSE. Thanks, Magnolia Cafe, for eternally good food and servers who are nice to you even when you ARE drunk and sleepy and mostly incoherent at 3 AM.
I'm thinking of you. I'm proud of you. You have taken control and are taking care of yourself, and that makes you unfuckwithable. *HUGS AND SUPPORT*
first, a confessional: my embarrassing revelation, which came before the quoted segment of the IM conversation in the last blog entry was that i had wanted to kiss "HER:" during a previous evening together, but had been uncertain how it'd be received and so had refrained. i got a small ration of shit for posting her "embarrassing bits" but not mine. personally, i thought i did plenty of self-embarrassment by posting the conversation in the first place, but now, hopefully, we're even.
second, to put too fine a point on this ramble about "all that matters", here goes:
ME: that's by far the least embarrassing course of action. :) but sometimes you have to hang it out there and embarrass yourself to get what you want.
ME: i'm so much more flustered by women than i am by men, and i think it's largely because i care more about the women. if it doesn't work out with a guy, or if we get our signals crossed, i can drop him like a dirty kleenex, and not be bothered overmuch by the loss.
HER: well just look at us biologically (if that's even a word) and it makes complete sense...sex for men is OUTSIDE of them, it is external. for women it is literally letting someone inside you - that has to affect your emotions about it in some way.
ME: it does. i think it's hormonal, too, at some level. <-- this is a new theory based on discussions with one of my trans friends.
HER: i joke that i wish i could take sex more casually but in truth i'm glad i don't.
ME: yeah? i get that. on the one hand, it would be nice from the "frequently satisfied" perspective. but, on the other hand, you risk a slutty reputation and leaving yourself open to bad experiences and lesbian drama.
ME: nope. me, either. at one level, sex is just sex for me, it's a physical thing and that's fun and i'm glad to have it as long as it's good. on another, it can be an emotional, soulful connection with somebody, and i don't want to go spreading that around too thinly.
i've got a very good compartmentalizer in my emotional makeup, so i can keep those two things separated, but i find it's hard for me to have both kinds of sex with the same person. if it's sex, it's just sex. if we make love, we make love, but i can't go back and forth.
that's why i'm completely baffled by the people who have booty calls with their exes. once i've severed that sort of emotional bond with someone, i can't go back and have a purely physical experience with them.
so i had an unusually deep IM conversation with a friend i'm going out with tonight. i guess she's something more than a friend, at this point. she's a crush. i was going to cut and paste bits of the conversation and turn them into a regular blog post, and i still might. but for now, to get my post started, is the conversation, mostly as it occurred. there are some temporal skips i've rearranged, and i've erased names of people where it was appropriate to do so.
HER: i wanted dinner to be a date but didn't know if it was a date because it's hard to tell if it is hanging out or a date...plus i always err on the side of caution...
ME: that's by far the least embarassing course of action. :) but sometimes you have to hang it out there and embarass yourself to get what you want.
HER: ...so i consulted my wise lesbian friend [name removed] to find out how you know the difference. i caught a lot of shit for that.
ME: LOL. what did she say was the difference?
HER: i don't feel that i got a good answer....she asked me how I felt about it and what I thought about you which has nothing to do with if it is reciprocated and a date or not so i walked away thinking that the wise lesbian sage might just be a babbling old lady. :) her answer was that it boiled down to intent...if my intention was to get to know you and see if I like-like you then it is a date.
ME: yeah, i agree with her. that's about it. :)
HER: brother - dating men was so much easier - you knew for sure. i don't ever remember wondering if i was going on a date or just hanging out.
ME: indeed. it's not hard to tell with them, for some reason. women are SOOOOO frickin' ambiguous.
HER: and i'm so much more forward w/men than i am w/women. i guess because they are easier to read.
ME: i'm so much more flustered by women than i am by men, and i think it's largely because i care more about the women. if it doesn't work out with a guy, or if we get our signals crossed, i can drop him like a dirty kleenex, and not be bothered overmuch by the loss.
HER: agreed. i'm very aware when dating women that they feel more and differently than men would. men can shrug it off easier too - women have a harder time...part of the reason i wouldn't do anything with young hot [2nd name removed]- if it were a guy i wouldn't have a moral dillema, they are better at compartmentalizing than women are...ah! i have a meeting...be back in a bit.
*BRIEF INTERMISSION*
HER: so where were we...
ME: women don't compartmentalize as well as men do. and they don't separate sex from love as well as men do.
HER: well just look at us biologically (if that's even a word) and it makes complete sense...sex for men is OUTSIDE of them, it is external. for women it is literally letting someone inside you - that has to affect your emotions about it in some way.
ME: it does. i think it's hormonal, too, at some level. <-- this is a new theory based on discussions with one of my trans friends.
HER: really? more please...did their feelings about it change after being on hormones?
ME: yes. he became very interested in porn, for one thing. and he used to be the type who had to be in LOVE with anyone he slept with. now, he can just fsck for fun, and love is a whole other game.
HER: well huh. that's very interesting. maybe i need a little more testosterone.
ME: :) i like you all estrogenated, thanks. testosterone also gave him acne, road rage and chest hair.
HER: well then nevermind...i think i'll stay the girly girl i am. :)
ME: yeah, probably for the best. no woman i know needs help growing hair on her chest. :)
HER: i joke that i wish i could take sex more casually but in truth i'm glad i don't.
ME: yeah? i get that. on the one hand, it would be nice from the "frequently satisfied" perspective. but, on the other hand, you risk a slutty reputation and leaving yourself open to bad experiences and lesbian drama.
HER: drama. yuck. not a fan.
ME: nope. me, either. at one level, sex is just sex for me, it's a physical thing and that's fun and i'm glad to have it as long as it's good. on another, it can be an emotional, soulful connection with somebody, and i don't want to go spreading that around too thinly. i've got a very good compartmentalizer in my emotional makeup, so i can keep those two things separated, but i find it's hard for me to have both kinds of sex with the same person. if it's sex, it's just sex. if we make love, we make love, but i can't go back and forth. that's why i'm completely baffled by the people who have booty calls with their exes. once i've severed that sort of emotional bond with someone, i can't go back and have a purely physical experience with them.
HER: that makes sense...i don't know how well my compartmentalizer works these days - i've been a serial monogamist for a while so i haven't tried it out...and probably lean much more to the emotional that the sport side...sporting still requires a level of trust to me - any time i've had a sport buddy it's been a friend that i trust but that there is a detachment emotionally.
ME: wow. self-discovery moment. until i typed that out, i'd never really thought about why i was so boggled by stories of people sleeping with their exes. yeah. if you're going to have a regular sport buddy, it has to be someone you have a level of respect and trust with, i would imagine. i've never had one, so i don't know. :)
HER: i've never had a female one...so i don't know how well that would work. my male sporting buddy was in my 20's and someone that i really cared about and respected but we were long-time friends and when we moved on it was clean and fine...i think it was an exception rather than something i could see repeating again. i think these days sleeping with someone who didn't want to date me would be bad for my self-image.
ME: really? even if you didn't want to date the other person, either? what if it was mutual?
HER: well i can't really see me wanting to sleep with someone i don't want to date...i don't know...i haven't thought it through that well. there could be a circumstance where it would be OK - but in general i think it would translate in to my head that i'm good enough for a romp but not good enough for dating...but that's not how i would think of the other person so basically i'm just writing about stuff that hasn't come up in a long time and i don't really know how i'd feel about it.
ME: this is all pretty deep for IM. i almost feel like i'm journaling, having to write out how i feel about subjects i've never spent a lot of time defining my position on.
HER: if i had the same situation again that i had before it would be OK - that was fun and it worked...
ME: understood. i'm defining my position as i go, as well. i've never had a sport buddy, so i'm not qualified to comment. :) i've envisioned situations in which it could work, and that was the defining characteristic i came up with: we would have to be mutually attracted but in agreement on the fact that we didn't want to date for whatever reason.
HER: ...but i'm a more guarded person now than i was then so i don't know if it would work now...being guarded is something i've decided to get rid of in my life so we'll see...not sure how that will change me.
ME: i applaud the effort.
HER: effort of dropping guards?
HER: or efforts of getting a sport buddy. :)
ME: it's hard to let your defenses down, because it's scary as hell. it's also the most rewarding thing you can ever do, because there is nothing like the feeling you get from a totally truly open connection with a worthy soul.
HER: that's very true. i used to say that the worst that could happen was that i'd get hurt and i've been hurt before and i lived through it just fine ...i liked that attitude...
ME: it's a good one to have.
HER: ...but this last year i've been closed off and unwilling to really just be vulnerable...it's time to go back to being my true self and not my scared self. but a smarter self who is better at judging who is worthy and who isn't.
ME: sometimes that defensive phase is part of healing, though. you HAVE to withdraw so you can get your balance back and be open in a healthy way.
HER: that's true. and when healing it is easy to transfer feelings rather than develop them.
ME: hrmm... what do you mean by that?
ME: (in the style of : curious, not snidely challenging)
HER: so you are in the healing process and are far enough along to step out there and start dating...
ME: k
HER: ...if you haven't put up some distance or a bit of a wall, when you start developing feelings/interest in someone, you run the risk of transferring the unresolved feelings for your ex (because you are in the healing process still) on to the person you are seeing...
ME: oh, yes. i get that. i've been on the receiving end of that before.
HER: ...instead of developing them for that person by that person's merits without the past tagging along. so while it makes it hard to be open to others, it also keeps you from bringing whatever it is you're still working on to the next experience.
ME: yeah.
HER: i have too. (been on the receiving end) - it's a weird feeling to know that what they are feeling so intensely has nothing to do with you.
ME: exactly. i had no idea where this rage in my ex was coming from, or why she kept going back to mistrusting me... i finally figured out that it was baggage, not ME.
HER: i know everyone has their baggage, everyone brings their past in to some extent - it's just really important to me to make peace with the past so it doesn't harm my future.
ME: yup. there's a fine line to walk between learning from past mistakes and being haunted by them. it's a delicate balance.
HER: i did a good job of that after [3rd name removed], but i did a lousy job of allowing myself to feel. my actions were great, my communication was excellent, but my heart and head were so disconnected...and i don't like to be unbalanced like that and think i learned a lot from those experiences and can apply the lessons.
HER: goodness, this really is like a journal IM.
ME: i know. i almost feel like i should save the chatlog and put it in my blog. (change names to protect the guilty, of course, and edit out the more embarassing bits) i don't think i will, but it's that caliber of confessional convo.
HER: you can. i don't care...except you should leave the embarassing things in for entertainment value. :)
i've been itching to get something else "done" lately. it's like when i've been away from theater or choir for too long, i get a bug and have to get back to it again. there's something in my soul that needs these things periodically. other examples of things i periodically need are:
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