Looking Back – National Day of Silence 2007

During my college years I kept a blog and I found posts from that blog on my Facebook profile this morning. Reading through them I realized I used to do so much more critical thinking – it’s spurred me to do more writing here.

Below is the gem I found in the midst of Art History papers and commentary of articles I’d read online. I used to participate in a lot of the GLBT events on our campus and it’s an aspect of my life I sorely miss in Las Vegas. Despite being 6 years old I still feel the same way about being queer.

 

Today is the National Day of Silence. Visit the website to find out about it, if you didn’t know already.

I’ve been thinking today. I’ve been doing a very good job of staying silent. I talked to my ArtH TA this morning (I forgot, and it was about registration issues) and then participated in class (another oops, but I can defend it since I was commenting on satirical bodily violence and the sacralisation and de-sacralisation of the criminal body). Other than that, I called work to see if they needed me for my call-in shift today. Thankfully, they don’t.

I sent out an email to some friends and relatives, and texted my parents and a few friends to remind them of the event (because I forgot to yesterday) and I urged them to spend at least a little bit of today in voluntary silence out of remembrance of the victims of hate crimes. This year is going much better than last year.

I showed my info card to my Latin and Phonetics instructors today. Most of those classes are participation, so I felt kind of stupid not talking for the whole class period, but their responses were pretty darn cool. I showed Sean my card when he handed out our quizzes, and after he read the card, he said something along the lines of  “I can dig that.” The look on his face was much better than that, though, like he respected me for my decision. He looks around at us to choose who gets to participate, and after a while, I felt like I kind of wasn’t there, even though he certainly wasn’t ignoring me. Doni and Liz asked to see the card that I showed Sean and they thought the protest was pretty cool. It was frustrating in class, though, because I had questions about my translations (but couldn’t ask them), and I had clarifications to make about things, but I couldn’t make them. Phonetics was pretty cool, even though the point of that class is to speak French. I showed Treece my card and he smiled and gave it back to me. I liked the fact that I was pretty much ignored in that class. It wasn’t a malicious act on Treece’s part. We were reading the play, and the class settled into the rhythm of reciting without me, and I felt like it really mirrored the point of our protest. The girl who sits next to me was confused, so I showed her my card, and she smiled and tried to make class go seamlessly.

The best way I can think of to make this protest mean something is to go out and inflict my silence upon society. I don’t have money to go out to eat, but if I did, I would be out doing things, making people help me, but without being able to speak to them. Ordering food. Maybe going on a silent bike ride with some friends. Go to the mall or take the bus. Something. I know I’ll find something to do.

I was thinking on my way home about how my silence is read, and how I am read in general. Just how queer am I? I was told once that I am “flamingly bisexual” – whatever that means. On occasion I do dress like a dyke, and I have my Spring Pride buttons from 2006 and 2007 on my backpack. I have my red AIDS ribbon. I have my little white “QUEER” button on my backpack, too. That’s about as far as I go to display myself. I have a rather masculine boyfriend, but somehow other queer folk and I manage to spot each other. Mostly everyone else is oblivious, unless I’m specifically declaring my lust for Reese Witherspoon, and I think it’s important for me to participate in this day in order to affirm that I am queer, and what’s important is that there is so much more to me as a person than my queer-ness, which is what makes discrimination and harrassment so stupid and wrong. We all have something in common, and picking on someone for something as stupid as who they fuck is just bogus. I am such a diverse, independent, and capable individual that my sexuality is merely one of the many brilliant elements of my identity. I think it’s great participating today, and people finally realizing that I’m at least allied with the community, if they wouldn’t have suspected it. There’s no better eye-opener.

So much more of my identity is based on things other than my gender and my sexual preferences, though, that I feel uncomfortable doing many other activist things. I’m more than willing to volunteer for things like MBLGTACC and be on panels because there’s work that needs to be done and I believe in the cause, but there are more important things for me to put my energy into. (Sleeping, doing homework, working to pay bills) The queer world is not my life, so I leave it to those who are more invested in it than I am, and I am way more than happy to lend a helping hand. I think this is why I embrace NDOS so much more than any other queer event in the year.

I like to think that NDOS gets to the heart of the queer crisis in the US. NCOW is important to some people, but it only makes sense that once we eliminate hate crimes and discrimination, NCOW will cease to be so necessary. We should not be discriminating based on gender or sexual identity, regardless, and we need to realize that people are comprised of so much more than their genitalia (and their uses/practices). I am so much more than just a vagina that likes to interact with other penises and vaginas (among other things). I believe that my value and merit are based on the quality of my character and my actions, rather than anything else. Not my hair color, not my height, not my gender, not the language I speak, not my sexual preferences, and not the car I drive, among other things. 

This is highlighted by the story I often relate from when I lived in Virginia. Everyone my grandparents introduced me to thought I was just the nicest, sweetest, brightest girl they’d met. Then at Sunday School (Bible Study?) my grandfather made a remark about gays not being fit to hold positions of power within the church. Long story short, I almost came out right then and there. I didn’t, but while I was talking about our lesson that day on the New Covenant and how God is the only being capable of judgment and humans are supposed to merely forgive and let God handle things, everyone was commenting on how bright and righteous I was. My ass.

I am enjoying being silent in my own little way. As a person who identifies as queer specifically (more than bisexual, since I think the gender implications are heinous), today I feel like I am making a difference. Maybe I’m not doing any more than making some people wonder, or think “hey, I didn’t know,” but that’s enough for me. Me being queer doesn’t change anything else about me. It doesn’t change my ability to write papers, or sell stuffed animals, or ride my bike. Maybe it helps make me a little more human and a little more humble (don’t get mad! it’s possible for straight people too! Being an ally, or in any other way not being anti-GLBTQIAWHATEVER counts!) when dealing with other people who are different from me. We’re all different, but we’re not so different.

Now I go continue my silence.

Bittersweet isn’t so bad when it comes from your mp3 player

Stumbling on memories of old friends unexpectedly is often like cleaning out the fridge – usually they’ve spoiled and all you can do is wish you’d finished the meal before it went bad. Every now and then though you find some penicillin. I found mine this morning.

I was putting together music suitable for picking up my boss from the airport tomorrow and ended up listening to Counting Crows. During the Spring of 2003 I drove to Ohio to take an old friend’s extra ticket to see Counting Crows because his girlfriend dumped him. That friendship and the ones I formed after that trip are usually what come to mind, every bitter and sweet part of learning to take charge of adulthood.

Later that Spring though Counting Crows came to Stevens Point and I went to the concert with my boyfriend and his best friend. It wasn’t the shitty boyfriend I thought of but his friend (whom I’ll call Rat) and probably one of the most tender and honest times I’ve ever had with someone.

Rat and I became very close after a domestic incident with the loser bf and unexpectedly he became a buoy in the stormy sea I’d capsized into. Slowly we got to know each other, we talked about our lives, we had our own little nerd haven of anime, D&D, Lord of the Rings, Counting Crows. There are two distinct moments I remember and together they are the most perfect example of bittersweet in my life.

The sweet moment was a kiss under a tree during a midnight trek through Scmeekle Park looking for zombies. It was the brief perfect culmination of the early part of courtship. I won’t say that no other kiss ever compared to it, but it was a first and it was perfect.

The bitter came to a head nearly a year later when I realized I had to give that up. Rat had spent a semester abroad and I’d gone to Minnesota for school and he came to visit me when he got back just before finals. I let him stay in my tiny studio apartment and he drove me home for winter break. I wanted to try and build on the connection we’d had that summer but Rat (gently) made it clear that although he enjoyed my company there was no hope for a relationship. I haven’t thought about it in ages but this morning I caught a whiff of the pungent minute when I told Rat “I like you too much to pretend that I don’t.” He was shirtless, stretched out on my floor and I was immune to his charms but somehow this perfect little burp came out and saved us both.

Such is the history of a woman who’s made a life out of following her passions. Part of that life MUST be knowing your limits so you can avoid getting in over your head. Sadly this heartbreak wasn’t a first and it wasn’t the last, but somehow it was fulfilling in the end.

There’s no need for any more surprises today, I think I’ll stick to a Maroon 5 CD tomorrow.

Regret Check Time!

I’ve been sick lately (the doctor says sinus infection, I say it’s septic) and while I was contemplating the consequences of sepsis I was wondering if I have any regrets in life.

Happily, there isn’t anything major I’m sad I haven’t accomplished. There also aren’t any dumb decisions I wish I haven’t made. Sure, there are plenty of dumb decisions in my life – but if it came down to dying tomorrow there aren’t any that make me feel my life was worthless.

I don’t regret distancing myself from my family. I don’t regret moving to Vegas, taking time off of work, or not going to more Packer games. I think more than anything in life I’ve gravitated towards what I find fulfilling.

Regardless, I still think this sinus infection will be the death of me. The application process for adopting Pete starts now.

The Glorious Gridiron – My Ode to Football

If you follow my Twitter account it’s no surprise to you that football is my favorite sport. I like sports in general (both playing and watching) and I could also write about curling, pro wrestling, or rugby. I couldn’t write about any sport as easily or with as much passion as football, though.

This entire post is not just about the privilege of being a Green Bay Packers fan, either. Another day I’ll expound on our felicitous fraternity – not the day after we lose in the divisional playoffs.

What is so great about football?  It’s a bunch of overpaid meatheads beating each other up over a ball for 60 minutes.

Yes,  that’s partly true. I like football for the physicality – I love watching our defense sack the opposing quarterback. I also love interceptions, especially by guys like BJ Raji (Nose Tackle the size of a Mack truck) and Charles Woodson (our relatively old chief ninja). I love watching running backs break tackles and our fullback plowing through a cluster of defenders for precious yardage. Being able to accomplish these feats is a testament to strength, conditioning, talent, and practice.

Football is not a braindead sport, either. Some coaches and players can’t tell their foot from a hole in the ground and some coaches over-complicate the sport. Football boils down to knowing your own team’s best option and being able to read your opponent. I’m no genius and I’ll never be Madden but my limited knowledge always asks “what’s our best possible play?”, “where are we weak?”, “what will the other team expect?”, “how do we get past them?”

Football is not rocket science and it never will be.  However, great players and coaches are always studying and learning.

I also love football for the fans. As a Packers fan I have a slightly different standard of fandom. You don’t have to be born into your legacy but you must support it with your whole heart. Fans don’t cheer injuries or attack players (especially Twitter) for having a bad play or a bad game.

Fans cheer achievements, even when it’s the opponent. When Adrian Peterson racked up 199 yards against us to launch the Vikings (a team I loathe) into the playoffs I still recognized what an accomplishment he had this year, rushing over 2,000 yards. Fans stick by their teams even when they can’t win for losing. Fans get dressed up and cheer game after game, year after year, loss after loss.

Sure, other sports are cerebral and physical,  but you can’t find a better experience than watching 106 guys find a way to outsmart and outmaneuver each other over a scrap of leather in the cold. No guts, no heart, no glory.

This Ain’t No Winter!

It turns out that when the heat in the house goes out in the dead of winter I just think I have a cold. No joke – I’d put on my hockey sweatpants, a sweater, and a beanie and then thought to check the thermostat to see just how sick I was feeling.

Home sweet home

Despite the thermostat being set to 72, the inside temperature was 64. We’ve flipped all the breakers, re-set all of the GFIs in the house and pressed all of the buttons on the thermostat to absolutely no avail. It’s a crisp 58 degrees in the living room but now it doesn’t feel so bad.

 

Whenever I get cold in Nevada I stop and think about how cold it actually has been – those winters spent in 4-foot snowdrifts in the Wisconsin River Valley or with the bitter wind coming off the Great Plains in Minnesota.  When I was a kid in Wisconsin we had an older house with terrible insulation so most of the winter was spent with an electric blanket and bundled up. Showering and washing my hair was a nightmare but I got through it eventually. When I was in college I went without much heat (if any at all) over two winter breaks thanks to crappy building construction.  This is practically summer weather compared to spending 10 hours a day outside in November and December deer hunting!

 

I won’t lie, the cold can be brutal out here in the desert. Thanks to growing up in the frozen north, though, the heat going out in January is more or less a walk in the park. Bring on the sweater and hot tea!

What Do I Want?

My friend Josh was telling me today about the girls he’s tried dating since the last time I talked to him this Fall and I started thinking about what I want in a partner. I’d gone through a self-discovery exercise about two years ago after the breakup with J and made a list of the qualities I want and need in a partner to be happy. Earlier this Summer/Fall I started thinking about this list and wondered if I needed to re-evaluate what I want in my life since it’s obviously changed in the last two years.

 

Yes, some of the things on my list have changed. Then I started wondering if I’m offering all the things to my partner that I need in order to not only be happy myself but be happy in a partnership. You get what you give and I know lately I’ve been cranky and dissatisfied – primarily with myself. It’s not pleasant. Is the unhappiness in my life just an extension of the unhappiness with myself?

 

My ideal partner is someone who is financially responsible (or at least has started planning for the future), self-motivated, an open communicator, someone with good hygiene and wants a commitment like marriage and a family. I would say that the ones I really fulfill are wanting a commitment and being self-motivated and more or less I’m financially responsible despite having less-than-desirable credit.

 

As much as I need to be with someone who can communicate their feelings to me openly I know that I’m a shitty communicator. I hate confrontation and I wait until I’m going crazy to bring something up. I grew up in a house where passive aggression was the norm and I still have problems with it. Half the time I don’t realize it until it’s too late but I know that I’m not good at having constructive discussions.

 

I’ll admit it, I’m not the best with personal  hygiene. For the moment it’s because I’ve got serious medical issues but it still disturbs me. It’s tough not only to bathe but also to clean up after myself. I try not to go around being filthy but it’s still something I’m very self-conscious about. Not being able to clean up after myself really is what makes me feel the worst.

 

Overall I’d say I’m pretty positive – life is good and I’m headed in a good direction. I know there are plenty of good things about me and the other people in my life but there’s no growth without looking at what makes up our lives and what makes us unhappy though. I’m committed to making the best life for me that I can and that includes becoming the best person I can.

Get Me Out Of My Stuff!

I’ve posted before about when I moved to Las Vegas, cramming everything I owned into my car and driving 2,000 miles across North America. After surgery I’m having difficulty lifting and moving things and trying to keep my space tidy has intensified for me the dilemma of materialism.

At this point in my life I’ve consistently had more money and earning power than I’ve ever had before. (Key word is consistently) Even when I was a poor college kid, though, I would collect things. Whether it were cool plastic cups or Incredibles tee shirts I was always the queen of employee discounts and clearance sales – I was good at finding ways to find things that would express myself and make me smile.

Let me be clear – I wasn’t focused on showing my status by spending money, it was surrounding myself with things that expressed my likes, my point of view. I wasn’t a hoarder but it was similar I guess.

After I moved down here and had to keep carting my life around in my car with little or no money I came to appreciate not acquiring things. When I moved into my own two-bedroom apartment almost 3 years ago I didn’t have much in the way of furniture. I didn’t even have a TV. My need for furniture subsided and I slowly got focused on clothes.

I’ve got more clothes than I can wear. It’s still not about status – this time it’s more about an idea of “replacing”. I’ve gone down two dress sizes and had to buy new clothes a couple of times, so on top of “replacing” the things I’ve left behind I still feel like I need to replenish my clothes.

How many pairs of jeans does one girl need? How many shirts, dresses, sweatshirts are really vital to life? Over the last two or three years my self image has changed too. At first I went from being comfortable with being a curvy size 10-11 to feeling insecure in Vegas culture. I lost some weight and started to feel a little better about myself until I went through some unrelated issues and just stopped eating out of nerves. People commented on how sickly I looked and I honestly started to miss my curves. Now I’m at the point where I realize I’m on the doorstep of 30 but at the same time I really do look the best I ever have. I feel the best I ever have, save for that I currently can’t exercise much because of recovery.

Once I get a handle on how I see myself I don’t think I’ll need to keep buying things. I know that the clothes I wear won’t change me and what size I wear doesn’t determine my value. A small part of the problem is that I travel to Europe for work frequently and I feel the need to fit in. I’m starting to embrace the sexiness and maturity I finally feel and once I get a handle on that I think the rest will fall by the wayside.

Weeding out the toys, books, and cups is easy. Clothes are harder – I really need to get a handle on my self image and NOT use clothes shopping as self-discovery.

At Home With A Cripple

I had surgery on my arm just over a month ago, I went to Texas for the initial 4 weeks of recovery. I’m back home in Vegas now and life is pretty different.

I can’t shower or wash my own hair. We have a stand-alone shower, so my limited movement and lack of space make showers a painful nightmare. The girl cookie’s bathroom is a landfill so I can’t shower in her full bathtub shower.

Eating is interesting. I can’t lift things or use the microwave, or open many boxes or containers. I have to ask for help, carrying my plate or making sure food is in a place and container I can get to it.

Recovery was going well in Texas. The night I got home I busted something in the incision in my elbow. Back to work, a lot of my energy and strength gets uded up with emails and spreadsheets. By the middle of the day I’m worn out and in pain.

I’m writing this morning because I’m hungry. I haven’t had a shower since Monday or Tuesday. I hurt like hell. The kicker is there isn’t much I can do about it. There isn’t food where I can get to it, bathing gets forgotten, my doctor’s office is slow and I can’t get in until next week.

This post is all me-me-me, but it’s fair warning. I’m starving, I’m dirty, I’m just plain fed up. I can’t take anymore of this.

Addendum to Today’s Confusion

Earlier today I posted my thoughts on how/why I’m not married yet. I guess I wasn’t clear enough that I was thinking about the journey I’ve taken to get to the last few years, about how I feel about myself and the choices I’ve made. Currently I have a pretty awesome life and I’m looking forward to the coming years.

 

Again, let me say that there are some wonderful people in my life. I’m thankful to have a ninja at home and others who care about me –  I don’t mean that I don’t value you in my life. I’d also like to clarify that I’m not saying I hate marriage, I don’t believe in it, I don’t ever want to do it. My point was more that it hasn’t happened yet for a reason.  As it stands when I think about how/why it hasn’t happened yet I wonder if there aren’t things about myself I need to get in order before I start taking settling down seriously.

 

While I appreciate all of you reading and thinking about my blog, please don’t internalize too much of it. Sometimes I mean these posts as expositions about small (but sometimes significant) parts of me and they’re not the main point of a larger story. I don’t ever mean to hurt someone by posting a blog.

 

Have a good night.

Never A Bride?

Today I was talking to Bill, a good old friend from high school and he asked me why I’m not married yet. Actually, he more specifically asked HOW I’m not married, not WHY.

Is it really a foregone conclusion that all girls want to grow up and get married? I know I did for the longest time, maybe even up until this year. I answered my friend as if he’d asked me WHY I’m not married – I work too much, I think I’m too independent and set in my ways anymore, I just don’t know. Now I’m really thinking about that HOW.

Nope, sorry

Growing up I dreamed about finding a mate and living happily ever after, staying together forever like my grandparents did. As I grew up and dated I’ll admit that I did rush to think “Is he The One?” and usually I was too excited to answer myself honestly. That’s part of growing up though, trying different flavors and finding out what you do and don’t like and why. Bill has known me through all of these periods, especially on my journey out to the desert to follow our other friend Ogre because he was the love of my life. Naturally you think I would have settled down already.

It’s not that there haven’t been opportunities. I dated a guy very seriously in college and we wanted to get married, but when he wanted to buy me a ring and propose I asked him not to because we had bills to pay. Even though I still loved him and still planned on a future together, he saw that request as me not loving him enough. I saw my decision the other way around – sacrificing something pretty for food, clothing, shelter and a promise that we can stick together through thick and thin. Things went south in a nasty, drug-fueled break-up later that Fall. Still, I kept hope that I would find a mate.

What the EFF was I thinking?

The turning point might have been two and a half years ago when my relationship with J went sour. After Ogre and I went our separate ways I met J online and after a few spurts we started dating. We started dating seriously, a really passionate thing early on and he even started talking about getting married. I didn’t see it then, but looking back I see how expertly he played me. I let him manipulate me – I thought I was pretty smart and I’m insecure enough to blame myself for the stupid shit he would do to me.

Let me get to the turning point. Somewhere in this disgusting tale J told me his ex was having his kid in the Fall, started cheating on me and I was testing the waters by leaving – my dumb ass didn’t just pick up and go outright. I went to see my younger brother in San Diego since he’d just gotten back from deployment and this was a huge problem with J. I went, I came back, we stupidly had sex.

Without getting into the sordid details my period was a few days late so I used it as an opportunity to play a farewell FUCK YOU and tell J I was pregnant. I wasn’t pregnant, he didn’t know – but the fake pregnancy and miscarriage I used to fuck with this guy’s head turned out to ACTUALLY be something. After this shit was over I went to the doctor and explained what happened, the specialist said it was most likely a miscarriage. Go figure. (Yes I know this was fucked up – it’s the only time I’ve ever done something that crazy, and after all the shit this bastard put me and his family through I thought it was justified.)

Oh no…

This really screwed up my head. Any crack whore or high school teenager can get pregnant and have a baby. Ridiculous women get married all the time. How is it that my body can’t keep a fetus alive and I can’t keep a relationship going for more than 8 months? I live a pretty healthy life. I’m college-educated, I have a good job. What the FUCK is wrong with me?

In the end I think I’ve dealt with this like I’ve dealt with my shitty family relationships and I’ve just swept it under the rug. I sincerely enjoy my job, I have my health to look after with the injury; I don’t think this whole settling down thing is really a priority anymore.  I’ve looked out for number 1. I’ve done what I thought was best for me and the people around me, and in the end I think I’ve just shot myself in the foot. Bill says that the right person is out there and it will happen – I’m not sure I want it to though. I always feel guilty when I do what I feel is necessary to take care of myself, I don’t know that I want to drag someone else in.

What’s the conclusion here? I don’t think there is one. I’m blessed enough to have some wonderful people in my life, especially ones who take care of me. I know that I’m a good person and my self-esteem isn’t an issue, I guess I just haven’t learned to trust other people to have my best interest at heart, or I don’t trust myself to make tough decisions about what I do and don’t need in my life. I don’t handle people very well. Maybe once I learn to do that settling down will happen.