So as you’ve no doubt heard, the Democrats finally pulled their heads out of their collective asses last night and passed the damn bill. However it wasn’t without its own particular hysterics. In particular several protesters yelled racial and homophobic epithets and Democratic members of Congress. I think it’s rather self-evident that bigotry plays a rather large role in the Conservative movement as does a general lack of empathy for human suffering, however it’s been interesting in a rather depressing way to watch those two forces interplay in the health care reform debate. A lot of this sentiment rises from the Tea Party elements of conservativism, which for better or worse has been driving a lot of the grassroots energy to the Republican party over the past six months. So of course Republican politicians have no desire to alienate these people, which leads to some rather repugnant justifications for this language.
First Devin Nunes (R-CA), who represents the 21st district which includes Clovis and Visalia, said this:
Yeah, well I think that when you use totalitarian tactics, people, you know, begin to act crazy. I think, you know, there’s people that have every right to say what they want. If they want to smear someone, they can do it.
Now we have Steve King (R-IA) saying this:
“I just don’t think it’s anything,” King said, emphasizing that the incidents were isolated. “There are a lot of places in this country that I couldn’t walk through. I wouldn’t live to get to the other end of it.”
So apparently totalitarian tactics (by which he actually means majority rule) and the fact that an old white guy is afraid to walk through black neighborhoods makes it okay for protesters to use hate speech. It’s things like this that make prognostications of the coming Great Republican Takeover seem a little… myopic.
Today the choir I sing in sung for a Unitarian Universalist service. The service was on Holly Near. Holly Near is an American singer-songwriter, actress, teacher and most importantly, social change activist. We sang several Holly Near songs including “I Am Willing” (I have a solo), “The Great Peace March”, “All That There Is”, and “Simply Love”. The words to “Simply Love” are as follows:
Why does my love make you shift restless in your chair
And leave you in despair
It’s simply love – my love for a woman
It’s a simple hand on a warm face to say
A glance to see if love is still ok
A glow at dawn when love is still there
Tears and strong arms at the end of the day
And simply love – my love for a woman
It’s the laughter as the kids clown
And tease our weary thoughts away
It’s looking ’round the table
And knowing hard work fed us one more day
And simply love – my love for a woman
Why does my love make you shift in your chair
It’s the bombs across the border
That should make you tear your hair
And yet it’s my love leaves you screaming out your nightmare
Perhaps you know there’s something you should fear
If my love makes me strong and makes
you disappear
It’s simply love – my love for a woman
When we sung “Simply Love” in our Spring Concert last year, I had a speaking part as part of the introduction before the song was sung. I talked about my marriage to my wife and how it’s not only not recognized legally where I live, but was also not supported by all of my friends and family. Several months ago I gave this introduction in the city I was born and raised. This was shortly after I was married. Of course, being in my hometown made me think about my mother who does not support my marriage or the thought of me being a lesbian and before we could get through the song, I was in tears.
Well today I felt that same deep moving and was unable to get through the song without crying. The words are beautiful, and the song is beautiful. Every time we sing the song, it makes me think of my mother who I haven’t talked to in over a year now and people in the world who want to judge me because of the person that I love.
My mother and I use to be close, very close. We would talk everyday and we would talk about everything. After I came out, we did not talk for almost a year. Eventually we started talking again, but she was short and distant. She never would call me; I would always have to call her. If my wife’s name (girlfriend at the time) ever came up she would shut down, and basically the conversation would be over. Eventually I got tired of being the one that always had to do the calling. I got tired of her shortness. I got tired of her being evil. I got tired of the uneasiness of our conversations. So, on January 1, 2009 I stopped calling her. I stopped subjecting myself to her shortness. I stopped subjecting myself to her evilness and the uneasiness of our conversations. When I stopped calling, we stopped talking because she refused to call. I am her oldest daughter (she has 1 other daughter) and she has yet to pick up the phone and call me.
Recently my wife and I have been talking more and more about having kids. It’s sad to think that a child that I birth will have no interaction with their biological grandmother.
I’d be remised if I didn’t however mention my father who has been more supportive than I could have ever imagined. He was not only at my wedding; he walked me down the aisle. He has tried to get my mother to come around, but to no avail.
So when we sing “Simply Love” I honestly wonder why my love for a woman makes my mother shift restless in her chair? I can’t fathom while people are so concerned about my marriage when we are in not one, but two wars? I am in a healthy happy relationship with a wonderful woman. She is one of the kindest people I know. Sadly, my mother hasn’t even tried to get to know her. She doesn’t know what a wonderful person I have in my life.
The service today was good and gave me a lot to think about. Thank you to Holly Near for all of the social justice work she has done and continues to do and thank you to my wife, my family and friends who support me and “Simply Love”.
“Oh, Kate, I never imagined you would be this tight!” The blond who peeked up from between my bare legs, perfectly framed between my gently rising breasts, peaked by pink nipples, giggled as she struggled to get a finger into my pussy.
I smiled, “I didn’t want to spoil the surprise.” I moaned a little as she pushed her finger slowly into my vagina, my muscles gripping onto it hard.
To imagine that just an hour ago I was shyly glancing at this gorgeous woman was just amazing. It turned me on to think about how fast it went by.
I was rushing hard to the elevator, flushed and a little irritated. It hadn’t been the best day – work was frustrating, and the two-hour taxi ride in the traffic jam had been hot and stuffy and uncomfortable. I wanted more than anything to just strip down right there in the back seat because my skirt and heels were getting so itchy and suffocating.
I was running as fast as I could in my heels, making as large of strides as possible in my tight skirt, to make it to the elevator, where Jen was standing. She saw me there, rushing to the elevator, and held the door open for me. I remember seeing the way her clothes were so casual – tight jeans that curved around her legs and thighs, showing the shape of her ass quite well, and a low-cut shirt that showed off enough cleavage to want, but not enough for her to be a slut. Her blue eyes and blond hair shone in the light of the elevator nicely.
Of course, at the time I wasn’t too sure, but I could definitely see some signs of her being a little horny. She rubbed her thighs together slowly, trying not to let me see, but I noticed. I decided to take a leap.
“I love your shirt, but it might look better somewhere else…” I said slowly, unsure of myself and what I was doing. My heart was pounding, but I couldn’t pass this gorgeous girl up.
She looked at me, a slight smirk on her face. “Oh, really? Where would that be?”
I took a deep breath and pressed on – my face was getting hot. “On my apartment floor.”
Her eyebrows jumped a little and her smile widened, her eyes brightening as she stepped toward me slowly, seductively. “Hmm… I think it would look good there, too. In fact, it would look even better on your floor next to your shirt.” She winked and ran her hand over my ass, squeezing it gently. I could feel a tingle running through my vagina. My resistance was running down, quickly.
Her hand ran around to my front, sliding up my shirt and feeling my breasts slowly – I had the unbelievable urge to take my shirt and bra off and force her to suck on my nipples. She leaned her head in and kissed my lips, pressing in roughly, but not quickly. I kissed back, pulling her in a little. As our lips parted, she looked me in the eyes. “You’re a good kisser. What’s your name?”
I smiled. “Kate. What’s yours?”
“Jen. How did you know I was horny?”
I shrugged as the elevator doors slid open and the two of us walked out. “I watched you. Want to come to my place?”
She licked her lips. “I would love to.”
I moaned a little louder now. Jen’s finger was inside me, pushing in and out hard, trying to loosen me up, but my pussy just refused to stretch. “God, Kate, your pussy is absolute heaven!”
I moaned again in response, sliding my hands over my body slowly and gently caressing my nipples, pinching them and rolling them between my fingers.
As soon as we had gotten inside I closed the door and Jen had me pinned on the ground, unbuttoning my shirt and rolling her tongue around in my mouth roughly. When my shirt was off, she unhooked my bra and threw it across the room and began attacking my nipples – sucking on them, squeezing my tits, pinching, rolling, biting them… It was amazing. I had to stop her before she got too into it so we could get off of the floor.
We finally found a good spot on the kitchen counter, and she quickly pulled off my skirt as I took off her shirt and bra, playing with her nipples and listening to her moan softly in my ear. She pulled down my panties and I pulled off her shirt, but she kept my nylon stockings on and rubbed her cheek up and down my leg, feeling them. “I love nylon, it’s so sexy.” She’d said.
She was wearing a thong, which I pulled off of her and threw onto the couch in the sitting area of my apartment. I sat up on the counter and laid back, watching as her face came into my pussy, licking it roughly.
After a short while of her fingering me with one single finger and me twisting and pinching my nipples and moaning, she climbed on top of me on the counter and sat so that my head was between her thighs. “Lick my pussy. Make me cum.” She ordered.
I did as she commanded. I spread her pussy with my fingers and licked it roughly, listening to her moan and feeling her wriggle and squirm each time I nibbled on her clit.
I was getting unbearably wet, and I wanted to orgasm so badly. I began fingering her pussy and my own at the same time, pushing three into hers and one into mine after making an attempt at two. After a while of three, I pushed in four and heard her moan louder, begging me to push in more. Finally, I tucked my thumb in and fisted her pussy. This really got her going – she started moaning louder and louder and louder until I was sure she wouldn’t be able to stand it anymore – she suddenly flipped over so her ass and pussy were in my face and her head was down between my legs again, licking roughly at my pussy.
The sudden pleasure was beginning to become too much. I fisted her harder and faster, trying to get her to cum before I came, as it became a contest. Before long, though, the intensity reached its breaking point, and both of our pussies opened the floodgate as sex poured out. Her pussy began a stream out of it, as my own squirted hard into her mouth. It felt absolutely amazing. She tasted amazing. It was delicious. After that, we both ran over to the couch and curled up against each other, tasting each other’s pussies all night.
Today’s Daily Helmsman, the daily campus newspaper of The University of Memphis, ran a headline reading, “Students seek LGTB safe zone”. The article refers to the campus’s GSA (gay straight alliance), known as the “Stonewall Tigers,” a group I joined personally at the beginning of the fall semester, though I have been an inactive member since. However, even then there was much discussion of this “Safe Zone” they speak of. In September, they described it as an area of campus designated for LGTB students to go and feel safe–a resource center of sorts–where they do not feel oppressed or hated by the community. The article in The Helmsman also discusses faculty being educated in how they are to handle LGTB students in the classroom, dealing with discrimination and counseling.
While I do not argue the need to educate people on the ideal ways to treat fellow human beings and how to fight against homophobia and discrimination, this idea of a “safe zone” is ridiculous to me. This seems to me to be an opportunity to separate the LGTB students from the rest of the student population–to corral us almost. This rings to me similar to having separate buses and water fountains for black students to “keep them safe.” I have to call bullshit on this. To give everyone a separate fenced in section of campus based on things as arbitrary as sexuality is horrendous. The image to mind (admittedly, this is a radical image of the proposed agenda) is of a fenced in section of campus with rainbow flags on the gates, homosexuals gathering there to be watched by the rest of the campus like animals in a zoo. “Look! Here we are! Now that we’re all in one spot, you may strike!”
The president and members of the Stonewall Tigers mentioned that posters promoting the group’s activities and fundraisers have been torn down by students. To this, I roll my eyes. I challenge those making these complaints to walk through the halls of Richardson Towers one day. All posters get torn down. While it would be naïve to assume that none of these vandals were expressing homophobia in these acts, I refuse to allow that all of the vandals were. When they are tearing down signs advertising free viewings of PG rated films on campus, are they expressing hatred for movies? Filmmakers? Maybe the rating board? Is that an act of protest? No. Not at all. When these punks tear down signs it’s because they feel destructive. Nothing so dramatic as an intense hatred for homosexuality.
There is a significant gay community on campus and, while again I cannot say that there have never been any problems of discrimination because I’m sure there have been, the general consensus from LGTB students seems to be that they have been unbothered. The University of Memphis seems, at least to me and other LGTB students I’ve met and who were interviewed for the Helmsman’s article, to be a safe campus for LGTB students. It’s a tolerant place. There is no need for this “safe zone” here.
The Oklahoma Court of Civil Appeals has said “no” to a lesbian divorce.
Legal Counsel Tim Tracey of Alliance Defense Fund (ADF) explains that what was at stake in the case was the validity of Oklahoma’s marriage law.
“If you look at this situation, it’s almost absurd,” he comments. “What you have here is a fraudulent attempt to try to undermine the marriage amendment of Oklahoma that was passed by 76 percent of the voters. So you have here a same-sex couple that alleged that they were married in Canada, but yet they could never even produce a marriage certificate.”
The two still sought a divorce by going through the “back door and trying to get an Oklahoma court to recognize it.”
“[The court] saw this for what it was,” Tracy notes. “It was a fraudulent attempt by a same-sex couple to undermine the voice of the people in Oklahoma, and they dismissed it outright. So we think this is the end of the road for that.”
The Oklahoma court is the second to encounter this case and the second to decide that the government cannot issue a divorce for a marriage it does not recognize.
I’ve decided to put a bit of a twist on this cabinet entry. Unlike the others, for this one, I’m not only going to analyse it, but I’m going to be heavily comparing it to it’s print counterpart. To do this, I sought out the article in ‘The Coventry Telegraph’ (18/1/2010) then searched for the same article on the newspapers’ website. Here I found the same article, but tweaked in various ways for online consumption.
Instantly recognizable is the way the print article aims to make the reader empathize with the couple’s situation in an attempt to create a bond and therefore a sense of involvement, to keep them interested in the story. In contrast, the online version states the empirical facts in breviloquent paragraphs, not bothering to draw in it’s audience to the same extent as the print version, due to the expectation that online media consumers will simply scan through the key points and move on.
I have also noticed relevance in the accompanying images. In the print article the story is surrounded by pictures of defeated-looking childless couples, whereas online has no image at all, assumedly due to the fact that the pictures being used for the print article would be somewhat out of place accompanying the more scientifically-focused version.
Physically, the paragraphs are much shorter in the online article, comprising of only one or two short sentences at a time. Again highlighting the somewhat hyper active needs of today’s online consumer culture when compared to the print article. Similarly, the online version is separated into pages, each with a vaguely satisfying conclusion, giving readers the option to read deeper into the story, or just move on with the information they have already gained, whereas the print article is, naturally, all together.
Sources:
- Original Article: http://www.coventrytelegraph.net/news/coventry-news/2010/01/18/ivf-couples-cheated-out-of-having-children-92746-25625670/ (as accessed 18/1/2010)
- Image found at: http://images.google.co.uk/imgres?imgurl=http://i.telegraph.co.uk/telegraph/multimedia/archive/01217/IVF_jpg_1217221c.jpg&imgrefurl=http://www.telegraph.co.uk/health/healthnews/5159380/Fertility-treatment-doubles-in-15-years.html&usg=__aqYAlepx7PxidJss3m9c9OefYwU=&h=288&w=460&sz=17&hl=en&start=2&itbs=1&tbnid=Qb6leyVg8aUxAM:&tbnh=80&tbnw=128&prev=/images%3Fq%3DIVF%2Btreatment%26hl%3Den%26sa%3DG%26gbv%3D2%26tbs%3Disch:1 (as accessed 18/1/2010)
Recently I shared this story with a good friend of mine and it resonated around the lives of several of my friend’s lives right now, so I thought I would share it on here, partly to possibly help others and partly to remind myself where I was several years ago!
My mother’s birthday was always a special occasion and every year my ex-boyfriend and I would do something for her; typically staying overnight in a casino near Louisville, her choice for a birthday adventure. On the day of her last birthday, my ex and I got into a horrible fight just minutes before going to my mom’s house. It’s important to understand that at this point in my life, I was frustrated with several different levels of my life including my relationship, my job and the overall quality of my life.
After reaching my mother’s house, my ex decided he was not going to spend the day with us, due to our fight, so my mom and I headed off to go shopping at the outlet mall and then head down to the casino to spend the day gambling and drinking fountain cokes. I think if you live in Indiana it’s a right of passage, once you reach 60, to spend several weekends a year, sitting at a slot machine, drinking cokes and smoking cigarettes, praying for a big win. Although my mom prided herself in being a woman who would never fit this definition, secretly, she enjoyed sitting there watching cherries come up instead of three sevens, hoping to hit a few thousand. Instead, she’d pull a ticket out for $30 stating that she would buy us breakfast the next morning.
Needless to say, my mother, who loved my ex dearly, didn’t understand why we were fighting and why he didn’t want to come with us. I tried to explain to her that I was frustrated with several aspects of my life and that he and I had been arguing a lot recently and I had been thinking seriously if I was in a healthy relationship. I explained that I needed passion and desire in my life and that maybe we had let the problems take over the good parts of the relationship and it was long over due for us to go our separate ways. I explained that, although I loved him dearly, I thought maybe we each deserved something better in our lives.
Now, you would have had to know my mother, who had an opinion on every topic from oriental literature to Trip to Bountiful being the greatest movie next to To Kill a Mockingbird. She rarely knew silence and often, she drove people crazy with her incessant talk; a trait I believe she passed down to me. When, on rare occasions, she sat in silence, it was almost as if you could feel her mind ticking, profound wisdom about to pass from her lips. And then it came…almost like a whisper.
“Be very careful. Weeds grow fast in a garden.” She said.
And I sat there, not entirely sure what she meant by this statement.
“Our lives are like beautiful gardens which need watering and special care. If you aren’t careful, and you let the weeds of negativity begin to take over; all you see is a garden of dandelions. And sometimes, you start convincing yourself the dandelions are a more beautiful sight than the garden itself.”
And that, my dear friends, is exactly what happened in my life. And looking back, I don’t regret it. No, I’m a believer that everything that happens in life happens for a reason. That we are on some great journey with several guides and teachers along the way. But I do believe that we can pick the weeds so we careful to make sure and see the beauty we have in our lives. And maybe at the time, I just wanted a different garden. And that’s exactly what I got.
But is that for everyone? I love my life now, but if at the time I had been more careful, I think I could have saved some of myself and repaired that garden. I don’t think that’s what was supposed to happen, but for anyone whose unsure…your garden can be saved…just make sure you get out there and pick the weeds.
Luckily, I came out on the other side, tangled in a new, amazingly beautiful garden of lilies and daisies, spinning and spinning in the sunshine. But all around me, I see my friends tangled up in weeds, unable to break free and I wonder, if maybe they started picking away, one by one, they might have the beauty I enjoy every day…
But be careful. Because if all you see is the weeds, you miss out on the beauty that may already exist. And that would be a shame…
Because after all…we’re on borrowed time as it is…
There’s something universal about mothers perusing awkward and often angry conversations with their children while in the car. There’s something both twisted and thoughtful about the logic of opening up a conversation about who broke the lamp the night before or how that bottle of scotch disappeared from the liquor cabinet (or worse yet, the “birds and bees” talk) when hurtling down the road at speeds of up to sixty miles per hour with doors that lock automatically and a belt designed to keep one in one’s seat. I’ve yet to meet anyone who hasn’t experienced this to varying degrees with one or both parents.
And that’s precisely when my mother backed me into that proverbial corner where one is forced to come out. It was a conversation that I both dreaded and expected, and through the first two years of my relationship with my partner, I managed to avoid it, even with my mother’s suspicions running high after walking in on us snuggling one night (that, of course, combined with the bad influence of that woman’s college I insisted upon going to). The conversation in itself was unremarkable and unfunny, and it was precipitated by my mentioning that my partner was also, oh so coincidentally, getting her MA at the same school in which i had enrolled for mine.
It couldn’t last forever, right? My mother was disbelieving, especially as my five year-old son (irrefutable proof of my heteronormativity, right?) sitting in the back seat. To this day, I think that’s the one element that prevents me from looking back at the situation and laughing. I can laugh at the accusations that I was going to hell, at her utter disbelief, at her assertions that I needed to be locked away in an asylum, but I can’t laugh at the fact that she did all of that in front of him as she was driving me to take him swimming and especially after he patted my arm and assured me that sometimes she just got in moods like that.
Needless to say, I was in tears and near hysterics when we reached my cousin’s pool. My parents, you see, were controlling enough to pull me out of school, to cut me off, to do some other…something. The first thing I did was put floaties on my son. The next thing I did was call my father in order that I might tell him before Mom got home. That conversation was short and mostly silent on his end.
While that conversation happened over four years ago, I still relive it in some form every time I visit home. No, it’s not pleasant, but it is by far the worst reaction to my coming out. I’ll have to post about my grandmother another time…for a laugh. And I’m thankful that I have a close support net of friends and family that didn’t and wouldn’t react that way to help me cope when it comes up yet again. And if I’m going to hell…at least the hand basket is festively covered and well stocked with booze.
Is the latest headline on the nine-msn website.
My fist issue with the article is that the teenage girl is described as “A lesbian teenager” ….
The issue with that is straight off she is being labelled. the paragraph reads:
A lesbian teenager claims she has been tormented by peers since her high school cancelled its graduation dance because she wanted to bring her girlfriend.
you can drop the lesbian part. I’m pretty sure everyone would understand that she is from saying “girlfriend”.
The rest of this article annoys me because of what happened.
Why CAN’T she take her girlfriend? There’s no difference in terms of love. Homosexuals love the same that heterosexuals love. To say that they don’t is wrong. To deny them equal opportunities, the SAME things that heterosexuals have is so unfair.
Why not let her take her girlfriend to the dance? She’s not harming anyone. It’s just as bad as not allowing someone to bring their partner based on skin colour or disability or religion.
The world is DIVERSE.
Everyone in it just has to see it.
I accept people for who the are. You can be Jewish, Catholic, Wiccan, Hindu, Asian, American, African, German, Gay, Straight, Bi-sexual, Transgender, Transsexual.
It does not matter to me. You’re still a person, you still have the right to fall in love, to be married and to be proud of who you are.
The only kind of, but not really, good part of what happened at the girl’s school is that they cancelled the entire dance as opposed to just not letting her attend.
Though, now she has to deal with being bullied because the dance got cancelled, which in the long run, is probably worse for her wellbeing.
The best she can do is be strong and not give up on who she is.
The same for every.
Be proud to be you and never give that up. For anything. If someone is asking you not to be yourself, then you should not feel obligated to be something else.
I live for the moments when
I can live comfortably in my own skin
I can travel love’s great journey without hate and scrutiny
Sexuality is so miniscule, IF you ask me
but people keep insisting “it’s the devil in me”
Well what about you?
Who died and left you in charge of what’s wrong and right to do?
And religions are so quick to throw the ‘bible’ at you
Well I got one for you
“Thou shall not judge,” what about that rule?
But I’m SO OVER you.
I was told…
They’re afraid of us
Truth be told: we’re afraid of them too
But this isn’t Alien vs. Predator
I promise we won’t prey on you
UNLESS you want us to… :/
But the repression seriously never ends
We can debate the controversy, but we can’t make a mend…
These are the insecurities I dare to never tell man.
Because it’ll only become another strike against me.
To be queer is only a tiny part of me
If you would simply look with your eyes and think with your brain
All this would be made logically and visibly plain
But no one is hearing me…
The only thing I keep hearing is:
Sin. Amend. You won’t win. This isn’t who you are within. Try again. You need to put this to an end.
As simple minds say and eager voices portray:
Homosexuality is the wrong way.
Way to what?
Where we going?
It’s my journey.
I didn’t even invite you to come.
So tell me…
What do you ACTUALLY know about homophobality?
Because for some of us, this isn’t a TV show, it’s an actual reality.
The street parade is a highlight of the ChillOut festival that delivers a positive celebration of gay, lesbian, bisexual and transgender pride. This year’s theme, 2010: a bush odyssey, took many gun toting gayliens away from the controls of their ships to exchange fire in Daylesford’s main street.
It’s hard to talk to Dragonette about other women. We’re in this weird place together. I want to be with her, on some level. Even if it’s just casual to get our bearings. And as far as I can tell, she wants that too. I believe her, which I have had trouble with in the past. But that doesn’t change the fact that she is a world away. And we are both meeting people, and deciding to let ourselves like them or not.
The world sent me a sign today. Flower Girl. Leave it to random encounters for enlightenment, eh?
She made me realize that I am being so overwhelmingly paranoid about offending women by liking them without knowing their sexual orientation. We talked about the inherent fluidity of sexuality. People have been sleeping with members of the same sex for centuries. It’s only now that it is categorized. I have to get over the fear of it all.
And I have to let go of Zero. She’s the real reason I haven’t been dating women. When she called me last month as a part of her 9 Step NA program, I was floored. She still has the ability to floor me. After all these years. Which is why dating men is so much easier. I’m just not as emotionally affected by them. Which creates difficult situations because the sexual attraction swiftly fades and I’m left wanting something else (which is a completely different story).
Back on track…I don’t want to feel like that ever again. The way Zero made me feel. So I stopped dating women. I ran away from MF (which I deeply regret), I fled from Skinny (which was a good thing), I passed up opportunity after opportunity, because I refused to let myself fall that sexually, emotionally, mentally, deeply again. And in the middle of it all, I met Dragonette.
I don’t know where most of this is going. I’m sleep deprived and feeling honest, and talking to her makes me want to hug her and date her and hold her hand. Which kind of makes me want to vomit. But mainly makes me scared and delirious. And I’m pretty sure she doesn’t like holding hands with people.
I’m so freaking gay.
I’ve been kissing girls since pre-school…and now I decide to have a sexuality crisis?
Jesus. I am so backwards. Such is my life, y’all.
Last weekend, when the earthquake hit in Chile, there was a huge alert in Hawaii for a potentially disastrous tsunami. We were glued to the TV, watching coverage on CNN, MSNBC and I believe BBC in America. Transfixed.
As regular readers know, we have kicked out the internal system that has gotten us thru the past…well all of our life. The weaved sat on top, throwing colors and textures into a loom as each color was needed to function. Colors were people, emotions, functions such as driving and dealing with clients…splinters.
This was a very autocratic system. The Weavef would pull something up and it would have to be there. Whenever there was dissention in the ranks, very infrequently, the Weaver would throw in the Furies to scare the shit out of everybody else hence achieve compliance.
We’ve decided that this is not a good internal organization. Too secluded. Kept everybody sepRate from the rest. No communication hence no cooperation. No teamsmanship. No personal growth learning or real expression for any of the splints. Which is all counter to our goals in getting better.
So the old system is gone. Unfortunately the Weaver doesn’t have a new conceptualization yet so things are rather chaotic. Hence the drive to create increased safety and stabilization at this time.
Watching the fizzled Hawaiian tsunami something began to form. Something so familiar in the pattern of waves crashing onto new and higher ground. Followed by the sucking out of the sea, leaving the seafloor totally exposed. And able to be seen.
This in out in out pattern is how our life seems to be these days. Battle royale leaving our sea floor bare and exposed. Then crashing in of waves on new territory and the coolness of that epiphanous moment. Then the draining back, to create even greater self-awareness. In out in out.
We like the idea of the ocean. It is vast and seemingly infinite while holding itself to very firm boundaries to keep if safe and functional. The currents the riptides the stillness at any given minute. The tremendous temperature variances of the same water system. The ebb and the flow. The teeming lives that it supports. The tempest and the doldrums. All in one package. Oxygen aplenty.
We are not quite sure how to go about reorganizing ourselves. There’s not yet formed a global interpretation but we think we’re getting close. All those molecules separate but equal, forming the planef’s biggest biomass. So fagile and yet so overwhelmingly powerful. Awesome.
The only safe place we had as a kid was our house on the ocean on the Maine coast. Tides are very apparent there, some of the most extreme in the world. It’s so cold it takes your breath away. Some days the high tide pounds on the rocky beach and other days it creeps in on kittens’ paws to steal from Robert Frost.
Anyway. Like a journalist with a scent on news we see something here. Something fluid, able to sustain incredible and diverse life forms. Has it’s own rhythms yet is capable of tremendous change in an instant.
So. Any thoughts on how the Weaver can put this all together?
If patriarchal sexism punishes women for not being men, racism punishes people of colour for not being white, and homophobia punishes gay and gender variant for not being straight – does that mean that in some kind of (or someone’s) ‘perfect’ world, would everyone be white males… who are all exclusively heterosexual??
How would that work?
Diversity and difference makes this world tick, that is why we, to each other, should talk.
Tick
Talk
Tick
Talk
Tick
Talk
The sound of human history.
The Oklahoma Court of Civil Appeals has said “no” to a lesbian divorce.
And that’s precisely when my mother backed me into that proverbial corner where one is forced to come out. It was a conversation that I both dreaded and expected, and through the first two years of my relationship with my partner, I managed to avoid it, even with my mother’s suspicions running high after walking in on us snuggling one night (that, of course, combined with the bad influence of that woman’s college I insisted upon going to). The conversation in itself was unremarkable and unfunny, and it was precipitated by my mentioning that my partner was also, oh so coincidentally, getting her MA at the same school in which i had enrolled for mine.
