Lesbian.com (seriously)

Quote of the Month If we even tolerate any oppression of gay and lesbian Americans, if we join those who would intrude upon the choices of our hearts, then who among us shall be free?
— June Jordan

oversight, Mr. X in Chicago

A few days ago, I was in my accustomed place, doing my thing and I got an IM... or was it a comment via e-mail... yes, it was e-mail... the text if which I offer:

Hi,  

 I just wanted to say I have seen some of your journal and found it very brave of you. It's funny how "different people" still have much of the same internal struggles. Great Job though on expressing yourself. I wish you luck in your search for the right partner.  

Feel free to im or email me anytime you would like to chat,  

 Well, what the heck.  Since the letter had just popped into my mailbox, I IMed him to say thanks.  I talked to this man for over two hours and very frankly, in fact.  I learned things about him that I am sure his mother probably doesn't know and he learned something about me that has not come up in this journal yet.  The time flew by.  He seems like a pretty nice guy.  He's 38 and single at the moment.  He owns his own company.  He lives in Chicago (or nearby.)   I am putting in this plug for him.  Anybody out there interested in a fairly decent HETEROSEXUAL fellow in Illinois, lemme know... I'll hook you up!

He claims he's not that nice.  I think he doesn't know how nice he is.

Nora Robert: Bane of Librarians

I'm sorry.  I realize that many people enjoy light, simple, formulated diversion.  And apparently they enjoy it in mass quantity.  There is no one with more books on our shelves than Nora Roberts, except maybe for Louis L'Amour.  It might not be so bad except that we also have Ms. Roberts work in paperback, too.  Geez Louise.  It is such an annoyance.  And Ms. Roberts is now writing as J.D. Robb.  Well, I tried to choke down one of her books during the hurricanes.  I just couldn't do it.  It couldn't hold my attention.  It was so trite.  And the characters were flawless people who said all the right things and were perfect for each other but for the emotional twist...  I couldn't finish the book as hard as I tried.  It was swill.

So it is that we look with dread upon the task of shelving her.  It always involves shelf rearrangement.  She takes up so much room.  The only thing I can say appreciative about Ms. Roberts is that her looks have only gotten better with age.  She, and sometimes her pseudonymed self, appears full-length and beaming from the back of her novels.

I am not judging people who read this stuff.  Whatever keeps me in a job is okay by me.  I guess she's like the flea to a veterinarian: loathable yet magnanimous.

Night and the strike-anywhere match

Years ago I taught Environmental Education to school groups in New Hampshire via Boston University's Human Environment Institute (aka "Sargent Camp).

One of the activities we did was to take the kids out to star-gaze.  We also led them on night hikes through the woods.  When we got to a nice, dark place with their eyes all adjusted to the absence of light but just before we led them back to their cabins, we would reach into our "bag of tricks" and say that just before we go in, there's one more thing here for you to see... the brightest match in the world! (strike)  "WOWWWW!"  It is so much fun to awe someone with something so simple.

I loved having a "bag of tricks."  It was, literally, a bag, that had blindfolds or crayons, or rocks and matches... depending on the need.

Relating this story reminds me of two more things.  When we started that night walk, we gave each of the kids a rock to hold onto, a worry stone, and amulet for courage. At the end of the walk we put the rocks on the ground and had the kids figure out which rock they had been holding.

The other thing that I want to tell you is about the night one of the guys I worked with came up to the farmhouse and told us that he saw a skunk in an old well hole and had wanted to rescue it before it rained.  So he and some of the other instructors went back down to the camp to try to get the skunk.  These were kids from Harvard and the University of Vermont and some other schools.  Collectively they could not grab or coax the poor skunk from the hole and returned defeated.

Well, it was my turn.  I went by myself to the hole and looked at the frightened skunk and looked at the hole.  The hole was four or five feet deep and about for feet across.  Then I looked around across the ground and even though it was night, I spied a long board that we used in one of our initiative games and wedged it into the hole so the skunk could climb out on it.  Then I left.

I rained like crazy during the night.  In the morning, the hole was full of water and the skunk was gone.

And I just couldn't believe I was smarter than two Harvard grads, two UV grads and some surfer-dude from California combined.

Maybe it's just old-fashioned common sense. No tuition for that.

Jive talking over Biscayne Bay

On the way to Dad's tonight I was listening to the  -- ahem-- "oldies" station.  Jive Talking by the BeeGees was in the line-up.  I remembered as a kid in south Florida hearing that the song was inspired by the sound of the Biscayne Bay bridge in Miami, where the BeeGees lived.  Cute song... that's all I have to say about that. 

But in orer to stretch this entry out and yet keep it flowing along the same vein... today I changed my battered library card out for a sleek shiny new one.  When you change your card, your number changes as well, so I made myself remember the new 14 digit number.  Two of the digits are 44.  It reminded be of one of the very few Barry Manilow inventions that I really like.  I don't know the title but it goes like this:

"Not so long ago in 1944, when every mother's son was going off to war, they had to lift their spirits high for Uncle Sam, motherhood and apple pie.  Instead of spending money that they didn't have in hot spots in the Bronx they'd go to hear the kind of jazz you hear in funky honky-tonks.  They made you want to jump, shout, knock yourself out.  The boogie-woogie beat is what I'm talking about, if you had the heebie-geebies you could dance all day to the boogie-woogie beat that the piano man was going to play... doot doot doot do ya!  doot doot doot do ya!...."  More good stuff.

Billy and Doreen

I was working in Jupiter, Florida in the late 1990s.  I found out that a gay bar had opened in Tequesta.  I went there when there was a performance scheduled.  The performer was a woman named Doreen Daniels.  She was great.  She was lively and fun and her music made me happy.  She sang and the whole bar boogied.  She chose danceable, wonderful tunes.  She sang the Boys 2 Men hit about making love to you like you want them to and she sang "Only the Good Die Young" by Billy Joel.  It was the Billy Joel song that got me because Doreen told the story of how she met her lover/manager Theresa.  She was about to sing the song when she saw Theresa in the crowd and she asked her name.  Doreen proceeded to sing the song but changed "Virginia" (Come out, Virginia, don't make me wait....) to Theresa.  I never paid  all that much attention to Billy Joel before but she led me to a new appreciation.  The boy does good stuff.

The chanteuse would tell us stories about her life and her friends.  She revealed that she sang in church.  She allowed her daughter to sing for us, and by my written request in her jar, she sang one of her own songs.  It was really good, too.  It was about her father and how she wanted to be as good of a woman as he is a man.  She may have performed another of her own works, but the one about her dad is the one I remember... probably because her heart was really in it. Sweet.

I saw Doreen in other bars closer to home after that, but I drifted away from the bar scene and she disappeared from my gaydar.  I thought I heard something about her going to Nashville, but who knows.  I miss hearing her.  She was good stuff.

Wednesday a.m.

I mowed the lawn yesterday, and took down old branches that have been hanging since the hurricanes.  I did mow around perrywinkles and a bright yellow flower, the name of which I do not yet know.  I was feeling girly and sensitive.

I like mowing for the instant gratification. Get 'er done!

I also like the things that come to mind when I mow.  I thought about things that seemed like good journal topics but unfortunately I had to keep my hand on the mower.  It would have been silly to keep having to restart the mower every time I thought of something because I wanted to take notes.  I figure if the ideas were any good they'll show back up when the time is right.

I didn't need to take notes to remember what I was thinking about while I mowed the semi-circle in front of my house.  The topic was boobage.  Aren't boobs the greatest?  I remember the first time a large-breasted woman pulled me to her bosom.  I was just a kid and I was never the same after.  Though they may cause back pain to their sporters I aesthetically appreciate them very much.  Sometimes I find myself looking at people and just dying to cuddle....  And then you get me in a room of big girls... damn.  (I should have some shame here... but I don't.)

I also think great things when I'm washing my hair, but I don't spend much time washing my hair anymore because the water here is bad and I hate bathing in it.  I changed over to Lexan tableware because all of my stainless steel was getting pitted.

I bought a webcam/mic yesterday and installed it last night, but I uninstalled it this morning out of frustration.  I was too tired last night to do anything remotely logical so I'm going to do it all again some other time.  You might get me to chat live with you, but only the unfortunate few will get to see my face.

I bear some resemblance to Frankenstein's monster.  I hasn't hurt me though.  People like and even love me, regardless.

The truth is that I broke my jaw as a kid (when I went through the car windshield) but nobody knew it until a few years ago when a dentist pointed out where the bones had fused.  I always wondered why my face is crooked like William "Billy the Kid" Bonney.  Now I know.

So there's a load of stuff in my car to bring in.  Water, kitty litter, softener salt... wanna come over and lend a hand?  I'll give you breakfast.

Yeah, I spent a weeks pay yesterday. (I do not make much money.)  I tried to rationalize it.  "Well...  I am due a tax return equal to this amount."   That's why poor people stay poor, you know.  I should eat the money I spent and use the tax return to make some kind of investment.  But what?

I was also wondering if I really saved money by buying bulk loads of garbage bags and stuff.  I do save $3 on bags of water softener salt.  You gotta like that.  You save more than it took in gas to get to the savings warehouse you are doing good.  And kitty litter. I save on that, too. Yeah, yeah.

There are many wondrous things for sale but I try very hard to not buy things I won't actually use.  I stop to lust over the kitchen-aid utensils but I always move on without one in my cart.  Everyone deserves a bitchin' can opener and silicone spatulas but, geez, I don't really cook!  Most of my food is prepared for me.  I'll get by, somehow.

I do own baking stones.  Oh! Some of the best things in life!  I made sure to bring them with me when I fled during the hurricanes.  They are great and somebody will wet their britches with glee when they get them after I die.  Crispy pizza, perfect tater tots, cookies done evenly... oohhhh!

PS:  Remember to "spring forward" one hour this weekend.

 

Ponderous things

“How lovely to think that no one need wait a moment.  We can start now, start slowly, changing the world.  How lovely that everyone, great and small, can make a contribution.”  – Anne Frank

 

“All that is necessary for evil to triumph is for good men to do nothing.”  – Edmund Burke

 

“I begin to think that a calm is not desirable in any situation in life.  Man was made for action and for bustle too, I believe.” – Abigail Adams

 

“Forget conventionalisms; forget what the world thinks of you stepping out of your place; think your best thoughts, speak your best words, work your best works, looking to your own conscience for approval.” – Susan B. Anthony

 

“Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things you didn’t do than by the ones you did.  So throw off the bowlines.  Sail away from safe harbor.  Catch the trade winds in your sails.  Explore.  Dream.  Discover.” – Mark Twain

 

“If you take no risks, you will suffer no defeats.  But if you take no risks, you win no victories.” – Richard Nixon

 

?Do all the good you can.  By all the means you can.  In all the ways you can.  In all the places you can.  At all the times you can.  To all the people you can.  As long as you can.? ? John Wesley

 

?If your ship doesn?t come in, swim out to it.? ? Jonathan Winters

 

?Faith is the strength by which a shattered world shall emerge into light.? ? Helen Keller

 

?Freedom is the right to be wrong, not the right to do wrong.? ? John G. Diefenbacher

 

?The greatest gift of life is friendship.? ? Hubert H. Humphrey

 

?True friendship is a plant of slow growth, and must undergo and withstand the shocks of adversity before it is entitled to the appellation.? ? George Washington

 

?Lots of people want to ride with you in the limo, but what you want is someone who will take the bus with you when the limo breaks down.? ? Oprah Winfrey

 

?I?ve learned that people will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel.? ? Maya Angelou

 

?Moral cowardice that keeps us from speaking our minds is as dangerous to this country as irresponsible talk.  The right way is not always the popular and easy way.  Standing for right when it is unpopular is a true test of moral character.? ? Margaret Chase Smith

 

~ quotes culled from Hearts Touched with Fire by Elizabeth Dole copyright 2004

good day so far

I wake up thinking about a woman in California who is coming to see me.  She is squirming around in my heart, sending electrical impulses out. 

Meanwhile, I am still looking around to see if there is someone out there I am compatible with.  Don't be fooled.  If you have some wit about you, some brain and some heart, I am easy to get.  I might be harder to keep because I have to mesh into your world fairly easily or I get spooked.  And contrary to what at least one person out there may be thinking, I am very tolerant of many things.  I am not tolerant of people who can't be honest to their friends and family.  I am too old and tired of absurdities of life to put up with game-playing.

The dangers are that I get attached.  I don't seek to claim ownership but I do hope for loyalty, for faith, both to and from. Let me fall in love with you then push me away and I will try not to be a big-ass baby, but it might happen anyway.  I am not a stalker, though.

I have some ambition today.  The sky is clear, it's sunny, but its cool.  I am wrapped in my blanket and not willing to leave it's warmth. (see journal entry "Heat Monkey")

I am anxious to meet my California girl though I am not planning anything yet.  There are no moves or immediate co-habitation plans in my immediate future.  I'm free. I'm just going to meet her and, yes, probably share some moments of privacy with her.  It won't happen for a while yet though.

This morning I opened mail from one of my oldest and most dear friends.  She asked me about my memories of school and of her.  I've written her what I could think of.  More may come back later.  She is a mother now and is looking for memories to share with her son.

I have chatted with another good buddy this morning.  I like people who are confident enough in our friendship to tease me.  I appreciate their faith in my loyalty, too -- especially when I don't give them as much time as I usually do.  I do try.  Can you really ask for more?  I know they love me.  Nothing else really matters.

Between this paragraph and the previous one, I slept.  I don't know for how long.  It could have been an hour or just a few minutes but it was a call I needed to answer.

I hate to say it but I have to pay my rent, mow my lawn, retrieve supplies and today is a good day to get these things done.  What's magical is that I'm in the mood to get them done.  I think being stranded inside Sunday was the catalyst.

Things seem to have fallen through with the bi-curious woman and I am okay with that.  I am sorry that I could not oblige her, but she will find someone to help her out. I'm sure of that.  I hope that she finds the right someone.

So here I am, free.  Looking to see all the pretty fish in the bowl.  Here fishy, fishy.

There is a woman in Port St. Lucie I am interested in, but she is playing it lukewarm.  Maybe I read her wrong, or maybe that's just how she is.  Maybe she already knows I am not the love of her life and is just being kind. People can be jaded and you just have to figure that out for yourself.  I wouldn't ask if I wasn't interested.  I don't have that kind of time.

This weekend is PrideFest in the city of Lake Worth and I have been telling people about it because I hope to go.  I would like to actually meet people there instead of wandering alone.  Last year, I had V and saw L, and T and her M there.  This year, it might be stag if I can't drag L along.  Then again, I might pass ... but it is too good to pass.  Imagine walking down a city street being able to hold the hand of someone you love?  Ok... straight people have this privilege and bold gay people claim it.  The difference is being in a place where it is not a surprise or a shock and you are safe doing it.

Last year as good because V and I were new and she was full of glee.  But she was all over the place and I didn't get to introduce her to friends I saw. 

She had a strong reaction to a handicapped drag queen who performed.  He was a skinny, physically twisted fellow, but full of heart.  She thought it was a bizarre joke. 

I've digressed.  Where was I?  Oh yeah...  It's all casual.  You don't have to parade and you don't have to be gay.  Come with me this weekend?

What more can I say.  I need to get up and get on with this day.

 

You might be a chatwhore if...

Are you online every day?

Do you have a long list of "Buddies,"  many of whom you rarely ever talk to?

Do you get a jones to go online when your are doing something else?

Do you feel the need to be online just because the computer is on?

Do you talk more to people you've never met than you do to your family and some friends?

Has any person ever sent, or offered to send, a picture, whether live or still, of any portion of their anatomy?

Have you had cyber-sex?

Have you made dates online?

Would you rather chat than do everyday tasks?

Have you ever used computer-speak in your daily speech? (For example, said to a friend, "brb.")

Is the subject of conversation with your real time friends about your chat buddies?

Do you ever pass up outings with people who love you to chat with someone you've never met?

Do you get dolled up to go on cam?

 

another secret revealed

Bespelled.  I used to play it at the desk to keep from going brain-dead.  Finally I paid for it and have it on my computer.  You have a wizard in a library. Tiles fall from the ceiling and you have to make words for points.  Every now and then, burning tiles fall, and if you don't use them before they hit the bottom of the screen, the library burns down.   When my Reversi partners have the upper hand but I am still in the mood, I go see the wizard.

Sordid Lives

Woke up around 4 a.m.  My head hurt like hell.  Sick as a dog.  Took a Tylenol.  Took a Zyrtec -- thinking it was sinus-related.  Then after a short time...  the subject of dinner came up.  I haven't been this sick in... years.  I flashed back on the first and last time I got drunk in college.

My head still hurts but I've leveled off and am feeling well enough to watch a DVD.  I'm watching "Sordid Lives."  It's a rip.  Delta Burke, Beau Bridges, Olivia Newton-John, Bonnie Bedelia, Leslie Jordan, Beth Grant, Kirk Geiger, Earl H. Bullock, Newell Alexander, Sarah Huntley. Rosemary Alexander and her breasts, bit actors in the full monty, touching each other....  These are really great character actors.  And Olivia Neutron-Bomb serves as the chorus throughout the flick.  It's fun.  And it's dedicated to Tammy Wynette.

It must have been a riot to make.  After the credits, the cast lip-synchs to Tammy Wynette.  Kind of light thing you need when you feel like hell.

I hope I recover enough because is the season ender of "Carnivale."  I have a feeling I will be refusing the shots when we watch "Deadwood."  C. (of "relentlessly blinking cursor") is the queen (with the wide screen tv) but she will understand.

I wish I was feeling better.  I actually feel motivated to get something done and go see my family... but they will be eating.... 

Oh, by the way...  Happy Easter!

http://www.joe-ks.com/archives_apr2001/EasterBunny.jpg

That's so gay.

Last night at my father's house, I walked to the family room to see what my step-sister and her friend were doing.

I was about to round a corner when I realized that her friend -- these are college girls, mind you -- was explaining my sister that calling someone "gay" or "faggot" was supposed to be an insult with added punch.  My sister is the sort to get upset if she hears someone abused. 

Naturally, I stopped in my tracks.  I wish I had been in on the first words of the conversation.  I did not want to leap to any particular conclusion about how the subject got started.  It did remind me that certain neanderthals lack the vocabulary and wit to think of anything better to call someone "gay."

This "name-calling" is harmful.  It is at the root of homophobia.  As much as we like to think that society is beginning to recognize that homosexuals and people of various orientations pay taxes and raise children, society is still a cruel and frightened bunch.

Something initimidates people about people who are different.  It is either that they see the particular difference in themselves and try to rebel against it with violence and disdain, or perhaps it offends some innate drive that they don't even recognize.

My father once explained to a gay (male) friend of mine that mankind has a yearning from the collective unconscious to continue his line, to propagate the species, and that homosexuality offends that.  I think that there could be something to the thought... because hatred is not really a rational thing.

Where was I?

Oh, yeah:  Calling someone "gay" is not very specific.  There is a world of people who fit under the title but cannot be stereo-typed.  Not all gays are flamboyant paraders... very few of us are, in fact.  (But thank god for our flamboyant paraders!)  Everytime someone becomes visible, an ignoramus gets a heart. 

Why not use your mind to come up with something more specific, like "intellectual dud" or "butthead." Or "cretin" or "malcontent" or "reject."  If you wanna stab them, call them a "useless fuck."

Calling someone gay may hurt them or someone in your circle in ways that you do not realize.  To use "gay" as an insult does the same damage to the soul of the world that words like "nigger" and "retard" do.

Heck... if you are going to call people bad names, try something different and more to the point.  Words do hurt.  Impressionable people are taught to hate with words.  Words killed millions of Jews and millions of other slaughtered populations that we tend to overlook.  And hate is an evil emotion that leads to self-loathing in its possessor.

I should have turned that corner, it is the only way to change the world... but I trust my sister to do the right thing and I didn't want her to feel embarrassed by knowing I had heard.

Tipping the Velvet

"Tipping the Velvet" is the saga of a lesbian around the turn of the century.  It's sort of a lesbian Moll Flanders or Vanity Fair.  And the wild thing is that it is not too far-fetched.  It is a frank and romantic rags-to-riches girl meets girl after girl tale.

I am amused the actress Jodhi May is in it.   She has done lesbian roles before.  She isn't gorgeous, but you can get used to her.  She is the soft, sensitive type with the brass hidden below the surface.  She isn't the star but a supporting actress.

It's a good show.  Check it out.  I got this one... from the library. 

Cat Pawer!

Yesterday when I walked out my front door to go to work, a kitten came up to me (okay, I confess I called out to it, "Here, kitty, kitty."  It was an adorable stubby-tailed youngster with patchy brown and grey stripes accented with borders of white.  It was instant like.  I petted the cat and held it up to the screen for my own cat to sniff. I told the kitten, who seemed healthy and well-adjusted to people, "if you come back here, I might just have to adopt you."

Yesterday evening when I went to my father's house, I realized that in spite of two eager dogs stepping on each other in competition for my attention, it was my step-sister's cat that I was looking for.

I didn't start ot this way.  I grew up with dogs.  I don't know what happened but if you saw "Catwoman" you know that cats have mystical powers.  I think I have been brain-washed!

E!

I met E. online... I guess it was in 2002.  We chatted and she was fun, but she told me some wild stories.  I suspected that she was a liar, but wanted to find out for myself.  I figured the truth would eventually come out.  And I had not dated anyone for more than 10 years. (Note:  I was taking care of my mother and then rejoining the workforce during these years.)

We met at the mall and went to dinner in another county, after dinner we made out in the parking lot because she had exacted that price when she paid for dinner.  I had to go to my dad's to pick something up and we made out in his driveway.  I took her inside and introduced her. Then we drove to a gay bar in yet another county and when it was time to go, we made out for a long time in my car.  When she got up to go, I was weak.  It took me a while to recover and pull myself together to start my car.

I knew that things about her where phony.  I let her think she had me snowed.  I guess I was just that lonely after all that time!  But I have astute powers of observation.  She told me that she was a pastor at an Episcopal Church in Ft. Pierce.  She didn't know that I was raised Episcopal.  She also didn't know that I know the church she referred to.  And when she showed me a little card in her wallet that said she is ordained... a card you can get when you accept ordination over the Internet...  I was wise, but played on.

After that, we dated.  I took her to my small apartment and we had really great sex.  Isn't that always the way with crazy people?  But it wasn't even a month before she was crying "Why don't you love me like I love you?"  (If you ever hear this, run... this is one of the signs of a stalker-type.)

We continued to date but I just couldn't turn my heart over to her because her lies had no substance.

After a while... I forget what happened or how it transpired, I pushed her away.  On New Year's Eve, she called my father's house, where I was staying for the night, after midnight, drunk. 

She was acting like she was ill and needed me, asking me to go to my house.  She wanted a "booty call."  When I told her know, her voice sobered and I told her it was over.  But that was NOT the end.

After that, she called me at 3 and 4 a.m., playing the Indigo Girls into my ear.  I unplugged my phone from the wall in order to sleep each night.  It was ugly.  I realized that she wasn't going to physically hurt me.

What was I thinking when I got back together with her later on?  I guess I was thinking that in spite of her lies, she was not that bad, and that maybe ... I don't know what the hell I was thinking, really.

I had moved by then.  She came to this home and we had even better sex.  I hate that it takes a crazy person sometimes.  I think the key was that she really applied herself.  She certainly understood how my body worked.

Still, her lies continued, and when I pushed her away again, the phone calls.  Finally, via e-mail, I think it was, she got the point.

I never have been crazy about talking to people on the phone, but she is the person who made me loathe the ring of a phone.  I only talk over the phone to people I meet when I am comfortable enough with them to do so.

I have little patience with strangers who call my house.

Ironically, I met a woman at the library and we started talking outside of the library.  It turns out that she had dated E, too, when she lived somewhere else.

E is not a terrible person, she has her good points... but she is bad news.

letter, per therapist request, 2001

The following is abridged text from a letter I wrote per request of the therapist  mentioned previously.  It illuminates some of the major events in my life, but certainly not all and reveals a little of what formed who I am today.

I had a pretty good childhood.  They were working class people just making there way in the world.  I don't remember ever being spanked.  My father was a journalist and my mother was a registered nurse who was always home when we got home from school.  My older sister and I got along okay.

In 1972, my mother and I were in a very serious car accident.  We were hit by a drunken gravel truck driver.  We both nearly died.  I went through the windshield.  My mother's abdomen was sliced open by the seatbelt.  In those days, the buckle was over your stomach instead of on the side.

My mother suffered from illnesses, post-partum depression after my older sister was born, a breakdown when her mother died, small strokes through the years.

For the most part,I was happy-go-lucky and allowed to run around barefoot and to play at whatever suited my fancy.  I was a good kid.

I realized in elementary school that I liked girls more than boys.  I wanted to be strong and handsome and have the girls love me.

When I got into middle school, things changed.  I was picked on and harrassed.  I always felt different, but I was secure in my family's love.  I had scars from the accident on my chin (I still do) which made them uncomfortable, but I think the kids sensed that I was different, too.

In my freshman year of high school, we moved out of Miramar (yes, I was at the same school that Johnny Depp attended, at the same time) and home, to this town, where my grandfather arrived in 1924 in a Model A Ford.

Coming "home" was one of the best things that ever happened to us.  New identity. New life.  Brava!

Pretty much that was it.  The day after college graduation we went to Kissimee to see a college Admission's Director.  That fall I left for college in Maine.

In the spring, my mother had a stroke that left her paralyzed on one side.  During the summer, I came home and stayed with my grandfather and worked at the receration department.  My father travelled every night to visit my mother at Holy Cross Hospital in Fort Lauderdale.  This was before I-95 was completed! When she came home, I helped to take care of her.

When I returned to college in the fall, I was became close to the small handful of lesbian students at the school. Once again, I had family love and acceptance... this time it was a "family of choice."

I was overcoming much shyness and fear.  I was becoming an open-eyed, competent individual.  K, our "peer group leader" taught me to look at things differently, to see that it was okay if I couldn't do things by myself, to find joy in small things, to see tasks as challenges that were rewarding and more.  I owe so much to her.  Then there was R.  R has a soul that could swallow you.  She is the first person I ever fell in love with.  She's stubborn and difficult.  The best rrelationships are often the most difficult sometimes.

I was writing more poetry then I had before, and one day when I got up from  my desk in the professor's office where I did work-study as secretary, I left my notebook open.  When I returned, the professor was standing over the book and he was impressed.  He told me it was very good.  (Okay, he was not a professor of Literature.)  That, along with urging from my friends and family helped lead me to continue writing.

I tend to think of my relationships as being unending because that is what I grew up with.  My mother's friends remained her friends, even coming to see her as she was dying.

This is where I have chosen to end the letter for this journal .  I have provided these bits for the sake of exposition....

 

another layer of heartache

One of those days when all a girl can do for consolation is go buy a box of cookies.  Actually misery is marked with uber no-nos... Bluebird Snowballs, cream-filled chocolate cupcake surrounded by a marshmallowy coating and sprinkle with coconut.          Sin and degradation!

The day started out good.   I went to breakfast with M2.  It was nice to see her, though our schedules are frustrating our efforts.  I thought when I got home... Hey, her office door closes... wonder if she can have guests at work?

Then I spoke with my online friend, who was owning up to feelings and fears.  The conversation may have heralded the end to the whole thing, though I hope it isn't so.

Damn.

Then I went into the county seat to see my parents and to submit a job application for the main library.  I went to Dad's and ended up spending hours with my step-mother running errands, including a pass within yards of Vs house in the next county.

That didn't help.

My step-mother babbled on about memories and Easter plans and hurricane damage. I just humored her and wished I was feeling up to confiding to her how I am feeling and why I am feeling this way.

I am ready to give my love to someone capable of receiving it.  The search for her, though... OUCH!

counseling

A few years ago, soon after my grandmother died, I went through a terrible time emotionally. I was a wreck.  I was in a a bad job situation, my father was adapting to life with my step-family, my closest friend was cheating on her husband and contemplating suicide.  (No, it wasn't C at that time.)  I had been in a job that I loved and that I excelled at. A new boss came on the scene and kept piling work on me.  She soon decided I was going because she could use my desk for someone who performed a different task than I.  I got into a job that was a very bad fit and was miserable.  Grief, adjustments, depression, road rage, and worrying about my friend who had taken up with an unemployed surfer she met at a park... it all compounded and was more than I could take.

Fearing my friends suicide, I confided to one of her family members my concern and all hell broke loose.  I was attacked.  My friend... who has since taken me back because she knows I love her... told me she wanted to blow up my car.  I felt like sugar on the floor.  It was hard to function at my lousy job.

I went to see a woman preacher at the Episcopal church where my family has attended for years.  I told her about my friend and what I did and how it was received.  I told her about the eery presence at my mother's death.  I told her everything in my heart.  That was the start of my seeking help.

I do not recall now what I did.  Somehow I went and saw my doctor and he said I needed counseling to go along with meds that would help me get a grip on the depression that was eating me alive.

I found a woman counselor/psycho-therapist.  Talking to her helped me so much.  That was when I started to spend bits of time with C.  The therapist said that I needed to have more fun.

If I hadn't taken this route, I don't know what would have happened.  I certainly would have continued on being absolutely miserable.  I wouldn't have found the ability to cope with the downside of daily life.

It's okay to seek help. 

prelude to a blog

January 1, 2005

 First day of a new year.  It’s got to be better than 2004.  Two-thousand four was a rough year. My cousin Chuck in Pennsylvania died in a fall. Leaving behind kids and a drunken wife.  My sister Genevieve went off to college at FSU.  My brother Regis got a boat and a car.  Four hurricanes crossed Florida wreaking havoc on homes and land alike.

  George W. Bush was re-elected, God save us!  His war is still going on and there is no way to predict when we will get our soldiers home.  He was re-elected inspite of his dismantling retirement and squashing health care reform and getting us into a war we cannot win and may not be able to get out of.  He was re-elected because piously, ignorantly cruel Americans are more afraid to two people of the same sex wanting to be responsible for each other than they are of global war, the deterioration of American power and the ruination of our economy. 

   I began and ended a relationship that I thought had great promise, but it just didn’t work out.  It took me three months to get out of the suffering mode, but it feels good to be free, to be left with only good thoughts.  Naturally in hindsight, I have learned from the episode.  I learned that if someone pushes you away, stay away the first time they do it.  She told me the score, in her own gentle and indirectish way.  It was my fault for not listening and soaking in what she said. 

   I went back to her three times.  I was foolish, but I love her and I wanted more than she saw, thought more of her than she did, apparently.  But it was good.  While we went together, she quit smoking, started counseling, started taking more considered action on her health.  She was the type I have been looking for; smart, employed, witty.  It didn?t hurt that she is quite pretty, too. 

  I really feel that I am over her, that I have put all the emotions aside and am ready to move on.  I have this silly idea that we should keep people we love forever.  This time I had to totally let go.  The idea sits uneasily, but I realize it is probably healthy. 

   And I learned what to watch out for when a woman has children.  You can?t say anything or be parental, and you are likely to get in some sort of trouble if you take any side.  It?s something you can?t mess with, you have to accept that these people are in the equation and you have no say, unless you are allowed to.  I will think twice before I date a mother again.

   And I found it necessary to put my sweet old cat Katie to sleep between hurricanes Frances and Jeanne.  I knew it was tie because she was running on instinct and was scared.  Her gentle soul seemed to have already exited this life. 

  The final blow of 2004 was a tectonic cataclysm of unfathomable proportions in the east.  Thailand, India, Sumatra and so many other islands and country were devastated by an earthquake that caused tidal waves to wash out entire islands.  The death toll is over 100,000 and rising.  The people had no warning, unless someone saw how far back the sea had pulled and recognized the danger they were in.  Even then, water is the most powerful force.  You cannot outrun a thirty-foot wall of it charging you from the sea.  To swim and avoid the debris of a city or a village and not be pulled out into the ocean is a task of miracles.  It?s staggering.  The need there may be more than every other nation of the earth responding with aid to can easily or quickly quell.

   See, 2005 needs to be better.  What can I do to make it so?

 

Everyone is in denial about sex.

That they want it, that they crave it, that it is natural, that its dangerous, that its good, that they enjoy it in all its forms.

 

I live alone and loathe my life.   I most sincerely seek a wife.

 

Tonight I IMed a young man, a 17-year-old boy and we discussed gay marriage.  I never said, because he never asked, that I am gay.  That was his error.

 

Today I was functionally (almost) catatonic (I did get up and do some laundry).  Last night a friend analyzed my recent ex.  I think that pretty much sucked the life out of me.  I had been coming along on getting over her.  To hear someone diagnose what her problem may have been just sort of wrecked me.

   My problem is that I cannot turn off my heart.

 

January 12, 2005

 

I have the fortune of having V?s e-mails saved in an old account.  I mourn the loss of the love a poet.  The more time that passes, the less I feel but grief remains.  Cristy analyzed her the other night and the next day I could hardly move.  Why Vicki hurts more than any other is hard to see. 

   I didn?t pay as much attention as I should have.  I didn?t make her talk.  Did I touch her heart?  Perhaps.  But maybe not as deeply as someone who would have been harder to get along with.  Someone to argue with and baby.  One thing remains clear.  Though she pushed me away, though maybe I was not more than I toy, though we can never be together, I love her, without regret, without reservation, without shame.  What hurts is not being able to tell her.  (I?m not allowed.)

   I feel happy to have known her.  I remember happiness.  I miss being with this woman of depth and childish glee.  Someone smart and sexy cared for me for a time.  I just wish it could have been a few hundred years longer.  It was only seven months.

   I was a fool.  In that seven month period, she pushed me away three times.  Learning experience is what you get when you don?t get what you wanted.

  Now I know when you are asked to go its time to leave.  She made me feel so comfortable and then forbid that comfort.  Maybe she was trying to get me to fight.  And I was trying so hard to be gentle and patient, knowing she?d been hurt and used.

 

   If she came to me and told me that she?d been working on her emotional self and wanted to try ? I might give her one absolutely last chance.  But why would allow myself to be hurt AGAIN? 

   Because I believe in the strength of love and water.  Everything else is a whuss.

 

Gotta go to work now.  Dammit.

 

Later that same day?

 

  So I?ve started this writing project because I have been encouraged to write by friends and family forever.  They seem to think I have some extraordinary something-or-other.  I don?t think so, and I don?t know what it is they expect me to write.  But journaling can?t hurt me.  It was a good outlet for me in times past.

  I think they have enjoyed my observations and my little notes at the animal hospital.   I don?t think I?m so unique.  I think there are plenty of people deeper and brighter and more poetic than myself. (Like V.) Some of them are out there blogging away now. 

They want me to record my observations. OK.

 

Thursday, January 13, 2005

 

Topics for later:

Bear Attacks

Breakfast and Dinner (occasional lunches)Monday, January 17, 2005</st1:date>

 

This journal has competition with a web journal that I?ve started on AOL called Diary of a Native Floridian. Why make it public?  To amuse my friends and quell them somewhat.

http://journals.aol.com/virage65/DiaryofaNativeFloridian/

 

I?m in bed, exhausted.  I don?t know if it?s my life or the lack of food that wears me out.  I have to economize somewhere.  I have to have a house and a car.  The cat doesn?t cost that much because I work for a vet.  Cat?s about 10, I figure I?ll only have to do it about 10 more years.

 

I haven?t addressed the tsunami.  How can I?  It is the most horrendous, unfathomable cataclysm.  It?s so staggering one can?t think anything except: ?For God?s sake we have to help whoever?s left!

a less awkward life, please

Really, all I want is a good sturdy lesbian to sleep with me every night and scratch the places I can't reach, someone who will cook sometimes and will inspire me to neater-ness.  Someone with wisdom and tact, genteelity and laughter.

I don't need goddesses, princesses, she-men, drama queens.  I want a girl who likes to read, someone who knows how to share and can confide in me.  I want a girl who doesn't mind sharing friends and co-workers.  I need a girl who isn't hiding from life.  I want a girl who is my equal and who balances me out.  I want a someone willing to schlepp around the countryside or just the county-side with me on a lark, someone who respects my family in spite of themselves.  I don't care how she wears her hair, what she looks like or what size she is.

I want a girl who knows that love is not sex nor is it grand gestures and everything being perfect all the time.  Love is little things, like small thoughtfulnesses and really big things, like taking care of each other.  Love is patience, tolerance, forbearance, strength shared, trust, compromise and helping each other through the trials of life. 

I don't care if she is not the nicest person in the world as long as we are good to and for each other. (*Please note this, SS.)

In spite of a quote earlier in this journal about it being noble to have a love free of attachment, I know that love includes attachment...  it just allows freedom.  Maybe the author of the quote had a different meaning for attachment.  I am attached to everyone I care about, no matter who, no matter where.  I love my college friends as much as I love my step-siblings.  I am attached to all the people of my life and their lives make a difference to me even if we hardly ever talk, even if we lose touch somehow.

I let them all do their thing, sometimes it is rough to let them go and I maybe do that badly at times, but I do love them all the same.  I just can't turn off my heart. I do wish we lived like people used to, when most everyone you loved was in travelling distance.  I might be happy in a commune or on a reservation.  My cousins and friends and everyone who means something to me, available and sharing life.

I know you're thinking the group process alone might drive ya nuts, but I believe we rise to the occasion more often than not.  People used to live that way.  Some people still do.

It may be guilt that drove me to write this selection.  In the past several weeks, I have not been visiting my father's house much at all.  I used to go at least once or even twice a week.  Now I stay home or go over to C's.  I did date M1 briefly and she is the first person I am happy about not introducing to my family in the initial days of courtship. (I have never written about E, but she met my parents on our first date.  I was going there anyway.  That was an interesting time.  We made out in three counties that day.  I shoulda known that she was bad news!)

I share my dates with my friends and family.  I'm just inclusive like that.  It doesn't mean I'm asking for consent and approval. My family and friends are accepting people and I am close to them.

I offer honesty, attention, affection, steadiness, flexibility, patience.  Someone I was with told me that she had never felt safer in bed.  I was so happy to have provided that!

I have found that two out of three girlfriends want to sneak into Dad's and have sex.  Oh, wait... maybe that last time was my idea. (shame face!)

Addendum:

Love is not necessarily marriage.  Marriage is really about societal acceptance and even more about legal privilege.  But even societal acceptance doesn't guarantee staying together.  People say that gay relationships don't last and that they are promiscuous.  Everybody is like that, y'all are just looking at gays way to closely, pointing a finger when 3 curl back at you.

"to woo women"

 

The title of this riff is a portion of a line from the film "Dead Poets Society."

I haven't included any poetry in this journal yet.  I don't know if I will because most of my poetry is bad, but it just doesn't matter.  I am finding the power of seduction in prose.

I wish that life could go as smoothly as words.

I find myself writing to women and having them respond with much affection.  I move people to lust without having to consider a rhyme scheme.  I don't know if it is actually the words or if it is the courage to write them, to commit them in a public milieu.

People have a tendency to look up to talking heads, regardless of what they say.  How else could we have had a Hitler?  However, I am not addressing crowds but the few who find this journal and others who meet me, live or online, and check out this journal afterwards.

Right now, there are only two women stealing my attention.  One who is far away in whom I have invested some true affection in, and another, nearby -- who I am yet to register any real emotion other than respect for, but whom I have led to lust.  She is fascinating.  She is so not what you would expect to see me with.  She is very professional, demure, serious.  And I...  don't know what to think.  We started out online. I am under an understood contract with her.  There will be no permanence to our coming sexual groove, but, clearly, we intend to....

I've never done that before and it is not like me.  In the past, I have always felt a strong measure of devotion to and hope for a meaningful long-range "thing" with the women I have given myself over to.  This time, it is not just about sex but it is about sex.

What happened?

You talk to someone you meet online once or for a little while and then they disppear off your map without a word.

You send a note to someone who has inquired of you from a personal ad and never hear from her again.

You send links to your journal to people you have known for decades and they say nothing.

What's up with that?

 

1498

the smell of Reversi in the morning

5:02 a.m.

Spaniards and Germans have fled rather than be vanquished by a little American woman this morning.

I find it rather immature of people not to stick around and see if they can't win even though they have few "men" on the board.  But then again, I am probably playing children anyway.

I lost a few games this morning.  But I lost by playing to the end.  I think that makes me a winner.  Cowards flee.  Fools die fighting a lost cause, some would say.  Leaving because things are going badly, though...  sometimes that is the right thing and sometimes it is not.

In Reversi, staying around to watch the board change to the opponents color is the only way to learn and become better at the game.  That we only had infinite chances to correct our strategies in real life!  (Sometimes we almost do, but not usually, I don't think.)

Did I mention that I have also now played Czechs and Slovenians?

Terry Schiavo

In the news is the spectacle of a woman on life support.  Her husband wants to let her go, her parents, in legitimate anguish, want to keep her alive.  President Bush and Congress want to interfere, for the benefit of the GOP and the sake of weakening the Constitution yet again.

I feel for the woman, her parents and most of all her husband.  Let her live or let her die, but give him his life.  Set him free from burden, obligation and pain.  Let her parents work it out.

How can I say this?  My mother was hemi-plegic and aphasiac for 12 years.  I would give up the years after college all over again, but I would never wish it on anyone else. 

My sister and I have a pact not to let the other linger in a vegetative state inasmuch as strokes happened to two generations on my mother's side, and for all I know, more.   

Still... Ms. Schiavo is not the one really suffering.  It is her family.  If Congress and the GOP had a brain and a heart, they would pass legislation that allows her husband his freedom.  He needs a life.  If she wakes up some day, she will have to understand.  Chances are she won't remember anyway.

It's too bad she can't speak.  I imagine if I was her I'd say I was just hanging on for Mom and Dad.

howl at the sun

It's almost noon and I am still in my bed being unconstructive.  I did get up for a shot of second-choice juice in lieu of breakfast. 

I ought to be running errrands and cleaning the house so as to make it an attractive place for potential lovers and visiting friends.  Eff  'em!

Ok, ok... shower, groceries, pay bills, visit Dad and be back in time to take up space on C's couch tonight. 

Right.  Right after a quick nap.

(sigh)

I'm thinking I need to buck up, get out of bed, make myself presentable and go get that juice and some other staples, like fresh bread, rice milk, frozen dinners that I nuke for lunch.

Let's face it, as exhausting as library work can be, it doesn't burn that many calories.  You can't achieve the aerobic effect while shelving.  I consume less food because I am just not using that energy.  If I eat a good lunch, I usually have little use for dinner.  A little nosh, perhaps, to help my stomach sleep....

I work with six five other women.  Two of them are quite round.  Two of them are thin,  And one is so short that fat would just be ridiculous. I think she has more discipline though.  I am somewhere in between all this, somewhat overweight and out of shape, but it occurred to me long ago that not sitting all day was a good idea.

I drink lots of water and chew sugarless gum.  It helps.  Chewing gum is good for your nerves, your sinuses, your jaw and, allegedly, when sugarless, your teeth.  It is a distraction from utter boredom.

M1 called me a "water addict."  I'd never thought of it like that, but I guess if you have to be addicted to something....

Actually, I was thinking this might be the year to hit the annual college Alumni gathering.  I don't just look good... I feel good.

With this talk of going to the store, I am started to feel goal-oriented.  I'm thinking: go to the store, eat breakfast, bathe, pay your bills, do your taxes (it isn't rocket science this year!), and then... well, no, sorry... cleaning house isn't on the list but a roll up to the wholesale warehouse might be.  This county doesn't have Sam's or Costco.  But I like cruising through busy traffic to buy water and kitty litter at bargain rates.  And near by is one of those WalMart supercenters.  Don't get me wrong.  I do my best to support everyone else, but into one's life a little WalMart must fall.  My grandmother loved her WalMart Supercenter in Osceola County.  That's where she met Sam Walton.  He showed her around the store personally.  She didn't know who he was until she came back the next time and they asked her what she thought of "Sam."  "Who?' she said.  "That little white-haired man?" (She was cotton-tipped herself.)  "Yeah," came the reply, "that was Sam Walton."

Funny, that.  I met Bob Evans beside Lake Muskingum in Ohio.  Big swaggering cowboy.  He founded a restaurant chain.  I was working with Nature's Classroom.  He was fishing.  (Just comparing wealthy businessmen.  She wins.)

But the men of my family can top those celebrity sightings.  My grandfather pulled a thorn from Katherine Hepburn's foot and my father was once kissed on the cheek by herself (Maureen O'Hara.)

Exchange between Grandaddy and The Actress: (she hopped on one foot into his office... barefoot wild woman!  Wasn't she the living end?!)

K: Dr. Parker, are you married?

G: Yes, ma'am, I'm afraid I am.

K: (sigh)  The good ones always are.

Exchange between Dad and "Herself":

D: I have always loved you in those swash-bucklers!

Herself: Mmuuaaahhh!

There are actually a few escaped celebrities from all fields of endeavor around here, but Kate and Maureen were just visitors.  We have all met other notables, but so what?

I don't wanna get up, but I do.

Maybe a shower will motivate me.

See ya'!

Cold, blue and lonely

http://www.winndixie.com/

http://www.publix.com/   (Compare them for yourself.)

My cat is curled beside me, so I am not alone, but I definitely am blue this morning.  There's so much to get done; bills paid, do my taxes, drag my ass over to my Dad's because he's a whiner who could call me if he hadn't been emasculated by my step-mom -- who I do like and care about, thank you.  If it wasn't for her, I'd be minding his aging butt.  I love him, yes, but I took care of my mother at the cost of my own budding life, for eight years.  It may just be that I have done my time and a little besides.

The most pressing task that's coulda, woulda, shoulda last night is go to Publix. If you are outside Florida, Publix is the grocery store to be at.

When I was home with my folks, we schlepped to Winn-Dixie.  But rolling my mom and a grocery cart through the aisles there has left me with a somber disdain for the chain.  They tore down the store I knew so well and built a shiny new one.  Now Winn-Dixie is in the middle of bankruptcy, in spite of the fact that there is a movie about a dog named Winn-Dixie. 

I haven't seen the movie and don't intend to until I read the book.  Somewhere is my boxes of stuff is a copy of the book that I took from a pile of discarded books at the library.

Discarded books generally go one of three places.  Friends of the Library book sale pile, home with one of us, or into the garbage.

I know, I know, some of you are thinking "OMG!  How can they throw books away?"  Well, honey, get a grip!  Lemme list the reasons: a. There are more copies of the same book out there, b. books take a beating and need replacement or they make room on the shelf for something new, c. books that are molded or have book lice will infect the other books, d. that is the transient nature of art, e. you wanna dust them?  If they haven't been taken out in a year's time, they are pointless.  Our library system circulates more than one million items a year.  And we can find almost anything in print in the world and get it to you.  The world isn't going to start crumbling if we chuck a nasty hardback copy of... well, anything.

My stepmother had shelves built in the garage to house all of my father's books.  He cherishes them and there was a pointwhen I did, too.  When he dies, however, they are all going out.  Except, I'm sure, for the ones she can sell for big bucks because they are rare.  The rest however, have not been preserved and are not valuable but for the information they contain.  His value on them is sentimental.  A great many of them belonged to his spinster aunt. (Yeah, it's possible I got it from somewhere.  It being both literacy and homo-sexuality.) 

I have digressed however.  In the morning, I like fried eggs, rye toast and Dole Pine-Orange-Banana juice.  I am out of the juice.  If I'm going to schlepp to the store... well, this little girl can hardly stand to go out without washing her hair and putting on long pants.  There are other juices in the fridge, but it's just not the same.

I have Mango-Lime Fiesta  (It's lovely by itself or with a shot of coconut rum.) still it's just not the same.  P-O-B juice must be a complementary carb or something.

Both Winn-Dixie and Publix are about a mile away, and there are bigger ones a few extra miles in the other direction, too.  But what weighs more?  My desire to stay warm in bed, doing nothing, or my epicurean senses and grumbling tummy?

out of the stacks

I have decided to tell what I do for rent and food and paying off the credit cards.  I work in a library, on-call, 40 hours a week, hoping to become a real employee eventually. 

I also work part-time, just a few hours a month at an animal hospital.  I have been there off and on, full-time or part-time, for seven years or so.

Occasionally, I clean a house, by request.

I have decided to tell so that I can open up more of the world, so I don't have to be so vague.

Tonight I haven't got the juice... I am not bursting with things to say. 

Check ya' later.

 

atonement

In order to make up for the upset I have caused by my recent article about the prez... although if you read it you will see that I am not claiming to like or to agree with him... I offer this recent goody, sent by one of the best friends a girl ever had:

Bush is my shepherd, I dwell in want.
He maketh logs to be cut down in the national forests.
He leadeth trucks into the still wilderness.
He restoreth my fears.
He leadeth me in the paths of international disgrace for his ego's
sake.
Yea, though I walk through the valley of pollution and war,
I will find no exit, for thou art in office.
Thy tax cuts for the rich and thy media control, they discomfort me.
Thou preparest an agenda of deception in the presence of thy religion.
Thou annointest my head with foreign oil.
My health insurance runneth out. 
Surely megalomania and false patriotism shall follow me all the days of
thy term.
And my jobless child shall dwell in my basement forever.

53333

max bps this morning and my aol symbol in the top right hand corner is gold.  What did I do to deserve this?  Will it ever happen again?

Will somebody ever read the previous entry and realize it is a cry for knowledge on how to add interest to my blog with pictures and graphics?

I have been reading other blogs this morning.  I have fun finding quizzes and taking them, finding out all kinds of things about myself.  For example, I am a romantic, an idealist, Dumbledore from Harry Potter, a d10 dice cube, and... ok, I can't remember any of the other things. 

As to the dice reference, I am NOT a gamer but I really dig this younger co-worker who is.  Gives us one more thing to talk about.  He's my bud and the guy who inspired me to blog.  Thanks again, Josh!

Quizzical Quizzes

 

I don't know how to add pictures and stuff....

The John Cusack Test -- Which John Cusack Are You?

<center><font face="arial"><img src="http://home.mn.rr.com/couplandesque/quizzes/john.gif"><br><a href="http://home.mn.rr.com/couplandesque/quizzes/johnquiz.htm">Which John Cusack Are You?</a></font></center>

Which John Cusack Are You?

loyalty or... The Texas Mafia

I was listening to NPR commentary yesterday morning about the president.  They were saying that he is very loyal to people who serve him, and you know, I have to admire that.

I know, I know what you're thinking.  "Are you insane?"

Well, I have so little loyalty in the places where I work... except maybe at my father's house, that I find it a daydream that the president promotes from within. I bet the beady-eyed peckerhead gives raises, too.

I can't help it... though I do not agree with many of the things he is doing, I believe that he believes he is doing the right thing all the time.  Can you really ask more?

I wasn't expecting to find myself actually sympathetic to the president, but it is happening.  Have I been brain-washed?  Is NPR sending "subliminable" messages?

If you hear me saying that the Constitution should be weakened so Schwarzenegger can run for president... somebody! quick! capture and deprogram me!

cookie cutters and automatons

((sigh))

Yesterday I was ridden hard and put away wet.

I met M1 for breakfast and I thought everything was going okay.  She had a personal item of mine in her car and after breakfast we went to a store.  I was getting antsy about the time because I had to be at work in about an hour and I told her I needed my possession.  She gave me her keys but it bothered her that I was in a hurry.   I went to her car ad got my item.  Her purse was sitting on the seat.  I moved it under a jacket and told her when I brought the key back to her.  She got mad.

Nobody listens when I am right.

I was robbed in broad daylight.  Somebody broke the window of my car and took my good dreams away and made me lose sleep for a long time afterward.  I tell people not to leave valuables in their cars. 

One of my co-workers had the same thing happen to her in our parking lot.  I was the one who saw broken glass and reported it to her.  She had left a purse on the floor behind her seat in a mini-van with tinted windows. 

When we ask people for ID, many times they say it's out in the car.  It is not a safe world and there is danger in the places you think are the most innocent.

I felt like M1 had tried to make me react in the way she wanted me to. She seems to want me to behave just a certain way and I have consistently failed.

I went to work and thought the day would be okay, but then the interim manager called me to come talk to her.  She had started weekly evaluations of the least of us co-workers, me being one of the two.  She handed me a paper punctuated with ones.  Ones!  Out of a scale of 3!

You know, you bust your butt in a place, work hard, try to do everything and then only later do you find out, if you're lucky, that you are not doing things the way they want you to.

I am being interpreted and analyzed.  Geez Louise.  Why didn't the manager have the consideration to ask me what I was doing or why I was doing it the way I was?  She is a woman I have guided along at points myself because she does not know how we operate.

She is older... in her 60s or 70s.  She was called from retirement to help out though she is not degreed in our field.  She is an ex-foundation member and has served for decades and so they asked her to be temporary.  She is good because she has the ears of people in high places and is bringing the workplace up to higher standards, including the ADA (Americans with Disabilities Act) which I applaud.

What I don't like is that she has been watching us like a hawk and simply kneading her eyebrows at us instead of saying anything.  Or if she has said anything, it is because she disapproved of our regular and actually pretty efficient practices. 

She has managed to create more work in some instances, and to create a backlog of tasks.  However...  I am willing to roll with things.  Though I do have an uptight streak, I can also be quite flexible. 

Still, ones?  She said that I have accepted changes she has asked me to make "beautifully."  She said "there are days when you are my best worker!"

She pointed out that I am not consistent in attitude.  You know what?  She's right.  I'm not happy.  I need to fake it.  I need to find a level she can live with and stop trying to have a personality.

She said that my attitude comes off as "flippant" to some people.  Okay.  No more trying to make the customers smile.  I know what she wants now.

She needs a quiet, mild-mannered, subservient who stays in one place until everything she sees as needing to be done is done, someone who uses phone etiquette face-to-face.  (Even though people come to me for service again and again because of my good nature, I will change.)

And because they think so little of me and because there is only movement within through competition or nepotism, and because I am barely surviving on on-call pay though I work 40 hours a week... I will keep looking for a job I can live with.

 

 

minutes go by

I have to leave for work in about ten minutes.  I was getting kind of lax and well, really, the traffic is intensifying here lately and has added to my tardiness.  So I have resolved to leave earlier to restore my reputation. 

We have an "interim manager" but we figure that she is becoming permanent.  She is older... in her 70s, I think, and shrewd, demanding, fussy, nosey, overbearing, incompetent, buzzing, burbling... with a voice that grates on you and a way about her that brings everyone down.  There's no loyalty to us. That espouses disloyalty to the system.

I speak up because I have the least to lose.  Being fired might be the best thing that ever happens to me, but you really have to be blatantly oafish to lose your job.  My co-workers, though, fear to speak up.  There is a way to present things to her, with directness and sincerity.  The problem is, because they are regular employees, everything they do is weighed and measured and they are expected to dance a Tarantella besides.  That is why I think about a new job every week.  Notice I am not out prowling for one regularly, but a different situation is looking like a better and better idea.

Now I have to stop and put on my shoes and get out the door.  I have yet begun to speak on this topic.

train of thought at 4 a.m.

 

Reasons to leave your computer on all night:

night light....

insomnia....

getting mail immediately....

finding out who else is an insomniac....

This morning I stirred from sleep to find 5 IMs sitting waiting.  Three were from people I actually personally know from real life.  One was from a woman I think I coud totally fall in love with in another state.  And one was from a chat buddy I barely know and rarely talk to.

I am doing better at meeting more people and talking to more people.  Maybe I have been inspired more than I know by the people I see in libraries sitting side-by-side at a computer bank, not talking to each other.

I was with a friend yesterday and she was talking to me about how nervous I am when I first meet people.  My nervousness is considerable, but I overcome it quickly enough.  I can't explain how far I have come out of shyness and away from a lack of self-esteem.  It's been a long road.  I don't wish to discuss the causes only to say that when I speak of my childhood and youth and how lovely it was, I tend to leave things out because it was the good things that have brought me here.  It is being loved and cared for that I think about now.  That's all that really matters.  Life wasn't always great, but it was never horrid.  It was occasionally treacherous....

So anyway, when I go to meet people by myself for the first time, I am internally in an uproar. When I am introduced to people I am relatively quiet until I get to know them.  At first, they take it as... I don't know, perhaps conceit or shyness.  The truth is that I do not talk a lot.  If I have nothing to say, I shut up.  I think a lot.  Sometimes it can take hours or even days for me to answer a question after serious weighing of the issue.  However, my answers are definite... well, usually.

I remember the day I met V.  She had blown my mind online and I was already enamored.  I had no idea what to expect.  She came to the place where I work and I could feel myself blushing and starting to perspire, but I was so ready to meet her after months of playful Internet correspondence. We went to dinner from there.  She was so lively and fun... yeah, there were awkward moments, but I was still impressed.  When we parted I wanted more than a brief hug.

Flash forward to any of the two recent "Ms."  I met M1 for breakfast (because I do not work until late Wednesday morning.)  I was so stirred up I kept walking into the bathroom while I waited for her.  Part of the reason may have been that I had only talked to her the night before. Waiting for M2 to show last Sunday, I was lucky to be riding on empty.  When she came around a corner I asked her for a hug to allay my nervousness.  It startled her.  She thought I was a member of the staff!  I had talked to her more than M1 before we met, but still my jitters were rolling inside me like marbles against rough steel.  I wasn't sure what I was getting myself into and had few preconceived notions about who she would be.  It turns out that she was pretty nice, but I have probably scared her away with my nervousness, which I assured her would fade away.

I don't ask a lot of probing personal questions or ask for photographs unless they are offered.  I really don't care what people look like or what size they are.  Well... okay... I confess that I don't believe myself to be into "skinny."  I like women with meat on 'em.  I have a little bit of "meat" myself.  Maybe I need to make a list of questions that will help me be calmer when I meet people.  Or maybe I need to bring a friend along....

 

story to tell

Everybody has a story to tell.  There isn't a story that doesn't have some kind of value. 

Yesterday at work I thought "I ought to write about...."  I cannot remember what is was I thought I needed to tell you.  I think it was a continuation, elaboration of something I mentioned before.  I need to carry bits of paper in my pocket to write down these thoughts when I have them because they escape way too fast.  I have ideas for topics fairly often.  I also need to be able to hold these thoughts in my head while I am helping so many people in succession that I do not have time to stop and make a note!

I have a co-worker I sometimes tell stories to, because when we are on the desk it is sometimes slow and she is instantly bored when she isn't busy.  Not me.  There are too many things to think about to ever really be bored for very long.  I don't think I thought as much when I watched television.  I think television has replaced a lot of creativity and brainpower.  I think television is a major contributor to the "dumbing of America."

Americans want everything easy, easy, easy.  We really don't realize how very spoiled we are.  People don't realize they are asking for more than they really need.  More than you need is waste.  I need food, shelter (I lump clothing into the shelter category.) and belongingness.  I need human bonds of love and friendship.  Everything else is sauce, icing, frou-frou.

I consider the car I love, adore and take care of a necessity, but I can even live without it if I have to.  The computer...  YES, even the computer can go if they other things are met, especially the human bonds.

Junkie!

Life is sweet.  I do have one, in spite of the fact that I spend too much time on my backside with this computer in my lap.  I can't help it I get instant gratification from seeing my words in print immediately, and I get to talk to people I like often.

I was at my friend's house Sunday night and kept sneaking away to use her laptop.  My bad!  Luckily, I can get away with that with her.  I can't help it, I was having withdrawals, especially having met someone who is intriguing, in person, during the day.  (I was hoping she'd send me a note.)

I have regular correspondents, people who react differently when I do know respond to IMs.

I have a friend about 45 I-95 minutes south who is chagrined and comical when I do not respond or have much time to answer her.  We went together for a short time, but now she is someone I really can talk to and hold nothing back from.  She keeps asking me to come help her do yardwork.  As if!

I have written about the woman in Utah for whom I wouldn't mind being a mistress.  Backtrack in this journal, 'cause it's already been written and I don;t have all day!

There is a woman in California that I have really connected with.  If either of us is ever near the other, we intend to meet.  Having sex together will probably be included, assuming we are single at the time.  If she decides to move to Florida ever, I will definitely consider being her girlfriend.  She says she's an ass, but I can work with that.

Then there is another woman who lives locally and I find her very interesting.  I don't think she even knows how her calm, laughing IMs have piqued my interest.  To tell you the truth, a nice, stable, loving relationship is what I am going for, even though I seem to be in a wild phase right now.  I am looking around and testing many waters.

I have a friend who I have not initiated a relationship with although she has been flirty.  She is seeing someone else right now and I fear that she is going to get her heart broken.  I think just knowing the other is around is good for us right now...  I am slowly finding the other lesbians in this small, conservative, wealthy town.  (I probably have the cheapest rent in the county.  I could not afford to live anywhere else... which is why I am watching for a better job opportunity.)

I like my job.  I help people and have fun talking to them.  I have a good sense of humor and it is appreciated at work.  I am good at the job and feel lucky that I am on-call instead of regular full-time because full time people have to do a lot of bullshit in order to get the annual raise that they deserve just for staying.  (They have to show how they made life better, attended classes, created projects, etc.)  Can you tell it has something to do with the government?  We serve the people and are one of the best uses of their tax dollars. (Any guesses?  And if you already know me and where I work, no fair telling!)

I leave my computer on sometimes at night... ok, most nights.  I don't know why.  I usually don't think to turn off the sound, so sometime in the night I heard "You've got mail."  I was curious but not enough to actually wake up and move.  I also get to hear the noises made by people on my buddy list and they enter, IM and leave.  Most of my friends, though, sleep at night.

There are a lot of people in my chatters list, but few of them are regulars.  I have 78 chatters, 2 AOLbots, 5 co-workers, 5 "family," 26 recent buddies and 1 journalee... that is, one person who responded to my journal who I chatted with.

I really could delete all but about maybe 7 of my chatters who actually are regulars... but I like just seeing these lesbian women's pseudonyms.  I have spent too much time in my life feeling alone as a lesbian.

I love perusing other journals.  I got a blogger account just so I could respond to one of Rosie O'Donnell's entries.  I love women who laugh and who create laughter... and I love making women laugh.  Rosie is a good egg.  I think America still loves her and I think America is very forgiving, in spite of itself. (PS: Ro... you didn't do anything wrong!)  I noticed while I was reading her journal that people are still preaching to her.  Can you see my eyes rolling?  PEOPLE...  look to your own lives and let God sort us out! 

 

 

 

 

 

Kitten on the keyboard

I live with a cat.  She is grey and black, petite, friendly.  She is a sweet little thing and a good companion.

Growing up, there was always a dog in the house.  I think that originally the dog was for keeping Mom company while Dad was at work.  Or maybe a dog was just a standard household fixture of "normal" American life.

My parents got a dog from the pound after they married and ever after something four-footed informed all of our lives.

Dogs are wonderful companions for people who like to get to know their neighbors.  After my mother died, I received custody of the family dog when my father re-married.  I lived in a tiny mother-in-law apartment in a neighborhood of five houses, down a dirt road which was encircled by a golf-community development.  The neighbors collected errant golf balls in their yards.  The dog was my goodwill ambassador.  Walking her introduced me to everyone coming in and out of our friendly enclave.

Cats are wonderful companions for people who need to remember that other things are important.  Cats come for your attention when you are typing or reading the newspaper or doing something else which is idle and occasionally obssessive.

We never had a cat when I was a child because my mother had one when she was a kid that would get into fights and come home bloodied.  Well, that's what I remember hearing, anyway.  It wasn't until one showed up in our backyards when Mom was ill that I came to love cats.

One day I looked out the backdoor, perhaps the dog had drawn my attention, and saw a cat playing with a tiny field mouse.  Playing... she was tossing the mouse in the air.  I don't know why cats do this.  Perhaps they haven't had enough of a chase.

I don't know what happened after that.  The cat came around, up onto the back stoop. I was somewhere in my early 20s.  Mom's nurse, Barbara, was a cat-lover... I'm sure that helped things along.  However it was, the cat came inside.  She was missing patches of fur and she was wormy.  We fed her and I plucked ticks from her calico coat.

When I said to Dad that we ought to turn her over to the Humane Society, he said no.  He said that cats didn't get adopted there and that they would only end up killing her, so she came to stay.  She then started to get fat and her fat turned into bumps which turned into kittens.  Dadwas thrilled that the cat chose to give birth under his bed.  It endeared the cat to him all the more.

When the time came, we created a poster with pictures of the kittens that said "Take my kittens, please" and my mother held it as we cruiseded the grocery store.  A young couple stopped to talk to us and soon came to our house to relieve us of Cali, a calico, and Cosmo, and orange tabby.  Grey went to the home of one of Dad's co-workers.  But Stripe, the pick-of-the-litter, at least in my eyes, stayed with us.

I was housebound with my mother and raised that cat.  She was devoted to me, thanks to a college-friend, Mary Russell, who taught me: "If you want to get a cat devoted to you, feed her in your lap."  It was some mystical New England lore, I suppose, but it worked.  It was advice I never knew I would use. (I mention her name in memory.) 

At the time, we lived on 5 acres and the cats ebbed and flowed out the front door and lolled in the sun on the wheelchair ramp.  Sometimes they would find their way up a tree to the rooftop or would disappear into the brush.  I always fretted for their welfare but was poo-pooed and vetoed by Barbara who ignorantly insisted that the cats be free spirits.

Listen to me, people... cats do fine indoors. They adapt.  They live longer, healthier lives that way.  Left to wander outside they are responsible for species depletion and are susceptible to any number of perils including disease, wild animals, cars and cat-haters.  If you really love your cat, devote a sunny spot to it and let it live inside.

The cat that came to our door lived to be 19.  I had to put her to sleep between hurricanes Frances and Jeanne because it was time.  Her beautiful soul was gone and she was functioning on pure will and instinct.  I loved her very much.

My third cat I brought home from the vets where I work part-time.  She was left there because she apparently killed an expensive pet bird (in spite of having been declawed) and the owners wanted her put to sleep.  The doctor will not euthanize without a good reason, so sometimes we have guests for quite a while. (Please note: If you have a bird and a cat, don't let the bird wander freely when you are not home.  Duh!)

I had been thinking that the old cat would be happier during the day with a companion because I worked in anothercounty and couldn't make it home during the day. I took cat #3 home but she was wild and her clashes with the old cat kept me up and I brought her back.  After a while, she was still in the cat ward and the office manager demanded that I take her... so I got information on how to introduce a new cat into a home with other pets.  I figured having another cat around would enliven the older cat who had grown up with the dog who had recently passed away.  Now she's just here to enliven me.

She yowls out the window for me when I come home, rising on her haunches to paw at the screen needily.  She loves to lay on top of the covers and to rub her face against the computer screen as I work.  She also loves to lick my forearm with her sandpapery tongue. (Sorry, I do not find that remotely pleasant.)  She gives me reason to stop home and excuse to go home.  She keeps me from ever feeling alone.

1351