Λυπάμαι

pronounced Li-pam-e...
...it means "I am sorry" in Greek...

I am truly sorry for the deserted appearance this blog has taken on over the last few weeks.

Watch this video and then I'll explain...
(Start watching at 0:45 to 1:52)



I feel a little bit like that...if writing was like eating pussy.

It's not that I haven't had the time to write - no matter how busy you are you can make the time for things that are important to you. And it's not that I don't have anything to write about - I just moved to the most stressful/exciting city in the country and I changed my career path for the eighteen hundredth time; I have plenty of angst to work out. And it's not that I'm questioning my sexuality - I strive to challenge myself everyday, so questions don't intimidate me and it was just a straight crush, just like every straight girl has a gay crush. It's that ALL I do is write; which, don't get me wrong, is fantastic, (I'm already learning so much) but sometimes when I come home, the last thing I want to do is worry about sentence structure.

I had my last final today and my next semester doesn't start for another 5 weeks. I was offered a month long internship at a fairly recognized magazine that would occupy my time during those weeks and I decided not to take it. It was the first time in my life where I made a decision that didn't service my resume. (Funny how a city so motivated by appearances and achievements taught me the value in relaxation.) I'm going to chill in the city during my break from school and I'm going to figure out how I can better balance my life when the next semester approaches.

I hope that everyone has a fantastic holiday season and a safe New Years!
MERRY CHRISTMAS!!!

Peace,
Stephanie

A Sexual Viewpoint

There are three ways to look at sexuality...

1.) You can look at sexuality as if it were a box -

This is the mainstream, cultural normative way to view sexuality. You fit into the straight box or the gay box (or if you're really liberal, you can add the bi box) and you're exclusively characterized by the boundary-driven terminology prescribed to the box in which you exist. It's generally accepted among the queer community (and the majority of its allies or any left-leaning person) that this ideology is outdated and unproductive. It creates limitations on the acceptable behavior for a person, but the whole point of sexual advocacy is to tear down those limitations. If your natural inclinations don't fit perfectly into the box that best suits your preference, then you're obligated to reshape or dial back those sexual inclinations. It is becoming more and more accepted that sexuality is complicated and messy and that, by adhering to the precepts of a box, you display an ideology that is both unproductive and harmful.

2.) You can look at sexuality as if it were a scale or a continuum -

This ideal most resembles the ever popular "Kinsey Scale," which claims that sexuality, much like the categorization of nature in general, does not exist in the binary, but rather in a continuum. This viewpoint allows for an incredible increase in sexual fluidity, as well as establishes a credibility for those that exist in the in between. The diminishing quality of this ideal, however, is that it still places homosexuality in an amount comparative to heterosexuality. My discontent with this viewpoint is that it still holds onto the desire to equalize sexuality; as someone's sexual behavior pushes the scale to full-on homosexuality, it equalizes itself by removing the correlative amount of heterosexuality...and while that might be the experience for some, it still places sexuality inside an equation.

3.) You can look at sexuality as if it were a bar graph -

You can also look at sexuality as if it were a bar graph. In this ideal, homosexuality and heterosexuality are no longer reliant on one another, but rather function as separate entities. Each sexual behavior exists on its own scope, so that your homosexual behavior doesn't diminish or lessen your heterosexuality, or vice-versa. The thing I find the most productive about this viewpoint is that it embraces the pure ideal of sexual fluidity, which I think is the key to sexual acceptance. If you allow your own sexual thought process to fluctuate from the cultural normative thought process, then you can step into the sexuality that best fits your inclinations...and if you can embrace a sexual viewpoint that allows for fluidity without forfeiting your current sexual identity, then you've blasted open the door to sexual acceptance.

I am really really REALLY gay (sexually and politically) and there is this boy. I can't tell you if he's cute, because frankly I don't really know, but I am very much enticed by him. He has a radiant smile and a fantastic laugh. He's insanely witty and incredibly smart. He has this sweet, but not saccharine-y, way of looking at the world that I find unparalleled. Occasionally, I think about what it would be like to be in a relationship with him and sometimes those thoughts are fairly pleasant. (Now, whenever I think about a relationship with this boy, I synonymously think about how 1-there would have to be room for Sapphic activities outside the relationship, 2-he would have to find someone else to give him a blow job cause I'm not putting a cock in my mouth, 3-I would probably still desire to identify as a lesbian, though it wouldn't be a lesbian relationship, and so-on-and-so-on...so it's highly unlikely that these thoughts will ever actualize themselves.) I guess what I'm trying to say is that my current heterosexual thoughts don't intimidate me and they don't make me less of a homosexual. Sexuality isn't a math equation and one plus one doesn't have to equal two.

Never Lonely

I am an independent person; I always have been. I learned how to tie my shoes in the back of the closet while my mother did chores in the kitchen. I learned how to do my own laundry when I was left home alone one day. I choose what college(S) I would attend without advice from anyone. I've been to a countless number of movies by myself, ate at a countless number of restaurants by myself. I've never been someone who felt scared or vulnerable if I didn't have someone to talk to, and the fear of ending up without a partner isn't so strong as to allow me to settle for anything but that "moves mountains" kind of love. I like walking alone. I like reading alone. I like being alone. This isn't to say that I don't play nice with others, I very much enjoy the company of people; however, I rarely feel the relentless need for it.

I have lived in New York City for three months...and I have never been alone. (It's not a surprising fact, as New York City has 8+ million people jammed into 469 square miles, and the place I currently call home has 60+ people jammed into 1900 square feet.) Even when I strive to be alone, I feel like I am endlessly tethered to other human beings. When I walk home from work, I'm thinking about what stranger is walking behind me. When I go to the cafe, I'm thinking about the people that just walked in and want my table or I'm thinking about the employee at the counter and if I need to buy something more. When I take a shower, I'm thinking about how many other people are sitting outside that door waiting to brush their teeth or to shower themselves; even in the times when I'm technically the only person in the room, I'm still not truly alone.

I have noticed that my writing (for this blog, or for school, or for my own personal pursuits) has been a real struggle lately. At first I thought that it was solely because my life was in upheaval, and it made sense to me that my writing would reflect that state of upheaval; however, I've come to realize that it has a lot more to do with my recent incapability to be lonely. I need to have moments were I am completely alone to be completely myself.

On November 1st I move into a kick-ass apartment, where I will have my own room and I will finally be able to be completely alone. New York City has taught me a ceaseless number of lessons already, but beyond all those lessons, I'm still me! and the me that I know (and love) needs to have moments of solidarity. While I have a great desire to learn and grow here, I have an even greater desire to not forget about, or sacrifice, the woman that I've worked so hard to become. I really like that I am independent and I can't wait til I get to accommodate that independent part of myself. Hopefully, this blog will get back to its regularly scheduled programming - sorry for its sporadic, if not absent, presence as of late!

But Love

Occasionally, my father emails me. When these emails find their way into my inbox, they always look the same; the subject line says something like "how are you?" or "how's the job" and then there is nothing in the actual email. I rarely respond because I'm fairly certain that these emails are only constructed because people are asking about me and he doesn't have anything to say, and that doesn't boast so well for his picture perfect image.

Recently, I've received a lot of chastisement over the blatant lack of communication that I have with my father and since he's the one that initiates the emails, the communication controversy is apparently my fault, but I'm not about to participate in small talk with a man that I don't know just because it's what everyone else thinks I should be doing or because it's the thing that will aid in my father's ability to appear perfect. Does he actually or honestly want to be a part of my life? Blank emails aren't really an indication of genuine concern...blank emails are an indication that he checked me off his daily to-do list.

I am not going to be someone's inconvenience and that's what his emails feel like; a means to control the inconvenience of not appearing perfect.

I grew up in a "But Love" environment, meaning that the only time I ever heard the phrase 'I Love You' is if it was preceded by the word 'but.' I would get myself into trouble, receive a lecture/punishment, and then my parents would ritualistically declare: "but we still love you." But Love is the only context that I had for love, so for most of my life I understood love only as something that was explicitly tied to guilt.

While everyone in my father's life might believe that I'm wrong in refusing to respond to his subject line correspondence, I'm not replying because I'm done feeling guilty. My father has made it clear that he doesn't approve of my "lifestyle choice" or most of the other choices that I've made in my life, so the only thing that he has left to offer me his But Love... but I am NOT a child! I'm not going to feel guilty that the kind of love I've chosen to participate in (the lesbian kind) inconveniences his life. I'm not going to feel guilty that I dropped out of school at the exact moment that my mother chose to drop out of their marriage. I'm not going to feel guilty that I moved to the other side of the country without waving goodbye. The choices that I've made were, and are, mine and I've taken responsibility for them. If he only wants to offer me his But Love, he can keep it, because I am going to feel guilty no longer.

The City

There have been few times in my life were I have struggled with words in the way that I have over the last few weeks. Every time that I sit down to write something genuine, it becomes an insincere collection of misplaced thoughts...probably because my life currently feels like an insincere collection of misplaced thoughts.

In my High School English class, I learned that if someone has already said what you would like say, and they say it better, it's best that you just allow them to say it for you. So, allow me to share with you these beautiful words from Sara Bareilles...I could not say it better.

What do you call cheese that's not yours?

NA-CHO CHEESE!

What do you call a person that puts poison in a person's cornflakes?
A cereal killer.

Why don't African animals play games?
There are too many cheetas.

Why did the house go to the doctor?
It had window pains.

What is round and really violent?
A vicious circle.

If you drop a yellow hat in the red sea, what does it become?
Wet.

Two cannibals are eating a clown.
One says to the other: "Does this taste funny to you?"

'Deja Moo': The feeling that you've heard this bull before.

Two Eskimos sitting in a kayak were chilly, so they lit a fire in the craft.
Unsurprisingly it sank, proving once again that:
You can't have your kayak and heat it too.

A Short Rant

**Allow me this short rant...I promise that a full and fulfilling post is on its way!**

I live in a hostel.

I live in a hostel in the heart of the ghetto in Brooklyn, NY.

I live in a hostel in the heart of the ghetto in Brooklyn, NY with people I generally can. not. stand.

While living in a hostel isn't the ideal situation, I didn't move to New York City because I wanted to be comfortable, I moved here because I wanted to challenge myself to be better/greater; so, for the time being, I live in a hostel. While there are times when it is stressful and crowded, it's mostly a lot of fun...But there are certainly moments that are infuriating.

Like the other day, I was reading in the "common room" and a girl was casually making a joke about how, since she cut off all her hair, she's always getting hit on by other girls on the subway. I looked up from my book, slightly, offering the rebuttal that it's not so bad to get hit on by girls, when someone eavesdropping on the conversation said, and I quote, "Well, it's not okay if it's not your sexuality."

WHAT?! Are you fucking kidding me? No one stands up in contempt when I get hit on by boys, so why is it acceptable to condemn the inverse? Do people really believe that because my sexuality is the unconventional sexuality that my flirtations should somehow be trepid and/or apprehensive? Now, I am all for being mindful and aware of the situations that you're in, but that does not mean that we, as a sexual minority, should have to cater to ignorance!

This viewpoint, that we, as homosexuals, are expected to extend an indulgence and resignation to those that disagree (what does that even mean? disagree?) with our homosexuality is utter bullshit. I am done sitting around and passively smiling at those that continue to offer ignorance and hatred and contempt to something that is so purely a part of who I am. I am not going to hide behind the rhetoric that it is acceptable to concede to any part of inequality. We deserve all the freedoms that straight people have, and that includes the freedom to flirt with whoever the fuck we want to.

(Yeah, New York has had a confrontational and assertive influence on me...and I quite like it.)

A Random Inspiration

***I've been working on a post entitled, "Oh...F*CK This!"; however, I recently ran into a bit of unexpected inspiration, so instead of rattling on about my oppugning views on New York City's population, I'd rather share my random moment with you. I'll post my fucking piece later on this week.***

I recently got a job at a sandwich shop in Manhattan; it is fantastically fun and perfectly fits into my overly-ambitious school schedule...but by far, the best part of my job is that it resides on the corner of 15th street and 8th avenue, which is right in the middle of the fabulousity that is Chelsea. And because of its location, the clientele is...well...fabulous.

I also started school this week; the culmination of months and months of preparation, anticipation, and anxiety actualized itself in a matter of moments, in a sequence of classes that were completely un-magical. I’m not sure what I was expecting, fireworks perhaps, but this week left me feeling a bit discontented. And when Friday rolled around, and as the discontent turned to anguish, I felt like nothing could reverse my mood. I begrudgingly went to work, praying that it would go as fast as humanly possible so that I could go home, drink a little, and quickly fall asleep.

Well, who comes into the shop, but the stand-up comedian, Shawn Hollenbach. I was not nearly as witty as I wish had been, but after our interaction I felt excited, I felt inspired, and I remembered why I choose to sell all my shit and move across the country to a place where I know no one. Now, as far as I know, Shawn doesn't possess magical powers, so while he is very funny and charming and engaging and sweet, the inspiration and drive that was resuscitated through our conversation didn't occur because Shawn waved his magical fairy wand...it occurred because I allowed his energy, his story to inspire me.

Random inspirations are glorious and oh-so-relieving, but I don't want to be someone who relies on those random inspirations to get through everyday. I would rather look at inspiration as something that provokes me to jump from place to place, rather than something that drags me up from the place I can't manage to escape. For me, as the magic of the city begins to fade, I want to make it my job to seek that magic out, instead of sitting around complaining about its absence. If I want to be all that I can be in this city, then it's my responsibility to be that person, even on the bad days.

Little Bits

Linus Pauling, a chemist and noble prize winner from the mid-20th century, once said, "The best way to have a good idea is to have a lot of ideas."

So here's a little bit about a few things...

I laugh a little bit whenever a tourist falls on the subway, it makes me feel like I'm a real New Yorker. Why is it that everything that makes me feel like a real New Yorker has to include something bitchy?

I fell in love...with this new blog, Alphafemme. She makes me want to be more honest, more open, more vulnerable; so here is something a little bit honest and open and vulnerable...sometimes I want to fail, just so my parents don't have anything to boast about to their friends.

Why do we say congratulations when we find out that someone we know gets engaged? Isn't that a little bit like saying, "Whoa. You found someone to look at you every morning for the rest of your life. Way to go!" Is finding someone to love us an accomplishment? Seriously, is it?

I recently met this boy...I don't think I want to kiss him, but I've thought a little bit about it. He's very nice.

If you haven't seen the movie Adam yet, a seemingly stereotypical love story that is anything but stereotypical, you should really see it. It's heartbreaking and empowering and funny, and I might have cried...a little bit.

The New York City Department of Health lists more than 20,000 restaurants on their "Restaurant Inspection Information" web site. You'd think that it wouldn't be so fucking hard to find a job. I'm having a little bit of trouble; though, in all fairness, I'm not really trying that hard.

I joined facebook. I'm a little bit scared that it will drain me of my quirky, nerdy, naive charm; be on the lookout for my next post, "How I was raped by facebook."

Health (we don't) Care

Maggie Williams, Hilary Clinton’s chief of staff, once said, “Any time you start down the road of messing with people’s money, they have to kill you,”...well that, or they have to threaten to kill grandma.

It's hard to escape the fact that (American) politics is an incredibly ridiculous process, but lately it feels like the debate over health care has exceeded the limits of absurdity and has well entered the realm of perverse deceit and disregard. There's a lot at stake when it comes to health care reform, so it seems obvious, if not completely understandable, that the conversation has become...colorful, but the thing that scares me about this particular debate is that it seems to be as equally jittery as it is hostile. The amount of indignant confusion that is permeating the health care debate has created a dyad of aggression and extreme anxiety, which has resulted in the materialization of contempt; and that has forced this debate to become less and less about health care and more and more about rhetoric.

The further we get into the health care debate, the more heartsick I become. I have faith in humanity and I believe that no matter how we feel or what has happened, we care about one another...but is it becoming increasingly obvious that we don't? Seriously, is anyone even bothering to listen anymore?

Honestly, I'm on the fence about this health care bill...I assuredly think we need reform, things can't just stay the way they are, but, for one, I don't completely understand Obama's plan (and it's not because I'm dense or for lack of trying) and two, what I do understand seems short-sighted, if not naive...but there is one point of contention that is especially infuriating for me; the argument that health care reform is unethical because conservatives don't want to pay for the abortions that they don't believe in.

I think that it's so infuriating for me, because it feels vaguely familiar.

***(Let me first say this: The opposition to health care reform, that has stemmed because of the issue of abortion, argues that this bill will increase abortions. Do people realize or understand that the number one reason that women choose abortion rather than adoption is because of medical bills? So...it seems to reason that if women had the help and support that they needed to pay their medical bills, to see a doctor, to gain emotional support, etc. it would actually decrease the number of abortions. When did it become ethically acceptable to stop using your brain and just spew whatever tactical rhetoric you think will best suite your agenda? This kind of behavior is certainly unacceptable, yet we hold no one accountable?!)***

As a gay woman, I intimately understand what it feels like to have your voice invalidated because of something that you believe in (for me that's being exactly who are without internal or external judgment), and now those same people, that, for the most part, are the ones abating my voice, are the ones crying wolf; but the possibility that those people will now see things from my marginalized viewpoint seems impossible, and the thing that really gets me about all of this, is that it's done under the disguise of patriotism, but that is so NOT what America is all about.

We set sail because we were tired of being told how to live; we created our own declaration because we were tired of playing by other people's rules; we fought back because we were tired of "taxation, without representation"...but now we've become selfish and stubborn and elitist and completely unwilling to look beyond ourselves, and it feels more and more like we've forgotten all about the things that got us here in the first place.

I'm not going to pretend that I have some kind of foolproof solution to health care reform, because I so clearly don't, but what I do have is the basic understanding that we, as a country, aren't going to get anywhere if we don't start listening to each other. Rather than working backwards and talking over one another and making up lies that just further our own personal agendas, let's try to make health care about...oh I don't know...care!

P.S. I can think of one easy way to expand health care without reconstructing the entire system. Repeal DOMA. Enact domestic partner laws in all 50 states. Seriously! We gays make up 10% of the population. That's two fucking birds with one stone.

Men Are Like...

In my coming out process, I spent very little time in the in between. I was "straight", then one day I had this gay thought, and, literally, three days after that I identified as a lesbian. I had a few moments when I felt embarrassed for myself, but beyond that, I didn't have any sleepless nights or guilt-driven anxiety. (I am a very anxious person, so when I didn't have any anxiety about something that, by all means, allowed for plenty of room for anxiety, I knew that it was the path for me.) As soon as I became aware of that first gay thought, I decided that I would embrace it and be it...and...as self-assured as I was that the lesbian lifestyle was the lifestyle for me, there was still something about men that I was drawn to. I went through all the possibilities: I don't want to kiss him! I don't want to be close to him, touch him, stare at him for long hours into the night, I don't want to share intimate details about my life with him, but still there was something. I came to realize that it was men's clothes that I was drawn to, not the actual man inside the clothes, and forcing myself to discover exactly what was attracting me to men, made me even more certain that I was a big lesbo, because for me, men are like...


1. Cats
You know how cats have six to seven distinct external characteristics, and then after that they all look the same, and you can't tell which cat is which...unless they live in your house. For me, men are like cats. I can tell the generalizing differences between men, but put me in a room full of Abercrombie models and it's as if I'm walking into a screenshot from 101 Dalmatians, it's just not possible that I'll be able to tell one from the other. The only time this 'handicap' becomes a real hindrance for me is when it comes to the movies, especially male-driven drama movies, like Ocean's Eleven or The Departed. I'm always thinking things like, "Who is that again?", "Is this a new character or did he just change clothes?" or "Wait?! Didn't that character just die?" It becomes especially frustrating when the bad guy is pretending to be the good guy or visa versa; there is just no way for me to keep track!


2. Shotguns
Maybe I'm too much of a top, but I can't imagine that making love to a man can be all that exciting. I imagine that men are a lot like shotguns; you pull the trigger, they shoot, you're done. No elaborate sword fights or intricate ass-kicking scenarios, just "Bada Bing, Bada Boom, It's over." But women, ohhhh, women have all of these spots and buttons. Women are versatile and mysterious and often times demanding. I've never shot a gun, nor have I ever made love to a man, but I suspect that both of these things can often feel repetitive and trite, but sex with a woman is anything but commonplace. If men are like shotguns in the sack, women are like complicated math equations, requiring you to submit to ALL the formulas previously taught to you, so that you can adjust and/or refine your approach as you further unravel the equation, leading you closer and closer to that one solution. And much like a complicated math equation, women require concentration, perseverance, intuition, and an unrelenting presence. Anyone can shoot a gun, but not everyone can successfully solve a complicated math equation. ;)


3. The Library of Congress Classification
The English-speaking world has two main systems of cataloging library materials, the Dewey Decimal(DD) Classification and the Library of Congress(LC) Classification. You're probably familiar with the DD Classification, it's the one you learned about in primary school. The LC Classification, however, is the catalog system used by most universities and research libraries...and it makes no fucking sense, at least not to me. Most people, especially those amongst the academic backdrop, suggest that the LC Classification is the more basic, manageable classification and I thoroughly disagree. {**Sidenote: In actuality, the LC Classification is only an enumeration, (like how I used a complicated math term there...see #2) meaning it's really only a way to name things one by one, it's not actually a structural method for organization.**} How are men like this? Theoretically, the Dewey Decimal Classification is the more complex classification, with over 10,000 different subcategories to plot through; however, I find it considerably easier to navigate. Perhaps it shouldn't be, or maybe I've just spent too much time amongst the Dewey Decimal isles to change the classification that works the best for me, but the the DD Classification just makes sense. Much like how I feel about women. Perhaps women shouldn't be easier to understand, and maybe on the surface they seem more complex, but for me, they just make sense. (I don't think that this is like that "if you wanted a monkey when you were little, then you're gay" thing; enjoying the Dewey Decimal System is not a subconscious indication that you're a dyke.)

The Color Gay

Tim Berners Lee, the man who created the World Wide Web, once said, "We need diversity of thought in the world in order to face new challenges" and I think that the same idea can (and perhaps must?) be applied to individuals. Obviously, when we strive to broaden the circle of people in our lives, we broaden the opportunities that life can present. I choose to surround myself with people who think differently than me, who look differently than me, who fuck differently than me, not because I want to boastfully inflate my contact list, but because I love to learn and the best learning often comes when you step beyond comfort.

And I will honestly admit that sometimes those words come easier than those actions.

I recently moved to an area of Brooklyn, NY that has, quite forcibly, provided me with the opportunity (that's the word I'm choosing to use, though the action feels much more hostile than that) to learn a great deal about diversity. I am clearly the only white girl in my new neighborhood; add to that my colorful wardrobe and my semi-posh computer bag and I more than stand out. Most of the time I don't notice, (it is an intensely fun neighborhood with children dancing in the streets, music blaring from the roofs, and laughter lingering throughout the air) but the other day, while I was on the way to school, I got the feeling that everyone was starring at me...and, for that moment, it made me thankful for the fact that homosexuality isn't a skin color. While I am sure that NOT everyone was starring at me, and assuredly if they were, it wasn't generated from a place of judgment, I felt grateful that as a white, middle-class female, I'm not the minority. I mean, I am the minority, just nobody knows that I am.

I think that there is something about sexuality that offers a bit of convenience. Take, for instance, our vocabulary. More so than any other minority, sexual minorities can adapt their vocabulary to their audience, enabling them to feel a sense of ease while still standing true to who they are. If a homosexual is having a bad day and just doesn't feel like standing up or standing out, then they can choose not to. If a homosexual is just too tired to deal with the bullshit of inequality, then they can head home sans harassment. There is this definite sense of convenience. Think about it, what other minority has a closet? (Perhaps religion does, but our country is more afraid of religion than religion is of our country; so while it might technically be a minority, it will never be a discriminated one. Which, don't get me wrong, I think is great. But what makes the gays scarier than the Lutherans?) And what other minority maintains that you can be in that closet (say you're in the closet when it comes to your family) and yet still be an active part (you go to the clubs, you sleep with people of the same-sex) of that minority? What do you think that Martin Luther King Jr. would have said if black people could choose not to tell anyone they were black?

I will assert that while the closet has its protective and comforting appeal, it is the single biggest thing holding equality back. The closet implies a sense of shame, which is clearly counterproductive; and even if your reasons for being closeted aren't shameful, those fighting against gay rights surely aren't going to strive to make that distinction. In some ways I think this makes us stronger, because we do have to actively and intentionally choose to stand up, but that only applies if we actually choose to stand.

I'm not advocating for a universal forehead tattoo here, but we could at least start by holding hands. That sounds nice. Are there any girls in NYC that want to hold my hand?

New in New York City

I believe in the power of change. I think that volunteering yourself for change can open doors that remained previously undiscovered and then, consequently, you can discover things about yourself that remained previously unknown; and I think that the more you discover about yourself, the better suited you are to stand true in the face of involuntary change. It's the cycle of change.

Some people, though, use change as an avoidance tactic, as a way to evade life's current circumstances. People change banks as a way to deflect overdraft fees. They change jobs as a way to ditch an unpleasant boss. They change partners as a way to ensure that they aren't the ones dumped. And when change is utilized as a process for escape, it loses its integrity and becomes a vehicle that transports you farther away from your undiscovered self.

I've been thinking a lot about this blog and what changes it will go through as I go through this massive relocation. And the thing is...I'm not interested in turning this blog into a journal about my new life in New York City. I created this blog for a number of reasons. I wanted to create something in my life that would challenge me to be better; a better writer, a better woman, a better lesbian. I wanted to create something that would offer me accountability and routine and a broader sense of connectivity. I wanted to have a collection of writing samples under my belt, so that if someone choose to offer me an avenue into the publishing industry, I'd be prepared. The egotistical reasons abound, but more than anything, I created this blog because I felt like I had something to say to, or for, the lesbian community, and their allies. My desire to reach out and open up to the lesbian community hasn't changed just because I changed my address, which is why I don't want to bog down this blog with all things N.Y.C.

I also can't deny that New York City is at the forefront of my mind nearly everytime that I sit down to write; so...I've decided to expand my repertoire. I will be divulging my tales of New York City in my new blog http://newinnewyorkcity.blogspot.com. Check it out if you want to see all about my crazy and sporadic NYC adventures.

UPDATE: This blog was really more about being lonely than it was about a genuine desire to write about my adventures...turns out I just needed to make some friends...so it is no more.

Which Direction Now?

Today, someone asked me for directions while I was on my way to Bryant Park. It made my freaking day! Granted, I didn't know the answer, but still, it just goes to show you that attitude is everything.

Speaking of directions...I've been thinking a lot about directions and paths and trajectories lately. Today is the 28th of July and I don't start school until the 28th of August; which means that I have exactly a month to do absolutely nothing. My life hasn't been in this particular position since I was in middle school, and I am trying to remain excited, though if history has anything to say about it, I'm not really very good at doing nothing.

I am a Gemini through and through; meaning, I thrive in the dichotomy of an unquiet nature and a methodical/unrelenting drive. Sometimes I forget to STOP! and just be. I keep thinking that these days should be filled with perfecting my resume and looking for internships and actively working my way through the publishing world. And all of that is assuredly important; I'm not incredibly interested in starving my way through life, but I'm also not incredibly interested in plowing my way through life.

Today I sat in Bryant Park without a book or an IPod or a to-do list; I just sat. I listened to a man in a green costume tell children a story about field mice getting bopped on the head, it really made me smile. I am going to strive to have a month filled with these kinds of anecdotes; reading in central park, running along the waterfront, eating pizza and red-velvet cupcakes, and generally exploring this vast and exciting city. I will continue to look for opportunities into the publishing world and I will continue to challenge myself as a writer and a woman; but all of that doesn't have to come at the cost of enjoying this rare and relaxing moment in my life.

I have a feeling that this blog will really benefit from all this new found free time ;)

Rat Pack

Last night I saw my first subway rat. I thought that it was exciting...the people that I was with did not, but I mean, come on!, a New York Subway rat isn't just any kind of rat. I tried to take its picture, you know, to document the momentous occasion, but alas, the rat was too quick for my exhausted fingers.

I have decided that subway rats are going to be my NY good luck charm. You know how the crickets are good luck in Asia, I think that the subway rats should be good luck in NY. Though not good luck like the penny or the four-leaf clover, because I think that it would be ill-advised to carry them around in your pocket all day.

New York, New York

When I was little the only thing I ever dreamed about was working for the church and for most of my life I pursued that dream with great fervor. The technicalities of my dream transformed as I transformed, but the underlining ideal that my life would be committed to the ministry rarely wavered. When I realized that the path that I had so fervently drawn out for myself no longer held any integrity nor was it likely to bring me to any kind of place of righteousness, I decided that it was time for me to leave that dream behind...and I did so with very little guilt and with very little doubt. The ministry was all that I knew, it was my whole life, so when I withdrew from that inclusive environment, I had very little to turn to.

I have spent the last two years rebuilding my life. In many ways, it was like I had to start all over again. It wasn't just my career either; I had to reformat everything. I made myself answer questions like what values/morals could I take ownership of and which values/morals were just mindlessly mimicked? I took career aptitude tests. (They all said that I should be a lawyer; I didn't think that was a very good idea.) I explored new areas of the library. I embraced and acted on what I considered to be uncomfortable thoughts, i.e. I started fucking girls. And then I, unexpectedly, became a woman that I'm really proud of and a woman that I enjoy going home to every night. So...when it became time for me to change my life once again, I did it with the inner assurance that it would be different this time; this time it was about moving forward not starting all over.

I have been an official resident of New York City for three days now! Much of the last few days have been filled with things like standing in the DMV line and getting a new cell phone plan, but none the less, I now live in New York City. There are moments when I feel really sad, I left a lot behind and I don't know anyone here, and there are moments when I've been in total awe. I already feel tired and I'm sure that's not a feeling that's going away any time soon. But more than anything, I feel stoked to get this new chapter of my life going...and it certainly doesn't hurt that there are a ridiculous amount of hot ladies in this city.

P.S. In the spirit of change, I've decided to institute a few new alterations here @ LEZ give 'em something to talk about. You probably already noticed the new layout and I changed my location in the profile. I'm also going to try and post more than once a week; this is the city of innovation and if I want to embrace my new life in the city, I think that means embracing the sorted world of the interwebs.

Peace and Love,
Steph

Daddy's Little Gyrl

This past weekend my father got remarried.

My dad and I don't have a relationship, or at least we don't have a relationship that extends beyond the world of single syllables. Ever since I can remember, our relationship has been rooted in the conditional acceptance that he has chosen to offer me and because I refuse(d) to comply with his fairytale version of an ideal daughter, he chose not to be a part of my life. I'm proud of the woman that I have become and I'm excited for the places that my life journey will undoubtedly take me and if he doesn't want to share in that...that is his choice and it's his loss.

My father lives his life in a lot of fear. His life is the pragmatized equivalent of a house of cards; a shatterable existence that requires perfection and submissive solidarity to sustain and/or survive. In a house built of cards, not one card can be placed out of line, not one card can stray from the design plan. One misplaced or rebellious card can, and will, ruin the entire house. A house of cards cannot stand successful in the face of adversity, nor is it likely to stand if its creator is not constantly protecting and preserving the fragile piece of work. And when a house of cards begins to tumble, as they often do, the creator runs frantic, striving to maintain a foundation that will inevitably collapse. For my father, nothing, or no one, is more important than keeping his house of cards intact.

Because my father's world is so fragile, there is no room in his world for a girl like me. Last week I wrote about the strength that lies in the frangible and I stand by those words; I believe that there is beauty in the breakable...but, in my opinion, that only applies if you don't let your breakable nature dictate your behavior. The strength and beauty lies not the frangible nature itself, but in the ability to accept that you have vulnerable or breakable moments and yet still you choose to stand and proceed down life's path, no matter how fearful or stumble-driven that path might be. But my father allows fear to be his catalyst and I don't think there's any strength in that.

When I think about my dad and all of the missed opportunities that we had/will continue to have, it makes me feel sad and angry and lonely; but more than anything, when I think about my dad, I feel an overwhelming sense of compassion. I imagine that if your life's priority is to avoid anything that makes you feel uncomfortable and if you live in a constant struggle to maintain something that is essentially unmaintainable...well, I imagine that it can get pretty dark and lonely and paralyzing and I feel sorry that he lives his life in that kind of fear-driven mentality. But no amount of compassion, or love, will make me sacrifice the woman that I've become, the woman that I've become proud of, just because it will make him feel more comfortable. If the only way that I can have a relationship with my father is to adhere to his boundary-forced guidelines, I'm not sure that's the kind of relationship I want to fight for.

I'm not saying all of this to play the victim card, rather quite the opposite. It is true that I had a shitty childhood. I grew up not in a loving, supportive household, but in the equivalent of built-in child support. There was always food on the table, but there was never conversation. I always had the supplies for school work, but never any help for it. My father never took the time to get to know me and my mother was no peach either. (My mom once told me that it would be easier for her to love me if I was skinnier.) My parents openly preferred a daughter that adhered to obligation rather than independence; they never encouraged my spastic, nerdy nature, nor did they ever extend any kind of tangible love towards me...AND...I took responsibility for my life. I stood up and I decided to hold myself accountable. Every value that I have is because I decided to implement that value into my life and I put in the hard work and I strive, every day, to be the kind of woman that I truly want to be.

I hold out hope for my dad and I, I truly do, but not at the sacrifice of the things that I believe in and not at the sacrifice of the things I've chosen to stand for.

Frangible

As a young and semi-liberal lesbian, I've developed quite the luscious list of strong and empowering female role models. They vary from the women I've known intimately to the women I've read about in books to the women who have graced history and when I'm feeling down or lost about something, I usually turn to one of these women to help inspire me to find some kind of footing. Once, when I was having a bad day and I could feel the anxiety attack approaching, I took an hour between classes and read the end of "Alice's Adventures in Wonderland." I instantaneously felt better. Somehow the naive and spunky nature of this daydream-driven character helped me see that there is value in the crazy, yet extraordinary moments of life and that obsessive organization doesn't make life inherently better, (a lesson I've been forced to learn time and time again.) It's dorky, I know, but the list of fictional characters who have inspired me to be better is more than extensive.

But there is one woman, a real-life woman, who above all, never ceases to be my all-time inspiration. That woman is Maya Angelou. Maya is the woman that inspired me to become a writer; she is an incredibly strong woman and her writing perfectly exemplifies that strength, but it wasn't until I saw Maya in person that she became a true inspiration for me. Maya's writings do have an undeniable and unparalleled strength, but in person Maya is soft and gentle and quite the vulnerable female and I find that soo inspiring. Her soft, quiet nature doesn't muffle her strength, but rather accentuates it. Our society, so often, puts down women that appear vulnerable or frangible (sidenote: frangible is one of my favorite words, I use it all the time; it means "easily breakable," like as if someone was trying to say 'fragile' and 'breakable' at the same time and it came out as 'frangible' and then they just decided that it would be a word and now it is)...anyways...we put down women that appear frangible, because as a society we uphold strength, which is an admirable value to uphold, but not if it teaches women that being vulnerable and being strong are mutually exclusive, because I think that nothing could be further from the truth.

Lately, I've been putting a lot of effort into striving to be imperfect, which, I know, is an odd way to look at it, but in actuality I think that it's a productive way to look at it. Because perfection is so unattainable; when perfection becomes your ultimate goal, I think that you end up sacrificing a lot in order to get it. I have a very aggressive desire to be a strong woman, but sometimes in my quest to be a strong woman, I end up taking on the facade of strength, rather than actualizing strength; which I think makes me weaker, not stronger. Part of being a strong woman is having the strength to offer yourself compassion; the compassion to know that you don't have to be perfect to be great, that you don't have to hide from your history to move forward. And that part of being a strong woman is having the strength to accept yourself exactly as you are, even if that means embracing your frangible-ness.

One of the biggest lessons I've learned as a gay woman is that embracing exactly who are doesn't mean embracing the things that make you feel comfortable, it means offering yourself the compassion to feel whatever it is you're feeling and to go after whatever it is you want, no matter what (or who) it is you want. That's what makes a strong woman; not the facade of strength, but the actualization of strength. That's something I learned from Maya and I think that it's invaluable.

Faceplace

At least once a day, and often times it is more than once a day, I am reminded of the fact that I was assuredly born in the wrong decade. Don't get me wrong, as a women, and especially as a gay woman, I'm grateful that I live in a time when I can freely be my hyper, nerdy, independent self...but more often than not I feel out of place and awkward in our current century.

There are lots of things that I don't understand about our modern day times...like why there are four-thousand kinds of shampoo, or why we need an automated machine to open a can of tuna, or how someone thought that casting Jack Black in a movie about the first year on Earth was a good or gainful or entertaining idea. But more than anything, the thing that makes me feel the most out of place in our current century is the technology that permeates our everyday lives. For me, technology has always had that cold and unwelcoming feeling and so I never learned how to use it or to become comfortable with it. Frankly, I find reading the paper on actual paper incredibly simple and sweet. I find that the pictures that I've developed on my own hold more value and invoke a stronger emotion than the ones I developed in Kinkos. I find sitting down for an actual cup of coffee with friends more fulfilling than an acronym-infested conversation over a computer screen.

I don't have any of those twitter/myspace/facebook accounts and I have functioned just fine...until now. In 21 days I'm moving and I'm discovering that being able to have four conversations at once could, perhaps, be productive. One of the positive things about a social networking account is that saying goodbye to your not-so-close acquaintances doesn't have to be such a big deal; you can justify your half-hearted farewell with the somewhat comforting thought that you're still cyberly connected. But because I'm not cyberly connected to my not-so-close acquaintances, I'm going on an excessive amount of one-on-one coffee dates in order to say goodbye. And as much I prefer and love the face-to-face conversations, I have 21 days left in Portland and more than 21 acquaintances.

So I guess what I'm trying to say here is that I'm not sure how much time there will be for the blogosphere over the next couple of weeks. I'll try, but my next post might just be from the big city of York.

Ouch...

Gay marriage has been a major topic of discussion in the blogosphere since Prop8 ads starting appearing on television. It's a topic of discussion that I feel ill equipped for. I'm gay, but nowhere near being married and I have a difficult time finding my footing when it comes to this conversation. Despite my weary feelings, I've thrown my blog into the depths of this discussion here and here, and I'll do it again.

This week the United States Justice Department filed a motion to dismiss in the case Smelt v. United States of America, a legal suit that challenges the Defense of Marriage Act. The plaintiffs, Arthur Smelt and Christopher Hammer, are a gay couple legally married in California that are suing the Government for the entitlement of federal benefits allotted for married couples.

DOMA, the Defense of Marriage Act, was signed into law in 1996, when the conversation about same-sex marriage was beginning to present itself in the courts. As a means for maintaining status quo, President Clinton signed DOMA into law in order to preserve the already existing definition of marriage. The Defense of Marriage Act ensures that 1) states that do not authorize same-sex marriage do not have to uphold the same-sex marriages of other states (which is contrary to Article IV of the constitution which says that states have to respect the "public acts, records, and judicial proceedings" of other states) and 2) the federal government does not have to treat same-sex "relationships" as marriage for any purpose, even if the couple's state of residence recognizes same-sex marriage. In other words, states hold jurisdiction when it comes to the laws of marriage, but through DOMA, the federal government waved the responsibility of honoring that jurisdiction. **From a legal and unbiased perspective, DOMA, in it's inception, wasn't an unreasonable or inconsistent piece of legislation. Its purpose was to create the opportunity for a "wait-and-see" approach, to allow states the freedom to explore same-sex marriage without the federal government having to get involved or sidetrack their current agenda. It didn't take away the freedom of control that states have when it comes to the laws of marriage, and helped the more conservative states to not feel as threatened by the conversation...the "wait-and-see" approach was understandable, but let's not forget that 1996 was 13 years ago. The dating stage is over, it's time to make a decision: propose or move on.**

Arthur Smelt and Christopher Hammer are not fighting for the generalized equality of gay marriage, they are fighting for the equality of their already existing marriage. They're not asking the courts to make an ethical, moral, or legal decision on the validity of same-sex marriage, they're asking the courts to validate the federal benefits of their current marriage. The U.S. Government's response to the same-sex suit was to file a 54-page document that 1) calls for a motion to dismiss and 2) defends DOMA as a valid piece of legislation.

The brief reads like a High School speech and debate paper. It's unorganized. It lacks focus. It has no thesis. It's as if the assistant attorney general wrote down every thought that could possibly be construed as an argument and then accidentally submitted it to the courts. Here are some points in the brief that stood out to me...

-The brief constantly uses the word "experimental marriage" when talking about same-sex marriage. Nothing pisses me off more than when people in power label homosexuality as an idea, as if it's something that exists outside of a personal realm. Homosexuality wasn't made in a science lab. Equality for the gay community isn't something that you can test out, altering variables until the laws reach the solution that everyone's happy with. We are hardly an experiment and I don't buy the excuse that the wording is "legal jargon."

-The Justice Department's most legally backed argument is that marriage isn't a fundamental right and therefore denying someone the benefits of marriage isn't unconstitutional. Ummm....like in the same way that eating at a restaurant or drinking from a water fountain isn't a fundamental right? or sitting down on a bus isn't a fundamental right? I don't understand how people don't see that it's the same thing. It might not be a life and death issue, but that doesn't mean that the legislation isn't wrong.

-One of the arguments that Smelt and Hammer use in their case is that DOMA violates their rights under the equal protection law. The U.S. Justice Department's response to that argument is that DOMA doesn't discriminate against the "individuals" and therefore doesn't violate anyone's rights. A gay woman or a gay man can receive federal benefits, but same-sex "relationships" aren't acknowledged as marriage and so those "relationships" don't receive the same benefits. In what world is that valid logic? That it's not the "individuals" that are discriminated against, but the "relationships." Does that make it better? or is it that you can receive the federal benefits of marriage as long as you deny who you are...is that their argument? The brief also argues that gay individuals that get married are allowed the same benefits they received before they got married, "they remain eligible for every benefit they enjoyed beforehand" and therefore DOMA is not a violation of their fundamental rights. So, in other words, because gay "individuals" aren't treated as second-class citizens, we should just be happy with what we have. Stop complaining.

I'm not going to pretend to be politically naive. I understand that until the Obama administration decides, if they decide, to make a change to DOMA, they have to defend the current legislation. Obama ran a seamless campaign and has, assuredly, been aiming to run a seamless presidency, and a top-down change to legislation is a much more credible method of operation than a court battle ruling. I also understand that altering/abolishing DOMA isn't a priority for the administration and I don't fault them for that. But it's one thing to defend the legislation and motion to dismiss a case like this because it's not the right time or it's not how the administration wants to handle the issue. It's a completely different thing to write a 54-page document that explains in excruciating detail that it would be absurd for this new form of experimental marriage to be recognized by the federal government; that in no way does DOMA violate anyone's constitutional rights, and it's ridiculous that anyone would assume that it does. There was no need for that brief to be as vulgar and contemptuous as it was. There aren't very many times in my life when I feel inconsequential and this was one of those times.

P.S. I don't trust people that strive to appear perfect; I think that to actualize the appearance of perfection you have to sacrifice the things that brought you integrity in the first place. And I don't mean to cut down the president, but now might be the time for me to say, "told you so." It's more than likely that our president didn't read this brief before it was submitted, so it's hard to hold too much against him, but if he wants to keep his perfect-esque stature, he might want to send out a memo to get everyone on the same page. Or maybe he could hold one of those meetings in a movie theater. Or make a power-point presentation. Mr. President, I'm throwing out gold here.

The Great Equalizer

In less than six weeks I move to New York City and recently I realized that I am not anywhere near being ready to pack up my life and head out east. It feels as if my "to do list" has been mysteriously enchanted, because every time I cross an item off that said list, ten more items magically appear. So I decided to take a little trip to The Big Apple in the hopes that I could...
1)get some of the residency paperwork out of the way;
2)get a more accurate, less media-driven sense of what life in NYC will be like, and therefore alleviate some of the relentless anxiety that has been creeping into my packing process;
3)get a sneak-peak of my temporary living situation and, again, alleviate some of that incessant anxiety; and
4)further cement the idea into my mind, that this move IS actually happening.

I flew out for Laguardia on Monday at noon and headed back to Portland on Tuesday at 6:30pm; in other words, I was in New York City for less than 24 hours, half of which were spent in the airport or the hotel room. My momentary trip was so brief mostly because I am in the middle of finals and couldn't afford to miss any school, and while my trip was productive and goal-achieving...it equally blew up in my face.

I'll start with the bad news. My trip was productive, but the remainder of my week back home was not. My glimpse into life in the big city has seemed to put me into a sort-of trance and I can't manage to get anything done. I am more than ready to start the next chapter of my life, but part of the moving process includes creating closure in life's current chapter. I still have six weeks in Portland; I have finals, I have work to wrap-up, I have people to say goodbye to, and more than anything, I want this move to be about creating new things, not running away from old ones. Seeing New York has put me in a new york state of mind and I can't seem to keep my head in Portland, but the couch isn't going to create closure and I refuse to leave with the possibility of regrets.

While my trip did leave me with idle hands, it additionally brought about an unexpected revelation. One of my biggest fears about moving to New York City is the somewhat trivial fear that I'm not fashionable enough to live in New York City. After I had taken care of all the things on my itinerary, I had about an hour or so to kill before I had to head back to the airport. I decided that I'd take a stab at navigating the subway system, so I found stairs leading to a shuttle, which lead me to an express train to midtown, which lead me to 42nd and Broadway. At first I was incredibly intimidated and overwhelmed; you come out from that subway station and you walk right into Macy's (THE Macy's) and you look down Broadway and the Times Square sign is staring you in the face. And then I started walking around. And then I started noticing something.

The city is big. The city is overwhelming. The city is chaotic. All of that is undeniable, but because the city itself is so big, the people in it seem small. Everyone walks amongst the same skyscrapers and stops at the same crosswalk. The enormity of the city encapsulates everyone. It's as if the city is the great equalizer. While I was walking down Broadway, towards Times Square, I noticed people sitting in the middle of the street drinking coffee and I had the thought "I do that. I drink coffee with my friends after work." Maybe not in the middle of the biggest, most notorious street in the country, but none the less, the action is the same. The buildings might be taller and the streets might extend farther, but people are people, and that doesn't change just because you change a location.

P.S. My mother didn't believe that people sit in the middle of the street in midtown (or at least she insisted that it was for a parade, in which I offered the rebuttal that the middle of the street might not be where you'd want to sit during a parade.) In case you also don't believe me, here's the proof.

Promiscuous Girl

Recently, I got into a heated discussion with a straight friend of mine. She was trying to casually and lackadaisically suggest that it was time for me to grow-up. While probing her ('probing' might be too soft of a term; it was more like a targeted inquest than a casual query) about what she meant, I came to the insight that she was trying to refer to my sex life. (DISCLAIMER: I met this friend at Bible College and am, most likely, her only friend outside of that reclusive-like environment. I love my friend, but I take most of her advice with a grain of clear-headed sensibility. And while she might consider my behavior *slutty*, I refuse to label myself as such.) I can be a tad-bit promiscuous and I feel no shame in admitting that. I don't have a girlfriend or a venereal disease, so I feel no ethical distress in fucking whoever I want, whenever I want.

While I don't agree with my friend's view, I understand where her thought-process originated from. I have been vocal about the fact that I want to be a wife and a mom, and in a rudimentary way of thinking, if those are the things that I value, then promiscuity doesn't tend to be the path that leads to those things. However, in a more all-encompassing picture, I enjoy being single, like REALLY enjoy being single, and while I would love to have a wife and kids someday, that day is certainly not today. My desire to eventually have a family doesn't invalidate my present-day desire to get laid; and I don't think that those two desires contradict themselves.

It's not just my religious friends, either. I feel like there is a double-standard. That because I can name everyone on the Supreme Court or I can draw you a map of Middle Eastern geography, that I'm not supposed to be promiscuous. That it would be totally fine for me to be *easy* if I was a hot, leggy blond in the entertainment business, but because I'm a well-read, witty brunette in the publishing business, I should be able to control myself. OR it would be fine for me to be promiscuous if my promiscuity was the result of something; like heartbreak or mommy issues or religious repression. (Okay...I was religiously repressed, but my promiscuity isn't the result of that repression. I'm sure of it.) But none of those things ring true for me, so my loose views on sex are interpreted as immature behaviors that shouldn't represent who I am as a woman. I say: Bullshit! I say: Who cares if I find women alluring and then decide to act on that allure. (I think that my Post-Prop8 frustration might be reincarnating itself in this topic.)It's just sex and there is nothing wrong with enjoying it...and just because I don't have a steady partner, doesn't mean I should enjoy sex less than the person who does.

My life is often one big anxiety-fest, so when an element of my life becomes reposed or nonchalant, I embrace it for all that it's worth, because that feeling doesn't come around very often for me. Sex has become one of those things. In all honesty, I don't know how it happened; I don't know how I became able to separate sexual attraction from whole attraction or the act of sex from the materialization of love...it kind of just happened. But am I supposed to apologize for it just because people don't understand it or can't actualize it in their own life or because they think that it's a below par way to act as a woman?

Year of the Stumble

Today is my 24th birthday! and I am officially declaring the year ahead, the "Year of the Indomitable." In many ways I feel like this is my year to conquer and achieve, to actualize the things in my life that previously seemed unreachable, and to relish in the joys that come when you approach life in an unyielding manner.

I think that my 23rd year of life should be most appropriately called the "Year of the Stumble." I truly believe that there is nothing shameful in stumbling; whether you're stumbling out of an extremely difficult time, or you're stumbling because it's dark and you can't find your footing, or you're stumbling simply because you lost your balance. Whatever it might be, or even if there isn't a reason to it, a person who stumbles is a person who doesn't give up; a person who stumbles is a person who fights to gain their balance, even though they know that gravity (or any outward force stronger than ourselves) will most likely take over; a person who stumbles is a person who keeps their feet moving, no matter what obstacles stand in their way. Stumbling should be admired and commended, not hidden and forgotten or worse, treated like a lesser way to live your life. (I'm not saying that I want to aim to stumble through life, but when life gets hard, as it often does, there is nothing paltry or dishonorable in letting go of grace and poise for a moment in order to get your life back on track.)

The above lesson might be one of my favorite lessons learned during the "Year of the Stumble." I am a tiny bit obsessive compulsive (shocker, I'm sure), and my life was beginning to resemble that of a checklist, rather than that of a journey. Checklists can be useful, to take things one at a time can be productive, but I became so rigid in my checklist disposition that I lost sight of the missed opportunities passing me by. I would successfully complete a task on my metaphorical checklist and then move on to the next item, but what I came to realize about that mentality is that it didn't allow for growth; I wasn't allowing myself to reevaluate. If I was walking down a figurative path and then came across a different path, one filled with beautiful flowers that could, perhaps, lead me to an extraordinary view, I would 'tag it' in my mind and then diligently proceed with my current path, forcing myself to believe that I could always come back when I was finished with the current task, but I never actualized that thought. There is nothing wrong with diligence, it is an admirable trait, but I was using diligence as an avoidance tactic...to hide from the fear of advancing down a path that perhaps didn't lead to an extraordinary view. I want my life to be about taking chances and growing into a woman that I'm proud of, not playing it safe and becoming tedious or trite.

This year I also learned to LOVE my sexuality. When I came out, at 22, I embraced my sexuality, but I did not love that I was a homosexual. It was kind of like my feelings on running. I don't love running (I don't hate it, but I don't love it), but I go running because I want to live to see my someday-children grow old. I want to be the best mom I can be and that includes living a long, healthy life...which means getting up and going running. I don't love it, but I do it. In that same fashion, I didn't love realizing that I was gay, but I accepted it, and I even accepted it with open arms, because I wanted to experience the kind of love that moves mountains and I was never going to experience that kind of love if I forced that kind of love with a man. Women make me all tingly inside, men don't; I was well aware of who gave me butterflies and who didn't. I didn't love it, but I embraced it. And then, I started living my life as a gay woman. I came out (read: changed my facebook status...ha, jk, I don't have facebook), I added homosexual "slogan buttons" to my messenger bag, I started reading Portland's gay publication. (Everytime a new issue would come out I would pick one event from the publications calendar and then promise myself I would go to the said event; at first I went to educational events like seminars or book clubs, then I started going to the actual clubs, then I started going to events where you had to have an actual conversation.) I started having gay sex. I started writing a gay blog. And then I started really loving being gay. Having pride is one thing, and I had pride from the very early stages (assuredly because I am so narcissistic), but loving your sexuality is a completely different thing. It is freeing to love who you are. And what I love the most... is that I started loving my sexuality before I loved someone else.

I am not afraid to say that this year has been filled with my fuck-ups. I lost contact with friends I cared deeply about. I closed the door so firmly on Christianity that it will take years upon years to gain any kind of footing back. I spent more than a few Saturday nights at home, only because I, stubbornly, didn't want to hang out with one particular person. I let other people's opinions about my life get the better of me. AND today is a new day! Today starts the "Year of the Indomitable" and with my feet planted assuredly beneath me and a set of values in place to help illuminate my path, I'm ready to get this show on the road. Cheers to what will be a fantastic year!

P.S. Other people with my birthday: John Wayne, the first woman astronaut, and...drum roll please...Stevie Nicks. May 26th is a day that births cool ass motherfuckers.

It's All About Sex(y) Ladies!

It has been quite the dramatic week; so I thought, as an exercise in relaxation, I'd talk about some of my favorite ladies! What could be more relaxing than beautiful women?


Khloe Kardashian
Khloe is the youngest of the Kardashian sisters, but in many ways she takes on the role of the self-assured, accountable one. She is sarcastic and goofy, and she knows who she is and what she wants. She perfectly exemplifies how women can be strong, yet soft and sexy, yet warm ALL at the same time. Her heart is bigger than her fame or her family or her fashion (which, p.s., is totally killer). Khloe first started appearing in my dreams after I saw her PETA ad, which is the most carnally beautiful picture ever taken. Though sometimes outrageous and inappropriate, she has a smile that would make the sun jealous. Not to mention her fantaaastic boobies.



Elisabeth Hasselbeck
I know. I know! I will forever be further blackboxed from the lesbian community for outing my Hasselbeck crush, but I can't help it...she's hot. I don't agree with 93% of the things that come out of her mouth, but at least she has a viewpoint; at least she comes to her exposition from a grounded perspective (unlike a certain someone who sits to her right). She values Homeland Security and traditionalistic families and her views on politics and life stem from those values; those are NOT things that I value, but that, alone, doesn't make her opinion unfounded or stupid. The truth...is that it takes an incredible amount of strength to say what she says in a time when media is as liberal as it is. And her ratings would go through the roof if she were to wear those glasses more often.



Mary Alice (from "Ace of Cakes")
She is yummy!!! and any girl that works with cake all day is the girl for me. (p.s. she's married...to a man) She says things like "flipped a gasket" and "thank you for being the super dooper double plus awesomest ever." She appeals to my obsessive dorky nature, which sometimes makes me forget that she runs one of the most notable cake shops in the country. Her ability to sit down with a client, understand exactly what it is they want, and then relay that vision to the cake decorators, who then produce an impressively perfect cake; well, it's super dooperly awesome and it's a trait that, I'm sure, is fantastic in a wife. And she rocks the Madonna-inspired headset like the rock star she is.



The Supernanny
She is stunning. She has that accent. She's demanding and bossy...it's nice.










Meghan McCain
Meghan has yet to stay hidden from any of my sexy late-night dreams. She is beyond gorgeous and beyond smart and beyond ballsy. She holds her own when in the company of any news-media giant like Rachel Maddow, Ann Coulter, and even Karl Rove. She is incredibly honest; honest about her opinions, honest about the things she doesn't politically understand, honest about the fact that she has a unique, a more free, platform because she's not running for office (and she's been honest about the fact that she has no intention to). Nepotism assuredly played into her career, but she wouldn't still be around if she wasn't smart enough to play with the big boys. More than her refreshingly moderate viewpoint or her fabulously fashionable closet, the thing that I admire the most about Meghan McCain is her amazing ability to welcome the judgement and criticism; she embraces conversation, which is the first sign of a woman who is assured in who she is, yet constantly striving to be better.