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.)