So that's why I wasn't popular

I'm going to be Xena for a Halloween party we're going to. Boy sorta convinced me. It's partly exciting to be my childhood hero, and it's partly nerve racking since I feel so strongly about her and can do a season-by-season critique of the series. Laaaame.

Me: I dunno if I want to be Xena for Halloween.
Boy: Why not?
Me: Because everyone has mocked me for liking her over the years. I dunno if I can share my love for her with a buncha strangers at a party. Plus I'm in the closet.
Boy: I doubt that anyone is going to be like, Ooh, look at that girl being Xena! I bet she's a queer!
Me: Noo! I'm in the Xena-loving closet.

Boy: Let's watch some Xena together.
Me: [whining] You can't understand my love for her! It's a retroactive passion! I grew up with a shitty mother figure! Xena is strong, smart, and kicks ass. Besides, we don't watch TV.
Boy: I'm sure I could at least appreciate what you see in her.
Me: Well, I have to warn you that my IQ drops like 20 points when I watch her.
Boy: I'm going to enjoy this. Plus you said there was eye candy.

Me: I don't like how there's some blonde modeling a Xena costume on this package. She wasn't blonde. And Xena didn't wear that much blush or wear lame boots like that.

Me: This costume comes with a cape. I won't be wearing it.
Boy: Why not?
Me: Xena didn't wear a cape, and she's above the cliche of wearing capes.
Boy: Your obsession is adorable.

Uh oh.

1. Boy and I have been practicing cohabitation during this past week. It has been going well so far. I find myself enjoying doing domestic things with/for him: the dishes, cooking, taking out the trash. When the hell did this happen?

2. I am somewhat pleased to report that the sporty spice part of me is coming back in bits. I don't foresee myself being a gym whore with workout goals anytime soon. But it's certainly nice to whip a little ass on the basketball court and glide a frisbee around.

3. I am gaining weight. My love for dark chocolate is helping. I know that this is good; even I was starting to feel like I looked too much like someone from a third world country. I am eating more on purpose. But this doesn't mean that I'm doing what I really want to do. I'm just doing the right thing, because, well it's the right thing. I do not want the right thing.

I am coming to accept that I will always be playing a bit of a game with myself that bounces between scratching an old itch and being "normal." Luckily I am not putting my health at risk.

4. I am finding, more and more, that finding a female visually pleasing does not necessarily mean that I have any desire to touch her.

5. I wish I wasn't such a bitchy hypocrite about pudginess. A tiny bit of girl pudge is cute and tactile; a bit too much of girl pudge turns my head away. It's worse that I don't judge males as harshly. I feel like such a bot.

Lowered Expectations

I haven't really hung out with my female friends much as of late. I could stand to not be in the presence of testosterone for an evening. Not that I don't enjoy being desired, and I am currently in a state of aching boyfriend withdrawal, but I sorta forgot what it's like to interact with people and not get groped.

I'm realizing that a part of me doesn't really want to try to find a girl to date. I feel like this is wrong; I should stop being afraid and try to experience different things. I'm young, my tits are still perky, and life is short. But, ugh, I feel like I don't have it in me. I suppose this would change if an amazing girl was in the picture. Then I'd have no choice because I don't say no to amazing people unless they repeatedly treat me like shit.

But amazing girls don't really fall into one's laps. At least they don't fall into mine. I'd have to look. Do I look casually or with some drive? Meh, it never hurts to keep your eyes open.

I need to remember that girls can be as mean as boys. We all expect men to be douchebags, particularly about sex. And they pretty much all are douchebags about sex at some point (to varying degrees). So the blows I've taken from boys have hurt less in a way because I hold them to a lower standard; I need to adopt this same standard for girls.

In some ways, I have the potential to romantically "have it all," but I can't help but be skeptical.

No.

This evening I got a call from my best friend's boyfriend. I hadn't heard from her in a while, and she hadn't been responding to my calls/texts. I was starting to worry, but she does things like get busy with life and lose her cell phone charger, so it wasn't anything out of the ordinary.

But my gut instinct was correct: she tried to kill herself. My best fucking friend who I can say anything to. She's the first person I outed myself to way back in high school. I had so much respect for her in high school and prided myself on winning her over because she intimidated so many people. The friend that I've always been able to get support, insight, humor, and understanding from tried to say goodbye to existence forever.

I feel like a crappy friend. I feel like I shoulda been more keen and diligent about watching out for her. I knew she wasn't feeling terribly happy with her life, but I didn't think she would do something like this. We are, after all, mildly depressive people. But I shoulda seen through the her tough exterior.

I need to step it up and be a better friend. I need to give more.

Whore Thyself

After months upon months of waiting and working, my life appears to be heading in the direction that I've been wanting it to.

I've noticed, however, that the buysness has left me with little time for myself and my personal pursuits. I've been spending the majority of my time attending to life's inevitable obligations, pleasing others, and getting bullied. It's been taking a toll.

Furthermore, it's gotten to a point where I'm falling into a pattern of being afraid to be assertive with anyone because the best way to keep the peace is to just give in regardless of how I feel.

Lame. This is unlike me, and it's a step backwards. When did I become so accepting of oppression? Sure, we all have to do things we don't 100% enjoy to survive and compromise, but this is starting to cross a line. I need to treat myself with more respect.

And, for the sake of comedic relief, I'll link to this clip (Shane and Alice's clothes, however, are embarrassing).

Sigh, I miss the joy of listening to a new Kelka podcast. I hope that day comes again soon.

Cutting to the Chase

1. I used to be sporty spice. Now I'm a scrawny, whiny pansy. The thought of working out in a serious way sounds sort of...foreign. I used to love being athletic, and I find athleticism/physical fitness to be a turn-on in both boys and girls. I used to want to compete with guys in gym class and prove that I wasn't just some pushover girl. Now I'm content to just be the weak one.

2. The most acceptable thing your boyfriend can whine about is wanting to lick your clit more. I am one lucky bitch. And any woman who complains that men suck at eating pussy is either 1) a bitter, man-hating lesbian or 2) a bitter straight woman who is with a non-GGG partner.

3. For a while I didn't think I could love a boy as much as I currently love my own. I kinda got locked into the idea that the love between two people of the same sex would be inherently more intense and understanding, even though I've only really been pursuing guys for the past few years now. But now I really see that the gender of the person doesn't matter; a connection is a connection.

4. I'm going to be honest and admit that unintentionally losing 15 lbs and weighing less than what I weighed in high school has me slipping back into old patterns of obsessing over what I eat. I am not out of control by any means, and I have people who've got my back. But there is a danger in losing the taste for things like candy, bread, pasta, etc. There is a danger in "seeing the light" and realizing that these foods are nutritionally unneccessary.

5. I know it's about the desire for control during stressful times. But I also hate having a [predominately] female mental issue. I'm going to have to make a point to bring my mind and body back to a state of balance that appeases both my desire for discipline and my desire for joy.

All Apologies

So I'm in my mid to late twenties. Most of my friends are too. I've been hearing more and more of them say things like, "I thought I would be further along in my life now," or "I feel behind" I've been noticing a lot of feelings of inadequacy over not making enough money, not owning property, or not being in the ideal relationship.

It's kind of depressing. Not only because the people I care about feel dissatisfied with their lives, but because I'm not sure having all of these things is going to guarantee peace of mind/fulfillment. And what happens to one's sense of self when these things disappear/are threatened?

I feel like people want things like marriage and a certain career more for the status these things display than for the enjoyment they bring. I'm definitely not anti-ambition, and I can see myself being married (and even having kids!) if it was right. But it feels like these goals are a bandwagon, and it's a bit of a downer.

No, I'm not going to try to preach that you are the all singing, all dancing crap of the world.

But when I'm really honest with myself, I can't see myself being anything beyond my state of mind in this moment. Life is a series of moments, and I'm afraid of looking back on my life and not appreciating what each moment had to offer.

The irony is that I've been an anxious insomniac with a knot-ridden back. Turning off my mind, relaxing, and floating downstream has been proving to be difficult for me as of late. And I think the source of this anxiety is the desire to push my life forward and achieve some long overdue goals. Maybe this is just imprinted in the human condition.

I can't speak for others, but I suppose I will always be trying to find balance between appreciating and supplicating.

Grin

Since I've been bitchy, I figured I'd share that I finally made the effort to make conversation with Cute Health Food Store Girl. We had some nerdy nutrition talk for about 45 seconds. Sadly, this is a milestone for me.

She's cute. She has a cute smile and a cute voice. She smiled at me. And she looks like she has soft skin. We're soo gonna run away together.

Well, I don't really want that, but it is nice to actually feel this way about a girl. It's been quite a while.

So, if I can use some advanced sleuthing skills to figure out her name (by, you know, asking her), I will actually not feel like a big wuss.

Ooh! And my best friend and I have decided we should go to a gay girl bar together. In spite of her confidence and charisma, girls turn her in an awkward pubescent boy too. We'll take turns taking initiative.

Yay for progress, even if it's in the form of baby steps.

Mini Rants

My moodiness is subsiding somewhat. But still...

I do not like the whole concept of there being a size 0. It sends a destructive messsage. The smallest size should be either a 1 or 2, depending on if the store goes by even or odd numbers. I'm no mathematician, but it should be a number that has a value to it.

I'm also tired of being around stereotypical female insecurity. Luckily I only get the occasional dose of it now. I know it's a part of being human, but it's been annoying me lately. Just, fucking stop comparing yourself to the people you think you Should be like! Stop acting how you think you Should act! Just be yourself. As much you can. Because we're all deriviative in some way anyways.

I finally realized that I do not always equate prettiness with beauty; in fact I mostly equate prettiness with boringness. (This, however, does not mean that I find ugliness attractive). This makes me even more picky. I'm picky about everything: who I spend my time with, what I eat, and now who I jones for.

Blah, I dunno why I've suddenly become so militant again. I need to chill.

Bitchiness Overload

My current emotional state embodies all of the worst in a stereotypical female: bitchy, spoiled, insecure, weak, reactive, etc. My stomach is growling on a timer, I want to make dark chocolate a food group, and I feel ready to verbally eviscerate the next person who even remotely tests my patience--regardless of if they mean well or not. And the next inanimate object that doesn't obey my will could stand to get bruised from my my arm violently introducing it to the floor.

This is not me. I am not usually like this. I do not like being this way; I like being calm and in control. I generally like to choose to be logical, even if I am angry. I've been told I can be even too logical at times. I would prefer this to being an emotional lava lamp. I guess I'm just going to have to work harder to be myself, or rather, how I perceive myself to be.

Carrying this mood around when you're looking for clothes isn't a good idea. It's sort of the opposite of shopping while you're famished. I kept walking around the store thinking of how much I hate straight people/gay men. I of course did not buy anything.

Shopping for clothes can feel like work: you have to find something you like, something that fits, and something that you can afford. I do think that finding an article of clothing that meets all these criteria is quite satisfying, but the work required to reach this state can be tedious. Especially if you're poor and picky like me.

Furthermore, I'm always playing this little tug 0' war in my head. I don't want to buy anything too irritatingly girly that makes me feel like I'm wearing some costume on my body. I'm a fan of combining lines and angles with curves as opposed to building a tower of frill that feels an unnatural growth.

On the same token, I've also evolved from having an adolescent, baggy, hoodie-centric sense of fashion. I may want to attack Ellen Page with my lips, but I certainly don't want to dress like Juno. So it's a balancing act, as usual.

I think I'm feeling disillusioned with being a [queer] woman at the moment. With all of the female-specific bullshit we have to do and put up with. I could make a list, but I don't think there's anything novel on it. I guess I just needed to bitch so I could get over it and move on.

Incongruous

I really miss KC and Elka all of a sudden. I got used to their absence, but I realized that the amount of gayness in my life has shrunken to an iota, and I will be an active participant in shrinking it further. And I don't mean sex wise. Maybe a part of me wanted it that way, but I feel like I'm neglecting that part of myself.

And all my bi friends, like me, are seeing men. Of course, you can be queer and straight. But, goddamnit, it'd be nice to have more gay friends. Perhaps when I have more time, I can work on this while trying to find a girlfriend.

I'm just going to forego manners for a moment and be bitchy and dramatic: straight people can be annoyingly boring and cliche. Their sense of beauty, fashion, roleplay, etc. gets on my nerves after a while. And they don't have to see how programmed they are because they have most of the power. I wish I could fully fit in that way.

I need to work up the courage to make conversation with Cute Health Foods Store Girl.

I need to get used to feeling incongruous.

The Best Policy

There is a lot of new and renewing love in my life right now. Several opposing parties are reconciling, my friends kick ass, and my boyfriend and I still don't really do things like watch movies because we're so into each other's lips. I'm really lucky to have all of this.

However, I feel conflicted between the desire to make other people happy/be what they want me to be and the desire to simply be myself. Lately, the former desire has felt right for the most part. I feel somewhat less militant about asserting who I perceive myself to be, and I'm happy to please those I care about. But I don't want to turn into a puppet.

I see myself first as a person, and I just happen to be in the body of a female. If one removed the (mostly socialized) pansy, girly behaviors, I could just as easily be the same person in a male's body. I would also still be bisexual. I think many people's identities are inextricably linked to their sex; I don't think I'm one of those people.

However, I never wanted to be a boy (although I think that aside from being expected to make more money and be emotionally sturdy, males have it easier). But I did not enjoy growing up being constantly compared to other girls and having all of the ways in which I don't measure up be shoved in my face. I have made significant strides in getting over all of that, but I suddenly remembered how that sentiment will always sting a little.

I have mostly accepted the fact that when you interact with others, you will rarely get the chance to be yourself 100% of the time. I'm not sure if this is good because it's practical or bad because I'm "selling out."

I also think I have accepted the fact that while being queer is more okay than it used to be, it will always be the minority. The subjective idea of beauty will mostly be in the hands of those who do not appreciate gray.

The desire to not feel conflicted with oneself and with society is a powerful motivator. People who do drastic things to their bodies (e.g. taking hormones and getting sex change surgeries) are really chasing after that sense of congruity and coherence that non-queers take for granted.

I'm glad I don't feel the need to do anything that drastic; I just need to regard compromise and the occasional lie means to a greater end.

Transitional Phase

I haven't been much of a blogger lately. My life has been becoming less about thinking/writing and more about doing. Furthermore, I think I've analyzed most of the queer-related topics that are of concern to me. And while I will always identify as a purse-hating gay girl who gets nervous around girls with mohawks who work at health food stores, I think I've entered a different phase:

I kinda hate The L Word.

I think Shane/Katherine Moennig is hot, but too skinny. And all that smoking is starting to catch up to her.

KC and Elka are...?

I'm in love with a boy.

Consequently, I will be blogging more here about whatever comes to mind.

Free Agent

Boy and I have been together for a little over five months now, and he only recently started to tell his [male] friends that I play for both teams. He didn't want to be that guy (even though he does have some of that stereotypical male in him). I find this endearing.

There are some advantages to dating a boy when you're bi:

1) You get advice on how to hit on/approach/move things forward with girls.
2) You get to objectify women together (I can be a bit bashful about this).
3) You are more likely to be allowed to chase girls. I wonder how many lesbians would be cool with letting their girlfriends pursue men.

However, you sorta become the bisexual female cliche. Meh, whatever.

In other odd news...

Boy: It may inform you to know that I touched pussy before I touched boobs.
Me: Huh? Really?
Boy: Yup.
Me: [Thinks about it]...That's weird!
Boy: Yeah, it kinda is.
Me: Pussy first? But everybody loves boobs! Cept gay men.
Boy: They're missing out.
Me: I still can't get over that. Boobs come first! They're boobs!

Later on...

Boy: [jokingly]I'm kinda like a lesbian trapped in a man's body.
Me: [laughs hard] How so?
Boy: I'm just all about the pussy. Even straight guys kinda like to look at cock in porn. I don't have that.
Me: You truly are 100% heterosexual. Most people have at least 1 or 2% gay in them.
Boy: Yeah, I guess I'm just stuck with using this dick here. Can't argue with nature.
Me: Sure you can.
Boy: What's the point? Gotta work with what you have.
Me: True. Well, I accept your trapped inner lesbian too.

Hmm, maybe I should make him a mix of Tegan and Sara, Le Tigre, and Riot Grrl music to welcome him to the club.

"And that's why ya don't kiss straight girls."

If only there was that one-armed guy from Arrested Development to teach me this lesson. For some reason, I didn't want to write about my first experience with a girl here. I figured it was a bit too complicated, and I didn't want to be a drama queen. But this is the place to write about complexities, and I'm over it now. So here goes.

As with any other remotely intelligible thing I write, the objective of this post is to 1) explore the grey areas of sexuality, 2) attempt to write about something complex and significant with a degree of objectivity, and 3) to question the actions of the involved parties.

My first experience with a girl didn't go over so well for either of us. It put a huge dent in a friendship that had a lot of potential.

Here's a cliche: the first girl I kissed was my best friend and roommate in college. We had a unique chemistry that is hard to explain. We were sorta opposites and sorta the same person all at the same time. We could make simple things like going grocery shopping feel like an amusing adventure. We could have satisfying intellectually conversations and be silly as hell. We could peacefully co-exist and still find the other person fun to be around.

Here's another cliche: we had a lot of great things in common (e.g. athleticism, a love for nerdy movies, etc). One of the not-so-great things we had in common was the fact that we both dabbled in the world obsessing over how much you weigh and eat. We both had issues prior to meeting each other, and when we started to bond over this perverted commonality, we fed into each other's unhealthiness.

Here's the last cliche: we were drunk during all of our little explorations of the XX + XX equation. I didn't take it so well when I discovered that her "solution" was straight and mine wasn't.

As a friend, I loved her lots. The option of seeing her as more than a friend didn't occur to me until we started drinking together and getting progressively more touchy feely as time went on. When the option did occur to me, I really wanted it and looked for opportunities to get drunk with her. What can I say? I was young and stupid.

When we finally just had a big makeout session like a year later, I had a big internal woohoo! moment. I was pretty ecstatic for a few days until I inferred that it was only a curious exploration to her, and she wasn't likely to return the feelings I had for her. It bummed me out, but I eventually came to accept that this would not happen again.

But then it did. With more intensity a few months later. I was high as a mothafucking kite until she flat out said that we won't be doing anything physical anymore. I completely sunk when I heard this.

To be fair, we didn't communicate very well. I didn't express how I felt to her. Even though she was more of the initiator, she didn't intend to lead me on and reject me (although it felt like it at the time). I made a point to keep my feelings hidden because I couldn't deal with them, I was afraid of putting myself out there, and I knew that she was probably straight.

On top of all this, I didn't yet realize that one reason why I developed an eating disorder in the first place was to avoid admitting to being a queer. So for me to fall first for a straight girl with an eating disorder hit several nerves I wasn't fully aware of. Furthermore, we were at different points in the "admitting you have a problem" department, and this created another rift between us.

I resented her for not returning my feelings and for encouraging my self-destruction. I also took a few slightly homophobic remarks she said to heart. She resented me for being cold and passive-aggressive.

We tried to patch things up before she would have to move across the country after graduating, but I could never bring myself to explicitly tell her all that was bothering me. I partly didn't see the point in telling a straight girl that I was in love with her. When she left, I was drenched in a bitter little cocktail composed of one part anger, one part loss, and one part vindictiveness.

There were many months of fights, passive-aggressiveness, and unfriendly silence. We missed each other, but we both let the negativity fester. We eventually de-briefed these confusing incidents a few years later. She said she didn't entirely know what brought them on. I told her that I felt like a used experiment to her.

She admitted to being a bit on the bi-curious side, but she said she didn't want to know what it was like to kiss a girl; she wanted to know what it was like to kiss me. And while she loved me, she wasn't attracted to me.

Guh? Okay, the only reason this makes the remotest of sense in my mind is because I know this girl and it kinda clicks in my head because I know the rapport we had. I am also generally accepting of the spectrum of emotions that can fuel the varying levels of affection we want to show.

I hate to cite this, but it sorta reminds me of Claire and Edie in Six Feet Under. I wasn't a fan of Mena Suvari playing that role, but it was a similar situation. The two had an aesthetic appreciation of the other as a person, but it wasn't sexual. And I have to say that my feelings for her weren't predominately sexual either, but I didn't want to be strictly platonic either. Yet another annoying gray area.

So she wanted to express her intense platonic love for me with her lips and wandering hands (she described it as "lusting after me emotionally/spiritually"). Again, this transubstantiation of sorts sorta makes sense and sorta doesn't. Regardless, I accepted what she said, and we moved on. We both felt refreshed and grudge-free. It was great.

But then she got pregnant shortly after getting married. It dawned on me that this person lives across the country from me, is married, and will become a mother. I didn't see myself fitting into the picture. Our long distance friendship was pretty unsatisfying, and I felt rather disconnected from the phase of life she was entering. I was so tired of missing her and being locked in an aggravating state of limbo.

Eventually, I picked a fight with her, went out of my way to push her buttons, and we exchanged some mean words. That was the last fight. For real. All of the nastiness made it easier to say goodbye and just let go. While I was mad for a while, I found it easier to free myself from feeling hostile towards her.

I occasionally wonder if I did the right thing or if I was drawing one too many imaginary lines in my head. Did I really have to see her pending motherhood as such a threat? Was I allowing my own personal issues with parenting to color my perspective? Could we have made a long distance friendship work somehow?

I don't know for sure. I do know that I feel better after emotionally separating myself from her. I'm pretty sure she feels the same way. Do I wish things had turned out differently? Definitely. But it was time to move on, and I realized that I was wasting emotional energy pining over re-creating "the good ol' days" with her.

But some people simply become a part of you, whether you want them to or not. I'm not sure how she and I managed to establish such an intense connection that is difficult to forget. When things were good, I loved how we seemed to really understand each other and tried to respect each other's differences. And we didn't completely give up on trying to work through our problems.

I may not talk to her anymore, and I am not likely to see her again, but she probably will always be someone that I think about and remember fondly.

So the lessons I learned from this experience are as follows:

1) Don't kiss straight girls unless you are confident that they are at least bisexual or that you have the great powers of converting.

2) Don't do the whole wahhh I don't wanna be gay so I'm gonna self-destruct and/or live in shameful denial bullshit. It's a big waste of time. Accept yourself as a freak like everyone else and move the fuck on.

3) Don't have an eating disorder. It's stupid. I'm proud to say that I'm done with all of that crap after many years of hard work.

4) Communicate with more directness and don't rely on booze.

5) If you are romantically/physically interested in a friend, you should give serious consideration to whether you are willing to risk losing that friendship for the sake of taking things to the next level. There are some people that you just don't want to lose.

Angry

I hate living in my body. I have spent a good portion of my life working my ass off to earn priviliges that almost everyone around me takes for granted. It feels like I'm always teetering between -1 and 0. Blah, forget about all of the gender dissociation bullshit. To me, all that stuff seems whiny and self-absorbed now.

Right now, I feel like the next person who complains to me about some superficial dissatisfaction with the skin they're in (looks, weight, cup size, muscle mass) is going to be verbally assualted.

Ironically, I have a healthy appreciation of my own aesthetics. If only being thin, curvy, and proportional solved all of your problems like all of those ads directly and indirectly say. I used to think my body didn't reflect who I am, but now I think the opposite.

But it's like living in a house built by Frank Lloyd Wright: it looks good, but it's a bitch to maintain and starts to fall apart sooner.

This week has ranged from awful crazy to awesome crazy. I'm so in love. I'm so trapped. I'm racking my brain trying to figure out solutions. I realized how awesome it is to know amazing people that I value and can call up for support, advice, laughs, hugs, etc. I need to appreciate what I have.

I am not my limitations though. I need to remember that. I am how I deal with them/what I learn from them. It's what you think and do that ultimately matters.

List

Physically, I have not been feeling well today. This past week has also presented its share of challenges. I'm trying to not feel discouraged and overwhelmed.

So, I want to make a list of things I'm pleased with:

The delicious avocado and 87% cocoa dark chocolate bar that I scarfed down today. Mmmm.

The laughs I had with my best friend today.

My growing culinary talents.

The interactions between various parts of my body and my boyfriend's mouth.

My boyfriend's willingness to patiently stick by me through a rough patch that affects us both.

The fact that I made a few cute girls laugh in the past week. This alone is gratifying even if nothing comes of it.

The fact that boy keeps a fresh stock of Listerine for me at his place.

The fact that KC and Elka still make me laugh out loud at jokes that I've already heard several times before.

Gulp

I've rather proudly held the title of Blowjob Queen for several years now. Most of my friends know this, and one of my ex's still manages to throw in the occasional joke about it from time to time. Every dude whose dick has been in my mouth has given me accolades on my performance, and this further reinforces the enjoyment I already derive from the act.

Furthermore, I'm quite lucky to be dating the most enthusiastic, persistent, and talented pussy munchers I have ever been with. He's even bossy about it: ohmigod, pleeaase stick that pussy in my face because I NEED it.

In many ways, this is a sexual match made in heaven. We both have strong oral fixations coupled with hard-earned talents. There's just one problem: he is more into imbibing female fluids than I am into male fluids. Considering my enthusiasm for cocksuckery, he finds this baffling; I find it normal.

I wish I felt the same way he does; I feel guilty that I don't. And I don't know how to fake it. Dan Savage would probably scold me. I'm all about being GGG, and I've done things out of my comfort zone. But I'm not sure what to do about this one.

The only explanation I have is the fact I was randomly exposed to porn at a relatively young age (10, 11'ish). I've probably seen a bit too much male-oriented stuff, and I think seeing one too many messy endings with the girl obviously pretending to be into it created a turn-off. If porn creates and reinforces turn-on's, then it can do the same for turn-off's.

Or is this just the lesbian in me drawing the line? Perhaps that's too convenient of an excuse for someone with a dual identity. I don't know. Either way, some compromises are in order.

Bitchy

I had some issues with the whole idea of a threesome that I discussed with boyfriend. I kind of let the bitchy lesbian in me come out for a few minutes. I voiced how I'm not terribly into the idea of being with a girl as means to the end of turning on a guy.

Like, lesbians exist for pleasing each other. It's sort of an anti-cock act (at least in my mind), and having it be something to do for a guy's pleasure just screams cock always wins in the end to me.

His response was that this goal is most certainly not all about him, and he was aiming for everyone to benefit (both emotionally and physically) from this situation. He had stated all of this to me before, and he is quite the reciprocal, talented, patient, and orally-fixated lover (I really hit the jackpot in this department). But I still had to let the raging dyke in me say her piece. And I feel better.

On a related note, I tried to use youtube for scratching my itch for Xena. I figured it was easier and more dignified than digging out my tapes from, er, 10 years ago. And most of the results are of Xena and Gabrielle kissing.

Of course. The truth is that both characters were bisexual. And they actually did shit besides each other. Like unrealistically kick a profuse amount of ass and change history while prancing around in skimpy outfits. Jeez. What a buncha perverts.

In my experience, straightness generally does win in the end. Deep down, this still hurts a soft spot in me. Ironically, however, my own actions prove this point: I'm in a heterosexual relationship, and I'm generally happier when I'm into guys and more in touch with my feminine side. If you can't beat em', join em'? Does it have to be a competition?

But I find my own hypocrisy bothersome on some level. Consequently, I find little ways to blow off steam about it (e.g. stating how icky I find purses to be, recoiling at being described as "straight," etc.)

I can't say I feel distressed or divided about this as much as I used to though. Partly because I have more pressing things to be concerned with. And few people are one-sided and free of contradictions. And the people who are could probably best be described as "boring." So I'm happy to ride this dichotomy for as long as it wants.

Disappearing Act

I've been having Xena cravings lately. I keep trying to deny them, but they won't go away. She's so strong, and watching her is regressively theraputic and inspiring. It appeals to the archetypical desire for a hero one can identify with.

I want to be stronger than I am. Mentally more so than physically (although it's kind of sad that I need boyfriend to open cans for me). I'm realizing that, while I have come so far in building up psychological strength, I still have so much more growing that I want and simply need to do. I need to internally subert all external attempts to make me an unhappy, brainwashed pawn. I need to develop more constructive thinking patterns.

I feel like I'm disappearing both physically and mentally. I spend too much time catering to others. I'm tired of having other people's voices in my head telling me what to do, what to like, and how to present myself. I just want to relax and be without worrying about keeping up appearances for some other trying to use me for something.

I also found out that I weigh the least I have ever weighed as an adult. I didn't even notice until the numbers made it undeniably clear. I guess life has been too consuming for me to tune into such a drastic change in my own place of residence.

Something's gotta give. I'm the only one who can make it happen. I may never be able to go through life without being punished for everything, and I may not have much time for all the things I want to do. But I'll be damned if I let this crap make me mentally stagnate into a reactionary victim.

Locked

One: I'm starting to feel the desire for female affection come back. I knew it would return. I'm lucky to be with someone that I can talk about it with.

Two: Boyfriend was saying how, as a male, it can get tiring to always be the one on the offensive. When he said that, I made a mental note to try to be more of an initiator. But even when I want to be more aggressive, I find myself a bit frozen, and I hold back.

I'm not like this 100% of the time, and I've had several instances of attacking various people, but it's sort of a default for me to be passive. I'm discovering it's harder to shake than I expected. Stupid unconsciously acquired gender roles.

Three: I want to fuck this singer's voice, as Dan Savage would say.

Four: In this post, I was complaining about some gross blonde chick working at the health foods store I frequent. Well now there's a super cute one working there. Translation: I'm afraid of making eye contact with her. She pulls off this sexy semi mohawk without looking obnoxiously punk'ish or stereotypical. I wanna play with it.

Five: Wahhhh! I'm shy! Wahhh! I'm used to be chased rather than doing the chasing.

Six: Health foods store that I freqent is hiring. Perhaps this is a second chance.

"Stop listening to the static."

I could easily whip up another analyzing gender identity-typa post in 30 minutes tops, but I'm not feeling it.

The importance of mental clarity has been dawning on me quite clearly these past few weeks. I may be a nutrition nut, but I'm really seeing how unhealthy it can be to allow some greasy thinking patterns to clog the walls of my consciousness.

I could be on a vegan diet free of gluten, sugar, and most allergens, but if I'm thinking crap, then I might as well be eating McDonald's three times a day.

This week I remembered what it feels like to truly hate someone. They were going out of their way to intentionally attack me and all of the hard work I've put into [successfully] reaching several challenging personal goals. I rarely feel this emotion in a serious way. I can usually muster up some compassion for the people who aggravate me; I don't even hate any of the few people on my "Dead to Me" list. I make the effort to see the gray areas with people.

But I keep feeling overpowered by a pure, black hatred. I find myself hoping that they will leave existence Forever. I guess we all have our thresholds.

Many people who claim to love you really just need you to be something that you're not. They need you to be what they want, and they often claim that their happiness is dependent upon you changing to meet their impossible fantasies. It's very rare to find someone who wants you to be you all the time.

Furthermore, they will impose the opaque image they have already drawn up of me directly over the reality of me; it is largely independent of what I do. So while it might be difficult to be misunderstood, it is pointless to try to be understood.

In spite of how trapped and discouraged I feel, I can't let things bother me so much. I am what I think; I am how I react. I need to make my mind my own work of art that I work on every waking minute of the day. Because it's my mind, and no one else and no other external circumstance has the right to infiltrate it without my permission.

Blah

1. In the name of contributing to others' happiness and peace of mind, I've mostly been subscribing to giving into what other people want of me. It's good that I'm being compromising, but I've noticed that I've been allowing others' expectations of me influence my behavior more than I should. I can't let others' truth (created by my lies) become my own truth.

2. I've been saving up excessive Kelka and Savage Love listening for a lonesome, rainy day.

3. The last time I listened to Savage Love, there was a call from a lesbian-identified woman who is in a loving, sexual relationship with a man. While I'm cool with people identifying themselves however they want to (e.g. you don't need to penis/vagina to identify as a man/woman), that woman also seems like she's exercising some denial. Why can't she just say she's bi? I guess I can't talk: I feel like identifying as gay/queer is more accurate than identifying as straight.

4. I've only really realized that I'm relatively short (5'3") within the past year. I'm not sure why this is. Maybe it's because of my former life as sporty spice: I could jump pretty high and hit most of my shots on the basketball court in my whippersnapper days. Boy is 7 inches taller than me, and I only notice it when we're in front of the mirror. Everyone that I've liked or been with has been taller than me; I wonder if I'd get all butch and overcompensating if I dated a girl shorter than me.

5. Boy and I clarified some topics regarding his threesome fantasy: he's cool with my being selfish and going solo for a while, but that the ideal would be for me to have a girlfriend and for him to get some threesomes out of it. It amused me when he indignantly asserted, "I don't want two girlfriends!"

6. Yeah, me neither. It most certainly is possible to be a misogynistic woman who is attracted to women.

7. On a similar note, does the fact that I sometimes get turned on by my own body make me a narcissist?

Assessment

If only there was more time for blogging and self-expression. Here are some things I've recently noticed:

1: Collared shirts on girls are a turn on.

2: It takes a lot for me to really like a girl and to fully want her. I check people out all the time, but it's been a long time since I've noticed or known a girl that is that ideal blend of femininity and masculinity that really sincerely moves all of me.

2.5: I feel like my tastes are always changing. Prettiness, while nice to look at, is becoming more and more boring, and I need some physical character to really feel like I want to touch someone.

3: I feel trapped by my body almost all the time, but it's not really in a gender identity disordered sort of way. I'm partly used to it, and I partly feel like this feeling has lodged itself in me. I'm not sure if I'll ever completely extract this subdermal layer of frustration. I need to give paradigm-shifting another try; we can only really change our minds. I was pretty fucking carefree a while back.

4. I've been letting my small, inner housewife out a bit lately: I'm finding satisfaction in cooking for myself and others. It's gratifying to create something from scratch and to crave its taste. It's also gratifying to bring joy to those you care about with what you've made.

Small World

I had a somewhat out of the ordinary weekend. First of all, boy and I ended up going to a concert. We both had friends who were going there too. I needed to take a break to sit down, so I found the closest table, and there was a some what familiar-looking chick sitting there.

I asked her if I could sit, and she said yes. I was trying to figure out where I had seen her before, so I tried to subtley eye her. Then another chick walked up to the table, and I recognized her almost immediately: she used to read a different version of this blog, made a few comments, and added me on facebook a few months after we exchanged some e-mails.

Me: You're [ blog name]
Her: *surprised and off put
Me: I used to be [blog name] on livejournal
Her: Wow!

We proceeded to chat a bit about some things I had written about bisexuality and now amusing this coincidence was. She also introduced me to her girlfriend (whose familiarity can be credited to facebook).

Yeah. Small fucking world.

Sunday turned out to be platonically homoerotic. I was planning on getting work done, but I jumped at the opportunity to hang out with my best friend and her new boyfriend (she lives a few minutes away and I rarely see her). I wasn't planning on staying for too long, but one hour turned into five.

Best friend is quite happy to be in a Dom/sub relationship. It was amusing and interesting to witness how happy she was over being controlled in a consentual manner by someone who knows what they're doing.

She gave one of those massages that reduced me to a moaning, pleading porn star. I felt like she made my shoulders come, and I felt that post-orgasm feeling of being a lazy, unintelligible lump of mush.

But hey, I believe in reciprocity. And I returned the favor. When she disobeyed her boyfriend [Lord], he mandated a punishment that I was unexpectedly down with administering: he handed me a huge paddle and asked me if I would slap her ass with it.

Yeah, there's really nothing like bending your best friend over the couch, lifting her skirt, and inflicting some pain on her. It's not as easy as it sounds either; you dont want to hurt someone too much. And hitting the right part of someone's ass takes some practice.

It wasn't a sexual turn-on, but it was definitely fun. I got a little giddy when this option was presented to me.

Yep. Small fucking world.

Moments

Me: *whips out Slim Clip*
Boy: Nice purse.
Me [indignantly]: It's an anti-purse!

Me: I need to get something from my purse. Uh, I mean my girly bag.

Boy: We need to find some tits for you to play with.

Me: Yeah, I'm not terribly interested in meeting people online at the moment.
Boy: [silent]
Me: You're thinking I should advertise for a girl, aren't you?
Boy: Maybe.

RIP?

Sigh. I don't know about this blog anymore. I've been writing in it on and off for over two years now. I feel like I've put most queer topics of interest under the microscope.

And Kelka will be posting their last few podcasts sometime in the near future. The final goodbye is getting closer. It's pretty fucking sad.

So is the fact that I didn't even have the desire to watch the very last hour of The L Word. The first half of the finale was pretty crappy. I don't want to waste more time on an insult to the art of television.

Lastly, I don't find Shane as hot and charismatic as she used to be. I feel like this is a sign.

I feel like I should keep blogging, but I'm not sure if it should be here. This is a GAY blog. Can I write, gasp, non-gay stuff here? I could to prove that I don't mentally compartmentalize everything. But if I feel the need to prove it, then that probably means that my case is weak.

Maybe I'll give it a try.

Only Passing By?

This song is coming to mind.

It's really not difficult for a bisexual female to find a guy who is more than happy to encourage her to go fuck a girl or few.

I've been feeling like a happily monogamous straight girl for the past two months. And I got permission (which I didn't ask for) to chase girls. I get to do whatever I want with a chick and come back to him to give a [very detailed] report.

Furthermore, he thinks it'd be even better if I found someone that I like both physically and emotionally. And, as one might expect, boy is hoping to get a threesome out of it eventually. A threesome in which all parties really like one another.

It's a complex goal to achieve, and there would have to be a lot of communication and negotiation for it run smoothly and be enjoyable for everyone.

But I ended up learning more that I expected to from this formulaic conversation. I haven't had the most pleasant of experiences with girls. He's noticed how I have an almost misogynistic view of them. And in a way, I've given up exploring that side of myself.

So while he admits he wants the stereotypical male fantasy that men are programmed to want (the shyness he exuded while confessing it was too adorable), he also wants to see me have some pleasant experiences with girls. He reminded me that this possibility exists. Somewhere along the line, I stopped even thinking about it.

Maybe it's because I've always found it easier to be a monosexual, and it's obviously easier to be a straight monosexual than a gay one. And, for whatever reasons, I have a thicker skin when it comes to stereotypical male meanness.

It then dawned on me that I've gotten used to believing that I don't deserve what I want. It's not a low self-esteem thing. It's a "this is simply not my lot in life" thing. I've had one too many humbling experiences this past year that have shown me how I'm really just a small, destructible girl with a big head.

And to have a loved one pick up on some of that and point it out to you is kind of like being invited back into playing the game that is life.

I got boyfriend to listen to a few Dan Savage podcasts, and Dan said something that resonated with him: your partner should be making shit happen for you. I guess I've only been with a few people who really had an interest in doing justice to this idea. And now that someone like that is right in front of me, it feels foreign.

I want so badly to be as GGG as I possibly can. I have no idea what will happen or if this fantasy will be realized. We're not looking to jump into anything at this point. I do know that I'm happy with who I am with, and I need to stop shortchanging myself.

At this point, however, I'm almost afraid of kissing anybody else because I know that it won't be as amazing as kissing my boy is.

Bursting at the seams

I've never really been the type of girl who wished her boobs were different. I did go through an andro-obsessive phase in which I wanted them to be smaller, but then I saw how pointless that was since I wasn't going to try to change them via weight loss or surgery.

I pretty much jump at any opportunity I can to wear as little as I can when it comes to tops. If it's warm enough, I'm content to walk around the house in shorts and a bra.

And about a month ago I stopped packing a shirt to sleep in when I spend the night with boy. There's really no point to my wearing a shirt, and I like easy access. I find it liberating.

On the other hand, when I'm stressed out or feel like I'm being threatened by something, I love my vests. They make me feel warm and safe. There's something almost inexplicably gratifying in how they make my chest look more flat. It's a different, asexual sort of freedom, and it feels soo good sometimes.

It kind of reminds me of the lyrics to this song.

Queen

I do not like the word "cocksucker." It's generally used to insult men; this gives it a homophobic implication.

Furthermore, I am a cocksucker. An enthusiastic one. This is in spite of the accuracy of this statement (courtesty of Samantha Jones):

You men have no idea what we're dealing with down there. Teeth placement, and jaw stress, and suction, and gag reflex, and all the while bobbing up and down, moaning and trying to breathe through our noses. Easy? Honey, they don't call it a job for nothin'.

I'll always love me some Sex and the City.

Boy told me I should use it to take ownership of this insulting word. Kind of like how Dan Savage encouraged people to begin their letters to him with a "Hey Faggot!" This way the word becomes less offensive.

So, I signed out of an e-mail to him with the words, "Your cocksucker, [Name].

It's small, but it's something.

Lip Love

I feel like I've been mopey and ungrateful, so I want to write about something that I'm lucky to have.

As a general rule of thumb, I've noticed that men see kissing as means to an end. Sure, they can enjoy and value it, but at some point, they want to fuck. This applies to women too. Let's face it: if you spend forever on the appetizer, you'll never get to dessert.

But I remember, for example, how I would bring ex boyfriend's head towards me for a postcoital kiss, and he'd be halfway there. His body language would say, Why do you want to kiss now? Let's just cuddle.

Current boyfriend, however, loves kissing. All the time. It is our catalyst for everything, and it enhances the intensity of all physical interactions. And our styles of kissing are very compatible. Every long makeout session feels like a conversation with our lips. We don't even cuddle or spoon that much because that would decrease the amont of lip lockage.

I didn't know I'd ever find this in another person, much less a boy. But I'm happy I have.

Stream

This song is coming to mind.

I've been learning lessons from Dexter: one of the only ways to get the chance to be real and who you are is to stay cool and stick to your lies. When you're surrounded by people who need you to be something that differs from who you are, deceit is likely to be the best tool you have.

But sometimes deceit is too harsh a way of putting it. If you love someone, then you find yourself doing not-100% honest things to keep them happy. How often are we ever really honest about who we really are anyways?

On a lighter note, boy and I agree that girls are hot when they wear wifebeaters. If I had more spare time, I'd get me some wifebeater arms and be a lesbian cliche. A hot lesbian cliche.

I used to hate having a rather female figure. I've now come to fully accept and embrace it. Several people have told me to show it off more. Even if I can admit that I look good, I still do not fully identify with the "showing it off" type of style. I think I was almost always personally subscribe to layers, subtlety, and simplicity.

I really identify with transgendered individuals. I do not wish to be a man, but I know what it feels like to be at odds with your body in every moment of every day--in so many different ways that range from superficial to essential. It's a frustrating state of dissonance.

I had reached a sense of peace and acceptance of this disconnect a few months ago. But now I feel like I've lost it, and I'm trying to get it back. I know I can do it, and I know how to do it. I'm not sure how long it will take for me to get myself back though.

I need to be grateful for what I have. I need to accept mind-body dissonance as an inevitable part o fmy life so I don't get so angry about it. I kind of related to Max when he shaved off his beard. Why create or add to a rift between oneself and one's skin?

Nails + Chalkboard = HRAA!

I consider television to be an art form. I don't say this because I'm trying to rationalize all of the hours I've spent in front of the tube. I say this because television isn't always just mind-numbing entertainment.

It can explore the complexities of human relationships and sociopolitical issues. It can showcase different styles of writing, humor, ad-libbing, cinematography, etc.

Six Feet Under changed my view of existence forever and forced me to be more aware of my own mortality every day.

Dexter, my new favorite show, manages to coast through the challenging grey areas of morality while maintaining suspense.

Oz deserves props for having the guts to be raw, dark, and unedited.

Sex and the City humorously examined female sexuality.

Arrested Development features quirky humor that manages to make insufferable people endearing and hilarious.

Curb Your Enthusiasm puts bullshit social decorum under the microscope while being deliciously offensive.

The fast-paced dialogue in Gilmore Girls, while unrealistic and occasionally annoying, is impressive.

etc.

And in some ways, I have more respect for an awesome television series than an awesome film. A TV show has to keep people interested over a longer period of time. And more time can lend itself to more depth.

With this being said, The L Word is kind of an insult to the art of television. Yeah, I am curious to see the finale and see who killed Jenny. But, seriously, it would have been cancelled if it didn't have lesbians in it. And by "lesbians" I mean "unattractive straight women being paid to kiss other women." Blech.

For me, it's all about TiBette, Alice, and Shane. These are the actors and characters who are still hot and interesting. And I really think they're the ones who have managed to salvage the show. Because the writing is CRAP.

I'm tempted to use specific evidence to back my assertion, but I wouldn't know where to start or if it'd be worth the time and irritation.

So what can I identify as my take away from The L Word? It's okay to be gay? As long as you're excessively girly? That some people simply cannot be faithful? That you can kill off a great character in the name of being a PSA? That you can completely butcher the first media representation of an FTM's experiences? That you can turn a sympathetic, nuanced character into a cariacature?

And what the fuck is up with the straight dykey carpenter chick? What are they trying to say? Boyish girls can like dick? This is true, and I can identify with that. But, damn, she's more than just boyish.

GAH!

Hmmm, I've been crabby lately. I think it's going to take a Six Feet Under/Kelka/Fight Club cocktail to revive me.

Praise Kelka. SRSLY.

Random

I have a crush on Maybe on Arrested Development. I'll even take her Jewey hair. And we can conveniently disregard the fact that her character is a high schooler.

I want to be sterilized.

I cannot stand the sight of Elizabeth Berkely's skanky face; she is drop dead hideous. Bitch belongs in a porno. A really awful porno.

Shane isn't interesting anymore. Her charisma has been diluted.

As much as I want to see marriage equality in this country, I'm kind of starting to despise the way people idealize being married.

I love KC and Elka, and I am not sure how I will feel after listening to their last podcast. I'm a little scared.

My extremely heterosexual boyfriend thinks Rachel Maddow is cute. Maybe it isn't exactly soley based on what she looks like, but c'mon! She's awesome. She's on a slightly queer list of people whose voices I like to hear: Barack Obama, Khaela Maricich, Dan Savage, Leisha Hailey, etc.

Test

Boy is a talented, passionate photographer, and he finally got a camera that he was waiting to get for years. He wanted to take pictures of me, and he was excited about it. This is a nice, normal thing to do, right?

The problem is that I am quite camera shy. Translation: the second he pointed the camera at me, I flinched, covered my face with my hands, and locked myself into the fetal position.

This involuntary wave of shyness took over, and I wished I was wearing a hoodie to turtle it up under.

And yet, we're planning on incorporating mirrors into our sex life. This delicious thought has me smirking, and it's a testament to how low my self-consciousness levels are.

So what the hell? The extent of my camera shyness surprised us both. And I explained that I don't think I look like what pictures say I look like. And this dichotomy has led me to generally avoid cameras.

It really reminds me of the striking mismatch a transgendered person might feel. Like, What? That's me?! Nooo!

I have some options on what to do:

a) continue to avoid cameras
b) allow myself to be photographed and view the pictures minimally
c) allow myself to be photographed and force myself to view the pictures frequently

I have some options on how to view this:
a) a chore to push through for someone else
b) an exercise in challenging myself
c) something new to do, and something new to detach from the results of

Hmmm....

Typecasting

I'm falling for a boy. This is the first time that I've hit it off with a guy who isn't eternally grouchy, cynical, arrogant, and/or dominant.

You know, all of those stereotypical MAN qualities. All of these old turn-on's have become big turn off's. After getting fed up with the last one, I made a point to not invest myself with any other version of him and what he represents.

I used to think I wouldn't enjoy a slightly girly guy who brings out my silly side. Who knew I could have fun spending time with someone who I feel eternally giggly around. Around him, my dry, intellectual wit tends to temporarily fly out the window. And he seems to enjoy watching me act a damn fool. We'll see how long this lasts for.

It's a refreshing break from living in my big, dense head. And it's refreshing to pleasantly surprise myself. And, at the end of the day, I'll still get scooped up and tossed around like the toy that I am. Tee hee.

Pervy

I was going to write something remotely intelligible today, but I was recently reminded of Alfred Kinsey and the film about him.

So instead I'm posting a link to the hot scene in which Liam Neeson passionately makes out with another guy after admitting to be bi (a 3 on his own scale).

It's cute how the guy gives him a sweet, harmless little peck at first. And then Neeson reaches for him hungrily.

Mmmm.

Bracing Myself

KC and Elka's final podcast might not be that far away. I knew that they wouldn't podcast forever, but my heart might just sink a little when the day to say goodbye comes.

Will we know how they're doing a few years down the road? What if they have children? I'll want to know!

I seriously hope they do a final Chart; it'd be a good way to end things. And I seriously hope I'm on it! I've left them a lot of messages, some lame and some not-so-lame.

Sigh. Yes, I'm well aware of the impermanent nature of everything. But I heart Kelka. Dearly.

Such a girl

I like being a girl, even if I could be considered a slight disgrace to the standard definition of what a girl is supposed to be (e.g. I still don't know how to put on eye shadow, and I still whip out my toy lightsaber from time to time).

It occurred to me that I will always see myself as a gay girl. Even when I'm not really into girls and when I spend all day dying to do dirty things to a boy I'm into.

Perhaps this does not make sense.

But I'm always going to keep my nails short, avoid purses, have a blunt sense of humor, gush over sci-fi, etc. I suppose a more accurate identification would be "boyish girl." Sexual orientation and gender expression don't always overlap.

I re-realized this when I was giving a super girly friend of mine sex advice; it occurred to me that I am way more into dick than she ever will be.

But I'm a queer! And I say this after a day of indulgent, amazing, heterosexual sex. Hmm, I sound like I'm trying to prove something here. I'm really not.

On the other hand, I used to be all stern and emotionally bottled up all the time. I could be a worrying whirlwind on the inside but wear a monotone mask on the outside. I can still be that way, and I know how to use it to my advantage when "playing it cool" helps a situation.

But the weepy, expressive version of me has been gradually coming out over the past year or so. I don't feel weepy very often to begin with, but I'd say it's healthier to let it out than keep it in. If someone has a problem with it, then it's better to know that so I can eliminate/downgrade them socially.

It's exhausting to put up a strong front all the time; I wonder if men feel this way. We all know that men cry, but they aren't expected to. I wonder if this makes it harder for them when they do.

Who knows. Cheers.

*Tilts head

Why did I only see men looking at Valentine's Day cards at the grocery store?

What?

Blah. Yes, I'm watching the final season of The L Word. Yes, I want to see how the show that I've been anxiously watching for the past three years ends. No, I do not feel like I have much energy to actually write about this trainwreck of program.

I'm glad Jenny dies though.

Blah, I need a new writing project.

I've noticed that when I take a stand against something, I will inevitably contradict myself on that issue at some point.

For example, straight girls who make out with other straight girls as a way to turn men on is gross to me. Even if they actually want to have sex with a girl, the truth is that they're probably only eating pussy so they can have dick for dessert.

Although, objectively speaking, consenting adults should be able to do just about whatever they want to. They're not hurting anyone, so why should I care?

And when boy told me that he'd find it hot to see me with another girl, I didn't angrily retort. Instead, my mind wandered off to what that would be like. And the result was, Hmmm, that could be hot!

Although I might get really greedy and possessive of both him and the girl in all of my neurotic glory. No, you can only touch meeee!

Yeah, I need a new writing project.

Help!

The past 12 hours have been quite frightening for me. I'm really not afraid of dying (preferably not at the hands of a murdering rapist though), but the consequences of debilitating illnesses do scare me.

Boy came through for me though. I (hopefully) came through for him. I wish I didn't have to (unintentionally) scare him. I've worried people enough. I felt grateful that my reality didn't send him running as we made out in the hospital parking lot with relief flowing through our veins.

And he saw me with no make-up and my hair tied back. Gah!

I write a lot about identity. I analyze, simplify, criticize, philosopize, etc. Occasionally I stand on a pulpit and snarl. I may have some brains, but I'm starting to take some comfort in the incontrovertible fact that I will never have it all figured out.

The most honest truth I know is that I am nothing. I'm a worthless piece of shit who doesn't know what the future holds and when my future will end. All I have is this moment. And I barely even have that.

And I am one lucky, lucky bitch. Goddamn!

I'm glad to know this. I'm glad to feel it.

AHHHHHHHHHH! I should sleep.

Long Time No Cut and Paste

Friend: so do you like pussy at all anymore?
Me: hah!
Friend: lol
Me: i like the right pussy
Friend: haha
Me: the right one hasnt come yet
Friend: i havent been interested in women for a while
Friend: that last girl i liked repulses me
Me: yeahhh, me neither
Me: well that's good since she’s a cunt
Friend: i must have been on something
Friend: lol
Friend: she has nothing that i look for in a woman
Friend: shes way too skinny. i like a woman with at least some ass and meat
Me: lol!
Me: i wasnt expecting you to go on a mini "this is what i like in my woman folk" rant
Friend: HAHA
Friend: sorry
Friend: lol
Me: no, i like
Friend: haha
Friend: what do you look for in a woman?
Me: i was thinkin bout this the other day
Friend: haha really
Me: and i realized that it's narcissistic
Friend: why?
Me: but i like girls whose body types are similar to mine
Friend: because youre a woman?
Friend: oh
Friend: so what
Me: slim, soft, curvy
Friend: we are attracted to people similar to us
Me: i guess this doesn't automatically make me vain
Friend: no
Friend: i dont think it does
Me: for a minute i felt that way
Friend: lol no
Me: i have noticed that i dont like rail thin girls so much anymore
Me: before i used to like shane-like thinness
Me: at least to look at
Me: not necessarily to touch
Friend: yeah same
Friend: shes hot. but i wouldnt do her
Friend: shes way too skinny and boyish
Me: i like the boyish but not the bonyness
Me: yeesh
Friend: ah
Me: she has no tits tho
Me: that's disappointing
Friend: who?
Friend: shane?
Me: yeah
Me: maybe not to you
Friend: i dont care about boobies
Friend: lol
Me: i know
Me: this i do not understand
Friend: but her not having any makes her seem more like a boy
Friend: i dunno. i guess its weird
Friend: im not a lezzzz
Me: gah!
Me: lezzzz
Friend: lol
Me: that's an icky way to say it
Friend: sorry
Me: that's ok
Me: i'd take "raging bulldyke" over "lezzzz"
Friend: HAHA raging bulldyke. i love it
Me: it gives amusing mental pics
Friend: lol yeah
Friend: my bf may have turned me straight
Friend: completely
Me: wow
Me: that's SO subject to change

Props

I must say that Michael C. Hall is quite the actor. He played a subtley convincing gay man on Six Feet Under, and he plays a somehow convincing sympathetic serial killer on Dexter.

On Six Feet Under, he plays a character (David) who is flamboyant but not over-the-top and stereotypical like Jack from Will and Grace. He does an amazing job of portraying someone who is struggling with accepting himself. And David's tears towards the end of the series make me tear up every time I watch the last few heartbreaking episodes of Six Feet Under.

Dexter, an example of a good program that Showtime has produced, gives Hall the opportunity to be versatile. It's hard to imagine him being straight after you watch Six Feet Under, and it's hard to imagine him being gay after you watch him in Dexter. And I'm always on his side when Dexter's way of life (killing killers) is threatened.

Hats off to you, Michael C. Hall.

Cute

So I've been hanging with the new boy more lately. And he obviously knows I'm bi. I noticed that anytime I'd say something about a girl (e.g. "she has a cute voice") he would have a subdued reaction. I thought that maybe I was coming off as being more into girls than boys, and he consequently wasn't dying to hear me check them out.

We were talking about the possibilities between us and what we like about each other. He looked at me seriously and calmly revealed the truth:

Him: And I find your bisexuality to be very interesting.
Me: What? You seemed kinda put off by it.
Him: No, I was trying to not seem like the stereotypical perv, so I downplayed my reactions.

I find this effort to be endearing. I then confessed that talking about girls with boyfriends is tons of fun for me.

Episode 602: Least Likely

This episode was better than I expected it to be. It was pretty obvious with the setting up of conflicts, but it was more entertaining than the last episode.

They're obviously setting it up to make it seem like Nikki will kill Jenny. I laughed at how hilariously awful it was. Is the actor who plays Nikki really good or really bad? Playing someone that stupid must be a talent..unless you're already that stupid.

Some of the awkward moments during the "table wars" at the Planet made me laugh out loud. WTF is up with valet parking? Hit me with some bullshit please.

TiBette's issue of fidelity is getting tired. For fuckssake, just have an open relationship. Elizabeth Berkely is gross. I do not want to see her kiss another woman, especially not Bette.

Their Rock Paper Scissors battle was random. I couldn't decided if it was cute or out-of-character. Bette's frilly-sleeved shirt made me think of the Chiquita banana woman. I was not diggin' her clothes this episode.

Alice and Tasha...sigh. They're adorable. It's nice to see the return of cute Alica after seeing her obliviously bitchy side last season. Can psychotherapists be that blunt and tell a couple that they don't belong together? Even if they don't have a lot in common, they have chemistry. And they're willing to make it work.

Max is pregnant. How original. He also looks like a caveman. I love facial hair, I think Daniela Sea is hot, but he's like the trannyfag version of Paul Bunyan. And isn't Tom, uh, too good for him? Talk about odd couples.

Joyce naked. And I didn't think it could get any more gross than Elizabeth Berkely.

Dylan! I find Alexandria Hedison to be quite sexy, but there was something off about how she looked. Her hair, perhaps?

Shane is less interesting when she's begging. I wasn't sure if Shane was really into kissing Jenny even though she initiated it. I'm 50/50 on Shane and Jenny being a couple. I thing it's an interesting exploration, but the chances of a sustainable relatinoship blossoming are pretty slim. They also have little in common, and they're both dysfunctional, destructive individuals.

Slacker

Wow, this is the first time that I haven't eagerly watched an episode of The L Word. The only thing motivating me to watch it is the fact that Kelka just put out their podcast on the second episode.

I'm behind.

I've said it before, but Ilene Chaiken should be writing KC and Elka a big, fat check.

Palette

I've been feeling different lately. I've been taking a break from my [over]thinking self and tapping into my feeling self. And it's like I'm feeling the emotional version of black (or is it white?). I'm feeling the color that is all colors. I'm feeling the emotions that logically contradict each other. Somehow. Calm, scared, anxious, excited, sad, happy, etc.

I was randomly listening to music from a very depressive phase of my life, and it made me feel uppity.

I spent a portion of my previous Saturday cooking. Cooking for 1) myself and 2) my new potential man. I didn't cook for him because I'm "the woman." I did it because he's been feeding me, and I wanted to return the favor. Besides, I can pull my weight in the food creation department when I put my mind to it.

I grew up rebelling against the notion that it's the woman's job to do the cooking. Now I'm doing it happily. I'm not sure what this means or if it should be interpreted.

I [unintentionally] hurt one person, and I [effortlessly] made another person happy all in one week. I have to embrace paradoxes, contradictions, ironies, ambiguities, etc. Life is and isn't [adjective] all at the same time. I am everything. Life is everything. The lines can be blurred or even removed.

OH, and we have a President who has Muslim family members. Talk about blurring the lines!

It's getting harder and harder to see anything besides gray. And it's not scary anymore.

Dali-esque

Gah! I had a disturbing dream this morning. The residue of it is still sticking to the background of my psyche today.

I had to have sex with a girl on camera. It was a porn set. YUCK. The only amusing part was that I was lauging at some other girl shooting before me who seemed to be faking her orgasm. After she was done getting the fucking of a lifetime, she walked up to me and scowled while saying, "I wasn't faking it, you bitch!"

What's even worse is I had to do a girl I knew in grade school. I was never close friends with her, but she was really nice. And she was a Jehovah's witness. Jeez! My dreams are usually pretty vanilla.

On the bright side, she seemed to enjoy what I was doing to her.

Cats and Dogs

In spite of how much I appreciate what they have to offer outside of their genitalia, I appear to have no close male friends. I certainly have much-appreciated male acquaintances, but I don't have many of them that I have been strictly platonic with. It's not that I'm a big slut; I've always had significantly more female friends.

But in my experience, there are usually ulterior motives between males and females. Why don't I have this issue with girls? Because I spent the first 20 years of my life denying that I like them? Because there are fewer girls for a girl to choose from?

I want to know what it's like to be close to a guy and have no ulterior motives. Maybe it's not possible, but I'd like to give it a try.

Loyal

It felt so good to hear KC and Elka's voices again. I got over my withdrawal from them, but goddaym! It had been too long. I loved all the endearing grammatical offenses.

And something fruitful came out of it: I laughed so hard that my abs tightened into a pleasing burn. This reminded me that I need to stick to my pilates routine in the interest of strengthening my mush-like lower back. Thanks Kelka!

KC brought up a good point that had never occurred to me: in a way, Prop 8 was a good thing because the enormity and shock over something like that happening in California could serve as an eye-opener for the rest of the country.

California is associated with being liberal, vegan, and yogic. And yet it could ban same-sex marriage by a simple majority vote. Who'd have thunk it?

Pissing off a lot of people is often a great catalyst for change. So hopefully Prop 8's passing could play into the gays' hands in the long run.

Yipee!

Oh. my. GAY. KC and Elka are BACK!

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

Changefest

I was lucky to be able to watch Obama's inauguration with a new special someone. A very snuggly special someone who has managed to figure out where I'm most ticklish rather quickly.

I was obviously not pleased to see Rick Warren give the invocation. Particularly since his words were so hypocritical. But hey, Obama is a politician who has to make nice with pricks. On the bright side, Bishop V. Gene Robinson, the first openly gay Episcopal bishop, said a prayer on Sunday.

As easy as it would be to complain about Obama's potential inadequacies regarding advocating gay rights, I think it's important to remember that the man has a full plate of big problems to attend to, e.g. our deteriorating economy.

Speaking of change, I'm somewhat determined to not fuck things up with Special New Someone. Not that I'm 100% to blame for my past break-ups, but I'd prefer to decrease my contribution to this next possible relationship's deterioration.

Here are some not-so-healthy behaviors I've subjected loved ones to in the past:

-being reserved/secretive about how I feel
-using my own confusion or personal issues as an excuse to push others away
-being neurotically possessive
-overreacting to potential dealbreakers
-freaking out at some small thing and then backing out
-getting naked too soon

Well, I sound like a monster. Maybe I'm more like Shane than I thought--and not in a good way.

Regardless, I'm excited about the changes in progress; growing is too much fun.

Episode 601: Long Night's Journey into the Day

Well I watched the first episode of season 6, and I have a bunch of questions:

1. Why do I always feel giddy when I see Lucy Lawless and her stern brand of femininity?

2. Why do Shane and Jenny keep saying that they're the bestest of friends when they really have little in common?

3. Why does Jenny answer the door in her bra when Molly comes to her house?

4. How do Bette and Tina manage to still be cute together after all these years? I squealed when they simultaneously kissed Angelica.

5. Why do people keep painting Jenny's life as one filled with victimhood? She's not a martyr, and the fact that she dies better not turn her into more of one. She was also a merciless cunt at one point, and I think her anger at Shane, while justified, is a bit excessive and self-righteous.

6. What is it about Tasha and Alice that keeps me hoping that they'll work out there differences? Is it their combined cuteness? Is it the "opposites attract" idea? I must say that I was happy to see Alice in her chunky emo glasses.

7. Did Nikki get exponentially dumber between seasons 5 and 6? Sure, she was an airhead last season, but it's like she's been practicing being stupid and flighty since then. I was very happy to see Jenny calmly tell her off the morning after they fucked.

8. How come seeing two overly femmy girls get it on doesn't do much for me anymore?

9. Why am I growing to love Kit's ridiculous manner of speaking?

10. Who killed Jenny? The first and most obvious guess is Nikki.

I am SO FUCKING STOKED to be hearing KC and Elka again. They are the vegan icing on the refined sugar-free cake that is my life.

Spare time

In my opinion, shows like Six Feet Under, Weeds, Dexter, and Batman: The Animated Series all have quality intros.

Shows like Smallville, CSI, Arrested Development, Rescue Me, and Xena have decent intros with fitting music.

Shows like Desperate Housewives and Gilmore Girls have good/adequate but not necessarily stellar intros.

Shows like Law and Order SVU and Roseanne have minimal and mostly boring intros--although they do fit the tone and content of their respective shows.

Shows like The L Word have hideous intros with shitty music.

This is what I do on my day off from people.

The eternal bender

1. I'm jealous of how it takes men less prep time to look sexy. Sure, they're expected to be buff, but they have short hair, don't wear make-up, and can have hairy legs (although I don't want to grow a forest on my legs).

2. I love how guys who like me are caught off guard when they say something like, "I'm just not into blondes," and I reply, "Mee too!"

3. I had my wifey over for a sleepover. When she said, "Goodnight, my husband," I realized why I go for the tall, somewhat dominant men: they make me feel like "the woman." I don't want to feel imbalanced by always being one or the other.

4. My friend randomly called me up to inform me that the hot-as-hell Stephanie March will be returning for a few episodes of Law and Order SVU. This is nice to hear.

Through you

My goodness. Last night I had one of those amazing nights that I will probably remember for the rest of my life. It makes me feel so grateful. I forgot how much I love getting to know people, even if I'm a grouchy introvert.

I wish I didn't need to sleep. There's too much art and love to absorb.

I've found that interacting with people is so much more enjoyable when you change your expectations of them. I used to say "lower your expectations," but that has a negative connotation.

When you selfishly stop expecting them to scratch some itch and allow them to be who they are (the essence of all queerness), then it's great to not only be pleasantly surprised, but to actually see someone in a more objective, selfless light. And that can be a lovely experience.

Death by dorkiness

I was sifting through my pre-DVD tape collection in the interest of discarding junk. My tapes are pretty gay: they're 98% Xena, 1% Roseanne, and 1% recordings of my dead cat (may his meek, snuggly soul rest in peace).

I didn't have the heart to look at videos of when my baby was a wee little kitten, and I wasn't in the mood for Roseanne. So, yes, I, a relatively intelligent woman in her mid-twenties, watched a few old Xena tapes last night. Whilst flossing (at least I got something else constructive done).

I was curious. Why the hell did I love this show so much? I obviously didn't get caught up in the plot last night; I know how it ends, and a third of each episode is spent making Xena snarl, grunt, and do ridiculously unrealistic acrobatics.

The acting is pretty good, but every episode is yet another epic battle of Good vs Evil and Xena fighting to save her precious friend Gabrielle. And the last season was simply terrible. Not to mention the fact that everyone (except my wifey) has openly mocked my freakish fandom.

In spite of this, my love for her is infinite. She's like the dykey, ass-kicking, scantily-clad mother I never had. I looked up to her as a kid. While I probably can't watch more than a few minutes of an episode every few months, I can't throw these tapes away. They represent my youth, repressed gayness, and desire to be strong and assertive.

BLARGH!

I'll always have a nostalgic, soft spot for 90's type of rock. So when I was listening to the radio and realized that I was bobbing my head to Marilyn Manson's cover of "Sweet Dreams," I had to find the song online.

It was easiest to look it up on youtube first. I found myself repulsed by the video and Manson's style of androgyny. His protruding ribs make me feel ill. I'm sure that's his intention, but...ew. Why must he uglify everything?

In other superficial news, I'm finally starting to get into other Showtime programs besides The L Word, namely Weeds. It's good stuff. And, my goodness, Mary-Louise Parker's big-beautiful-brown eyes are too easy to get lost in. I love her subtlety.

The L Word might overall be the worst show Showtime has aired.

Whatever. Kelka should be returning soon. It's been eight months. Daym.

Short n' Sweet

One: The other day I was complaining to my friend about how much I miss the art of the girly sleepover. Just because I've entered my mid-twenties, avoid junk food, and need a solid seven hours of sleep doesn't mean I'm too old to have sleepovers filled with girl-talk, food, and movies.

So I revived the art this weekend, and while we were planning it, we talked about painting our nails. But that was as close as we were getting to actually doing that. And we went to sleep at midnight. And there was no junk food. I'm hoping to have another one featuring Monopoly. Talk about bein' one bitchin' badass.

Two: It has come to my attention that there are short women out there who wear heels to make themselves look taller. I always thought they wore heels because they look good and make a cool, imposing click-clack sound. When I do wear them, it's for the latter.

I do not understand wanting to be taller. It's easier to get spooned if you're shorter. I'd much prefer being the spoon-ee over the spooner--even if the spooner has a wider range of places where his/her hands can wander. But that's just me.

Three: I was on a music nostalgia kick, and I rediscovered the awesomeness that is this song. Here are the lyrics, and here is an explanation of the lyrics. I like how the ambiguity of the lyrics creates a universal and relatable experience that many are likely to have been through. And it's catchy.

It's not me; it's you.

I used to make the generalization that I cannot be myself around guys, but I can easily be myself around girls. And the dysfunctional relationships I had with my first two boyfriends was proof. .

While it's true that I've gotten more confident over the years, I see that there really was no gender issue at work. It simply was how the chemistry (or rather the lack of chemistry) was with those particular males. I spoke to one of them the other day, and the only reason why it didn't completely feel like pulling teeth was because we talk every few months.

California, rest in peace?

I'm getting a tad annoyed with the word "lifestyle" when it's used to describe how queers live their lives. To me it implies that being gay is some foreign, out there sort of existence. Welll you COULD practice your alternative lifestyle if you really WANT to go to hell. But why should we let your [immoral] lifestyle redefine the oh-so-sacred tradition of marriage?

Yeah, I get that it's different to spend a lifetime romantically pursuing people of the same sex. It's different to gender bend. And apparently women who don't worship cock and men who want anal sex are just SO goddamn offensive (but anal sex between a man and a woman isn't?)

But seriously. Everyone works, plays, fucks, and pursues their version of fulfillment. We're mostly just variations on one theme. These few differences don't have to merit being labeled as lifestyles. Hell, people within the same family, friendship, or relationship can live their lives very differently from each other and still manage a degree of cohesiveness.

So I don't see why the labels need to be so dramatic. In fact, there would be fewer perceived differences between gay people and straight people if they, gasp, had the same fucking rights. How's that for a catch-22?

But then I find myself feeling possessive of things like Kelka, and I realize that my desire to create walls perpetuates the "us vs. them" mentality. Perhaps I'm reacting against those who "started it," but it's not terribly constructive.

Uh oh. Am I going to need to start a "can't we all just get along?" tag?

Vitamin XX

I have found that I feel off kilter if I don't balance out the gender of the people I hang out with. I've been hanging out with boys a lot lately, so I was in some serious girl-talk withdrawal. I got a premium grade, dorky-as-hell fix this weekend, and I feel so. much. better! I must remember to never deprive myself like that again. Nevar!

Say it, bitch

While Itty Bitty Titty Committee (IBTC) was a very manipulative film, I have to admit that it inspired me a little. It inspired me to not be afraid to get educated and be willing to point out inequities. Feminists get a bad rap, and girls who claim that they aren't feminists might want to take a look at the rights that they didn't have to earn.

While I do point some inequities out here, I still feel like a bitch sometimes. I too fear being written off as a feminazi dyke. And I can't stand people who walk around looking for occasions to find offensive. Or people who wait to pounce on a bit of injustice or misrepresentation as if they want to be nailed to a cross.

And I was hesitant to bitch about Rick Warren; what could I say that hasn't been said before? But hey, it's disappointing that Obama invited a man who campaigned for Prop 8 to give the invocation at the inauguration. Okay, so Obama wants to be tolerant to people of differing views. And he only supports civil unions anyways.

But as Dan Savage pointed out, would Obama allow a racist to give the invocation? And why give Rick Warren that potent of a role in the inauguration of our first black President? This is a worthwhile read.

I guess I have to remember that a collective society moves more slowly when it comes to unlearning its prejudices. Right now, it's a victory that our country is becoming more color blind. Maybe in 30 years it will become more sexuality blind. Increasing support of civil unions is progress. So I'm thinkin' it'd be wise to adopt the patience of a tortoise with asthma to win this bitch of a race.