not a good start to my morning

My parents are doing some renovating in the kitchen.  That renovating has rendered the kettle almost unreachable, and even if I did walk across the slightly wet and chemical-smelling floor to get to it, I wouldn’t have anywhere to put it and plug it in.

So how am I going to have my morning coffee?

My first thought was to just walk to the nearby Timothy’s for my coffee, but then I remembered that I haven’t showered yet, and my hair needs to be washed.  I don’t want to leave my house until I’ve washed my hair.  So I need to have a shower.

But before I have my shower, I want my coffee.  It’s just the order of things.  My morning usually goes:  get out of bed, pee, get dressed if I’m going to work, have a coffee.  Usually I’m smart enough to shower the night before, but when I come home from work late and pass out, I don’t remember to do that.

So the debate is:  Leave the house without showering to get my coffee so I can get on with my day, or, put some shoes on and walk across the floor to get the kettle out from behind the everything, grab the instant coffee and my mug, and make coffee in the bathroom… which is the closest outlet I can think of to plug the kettle in to.

Aieeee…. I’m off to make coffee, in the bathroom.

work isn’t going as well now as it was last time i blogged.

the good thing in my life right now:  i’m starting up secret santa with my cousins for Christmas, and i didn’t think they’d be this enthusiastic… but they are, and it looks like we’re all going to be participating!

I AM DOING YOU PROUD.

Just an FYI.  I’m arguing religion with a girl who is truly religious as you and I shudder to think of the word, and considering I know only three* Bible verses that might or might not be able to back up my arguments (compared to her telling me all about the Apocalypse and Passover over pumpkin pie), I would have to boast just a little bit and say that I am doing quite a good job with so few resources at my disposal.

I would also say that hanging around your brain for so long has rubbed off on me, with a quite satisfying and useful outcome.  Thanks for this, cos if it weren’t for you, I’d just be sitting there listening to all of the reasons I’m going to hell and then finding out some of the details of how the Apocalypse is going to kill me.  Instead, I’m trying to give as good as I get in terms of explanations, and I’m almost possibly being a little bit effective at it.

*Leviticus 18:22, Psalms 119:33-40, and Corinthians 13

It’s been a while..

Nothing new, really.

Heartache sucks.  I’m not sure that my heart is broken, but certainly aching.  I always fall for the ones I can’t have.  There’s a girl I stupidly fell in love with, who doesn’t seem to give a crap about me, let alone have the capacity to return even a fraction of those feelings.

And I know, with all logic and the brains I secretly have, that it would be best for me to stay away from her.  More importantly, I know that I deserve better. I deserve someone who loves me back.  I deserve someone who will hold me when I’m sad, kiss me when I need re-assurance, and show me in a million thoughtful little ways that she cares as much about me as I do about her.

I’ve known this for a long time.  It doesn’t help, though.  Heartache still sucks, I’m still masochistically hanging onto this girl because I want her to be a part of my life.  And maybe, with time, the heartache will pass and I will be able to be a friend to her in a way that is blissfully simple.  I’m just gonna have to wait it out.

Otherwise…

Work is going well.  We’re getting a new thing, I can’t say what that thing is but it’s going to be a combination of cool and ridiculous, and I’m basically spearheading that project.  My boss took me aside and said, “Hey, there’s this new thing.  This is the basic outline of this thing.  I need someone to run it, and be the first one trained on it, and work out the kinks.  Should we get it?  And would you be that person?”  I thought about it, and the coolness and bonus points warred with the ridiculous and the one glaringly obvious failure.  I figured that if I can personally make this thing overcome that glaringly obvious failure, and actually successfully do what we hope it will, then I’m going to look pretty awesome, and the bonus points include predictable hours, being somewhat-but-not-technically in charge of something, potentially being needed along with simply being desired, more of what I love doing and less of what I dislike doing, and the option of being able to get a second job in my now-almost-guaranteed regular days off.  So I have enough personal motivation and selfish gain at stake to want to make this new thing a success.  Now all I need is for things to work out.

That’s what’s keeping me motivated right now.  The potential for things at work to start going pretty well.  I’m almost at the point that I can write on the availability sheet “NO CLOSING SHIFTS” and actually be granted that request.  It used to be me and two other people constantly stuck with closing shifts.  Now it’s the three people directly under me on the list, and I’m getting day shifts.  The only closing shift I have is Monday nights, which is easily the most desirable night to close.

There’s even a slim chance that I might not have to close Christmas Eve or New Years Eve!  I’m not holding my breath for those, but this would be the first time in three years it’s happened.  I can dream, right?

I went away with my family on the weekend.  We did our big, extended-family-version of Thanksgiving, with 20-something people, two turkeys, and four tables pushed together.  I love my family, and I’m a very family-oriented person, but I’m starting to find these large family gatherings more stressful than enjoyable.

Everyone in my family is loud, outgoing, and just a little bit full of themselves.  I’m not gonna lie, I’m a little bit full of myself too, but I don’t advertise the fact.  I don’t put any amount of effort into bragging to whoever will listen about how awesome I am at my job, or about the great new [insert expensive item] I just bought/am about to buy.  I don’t wear pounds of makeup to exaggerate my [insert facial feature], or wear clothes show off my [insert body part].  I’m kinda quiet.  I keep to myself, and I prefer gatherings of only a few people.  I don’t talk over others.  I don’t like to hog the conversation.  In large groups, I’d rather listen than be the centre of attention, and as a result, I might as well not even be there.

I drift from one conversation to the next, never really having much to contribute to people whose lives I know little to nothing about.  I sit quietly in the corner and almost no one even notices I’m doing so.  I escape to another room, entirely alone, and people who pass by don’t even mention it.  The “adults” assume I’m too young to hear what they’re talking about, but the “kids” are much younger than me.  Those who are my own age have lives so entirely different from mine that we can’t possibly relate, or they’re off in large groups being the centre of attention and holding conversations with their many siblings or their spouse.  I’ve always been a bit of a black sheep in my family, and nothing underlines that more than when I’m around all of them at once.

And even if I were interested in being the centre of attention, what could I possibly tell my extended family?  There’s a girl at work I’ve got a big crush on?  Oh wait, they can’t know I’m gay.  If I can get this new thing at work up and running successfully, I could get a second job at a sex store like I’ve always wanted?  I’m pretty sure having my family know I work at a sex store is equally as taboo as revealing my sexuality.  Other things I do in my life include hanging out at the local lesbian bar, and playing Restaurant City on Facebook.  The only thing I could actually tell them about is the Game Nights I host with my co-workers, but my family isn’t into geeky games.  They’re into fun games, like Catch Phrase and Pictionary.  I couldn’t even begin to describe Arkham Horror or Chaos in the Old World to any of them.

After this weekend, the lesson I unfortunately learned is that I should probably avoid large family gatherings in the future, opting instead to attend only the ones with 15 people or less.  I’ve even had a hard time with Christmas Eve for the last three years, since I come home from work to a house full of upwards to 30 people.  Hopefully this Christmas I’ll be at home before anyone gets there, and can greet people as they come in, making that number seem a little less daunting.  But since I can’t count on that, it’s probably going to be the same as every year; I retreat to my bedroom or the basement with the few other people who like a somewhat quieter atmosphere or who would simply like to play some video games on the downstairs TV, and come upstairs only for dinner and the one large group game we all play.

So yeah.  Work is going okay.

i’m pretty sure i’ve written this post before…

So I’ll just give you the basic idea.

Life says the following to me:

“Here is everything you want, perfectly gift-wrapped, in four different forms.  But you can’t have it.  None of it.  You can look at it, you can imagine it being yours, you can love the ideas of each and every option.  You can even enjoy the fact that any and every single straight girl on the planet would most likely kill to be in your shoes.  You just can’t actually have any of it for yourself, because although each situation offers you perfection, each one is also your worst nightmare come true.”

That, and I had food poisoning yesterday.

Why I can’t sleep THIS week, either:

I do not understand how it’s okay for religion to dictate who you can and cannot be or love.

God is love.  1 Corinthians:  ”If I speak in the tongues of men and of angels, but have not love, I am only a resounding gong of a clanging cymbal.  If I have the gift of prophecy and can fathom all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have a faith that can move mountains, but have not love, I am nothing.” … “Love never fails.  But where there are prophecies, they will cease; where there are tongues, they will be stilled; where there is knowledge, it will pass away.” … “And now these three remain: faith, hope and love.  But the greatest of these is love.”

The Bible says it, outright, that love is greater even than faith.  God has created us as we are and we are supposed to act out of love.  Would God hold it against us if being who we are and loving who we love isn’t exactly the “traditional” way of going about life?  I would think it would be worse if we were to act against who we are, to not be true to ourselves, and to deny ourselves and others the love that we feel because it isn’t “right.”  I have this friend who actually pays attention to what the Bible says, more than just memorizing a few lines and parroting them when it seems necessary, and who has always been completely committed to her faith… and here is her take on this exact issue.

Since I figured out that I’m queer, I’ve been only too aware of that one incriminating line in the Bible, Leviticus 18:22 “Man shall not lie with man as he lies with woman; that is detestable.”  But with a little more research, I also became aware of some other things the Bible teaches, like that women can’t wear pants, or never to have sex during your period because it’s unclean, and many other teachings that are not applicable to life as we know it.  Let’s face it; the Bible was written thousands of years ago.  Society has changed since then, and teachings against homosexuality may well have been in attempt to preserve what was then a dying religion/race.  If you want to have a look at some of the highlights of Biblical teachings that are no longer relevant, and if you feel like a good laugh at how hilariously these things are depicted, please enjoy The Brick Testament’s illustrations of The Law.

This really, really gets to me, especially because I would make the perfect boyfriend… except that I’m a woman.  When I fall for a straight woman–and don’t nag on me about this, 90% of the population is straight, so odds are it’s gonna happen with some regularity–it doesn’t matter how perfect for her I would be.  It doesn’t matter that if the world were an ideal place and we could all simply love one another for who we are rather than for our bodies first, I would often be the natural choice for the person I fall for.  Turns out, the world is that fucked up place, no one ever said life’s gonna be fair, so because of what’s between my legs, I can never be the perfect boyfriend.

You would think, by now, that I would have just learned my lesson on this one and moved on.  But no… here we are again, and I’ve been incredibly stupid.  Isn’t the definition of being psychotic doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results?  I only expect different results because I’m expecting the results that make the most logical sense… and then I remember that emotions aren’t logical, and expecting a logical outcome to a situation that does not even for one second involve the least bit of logic is just downright stupid.

Confessions of an ex-cross-dressing lesbian

I want to be normal I want to be normal I want to be normal I want to be normal I want to be normal I want to be normal I want to be normal I want to be normal I want to be normal I want to be normal I want to be normal I want to be normal I want to be normal I want to be normal I want to be normal I want to be normal I want to be normal I want to be normal I want to be normal I want to be normal I want to be normal I want to be normal I want to be normal…

And if I can’t be normal…

I want my friends–just the ones to whom the following things refer–to stop doubting my sexuality until I “prove it.”  And to not think it’s a stupid reason not to go on the pill just because I’m afraid of losing who I am in the hormones.  And to accept and respect that I work where I work because I like it.  And to not be condescending about my “alternative” lifestyle [choices].  And to stop trying to make my hobbies into potential other career paths I could have pursued.  And if I find a girl I like, to not react by telling me it’s “cute.”  And if there’s something I strongly believe in, to not insult those beliefs to my face.

Basically, if I can’t be normal, I still want the illusion of being normal.  Try being me for a day.  Trust me, you’d have an awesome time!  The only crappy part of it is the external pressures and attitudes of people who claim to care about you.

I try to be as supportive as I possibly can of the choices my friends make for themselves.  When the hell do I ever get that back?

maybe just a glass of water…

It’s another one of those nights where I either have to go to drastic measures to distract myself from everything on my mind, or drink myself into the kind of stupor that will allow me to sleep.  Tonight, I chose drinking, and listening to chill music until I doze off in my chair.

Namely, one most delicious apple martini, and currently listening to Feist’s La Sirena. It’s beautiful, and it’s quite possibly the only thing keeping me from putting my fist through a wall.

I learned something last week.  I’m a lesbian.  Not bisexual, not pansexual, not asexual… I am a lesbian. It is not possible for me to ever feel the same way about any man as I do about the women I fall in love with.  I could never figure out why I don’t feel that fire, that passion, when I’m having sex with men… but now I know.  It’s because I become so incredibly physically attracted to the women I am in love with that it’s impossible to match that feeling with anything else.  Objectively, I may find male bodies more attractive, but there is absolutely nothing more attractive than the woman I am in love with… whoever she is, at the time.

A book I read described it as the sun catapulting into your mind.  That is the best description I’ve ever read, that’s exactly what it feels like.

So there are a couple of guys in my life… one I had a big crush on in high school, who wants to date me, and another who I’m sleeping with and is absolutely 110% perfect for me, but probably not interested in dating me.  A big part of me wants to pursue one or both of them.

This would, perhaps, be even stupider than falling for a straight, Christian girl.  At least the girl is of the sex that I am attracted to.

Now it’s Sarah Slean’s Blue Parade. The alcohol is numbing my senses… thankfully.  I feel it getting to my head.  It’s simplifying everything into its most basic form and I’m about to cry.  One more and I’m out for the night.  This is my choice… drink myself to sleep, or cry myself to sleep.

There is no good choice, in either case.  I’m obviously unhappy with my sexuality, things didn’t work out as I’d hoped lately, and being with either guy would be a completely unfair situation.  And drinking myself to sleep may be less embarrassing to me than crying myself to sleep, but I’m pretty sure either way I’m going to wake up with a headache.

The best pap test ever.

Every woman who I told I was getting a pap test today responded with something along the lines of, “Ugghhhh, that sucks…” but I wasn’t convinced their assessment was entirely accurate.

I was sure–and was proven right–that their discomfort with pap tests was purely because of the attitude with which they walked into it.  I walked in curious, interested, and hoping for some good conversation with my doctor.  What I got was a ball of laughs for the majority of the visit!

First they had me fill out three long forms in the waiting room.  I breezed through them, refusing to answer only one question on the grounds that it was in absolutely no way medically relevant.  It asked if I enjoy sex, and was a circle-yes-or-no response.  I decided that it’s none of anyone’s business.

Then the nurse went over all of my answers with me, telling me that we would “talk about” them.  I wasn’t particularly thrilled about that, but went along with it.  She was really nice, and very easy to get along with, and I spent most of my time with her laughing and enjoying her company.  She seemed to be in a similar state of mind.  We only hit one little speed bump…

There was a section that asked if I had been experiencing any abdominal pain.  The truth is that I have, but every time I do, there is a perfectly logical explanation for why.  I’m not going to go into details, but trust me, I know exactly why it’s happening, and it’s not a medical concern.  So I wrote that on the chart, only paraphrased.  When the nurse came to it, our conversation went something like this:

Nurse:  I see you’re experiencing abdominal pain…
Me:  Oh yeah, that’s nothing, don’t worry about it.
Nurse:  But if you’re having these pains, maybe it’s something you should look into.
Me:  No, I know why it’s happening, it’s no big deal.
Nurse:  Is it a lower abdominal pain?
Me:  Yeah…
Nurse:  Because sometimes that’s an STI that has moved up into your uterus.
Me:  Oh, really?
Nurse:  Typically you can tell if you have inexplicable pain during or after sex.
Me:  But I can explain the pain, trust me, it’s not that.
Nurse:  Okay, then explain it.
Me:  I’d really rather not.
Nurse:  Why not?
Me:  Cos it’s… uh, it doesn’t matter.
Nurse:  Does it embarrass you?
Me:  No.
Nurse:  Then why can’t you explain it?
Me:  I’d just rather not go into it, it’s personal.
Nurse:  Oh… is it, because some people like it rough…
Me:  Uhh…
Nurse:  Is it rough sex, cos sometimes that can cause…
Me:  You know what?  Yes.  Let’s just say yes, because that is the easiest possible answer.
Nurse:  Okay!

This conversation baffles me.  Why was she so insistent on finding out something when I told her it’s not a medical concern?  I ran this by a friend earlier, and my friend suggested that the nurse is obligated to find out what the cause is, if I’m hiding something from her that could be important.  I would agree with this possibility, except that I know I have the right to refuse medical treatment, and I’m pretty sure I made it clear enough that I did not want to be having this conversation with her.

Anyways, despite that slight disagreement, I actually did get along with the woman very well!  She showed me the finger prick HIV test as she did it to me, and it was very interesting to watch!  We laughed and joked the whole time, I’m sure she was trying to keep me from being nervous, but I wasn’t remotely concerned about the upcoming pap test.  I told her the thing that pricks my finger was my number one fear.

With that over, it was another twenty minutes or so before the doctor called me in.  I went into the room and didn’t bother sitting down, as she gave me the obligatory “please take all your clothes off from the waist down, and I’ll be back in a few minutes.”  This, I think, is the most awkward part of the whole visit.  Seriously?  I’m undressed and on the table before she’s gotten five steps from the door, she could have just turned her back.  And she gave me a paper sheet the size of a tablecloth to cover myself up with, which I really didn’t understand.  Why bother covering up?  She’s just going to come in and shove things up my vag in a second anyway, why be so concerned with hiding my thighs?  So I half-unfolded it and waited on the table until she came back.

When she did come back, she knocked and asked if she could come in, which I thought was considerate but just as unnecessary as the paper sheet.  She walked in and I said “Nice tablecloth, bit big, eh?” she agreed and had me put my feet in the stirrups… then proceeded to unfold the rest of the tablecloth to cover the tops of my thighs!  Baffling!  Absolutely baffling!  I couldn’t hold it in anymore.  ”Seriously?  I’m really not body shy, and you’re about to have your head up there anyways.”  She told me it’s procedure, which is a word I’ve learned not to bother arguing with.  I mentally rolled my eyes, and was butt ticked off when I realized that this annoying paper tablecloth would block my view of what was going on.  I wanted to watch, I’m interested in what’s going on!

We chatted about unrelated stuff, and without any warning or suggestion of what she was going to do, ever, she went about pushing the speculum into me, pinching things, scraping things, pressing things… all of which made me jump, every time.  I wasn’t uncomfortable with the situation, I wasn’t nervous, I was actually chilling out with my arms crossed behind my head, defending my right to not get tested for a potential family blood condition.  So every time something changed behind the paper sheet, I was startled, exactly as if someone had snuck up behind me and tapped me on the shoulder… once I figured out what was going on, I was back to chilling out.

Probably the most annoying part of all this testing is the part where the doctor put two fingers up me and pressed her other hand against my stomach… and the only reason it’s annoying is because she used so much lube on those two fingers, and I absolutely hate being covered in lubricant!  I never use it during sex, and I think my doctor could have gotten away with not using any, too.  My body keeps things just fine without adding any artificial moisture, and that extra gooey stuff just bothers me!  When she finished, she told me I could use the paper sheet to wipe the excess lube off, and for the first time, I was grateful that it was the size of a tablecloth.

So that was an experience.  I had a pretty good time!  The people at the clinic were very friendly, I was completely relaxed throughout the entire process, and I walked away making a mental note to actually get this done every year, as I’m supposed to, because it’s not the scary, uncomfortable experience my female friends (of all ages!) claim it is.

Nightmares

I dreamed that I was alone.

That I was supposed to be with someone, then I looked around and she wasn’t there.  She never was.  I was alone, or at least as alone as I hadn’t wanted to be in the first place.