Dear Minnesota,

You've treated me bad and you've treated me good. You're reliable in your chilly, snowy, Ijustwanttostayinsidesomedaysandforgetthattheworldexists ways. You've also tested my patience this winter, though I always pass those silly tests with high marks; it's a joke that I'm even quizzed on such frivolities.

I must say, we are a rather smashing duo this season, dear Minnesota. I'm adorable in my winter coat and boots and I have more gloves, arm warmers, hats and scarves to choose from than anyone I know...I'm learning to accessorize. And I kind-of like it.

With access to my friend's car every weekend this month, I've learned what it means to live on a Snow Emergency route, how to either drive in silence or accept what's on the radio, what it feels like to spin nearly three hundred and sixty degrees after catching a patch of ice, and though I knew how to do it, I got first-hand experience changing a blown-out tire.

Besides all my new driving experiences, I've perfected winter bus riding. I now know precisely how fast I have to jog-walk two blocks in four inches of snow in order to catch the early bus to get to work a half hour before my shift starts in the morning so I can recline comfortably in the back room reading the tabloids I'd never touch if anyone was around.

And I'd been so looking forward to living in Texas with the warmth, the sun, the dry ground: biking weather. But I've discovered you can definitely bike here any time of year (though I haven't done so myself because I'm not really that much of a badass...yet). What sane people can actually survive living in a world with only two seasons? People who don't get to live through four complete seasons are without.

So really, why would I choose to be anywhere but here*, dear Minnesota, when you are so adaptable? I've learned to share my twin bed with two body pillows as a barrier between my naked body and the naked wind outside. My towels always stay nice and toasty resting atop my radiator and baths wouldn't ever be as satisfactory without the nip in the air before submerging in the hot, bath bomb and bubble bar'd water.

I had been so ready to rid myself of you, Minnesota, to think of you as a high school friend, someone I could glance at in a yearbook and see every five or ten years. I was ready to box you right up and stuff you away. I was ready to move to somewhere new and exciting, but I forgot something incredibly important: Every day is new and exciting. I can be an adventurer every day despite where I live and thus, I am pleased to be here.


* Marquette, Michigan or Grand Marais, Minnesota are the only other places I'd consider living right now

Arguably Agreeable

Tonight, a friend thanked me for being the nicest person ever. "I know nicer," was my response, though no one specifically came to mind. I mean, I know some incredibly nice people, but the people who are on the same shelf others seem to place me, those nice people are no longer a part of my daily life. They live elsewhere and their lives have little to nothing to do with mine apart from the air we breathe and the resources we use, though it's safe to say, I use less.* After hearing me reject such a simple statement, a compliment for which I could have easily responded: "You're welcome," my friend told me to stop bullshitting her.

Okay, so I'm the nicest person ever, but that comes with a very heavy burden because I'm the nicest person ever to all other people I encounter, but I save few nice things for myself. Even in the things I create/draw/write...they're all for someone else's eye. I give so much of my self and my things and that's why people think I'm the nicest person they've ever met. I'm so accommodating I'm surprised it doesn't sicken people. It sure as hell sickens me sometimes. To save myself from sounding like a martyr, I'll just say: I LOVE helping people, I just wish I knew how to say: "I need to help myself right now, instead, sorry." Sometimes helping others does help me in a roundabout way but more often than not, I convince myself that the pleasure I'll gain from helping a friend is enough to sustain my needs.

It's because I learned and believed that you should always treat others the way you'd want to be treated that I've gotten myself into this mess. I've just been living a golden rule.



* That is, unless they've become more environmentally conscious.

Plans Have Changed

Artsy Kendra

I got my sketchbook in the mail yesterday and squeed myself crazy until I was able to drop all my goods from the co-op onto the kitchen table. What a pretty, pretty book. Crisp blue cover, thin and fragile pages, oh how I want to devour you. I already had plans for the evening and thus I wasn't going to start my sketchbook right away. Thankfully, the sketchbook arrived in time for two days off!

Now, I have a theme (Boys and Girls) and I have many ideas of what I'd like to do with my sketchbook, but I don't want to start before I'm officially ready. Do I want to re-bind my book with thicker paper? What will I use for a cover then? Do I want pages to unfold so there's more room to play? Lalalala, so many things to think about!

If I would have discovered The Sketchbook Project even a month ago, I would have thought it interesting but in no way would I have agreed to participate. My inner critic was mean and nasty to me, I didn't give myself to play on paper. Thankfully, I've been introduced to the world that is SARK and I am now the proud owner of SARK's Journal and Play!book. To sweeten the deal, I've created a Creativity Fort to hold my happy art supplies and it's an escape place from the blah-icks of the world.




Since building the fort, I've found out just how much I love painting. I have two brushes and I think only six paints (acrylic) and still, I'm able to create some pretty exciting things. With the exception of the past week when I was nearly six feet under the weather, I've been in my Fort every day, tinkering around. I bring my Play!book to work on days that I have forty-five minute breaks. I'm all about being crafty, artsy, etc.

Last Saturday we had a party at work. LUSH has released four new bath bombs that are pretty fantastic, definitely unique, and really do create a whole new "art of bathing." In honor of this exciting event, we decided to get a little artsy in the store as well.



I don't look all that great with a mustache, in fact, I think I look an awful lot like my father in the series of pictures that were taken in store, oh well. Thankfully, when I'm getting messy in my Fort, I look really cute and I make cute things, too:






So, that's what's been going on 'round these parts...I'll post pictures of my Sketchbook progress, don't worry!

Texas

The state is roughly the same size as France. Crazy.

I can honestly say that I never in my life thought about the possibility of ever possessing even the slightest inkling of desire to visit Texas let alone live there. Well all that changed when I met Mere. I knew before our first date that she was planning to move back to Texas at the end of the summer, that we probably wouldn't have a long-term relationship mainly because of that factor, but then we met and it just didn't make any sense for me to not join her down there.

I pay month-to-month rent and I can leave at any time.
I'm not in school so I don't have to worry about transferring credits, applications, blah blah blah.
I have a happy job, but everyone there will survive without me.
I can get up and go whenever.

We gave it a lot of thought. I'll stay here through the Holiday season so I can visit my family, pack all my belongings, and we'll hopefully bonus at work and I'll bring home some hefty chunks of change. We'll have some time to perfect the long-distance thing (though she's been traveling a little bit each month I've known her) and the absence will make our hearts grow fonder. Some people think we're pretty bold for trying the long-distance thing, but we easily point out that a few decades ago, couples maintained long-distance relationships and stayed together through thick and thin. Why should our situation be any different? AND: we have the added bonus of the lovely thing called the internet: Skype, emailing, instant messages, Facebook...we'll be fine.

Stubbornness and Determination

I made the most delicious smoothie this morning. Though places like Jamba Juice, Surf City Squeeze, and non-chain coffee shops provide really tasty fruity blended drinks to perfection, there's nothing more gratifying that doing it yourself. I should also mention, when making ANYTHING at home, you get to choose what goes into what you're making. This morning's smoothie was the most satisfying because I cracked a coconut open and used the milk as the base for my strawberry-banana smoothie. I've been known to down a smoothie nearly as fast as I'm capable of downing a glass of water after a long bike ride, but today I savored it. I gave Abbi a bit to taste since she helped me open the coconut and she agreed: pretty damn delicious.

After a few sips of my smoothie, I looked at the shell of the coconut and wondered just how I'd get the meat from the fruit. I went to YouTube, my trusty ally in most how-to scenarios. Unfortunately, my impatience and excitement won over reason and I decided that I'd just figure it out as I went. I started by scraping the meat with a fork. I certainly was getting shaved coconut, my desired outcome but at the rate I was going it would take me the full two hours I had before leaving for work to finish. Other ideas came to me and I messed around (quite literally: the table, counter and sink were covered in hairy shavings and coconut scraped bits) until I had some semblance of order. My technique helped me produce the most amount of edible coconut bits and the least amount of waste (that I could manage with the tools I was using).

As I used a spoon to pry parts of the coconut from it's shell, I thought: "This probably isn't the way anyone else would do this" "If someone saw me right know they'd laugh to high heaven" ... I was grateful that Abbi had left for the day and Jenny and James had decided to take a mid-morning nap; I was able to do whatever I pleased without anyone leaning over my shoulder. It was almost therapeutic, my method. It reminded me of how I choose to de-seed pomegranates. Certainly there are easier ways with less potential of staining various surfaces in the process, but I still choose to pull each individual seed away from it's skin, it's connection to the whole.

I'm reading The Fountainhead right now and I couldn't help but compare my fruit disassembling processes to the sketch assembly process Roark is known for. He's takes pride in his work even if it's not popular or liked at all. He refuses to do work that he knows he would be ashamed of. I like those ideals, they're quite similar to what I learned at a young age. When we had chores to do, my sister and I would often cut corners to get things done faster so we'd be able to head outside to play with our friends. When Mom would check to see what we'd done we'd often times have to re-do our task simply because it wasn't done up to her expectations. As a ten-year-old it was annoying to have to do something to someone else's standards; I didn't understand why Mom wouldn't just do the vacuuming herself if she had a particular way she wanted it done, but unlike my sister, after a bunch of times having to re-do my chores, I started doing them well, meticulously well.

Later I learned that nearly every task I'd have to accomplish would have to be done (in some way or another) to please and sometimes appease another. That realization sucked, but I'm glad that I was raised to accomplish a task that I'd want to sign my name to. There's no reward in doing things the easy way simply because it's the easiest. Tasks should be accomplished in a manner that produces the most satisfaction, the most gratification. Rarely, if ever are the two one and the same and I don't really mind that at all. I like challenges, I like to push myself and I don't mind getting dirty to get the job done.

So anyway, I've got some really strange looking coconut "shavings" and bits in a container that I'll bring to work today. I'll have what Gramps calls a "shit-eating" grin on my face while I snack on my coconut as I read more of The Fountainhead during my break.

The best way for me to get something done that I've been putting off is to stop saying: "I'll get to it" or "someday, I'll do that" and actually say, "I'm going to do this!"

Example:

Last Saturday, I was chatting with one of my co-workers about all sorts of things and somehow the topic of running came up. She told me about the Couch to 5k and how she's about to start it, planning on running in a 5k race in October. She suggested I look into it. I did and it sounded like a great way for me to ease into running instead of just deciding to pick up my pace one day.

On Sunday I mentioned to Mere and Mikey that I was thinking about training for a 5k, but I didn't go into any detail, just put it out there. On Monday I thought about it some more and decided: "For sure, I'm gonna do this!" Tuesday morning, when I was making a bacon quiche with Mikey, I made up my mind: "I am so doing this. Maybe today, maybe tomorrow."

On Tuesday afternoon, my grandmother called me to let me know that she was at Ikea. Her and Grandpa rarely make it to the Cities because they both can't sit for too long at a time, but uncle Tim drove them to the Cities for Grandpa's VA Medical Center appointment and afterwards, they wanted to check out Ikea. Thankfully, Abbi was able to give me a ride (in her beep-beep Jeep with the top down!) to Ikea on her way to work. Minutes after I met up with my family, they were joking about my shoes. I've had my Vibram KSOs for about three months now and rarely take them off. I realize that I look like I have gorilla feet, but I don't care in the least bit. I mentioned various reasons why the shoes are great and then I said: "This week I'm going to start training for a 5k." Before I went to bed that night, I decided: "Tomorrow night."

At work yesterday, I told Lauren that I was going to do my first workout that evening when I got home from work. It effortlessly floated out of my mouth and I didn't feel the need to change my mind. I was going to do it. And I did. And it felt great. And I can't wait until tomorrow night to do it again.

I'm going to keep a progress journal on Tumblr, so if you're at all interested, check it out here.

The Pizza Farm...Best Date Ever

So, it has happened. The best date ever is done and over with and will never be beat, but in case any of you want to replicate the awesomeness of the date, here's what I did:

First, I didn't let Mere know where we were going or what we'd be doing for the date. I sent her an invite as an email attachment. I told her we'd be driving an hour and a half to get there, she should wear something she wouldn't mind getting dirty and that we'd be eating something at some point during the date. That's all she knew for sure before we left Minneapolis.

Once we were on the outskirts of St. Paul, I had her fish a list out of the "inventory" bag. The list was scavengerhuntesque: someone biking, a red-winged black bird, an East coast license plate, a blue tractor, etc. For each thing she was able to cross off her scavenger hunt list, she was able to take a "clue" from an envelope. Clues like: "Though it would take them a long time to get here, TMNT would love this place" and "Mice aren't welcome in restaurants; it's a good thing this place has cats."

Periodically, she was able to take a "challenge" from another envelope. For each completed challenge, she was then able to ask a yes/no question to try to figure out where we're going or what we were doing. Most creative challenge: "For the next mile of the drive, your life is a musical. Sing-narrate your experience of the date thus far." Mere's impromptu sing-naration was brilliant and adorable and I wish I would have figured out a way to record her singing.

Eventually, she put all the clues together and discovered that we were going to a pizza farm. I described the farm a little more to her...it's a farm that makes pizzas in their outdoor brick pizza oven every Tuesday night during the summer. Everything on the pizza (except olives) is grown at the farm and every pie is made to order.

In case you don't know: farms + eating locally and organically = 2 things Mere is ALL about. I knew she'd absolutely love this date idea and sure enough, she had a blast. Getting there early is key. We were the 63rd person to order and we got there about a half an hour after they put the first pizza in the oven and when we left they were well on their way to two hundred pizzas. They don't offer plates, napkins, tables, chairs or beverages, but we were set with some iced tea and my picnic basket with plates and utensils. Others had rather elaborate spreads: tables, tablecloths, tealight candles, balloons (some people were celebrating birthdays), wine, beer, cheese spreads...

Before our pizza was finished, we took a little walk around the farm where we got to meet a few cows and some chickens. There was a bit of time when Mere walked down a row of some sort of produce and started taking pictures all around. During that time, I decided to have a little chat with the chickens: "I'm going to marry that girl some day."

We got the Italian sausage (#1) pizza. It. Was. SO. Good. I'm talking one of the best things I've ever put in my mouth, ever. If you ever get a chance to go: DO IT!

We walked our full tummies back to the car and I called my sister to let her know we were ready for the second bit of the epic date: Mere visiting (some of) my family. It took about an hour to get there. First we met Mom as she was pulling some weeds in the front yard. We walked around the house so Mere could see all the awesome landscaping Mom has done in the backyard and since Bonkers was outside, she got to meet him and see just why we call him the kitty cow.

We walked next door to see Gramma and Gramps. They showed Mere both of their gardens, explained what everything was and offered us some kohlrabi, romaine lettuce and the very first zucchini. When we went into the house, Gramps showed off some of his wooden bowls that he had been working on before his back surgery. He let Mere pick one out to keep. Jo and Carter came over and we got to play with him for awhile and Gramps shared some of his venison jerky with us. Before we left there we had our hands full with more jerky, homemade donuts, rhubarb wine, and a few other goodies. Hugs were exchanged and we headed back to Mom's

Mere got to see one of my baby pictures, had a short tour of the house, and chatted a tiny bit more with my mom before we decided that it was time for us to head back to the Cities (since we both had to work the next day). Everyone was really happy that they were able to meet Mere and I was really happy that Mere didn't freak out on me for not warning her that she was going to be meeting my family.

Yesterday Was Father's Day

I did avoid my dad while I was in town last week, but that's because he just so happened to be out of town. Yesterday, when I attempted to write a little something (on Tumblr) about my dad for Father's Day, I ended-up unloading a lot more than expected. Because it's important, I'm posting it here.

This is the only picture I could find (on the internet/my computer) of my dad and me.

I’ve sat looking at a blinking cursor for about five minutes trying to decide what to include in this post, thinking about the photograph itself, the event that happened when it was taken, everything before the event and everything after…It’s incredibly ironic that this is the only picture I could find…

For about five years of my life, I considered myself Christian though I didn’t agree with most of what I did and said when I was abiding by the Bible. When I started delving more into the metaphysical and simultaneously researching “the truth” in various religions, I realized that I’m much more agnostic than anything else, and that didn’t bother me. I’ve considered myself a spiritualist for about five years and it suits me just fine.

This past week I started reading The Year of Living Biblically by A.J. Jacobs and I’ll be finishing it tonight. It’s an entertaining and quick read. I wasn’t really expecting the book to have a really strong influence on me, but I’m pleasantly surprised to find myself wanting to get back to the daily routines that have really helped me keep my head above water: praying, meditating, living in gratitude. It’s not that I haven’t been doing these things, it’s more that I’ve been sporadically doing them when I’m desperate or so completely overwhelmed, I have nothing left to rely on.

If you see me on a day where I’ve spent fifteen minutes meditating, you’ll be pleased to find a cheerful, calm, collected person, someone you wouldn’t mind spending several hours with. Catch me on a day where I’ve obsessed over the same thought for fifteen minutes (or more, as is often the case), and you’ll still see someone cheerful, but also uncomfortably bubbly, jittery, scattered.

Let’s get back to the origin of this post: the picture of my dad and me.
We’re sitting on a bench on the deck attached to my dad’s ex-wife’s employer’s home, overlooking Lake Altoona in Altoona, Wisconsin (right next door to Eau Claire). It’s about noon in late August and I’ve just had my dad’s birth mother (who was in town for a couple of days), baptize me in the algae-covered lake. As members of my church small group stood in the water with us, Grandma babbled about informed us on the purpose and meaning of baptism, recited a few Bible verses, and dunked me under the water.

The event itself was quick and rather lackluster, but it meant so much to me. Though I physically didn’t necessarily feel any different other than being soaked in algae water, I felt amazing. For the record: from the moment I had the idea to get baptized, I knew what it meant to me and what I would be getting out of it verses what it would mean to my family and friends.

Brace yourself, I’m about to start writing way more than planned:
A couple years earlier, I tried to drown myself in a bathtub. Clearly, I didn’t accomplish my mission, and thankfully, too. About a month afterwards, I got the desire to take a bath, but as I started to fill the tub, I just couldn’t do it. A few more months went by and I tried again. It seemed as though I’d never again be able to enjoy a bath for fear that something in me would take over and I’d never get out of the tub. After a very long depression battle, I somehow got interested in metaphysics and became much more aware of what I was doing to my body: nutrition, meditation, exercise (and lack-there-of). I vowed to myself that I’d never harm myself ever again and I wanted some way to make a binding pact. Somehow, I settled on baptism.

So I emerged from the water and saw my small group, Grandma, and other friends and family clapping for me. They don’t know it, but they were clapping because I just made a pact to stay on the earth among them until my real time came. They don’t know that I was saying: hey everyone, I’m important, I deserve to be here, I’m happy that I’m alive and I’m happy that I have each and every one of you in my life.

Okay. This post was supposed to be some sort of something about Father’s Day. I don’t have the greatest relationship with my dad, but I’m reminded each time I think about my baptism and every time I see this picture, that I asked him to be there that day and he was. I forgive him for the wrongs he’s done to me in the past and I do wish we had a better relationship, but things like that take a lot of time and there’s still a lot of healing we both have left to do.

Thanks for reading all of this.

Three Days Away

Tomorrow after work, I'm driving to Eau Claire in Mere's car. I've got three new mixed CDs, a pack of Twizzlers, and if I manage to find a pair during my break, a new pair of sunglasses, to make the trip with me. I realized this morning that tomorrow will be the first time I've ever done the drive to or from Eau Claire entirely by myself. I'm pretty dang excited. I'd be even more excited if Mere was able to join me for the three days I'll be home, but that would be next to impossible as she's in China right now.

Almost every time I plan to be home for a few days in a row, I find myself wanting to get away sooner than arranged. I don't think this trip will be any different...the nice thing is: I can leave whenever I want since I don't have to arrange a ride with anyone.

Agenda:
Bake something with Gramps and Gramma
Listen to the whippoorwill and tree frogs
Spend a bunch of time with Carterbug
Eat mac-n-cheese pizza on Water St.
Get my driver's license renewed
Sleep as much as possible
Avoid my father

RANT

If you are sick, you do not belong in the kitchen, especially when I'm baking cupcakes that'll be fed to a bunch of people! And even more, when you do come out here to make your tea, you really shouldn't be touching all of my stuff that's set-up for my baking extravaganza. You're making tea? You need a mug, water, and a tea bag, plus the microwave. I have no idea how you'd find it necessary to run your dirty paws over all my ingredients (albeit still packaged)! AND! I am using a recipe and following it to a T, so there really isn't any reason why you should be leaning over my shoulder telling me how to mix some fucking batter.

I'm Comin' Out, I Want the World to Know...

I came out to my dad's adopted parents this week when I was catching-up with them on the phone. I hadn't spoken with them since early March and they were itching to know what I had been up to. I'm fairly sure they were just wondering if I had decided to go back to school in the fall or not, instead I broke the news to them that I have a girlfriend and am extremely happy with her and I told them that if I do go back to school, it'll be for massage therapy and not for English or Linguistics.

This month has been incredible. I feel so alive and happy and I don't want to hide any bits of myself anymore. I know that some of my family members either won't understand or are quite homophobic and will probably become quite uncomfortable when I come out to them, but if they truly care about me and who I am and where my life is headed, they best be hearing about my lovely girlfriend.

If you read through my Mission 101 list, you'll find a vast array of challenges, some rather puny and others quite grand-scale. Coming out to all of my family members is on that list. I've decided that it isn't quite necessary to call-up the people that I really don't ever talk to (estranged/distant relatives) just for this conversation, but for the people who have a more solid role in my life, I've got to let them know.

Since I've just told my dad's adopted parents, now that whole side of the family knows. Yay! My dad's birth mother and one of her sons also know but her other two sons and their wives and children do not. My sister, her son and I will be road-tripping to visit them during the first weekend in August. I fully intend on coming out to them while I'm there, as I haven't the slightest idea when I'll see them again. As they're quite the conservative bunch, I'm not quite sure exactly how they'll take it, but I'm prepared to have a few bible verses shoved down my throat.*

I haven't tackled my mom's siblings and their significant others and children, though the cousins do have Facebook, but that just doesn't count. I'm not so nervous about coming out to them, but I want a good time to do so. I won't be making it home anytime soon (that it looks like), so maybe I should send my aunt a letter, a response to the letter she sent me this week, but with an added coming out edge. We'll see.

However they take it, I want people to know because if they have and questions or concerns, I can answer them. If they're unsure about their opinion of homosexuality because they're ignorant, I'll educate them. Here's to hoping all goes well!


* Whenever I hear the phrase "shoved down my throat," I think about this poster. Hey, guess what? The image actually applies to this entry:

My seventh grade science teacher had this up in her room. On the first day of class that foggy September, she asked us which character wasn't going to give up. I immediately thought: "Well duh! The frog doesn't want to get eaten, so he's certainly going to struggle to make sure he doesn't get swallowed." Most of my classmates agreed but someone asked: "Well, what about the bird? He's gotta be hungry. Maybe he hasn't seen food for awhile and this is his only chance to eat to survive." Well, dang. There now, we've got a stalemate. Neither wants to die. Both are going to struggle. Someone is definitely going to be satisfied and someone is definitely going to be disappointed. It's important for me to remember this image and phrase as I'm coming out. I'm absolutely certain of my identity and I'm not going to be changed or convinced that what my lovestyle is wrong. I understand that for those people who just don't quite get how someone can be attracted to a person of the same gender, they'll not want to give-up trying to save me from what they deem a "sinful life." I may always be at a stalemate with some relatives when I come out to them, but at least I'm not going to hide myself for the comfort of someone else.

A Reflection: Men and Me

Last Saturday night, I made a few comments about my last ex to my current crush/ladyfriend. I was being honest with what I said and the comments in themselves weren't bad, but about an hour after she had left, I suddenly felt that I hadn't fully expressed myself. I hadn't teased-out the edges of the thoughts I had when I made the comments and have been pondering how to clarify things a bit more.

The last person I was in a relationship with (for the sake of my own sanity, I'm not including the girl from New York in the "people I've been in a relationship" category) was a guy. This was after I had sworn-off men, deciding that I was far too good at manipulating them. Since my attraction to women was much stronger and my connection with women has always been incredibly more electric, I didn't want to even question the possibility of a relationship with a guy. Well, last May, something changed. I met this guy and there was just something about him that turned all my thoughts upside down.

Sadly, not too long into the dating-thing we had going on, I realized that the connection wasn't really a connection. I was flattered that I was getting some attention from a kind person, and it had been a very long time since anyone had really shown interest in me romantically. I wasn't interested in him romantically and I should have told him that; instead, I became very selfish and bathed in the compliments and attention. I didn't want to open-up the possibility of becoming romantically attached myself, so I didn't share with him very personal details about myself and I soon became aware that I was putting him in a box and taking him out when I wanted to play with him. That's not an appropriate way to treat any person, especially one that starts falling in love with you. I know that I broke his heart and I am truly sorry.

So when I told my current ladyfriend that the Lite-Brite in my living room was probably the best thing that came out of my last relationship, I wasn't lying, but I was also being really insensitive. The best thing perhaps that came out of the relationship is the things I've learned about myself. Yes: I am attracted to men and I wouldn't mind being in a relationship with another guy, though it would have to be under different circumstances, and I would need to let myself open-up and run the risk of getting hurt.

I have put up this terrible stigma that I can't have a connection with a man whom I'm attracted and I don't know exactly why. Somehow, I established that I won't find that and have blocked myself off from the possibility. So here, now, I'm opening it back up, because you just never know who'll wander into your life.

Though I do have to be quite honest, I wouldn't mind it a bit if my ladyfriend was my one and only love interest for (I'm running the risk of sounding utterly cliche here) as long as we both shall live.

The Simple Life

My heart is overflowing and I simply don't have the time to tell you all the reasons why, but this morning someone posted my favorite song by The Weepies and I've since had it on repeat.




Simple Life

Can I get up in the morning, put the kettle on
Make us some coffee, say hey to the sun
Is it enough to write a song, and sing it to the birds
They'd hear just the tune, not understand my love for words
But you would hear me and know...

I want only this
I want to live
I want to live a simple life

I dreamed you first, but not so real
And every day since I found you, such moments we steal
Like little thieves, we rub our hands
And hold our hearts between them
But will you hear me and know?

I want only this
I want to live
I want to live a simple life

Move on, move on, time is accelerating
Drive on, all night, traffic lights and one ways
Move on, move on, parking violations waiting
Turn off the car, breathe the air, let's stay here

I'll kiss you awake, and we'll have time
To know our neighbors all by name, and every star at night
We'll weave our days together like waves and particles of light

I want only this
I want to live
I want to live a simple life

I want only this
I want to live
I want to live a simple life

Ignorance is Bullshit

Some say ignorance is bliss, I say ignorance is for people who would rather lazily stay in the confines of their conservative comfort-zone minds. Maybe it is blissful to live ignorantly; but I think that's a crock of shit.

It's rather frustrating to be waiting at a bus stop not knowing if you've just missed your bus or if it's a little late. Since I had forgotten my cell phone at home yesterday, I was completely unaware of what time it was when I got off the 21 to catch a 7. No one was in the bus shelter to ask, so I just hoped that I was early.

I had a song on repeat and I listened to it five times. The song is probably three minutes long; needless to say, I was standing there quite a long time before the bus arrived. As I got on the bus, I noticed the driver is one who is always late. She really takes her time, but that's mostly because she's enjoying her time chatting with her riders, which is rather endearing except when it’s complete ignorant trash.

When I sat down, I overheard the word “lesbian” so I paused my iPod and listened to the conversation. Of course I didn't get to hear everything as I had chosen to sit towards the middle of the bus, but I did hear enough to get rather upset:

“It just doesn’t make sense for a woman to be attracted to another woman.”
“I think that all lesbians once had boyfriends who didn’t treat them right.”
“And they probably had ‘Daddy issues’ too”

After awhile, I couldn’t stand hearing anything more so I pressed play and zoned out. As I got off the bus, I was told to have a good night. Out of habit, I returned the wish, but wanted to say:

“I’m a flaming lesbian who has had boyfriends who treated her really well but the fact is, I’m not sexually attracted to men but I am sexually attracted to women. And yes, I have had issues with my father, but why the hell should my relationship with my dad have anything to do with who I want to fuck?”

If something like this happens again, I'm going to speak-up. Unless someone is told otherwise, they'll continue to believe the myths that have been created to make some sort of sense out of the unknown, the strange, the seemingly impossible. If I merely get worked-up when people share ignorant thoughts or ideas that I could somehow correct, I am morally obligated to do so unless I want to end-up seething about it. If I let the ignorance continue, I haven't done my part to debunk the myths, to provide truth and education. So, from here on out, I'll do my best to make some sort of statement. It may start an argument, but perhaps that person will see how upset they've made someone by the comments they were making. Maybe they'll decide to keep their thoughts to themselves. Or maybe their opinions will change if given adequate education.

"We're Going to Tasty Yum-Yums in Our Jam-Jams" --Cassie

Frosty Treats in Marquette, Michigan has opened their doors windows for the season!

This small image might not mean much to you, but it does to me. I lived only a couple blocks away from this lovely little shop during my summer at the Ohio House. The best days went something like this: Ella would get home early from work, Cassie would have the day off, and I’d be just finishing up something or other for Platform and we’d take a walk to the lake. We always brought our shovel and pail so we could collect any found beach glass. Lilacs were always borrowed on our walk home to add some lovely fragrance to the house. We liked eating light dinners, usually some really good cheeses, crusty rosemary bread dipped in balsamic vinnegar and olive oil, and some fresh fruit and veggies. After listening to an Ella Fitzgerald record and watching an episode of Firefly, we’d count some change, put our pjs on, slide our toes into some sandals, and then walk to Frosty Treats for a tasty dessert.

Though the line at Frosty Treats can seem daunting as you approach, you soon forget how long you’ve been standing around because you bump into people you know. They wonder and ask why you’re in your pjs and you reply: “Well, why not?” That answer seems to cure everyone’s curiosity and they are incredibly envious that you have the luxury of walking to Frosty Treats whenever you wanted.

Discovering that Frosty Treats has opened-up for the season makes me incredibly homesick. I MUST make a trip to Marquette before fall.

And so it is, I have discovered my muse!

I imagine you'll find it ironic that I write no more on the subject.

Tweaking

I think the reason why I love "You've Got Mail" so much is because I'm so much like Tom Hank's character, Joe Fox, when he's getting to know Meg Ryan, Kathleen Kelly's character better. We as the audience know that he's getting to know her better and he's making himself more attractive to her. He's making her fall for him, making her unsure of how she feels for this internet friend of hers because there's an amazing guy right in front of her.

This is what I do. I get chummy with someone, babble about how much I like someone and how I'd like to be with them, but really I'm just trying to get the girl to admit she's a bit envious that I'm liking someone else.

It's like shooting fish in bucket or barrel, however the saying goes.

I'm pathetic.

I Like Dating

It must have been about two years ago when I decided to take myself out on a date once a month. I don't really know where the idea came from necessarily, I wouldn't be surprised if I borrowed it from a book, play or film, but from wherever the inspiration came, I have thoroughly enjoyed treating myself each month. It's a practice of self-esteem and confidence boosting and it gets me out of the house.

Sometimes I plan my date nights in advance, but that's usually only if there's an event that I'd like to go to. Typically I find myself with extra time in a week and then plan to take myself out. About ten minutes before the end of my shift yesterday, my boss asked me what special plans I had for the rest of the day. I admitted that I have a library fine that I have to take care of and once that's done I wasn't quite sure what I'd do. I honestly had no other plans, but as I passed the Edina Cinema on my way home, I thought about taking myself out to the movies.

I took a nice nap on the bus and woke-up just before my stop at the downtown library. Walking into the building, I braced myself for what I feared a tremendous fine and a heavy dose of embarrassment. What I was met with was a terribly long line and only two people working behind the counter. Though I had the patience to wait in the line, I wasn't quite sure how patient everyone else behind me would be when I'd have to go through the process of not only paying my fine but also getting a new library card since I haven't the slightest idea where mine decided to hide in my room. Needless to say, I didn't even step foot into the line.

Instead, Gatsby* and I got cozy in the cafe. I sipped my chai tea latte while I researched showtimes at nearby theaters and I also jotted down a few upcoming concerts I'd like to see. Since I was uncertain if I should see "The Ghost Writer" with Ewan McGregor and Pierce Brosnan or Colin Firth's "A Single Man," I asked Tumblr what I should do. It seemed pretty unanimous.

At home I gussied-up, ate a tuna sandwich and tried to soothe my pre-date jitters. I honestly don't know what it is, but I still get all giddy about taking myself out. Though I thought I had timed my bus ride perfectly, the 7 was just leaving the stop as I left my house. Thankfully I had plenty of time to walk to Lake Street to catch the bus to Uptown without a problem. Even though it was drizzly and a bit chilly, I didn't wear my hat as a hathair preventative. That was probably a dumb idea, but I'd do the same thing if I were going out on a date with another lovely lady, so I didn't mind it too much.

I, a single woman on a date with herself, bought a ticket to see "A Single Man." I didn't get anything from concessions for three reasons:
1) I worked at a movie theatre in high school and cannot stand eating popcorn
2) Everything is overpriced
3) I smuggled in Cadbury Mini Eggs, Reese's Easter Eggs, and Caramel deLite Girl Scout cookies

The film was incredible. I especially enjoyed the cinematographer's choice of fading and/or intensifying color depending on the scenario taking place. Though he's a good actor, before seeing this film, I never would have called Colin Firth a brilliant actor, but that's how I'll refer to him from now on. And Julianne Moore! Let's take a moment to reflect on how stunning she is...yes, completely and utterly stunning. Matthew Goode without his English dialect? At first I was put-off by this, but then I fell in love with him again and was almost convinced that he was indeed American. Then I remembered that doesn't make any sense at all because he's on my list of English men I adore. Colin Firth is on the list too. Why did I even question going to "The Ghost Writer" over this film? Oh yes, that's because of my undying love for Ewan McGregor.

Yes, so anyway, the film was wonderful and I came home with a smile on my face. Date night success. It was such a success that I decided to take myself to the MIA today before I go to work. The only problem with this plan is my laziness. It's such a dreary day and I'd much rather just stay curled-up until the very last minute before catching my bus. Tomorrow will be a much better day to go to the MIA anyway. I don't typically like doing something that keeps me on my feet for a few hours before being kept on my feet at work for six and a half hours.

MiMi and Me

Last night when I got off the bus, there was a kitty sitting at Matthew's Park, watching me. It was almost as if she was waiting for me. When I got to the walk leading to my front door, I turned and saw the kitty sitting right behind me. She continued to follow me to the front step where I knelt down and pet her and asked her where she belonged. She hadn't a collar but her fur wasn't matted and it was very clear that she's an indoor cat.

As I fumbled for my key, I noticed that she had let herself in the screen door behind me. It doesn't latch so she just pawed it open. I let her into our house and introduced her to my housemates. After playing with her for about ten minutes, we brought her back outside and went to the neighbor's house to ask if they knew where she belonged. Surprisingly, the first house we stop at is her home. We learned her name is MiMi and she likes to roam around outside when the weather is nice.

Tonight when Abbi returned from work, MiMi was waiting for her and again she was welcomed into our house for a few minutes. Later in the evening, Matt came home and MiMi must have seen him come in because in a few moments we heard mewing, a request for us to let her in. For the past twenty minutes she's been lying on my legs, sleeping.

This is love.