no doubt, get loud

I dig you, darling.

Would you please get the fuck out

of my head awhile?

The earth I trudge on

groans, shrieks cautiously, and sighs,

reminders anew.

June 2005, Redondo Beach, California.

Minutes before I moved to Las Vegas.

All I can do now

is pretend I cannot hear,

save for the gavels.

export/import

The consensus lately amongst folks who take time to zero in is this: I'm tired.


Those folks happen to be right. I'm tired emotionally, often tired physically, and my spirit suffers. I'm considering my options, and actively seeking correction for each offense.






Some backstory. I would consider myself to be a bit of a caretaking sort with people I get to know on a deep personal level, be it friendship or otherwise. I believe it's something I inherited from my late gran, and chose to keep around in my behaviour.


While we may not be able to help in ways that matter to modern society (read: material items we crave), we offer help in ways that people need but cannot or do not typically voice. A shoulder to lean on, a sympathetic but non-coddling ear, warm words, a hug. A genuine many-volted smile. These gestures are extensions of our very core, things that we do for the sake of furthering someone's well-being.






I may never know, but I do wonder if my gran grew weary of this sort of routine at certain intervals. To give, you must take out of yourself, being fully aware that you may never see those portions return. 


Investing in others is risky business, though that is not always obvious. Hindsight burns, and we begin to doubt. Our idea of 'wise choice' becomes skewed, compromised. We blame ourselves for bad situations.

July '11, Trout Lake, Vancouver, British Columbia

Reflection is vital. Survival is good temporarily, but in the long run we must find something better to sustain us. Living, giving and not losing too much of our identity, spirit, and ambition must endure.

dashed with salt

There's something to be said for 'aha!' moments. They don't come often, but they come swiftly. You recognize 'em instantly when they arrive.

I've had most of my 'aha!' moments in school, primarily during math or philosophy classes (or both, if you consider that stray Intro to Logic course). I usually get a creeping sensation up the back of my neck which eventually reaches my head and won't stop until the final point of impact.

Crack.

'Aha!' I've got it.

Why didn't I see that before?

When I'm not experiencing that from school, I'm getting it from people.



Someone I am getting to know gave me that creeping sensation, especially when she told me we had a person in common. A person in common, with a heavy (albeit brief) kind of history. I browsed a few photos online, and there it was. A thought sparked and scrambled out of one photo, and into my head. It branched as far as it dared.

Oh.

Ah.

Aha! It became a memory.



All I can say is that the world can be a very small place at times. Be as kind to the people around you as you can manage; you never know when they'll show up to teach you something later.

The lessons don't ever stop. The best ones don't cost any money at all.

open your eyes. it's a beautiful day.

Being somewhat shy of 30 years old, I still (hopefully) have time to change my mind. Despite that, two things I want for certain are as follows:

1. I want to do good. Good in general, and not a poor substitute for saying 'I want to do well'. Not good for the sake of being good, but because I want to. I want to exude positivity as much as possible.
2. I want to be remembered. Not necessarily for being good, though I definitely would not be averse to that. If someone cares for me, it'd be nice to know that I cross their mind once in a while, whether I'm living or have passed on.

19 Sept '11, the fridge in my aunt's home, Woodland Hills, California

Anchor and I returned from our Los Angeles trip last evening. I departed with the feeling that I'd accomplished above points one and two without much energy at all. Granted, I probably could have done a lot less drinking, but that's a tiny drop (pun slightly intended) in an ocean of activity.

20 Sept '11, Point Fermin, San Pedro, California

When I traded the Southwest for the Northwest, I felt relieved. Indignant, even. It took more of me than expected to adhere to this long-term plan of moving and actually seeing it through, and it made be a tad bitter. I honestly let myself forget about LA for a while, even with all the online contact with others. 

I made a thousand miles seem like three times that number. I had to, as a defense mechanism for the way certain interactions had affected me.

The distance was necessary. Perhaps it still is, in some aspects that shall go unnamed for the moment. There's loads to sort out.

It has taken a few trips, a couple of years, and interacting with a delicate number of people, but I have finally come to appreciate southern California in full. It was home to me, and remains such for friends and family I value. I'd be a fool not to acknowledge these facts.

Frustrations about the city I lived in were minimal compared to the frustrations about the life I was living, the parts of myself I stifled. It's better to have realized that sooner than later, and I'm grateful for the closure I was so desperately seeking without being fully aware of it.

bending in the wind

I've mostly felt celebrated because of my physical features.


Perhaps that assertion isn't entirely fair; some have praised me for the role I play or once played in their lives. Daughter. Sister-of-sorts. Girlfriend. Confidant.


While it's wonderful to have the attention of others, it's frustrating having it if you're going to be put in some sort of categorial corner incessantly. It seems silly to lament the whole thing, doesn't it? We all do it to some degree.


I have come to recognize when certain people do it, whether consciously or not. Most of all, I am able to point out when I do it. It does make communication easier if you crave brevity, but it leaves lots of gaps as a result. The more gaps you leave, the harder it gets to fill them.


For the most part, I don't want to be a bother, so I don't mention that I'd prefer not to be called some things by just anyone. I shrug it off, and continue about my day.


This acquiescence may be seen as submitting, or even closeted behaviour. Be that as it may, I haven't got the time/patience to take issue with everyone that associates words or phrases with me out of their convenience.






I am alluding to gender.


I believe I have a mid-gender crisis, and I don't know how to convey this to people in a way that each of them (or even a good number) will understand. I'm still working it out myself.


Mind you, I said 'mid-gender'.


Genderqueer, or even genderblind, as I told a friend tonight. Neither male nor female. Don't want bottom surgery, but wouldn't mind top surgery if binding gets too tedious and if I can afford it.


That's right, surgery. I've thought it through that far.

Summer 2007, Los Angeles (Koreatown)

But there we are with the labels again. It all sounds so stereotypical to say 'I don't follow the norm', which is why I don't tend to say it. Saying such a thing would beg the question, 'what is normal?' and would you believe it, there are loads of ways one can answer. Fancy that!


All I know is that I wish to be appreciated for my non-physical traits first, and possibly forever. I also know the aforementioned is a lofty goal. It can't hurt to attempt to communicate that, and to tell those around me that femme is an act for me, a dramatic role. Femininity is a rare dish.

Summer 2007, Los Angeles (Downtown)

I'm working hard to find a balance while staying true to my core, as it evolves and takes shape -- that often starts simply keeping content with wearing the stuff I feel most comfortable in. I welcome opening up a dialogue with anyone who wishes to know more, and I feel as though I still have so much more to learn about this journey I'm currently on.

I won't cram my non-gender down your throat if you won't cram yours down mine. Deal?

water running dry

he kissed me much like that of a dying fish --

vapid, cold eyes, 

pungent body desperately flouncing about 

in the hopes 

that something significant might occur.

November 2009, Edgewater Park, Mount Vernon, Washington

spear in hand,

I deftly killed the fish

without so much as blinking. I

pierced the most tender part of him

and watched his existence fade out.

the property of closure

There comes a time where you have to stop whatever it is you're doing to think. 


You breathe in, and as you slowly, deliberately exhale, admit "my cup runneth over."


Good.


Now, how do you figure out what to do with that knowledge?








I seem to have some awkward perpetual bond with my very first love. I've been able to dispel most of the energy from other lovers, if I've felt it necessary. Not this one.


It's awkward in the sense that we've been broken up for a couple of years now, yet frequently talk to one another with a timid warmth indicative of a connection that has been worked on at length by dedicated parties. (Our conversation is also occasionally seasoned by the hurt we've placed upon each other over this time; let's not forget.)


Awkward in the sense that we'd had an off-again, on-again unparalleled romance over the course of the near decade that we've known each other. 


Awkward in the sense that the closest we've ever been to each other is when we decided to travel by plane or other mode of transportation. We do seem to have a knack, however, for tucking away and carrying memories in our pockets, which fly out and screech "hey! look at me!" right at moments when we've finally started to believe we've moved on.

April 2009, Griffith Park, Los Angeles, California

I think we've both made good-to-honest strides to distance ourselves from each other, because that's the healthy thing to do.* I'm in a long-term relationship with Anchor, someone I find myself even more smitten with today than when our friendship first began to take on much stronger, meaningful connotations. First Love is actively dating in his area.

It's hard to find a balance. Because this person still means so much to me, I don't wish to push him away. My life would be darker without him, no two ways about it. Still, I can't imagine how hard this has been for Anchor to process, mostly silently. I think about the crap he's had to take from me, my insecurities and my past, and I find it amazing he's around.

June 2010, private home, Portland, Oregon

The feeling of a stalemate on this subject is difficult to ignore. It leaves me frustrated, and I'm sure I'm not the only one. I have a habit of wanting to hammer at something until a solution produces itself, but not everything works out in that uniform a way. I may have to act somewhere in between being practical and being honest in the near future, and the part of me that chooses to act with my heart will absolutely hate the shit out of it. 


I can only hope that all of us come out of this as unscathed as possible, which seems silly seeing as pain has been entering from every avenue since this rift has formed.


I don't have all the answers. I was so sure I did as a kid, but boy was I wrong. Perhaps no one really does.

*While I have been in open relationships for years now, there are some lines that can't and shouldn't be crossed. Sometimes you have to choose, and live with whatever consequences may come with that choice. I have, and I am, and overall... I think I'm OK.

sticks & stones

It goes without saying that in social circles, reputation can be very important.

It's pleasing to be able to offer references to others (if deemed necessary) when coming into their world to reassure them that you're good people, whether it's for public or private events, business or casual. It's even better when you don't have to do it yourself, because mutual acquaintances and/or friends are so excited at the prospect of getting so much positive energy into a single space.

What do you do if you've had one not so rosy experience with a person, though? Two? Three? 

Would references work the converse way, where you'd warn friends about said person/people? Would it depend on the severity of the experience(s)?

Luckily, I haven't had very many bad experiences to speak of. 

If I have issues with someone directly, it may take me a moment to vocalize, but I usually attempt to sort them out with the person involved. While I don't see the harm in kvetching occasionally, I tend not to mention more benign things to friends that aren't involved unless asked, or unless they build up over time.

However, if I feel that folks I care about could be in danger as a result of interaction with Person X, I'd be inclined to tap them lightly on the shoulder, share my story, and let them draw their own conclusion.

That last bit is vital: let them draw their own conclusion.

It is absolutely not my intention to come across as a pushover of my own agenda, or to make it seem as though my friends can't take my words with a grain of salt. 

It's essential, as someone who knows me, that you make use of your own common sense.

My experiences may not be your own. That's the big hope, actually -- your experiences should not mirror my own, especially if mine were negative.

It's a delicate process, talking about people in general. 

It's increasingly fragile ground if your primary outlet in which to do so is the internet, which leads to loads of conjecture.

Comments spread like wildfire, so be careful about the matches you choose to ignite, when and where you throw them. The damage is oftentimes irreversible.

cities in common

Since last spring, I've completed two week-long trips to Boston. I might have just a tiny crush on the city.

I'd say that any time less than a week there wouldn't be fair - there's lots to take in (especially if you're from the west coast, as I am). Hell help you if you have people you know in the general Northeast area, not to mention if you happen to be travelling with someone who hails from the Northeast itself.

Boston is filled with gorgeous sights if you're lucky to catch it on a non-gloomy day, as is the case with the Northwest. Missing a glimpse of the Charles River is unacceptable. Taking the T can be quite the adventure in itself (as I can personally attest to after many mishaps on the Red). You'll also find yourself among some amazing food and drink, and insanely aggressive drivers. It is definitely a good time.


I did my second trip with my Anchor a week ago. It was a good time to take advantage of the opportunity to visit Connecticut for the first time, meet some new people and absolutely unparalleled new visions.

I have to say that the stuff I liked best about this Northeast trip were the chances I got in reconnecting with others - people who, for the most part, I'd met during my many years living in Los Angeles.

I am going to talk about three of them.



Gingerbread came to Boston on account of school, and is very passionately working at it.

He is one of the most mature teenagers I've had the pleasure of meeting, probably the result of lots of personal growth. Folks like Gingerbread just go to show you that people should not be immediately judged on the number of their years. I left our interactions feeling glad I'd reached out, and made a mental note to do more of it in the future.


Bubble made a short trip to meet me in Boston. Most of the time he was away soaking up the environment with an exciting new mademoiselle. He has the talent of coming off as full of positive energy, and he surrounds himself in a great percentage of it. I'd forgotten how easily he makes me smile with such little effort. It was truly a treat to chat with him, and I'm grateful the effort was made.


Last Chance was the one I ended being the most excited about, in the end. I'm not sure why, but our history in Los Angeles was fairly intense. Our correspondence hasn't always been strong, and I felt slightly disappointed when he chose his new home as Boston over Seattle (for obviously selfish reasons).

I can't explain why a casual trot turned into a good-to-honest sprint for a hug - in a hipster restaurant, no less. It didn't matter. I became captivated all over again, in the middle of a table of six, and digested more personal stories than I did any of the delectable food.



My last year in Los Angeles happened to be one of my most miserable. Bubble and Last Chance both contributed to bits of happiness I managed to snag along the way, so seeing them one after the other was overwhelming in the end.

I would do it all again.

I most likely will.



Boston being Anchor's old stomping grounds, it goes without saying that a trip to Los Angeles is long overdue. I suspended the idea of doing it in May because I felt going for an extended weekend wasn't enough for me. There are even more people to see than the ones I hooked up with (and didn't) in Boston, family, and those in between.

I don't regret leaving Los Angeles. It was time. Despite that, it is always good to return home for a while - a home in which I struggled, fought, sweated and bled. While I have forgiven all of those responsible (myself included), I don't risk forgetting the hard times, else I won't recognize the better ones when they come about.

W × L

When one of the last guys with camera I worked with told me that in editing the photos he'd done he'd taken the liberty of softening the areas where my stretch marks were I was almost horrified, but not for the reason(s) one might think.


It surprised even me: I was almost horrified because the immediate reaction to my stretch marks on his (and likely most folks') part was to hide them. I found that I didn't really want that, but did not end up protesting the action.


It may have to do with the fact that I have only recently acquired these, perhaps even grown used to them by now. 


I never dreamed I could gain weight, let alone have stretch marks.


Before I moved to Seattle I was ~three sizes smaller, unhealthy in fact, and not eating very well at all. Several years prior in high school I was quite honestly malnourished, anorexic. I hid myself in the baggiest clothes imaginable.






These days I have a wee bit of a tummy. It happened gradually, as my availability and quality of food improved in my coming up northwest.


Some days I'm not sure how to feel about that. I rummage through my clothing, frustrated, late for something, exhausted. Most of my clothes are made with tinier, flatter girls in mind, so parts of me give garments rounded shapes.


I can work it, though. I do. I watch so many others around me become positively radiant in the ways they carry themselves -- people I don't know, people I do. It gives me something to look forward to. It makes me smile.






With this, some other things must change, unfortunately. 


A good number of the people I'd like to shoot with have size requirements; a woman in Portland can't (or won't) shoot any females over size 6, and I don't think I'll ever be that again. I still continue to admire her work.


I have to usually make a point of asking photographers if they have limits to save us both the hassle of having to cancel appointments later.


I have realised that around the double digit dress size is usually when cute clothes become harder to find and more expensive, and when demand wanes.


I'm past the point of being broken up about it. Luckily I've encountered some who are willing to take me on, and even one who insisted he wanted to work with me as I am. It's for the chance to have more of those cases that keep me pressing on.






When things seem really awful and I discover that I've yet to shake the 'skinny is the only shape that is worthwhile and appealing' mindset, I remember precious moments of being silly with my friend Jamie. We grab our bellies, move them about, and have a good laugh.


The growth represents to me a graduation of sorts, from a lack of regard for myself to living a rich, more fulfilled life. I welcome it.


Beauty is encompassed in a number of diverse houses, and we should spend more time celebrating that instead of building a box round a few prim blocks.

out of the dark

To say 'it's not easy letting one person into your life' is quite the understatement. Truly. 


For many, it's impossible to let in more than one - a deal breaker, unspeakable, morally wrong, joked about. On the same token, I've read articles from seemingly militant polyamorous folks who feel that monogamy is 'stupid'. (Dan Savage, Monogamy vs Commitment)


It's a sensitive subject.


I'll count myself fortunate that the friends who've asked about my experiences with multiple partners (and are monogamous) have done so gently and respectfully. I try to answer every question as best as I can, and return that respect.


We humans are notoriously curious, after all; as long as there's no malice behind the curiosity, what's the harm in supplying the knowledge?


I cannot and will not in any way claim to be an expert on the matter, though. 


Whether you're monogamous or not, spending time with each lover is different. Each connection yields a multitude of feelings and lessons. Venturing into one relationship or more blindly is not recommended. (I can tell you that frankly, having unfortunately done so myself. Do yourself a favor - don't learn this the hard way, please! Study up. Ask questions.)






My last break-up was a rather nasty one. That can't be denied. Our modes of communication were not working well together and there was stress frequently, which began to affect me elsewhere. With that in mind, I took it upon myself to go slowly next time, at the pace I wanted to go, or one that was at least in sync with others in the relationship.


'Next time' came sooner than I expected. I met Shiny Girl briefly at a casual local women's poly and kink friendly event chatted me up online, which turned into meetings over meals, then watching feel-good movies snuggled up in private. Conversation laced with the occasional smile and nervous tripping over words ensued; generally a good time.


To be honest, I was all ready to distance the interaction at a friendship, but her efforts gave impetus to a deeper-than-surface bond. The more I talked to her, the more I wanted to know.


Shiny Girl's teaching me what it's like to be selfless without being entirely aware of it, which is just wonderful. She's also opening me up without pushing too hard, something I needed in another love interest. It has been nearly three years since my last serious girlfriend...


What's more is that my Anchor (whom I've been with for about 2 years now) gets on well with her, something that didn't have the chance to blossom with my ex. I feel a wave of relief come over me when I discuss Shiny Girl with him, and I don't have to remind him who she is. We've all met, spent time together, conversed online. I hope that we can do more of it soon.


No one is in a rush to achieve any ultimate goal. We can just go forward at a leisurely gait.


It's very early and I dare not press on this for fear of jinxing it, but I am very, very happy.






No, it's not easy. Hardly any of the best things are, but they're worth fighting for/working on if you think they are. It helps if you're not the only one in a party feeling that way.

know where your towel is. know when to throw it.

I've never been very good at hiding my feelings. They've developed a nasty habit of bleeding into the expressions on my face and into the words I say, as well as the behaviour I display. This has gone on ever since I can recall.


Sometimes I fool myself into thinking I'm a great pretender. It helps to get knocked down a peg or two by people that see otherwise.






It has been brought to my attention that when I get presented with bad news, I often shut down. I've become comfortable with the idea of going off alone for an undetermined amount of time to think about the steps that led to the bad news, and how to deal with it better should it happen again. I don't want to burden other people with my problems.


I am slowly coming to the realisation that I need to change the way I process. I need to understand that the people around me DO care, and that I should share what I'm feeling with them because they want to be there for me when I need them. So far friends of mine and loved ones alike have taken time out of their busy lives to offer advice and console me where necessary.


(Thank you. I really appreciate your efforts and you've helped immensely. You know who you are.)






The way I've been dealing with stress has been much the same. I failed to see the destruction my methods were doing. When I'm having it rough, it affects my everyday life, including my interaction with others.


My paramour has been asked by mutual acquaintances of ours, "Is Brandy okay?" or "Did I do something to upset Brandy?"




Now, this isn't very fair, is it? Actions I imagined to be harmless to others having the converse effect. To me that reads "CHANGE THIS. NOW." Urgent stamping and all.


Change doesn't come easy for me. What good or mandatory thing ever does? It's part of being an adult. Hopefully sorting this out will allow me to put some positive energy into the people I care about in turn, so that they know I can be there for them too. One day at a time.




Onward and forward we go.

rekindling old flames & the grateful train

I would call myself a hopeful romantic. It's easy for me to see the positives of a pairing possibility.


I walk into new ventures with plenty of smiles and my head held high. I listen, ask questions frequently, and am enthusiastic. 


I can say with no ego that my tenacity is astounding when I apply it; I like the chase and I'm good at seeing an end to it when I've decided I want to commit to something more.


The surges of energy are my favourite part. Goodness knows that my last long-term (long-distance) relationship had no shortage of 'em. The mind and body are more likely to go into overdrive after long periods of pleasure denial and short periods of desire fulfillment.






While the aforementioned's cheery and all that, the not-so-great aspects beg mentioning as well.


1. I have a habit of leaping before I look. I'm the sort that enjoys having her head in the clouds, but typically the result of that is learning the repercussions of such the hard way.


2. I often find myself doing things I don't want to do. Instead of attempting to strike up some sort of compromise that might include benefits for each person involved, I have a habit of letting others get their way because I believe I'll ruin everything if I don't. It's irrational, this fear, and I've already modified my behaviour to put this issue to rest (after lots of practice).


3. I overextend myself. The three all tie in, you see. New prospects are fairly exciting, and it's not uncommon to throw myself into the fray without considering that I may need some 'me' time. This may be the most common trait I share with others involved in similar romantic situations. It also may be the most difficult to rectify, as it comes into play elsewhere.






About 80% of this goes out the window if the romantic venture is a reconnection. The events leading up to the severing of ties previous is usually at the forefront of my mind. Paranoia. Second guessing.


It is likely that a rekindling will not see much success because of all of the things it has going against it, namely its history. Even if you get past that, there may be unexpected bumps in the road that are ill-handled. The damage can be irreparable. Fingers get pointed.


In times of frustration, anger or general pain, the first instinct fallacy (paraphrasing: 'your first instincts are your most correct') can easily come into play. For me, telling myself 'it's not my fault' is a coping mechanism to deal with the aftereffects of a break-up. Blaming others for the downfall of a relationship isn't necessarily the best idea. There needs to be some analysis, support from friends and/or family, and a period of mourning.






One behaviour change begets another. In changing Not-So-Great Aspect no. 2, I didn't realize that other changes would be affected. 


Mourning does not seem to be as important as it used to be; it expends tons of energy needed to do daily life tasks and enjoy people and activities. It is not altogether useless, especially if the history is long and intense, but there needs to be a cull at some point.




My experiences reconnecting with people on a romantic front has taught me a great deal, though I am no longer so keen on dating anyone from my past. 


The best I can do is try to keep some kind of platonic, warm tie alive with folks I've known very personally and intimately -- this is not always an available option, mind you. The best I can be is open about my shortcomings in the hopes that I can eventually sort them out. Sometimes only another person can reveal what these shortcomings are.






A close friend of mine recently said, "The day I stop learning, I die." I'm inclined to agree with her.

keep in touch: black hair, representation & question marks

I've been dabbling in different hairstyles and colours ever since I felt I could safely get away with it. For me, the start of the experimentation began several years ago, long after I'd moved away from living with parental figures in the 'burbs, and during college studies in a big city. I also happened to work in an environment that allowed for me to explore various hair dyes and lengths without being fearful of losing my position.


As I am living out the last few years of my twenties, I decided to go in a new direction - that of natural promotion of hair growth, and no more breaking down of hair via chemical straighteners such as relaxers. (I am undecided on hair straightening combs.)


Early last fall, I hacked off most of the hair I'd dyed purple previously and since then have been developing a small afro. I shop around for different conditioners suited to curly hair, various earthy balms and oils to massage into my scalp, etc. Only recently have I decided to share my progress in picture form on some of the more known social networking sites. It yielded a rather interesting message from someone dear to me in the past:

for much of the time I knew you (especially the earlier years) I always sorta had this feeling like you were somehow repressing/ignoring/whatever your race/ethnicity/heritage. I get the feeling these days that you're more in touch with yourself (and, for better or worse, that tends to be a part of it), and I'm happy for you for that.

My initial reaction was to smile about it and say thank you. Days later I still feel as though that was the proper action to take, while also admitting that there were some elements of me that I was hiding within the jars of Manic Panic/squeeze bottles of Special Effects dye.


To be honest, it's difficult for me to attempt to represent what my nationality seems outwardly because I don't truly know it. I've been so curious about it at times I made up stories to suit me, which understandably led to a bit of trouble.


I was adopted at age six. I've no clue about the people who contributed to my birth, nor the alleged siblings. Usually, tackling serious life constraints have taken precedent over finding out any of this information, but now that things seem to be ironing out again, perhaps I can trudge forward with at least obtaining papers on medical information.




Back on point to the note I received. I DO feel I am more in touch with who I am as a person. I am definitely less introverted, but I have a long way to go before anyone will call me outgoing.


I don't think I need funky hair colours to represent anything or get people to pay attention to me, but I still think of dyed hair as a lot of fun (and like most hair decisions, a pain in the arse to maintain)! Perhaps I'll return to it in a while; I don't pretend to know. I enjoy where I am now, and that's enough.