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.