Archive | June, 2014

Acceptance

22 Jun

I wrote a post a while back about not needing to define myself with labels. I still feel labels are meaningless. They aren’t a definition of who we are, just a generic way to try to explain ourselves.

I also talked in that post about how I had never felt the need to try to define myself to my parents, particularly concerning my sexuality. This has been on my mind a lot as of late.

I was recently blessed to be part of a wedding of two dear friends I have made since moving to Arizona. These ladies are committed and beautiful human beings who I feel enhance my life more than I would have imagined. They are those friends you meet and become close almost instantaneously and know they are important practically from the start.

Sharing in their special day was exhilarating for many reasons. First, because we live in an age where it is becoming more acceptable for anyone who loves each other to express that love how they choose (Side note, the day before their wedding ceremony which was to be held in Wisconsin and then legalized later that week in Minnesota, Wisconsin passed a bill which would allow same-sex marriages to be legal in that state. Cool, right!). Second, because this particular wedding was so life affirming, and on a more personal level, I was genuinely happy for them with no taint of any other misgivings.

A week later, I was skyping with my parents for Fathers’ Day and they asked about my trip. They knew I had gone to a wedding, but they also knew I had gone with Michigan, and we had made a detour on the way back to go to Chicago. Knowing my parents, I focused less on the wedding and more on Michigan and the rest of the trip.

My mother, however, had other ideas. She did not ask about the wedding itself, but rather posed the question, “So, why did they feel the need to get married?” To which my response was, “Why did you and dad get married?” As you can imagine this is going nowhere good. Her response was, “Well, hunny, because your father and I were a boy and a girl.” “No, mom you did not get married because you were a boy and a girl, you got married because you loved each other and wanted to share that with your friends and family before God.”

And the spiral continued until we were yelling at each other.

I take what she says personally. She doesn’t know why, because she doesn’t know me. I don’t need her to know me to be happy, but this week I have been mulling over whether I haven’t told them I am not as straight as they think I am because of the reasons I have written previously, or because deep down I know that if I did, she would never accept me and arguments like this one would only get worse.

It is an odd feeling to know on some level your mother wouldn’t love you as much if she really knew who you were.

I am almost 27 years old, shouldn’t I have already gotten past this life crisis?

In truth, it is not just my sexuality they wouldn’t understand, it is all of it. In analyzing how we interact, it is because they don’t know me that we are allowed to continue as we do. I move farther and farther away to avoid dealing with it. The farther I am, the less they need to know. I wonder sometimes if they even know how clueless they are.

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YA Fiction, Elitism, and the Culture of “Should”

11 Jun

This is put beautifully and I agree wholeheartedly. Read what you want and love what you read!

Count My Stars

By now I’m sure nearly everyone in the writing world has read or heard about the Slate piece on how adults should be embarrassed/ashamed to read Young Adult literature. (I’m not going to link to it, because I refuse to give them the clicks.)  I couldn’t possibly have missed it – when I checked Twitter on Thursday morning, my timeline was a seething mass of fury. And I… well, went off implies a brief explosion. This took place over the course of nearly three hours, prompting what I consider one of my top five greatest honors of my entire internet history:

Image

And, you know what? It was. When I get up a good head of steam on some righteous anger, it looks a little like this:

ImageMore often than not, I’m reduced to outraged sputtering, but every now and then I am able to find and use my words, and…

View original post 1,272 more words

Chapter Something

5 Jun

The door opens and as LP enters, I can’t help but stare menacingly at her and take another sip, realizing that the drink in my hand, my third, is probably stronger than I intended.

“Hey, whatcha doing?”

“Michigan proposed today.”

LP stares at me astonished.

“I don’t know what is wrong with me. All I could do was stare and immediately felt like all I wanted to do was drink, curl up in a ball and listen to extremely loud indie music. Something is wrong with me. I mean shouldn’t I be overjoyed and telling all my friends? I just wanted to be happy, say yes and live my life with the guy I know I should be with. Then my brain kicked in and Mr. Wrong and HB flew in and took away my ability to speak. How do I explain that to Michigan, better yet how do I just get over myself and be less….stupid?”

This is a reoccurring fantasy I keep having. I am at the stage I have begun to wonder what I would do if Michigan proposed. I know I am no ready and in reality we aren’t there yet, but what will it take for me to be ready when we are there?

I heard a quote the other day that when we are living in the past we can’t live in the present…or something. Which is true, but what happens when a part of you feels like you need to make amends to your past before you can embrace what is next? Even more complex, what if making amends really isn’t an option and trying to do so may actually just make things worse?

When Michigan and I started, all I could see was him. The joyously bubbly feelings were overwhelming enough to forget. As the air has settled, I find it hard to think about a future with Michigan without remembering the regrets of my past. They may have been necessary for me to become the person I am and form the path I am on, but what about the casualties? Can I really just ignore them and accept them as building blocks I had no choice but to step on?

Not to mention recently a ghost from Michigan’s past reared its ugly head in the form of a Facebook message. His ex, whom I know very little about and have not pressured much to hear about, contacted me out of the blue to “warn” me about their history. I do not believe most of what she said, but it got me to thinking why we have never really discussed her if it was such a huge part of his life.

Then I remember I haven’t gone into detail about my exploits either and have no desire to whatsoever.

I don’t even know how to handle the dichotomy of wanting to share everything with him, and yet not everything. I would never lie if he asked, but I am not in a hurry to discuss the sordid details.

This is what happens when you avoid serious relationships like the plague and keep romance to the surface, you don’t know how to manage when it goes a little deeper.