In Which I'm Glad To Have Been Born When And Where I Was

I've been talking about race a lot lately. A lot more than normal, anyway.

Today The Boyfriend and I had the opportunity to see a morning movie (the best kind of movie - they're half price, usually not packed, and tend to have a less annoying crowd) and since 12 Years a Slave was still playing, likely thanks to its Oscar nomination, we figured that was the most appropriate choice for Martin Luther King, Jr Day. 12 Years a Slave is not an easy movie to sit through. They make it clear at the beginning and end that the movie is based on a true story - based off the first hand account as told in the book by the same name, written by the main character. 

[Spoilers] The main character, a black freeman named Solomon, a New York musician who appears to be well respected in his community, is kidnapped and sold into slavery with a name change and a very bruised spirit. Though he has two… colleagues, of sorts… with him, who together decide that keeping their heads down and not letting on that they're educated or - heaven forbid - are freemen, Solomon is soon alone to fend for himself. For years he's shuffled along from one slaver to another, some relatively decent (for slave owners) and some so horrible it was hard to keep looking at the screen at times, always looking for the opportunity to find his way back to his real life. He eventually finds it, in a sympathetic Canadian who takes a risk by contacting Solomon's former associates to send his free papers, and the end of the movie brought the whole theater to tears. Not even kidding, there was sniffling all around us. I had brought a few tissues because I'm still dealing with the after effects of the flu, but The Boyfriend and I ended up using them to dry our eyes before heading back out into daylight. It was rough. 

Martin Luther King Jr feels extra prevalent as an icon now than when I was a kid, and having the day off in remembrance of him makes me even more aware of this. Today MLK stands for more than just racial equality, he stands for all that is and should be right with humanity. He stands for racial equality, sexual equality, respect for animals, and respect for the earth. His words - spoken at a certain time and for a certain cause - are being attributed today to a whole slew of causes that are just as important as the one he campaigned and died for. 

I feel particularly lucky to have had the opportunity to be so reminded of what MLK stood for because I have a boss who, I imagine, feels particularly connected to the man's cause. Martin Luther King Jr Day is an important day for LGBT campaigns, and for a gay man (who gives his employees the day off, with pay) it seems appropriate that he wants us to recognize it. And I'm glad that today we saw 12 Years a Slave, and not The Wolf of Wall Street. 

A little over a week ago I was driving with my boss to a client meeting and we got on the subject of race and sexuality in San Diego. I told a story of how The Boyfriend and I were approached in Home Depot by one of their marketing team and asked if we were planning on a major renovation in the next few years (kitchen or bath remodel). The implication I got was that Home Depot was looking for a way to get some publicity; The Boyfriend was having none of it, thinking that it was a scam at worst or a ploy to get him to do more work on his condo than he wanted at best. I had thought the marketing guy was looking for a couple they'd be able to promote about the cool things we did with Home Depot supplies/labor, and finding an interracial couple was a relative gold mine for publicity. My boss agreed, adding that we're such a good looking couple (awww) that they'd probably have promoted any work we did with Home Depot like crazy, adding further that we could probably easily exploit our relationship if we wanted to. (He also added that if we had kids we'd be pretty much exactly the perfect "family of today," but I didn't mention that kids aren't part of the plan.) 

My boss brought up the fact that I probably don't see my boyfriend as someone different than me because there's a different in our skin color. Which is true. I might have grown up in a predominantly white town, but while I noticed differences in appearance it was like I was noticing hair color - some people just have different hair color than I do, and some people just have different skin color than I do. That never made a difference in a person's personality or abilities, and I never got the impression that others felt any differently (though as part of the racial majority I'm not exactly one to speak with any authority on that, and I was occasionally guilty of saying things that were taken in a totally different context than I meant them or would have even understood at the time). Having since moved to San Diego, where there's far greater racial diversity, and living in the time I am, it's almost unfathomable that race is that big a deal to some people. Which is why watching things like 12 Years a Slave is so difficult. The characters in the movie believed in slavery. They used the bible to not only justify keeping other human beings in slavery, but blamed the slaves for their own circumstances using the same bible verses. They didn't want to hear that their slaves were potentially freemen in other states. They didn't want to hear that they might have had other names, that there might have been wives and children and humanity somewhere else. Slaves were property, no different from horses or dogs, to do with as they pleased because god gave them to the slavers. They had not only the right to own these people, but the duty to judge and punish and kill them for the slightest disobedience, real or imagined.

Our conversation turned to my boss's experiences as a gay man, living with his husband in San Diego and other parts of the country. My boss was born and raised in a very, very small town in Louisiana that I still can't pronounce or spell properly. He eventually moved to New York, where he met his husband, and they moved to San Diego together, living in Colorado and one or two other states in between. He talked about their experiences walking down the sidewalk holding hands, how it's still not normal enough to not get odd looks (whereas The Boyfriend and I are almost entirely ignored because our relationship isn't unusual here), and how they are introduced to so many hairdressers because straight people only seem to have that one connection to gays (but bless them for trying!). There's still a disconnect between the LGBT community and everyone else, just like there was between whites and everyone else just 50 years ago.

I wonder how Martin Luther King Jr would have felt having lines from his speeches being borrowed for other causes. I have to believe he would be proud, because a man can't repeatedly preach about equality for all, talk about respect for women, gays, animals, and the environment and not imagine that his words would be used for something even greater than he meant at the time. And I'm glad that I was able to think so much about his legacy today. There will always be differences between men and women - women can't help that men can't have kids, and that will probably always contribute to our lower pay and limit our career choices. But there aren't differences between whites and any other race, or straights and gays, and I'd like to think that one day, hopefully while The Boyfriend and I are still alive, we'll be able to see these perceived differences disappear completely and whites and non-whites and straights and LGBTs are 100% equal in every way.

Being Marshall

For a very long time I knew there was more good in humanity than bad. Bad things didn't happen to those I knew, bad things happened to people far away from me, or at least far enough away from me. Plus, they were sporadic, random, and not normal. But for the last few years it's been a struggle to continue believing that. Lately, especially.

I want to believe (need to believe?) that it's not just possible for two people to make a relationship last, but for two people to want to be with just each other for the majority of their lives. That they aren't just staying for the sake of commitment, or for the kids, or because their religion forbids divorce, or because the woman is financially trapped. But because they're in love enough, or attracted to each other enough, or respect each other enough, or just like each other enough to want to stay together.

I've felt like Marshall from How I Met Your Mother, the only character who has always believes in true love and the goodness of others, and his beliefs often prevail at the end of the episode. I haven't always believed in true love, but I have always believed in the goodness of others. But I'm a lot more quiet about it, and I'm starting to think it's because I'm so frequently disappointed.

There comes a point where I need to be OK trusting myself. I need to be OK with knowing what it is I want, what I need to do to get it, what kind of person I am and what my priorities are. And I am. Those values get challenged, a lot, but I always arrive at the same place. 

It still sucks when people you know break up, though. A while back I wrote about being surprised that my generation was divorcing, as if we were smart enough to learn from other's mistakes. I've spent most of my life with the understanding that people stay together in unhappy marriages or divorce and end up bitter and angry (for at least a little while). But we also know that certain relationships won't end - until they do. Family members, friends, and acquaintances have believed with every inch of their skin that they were in relationships that would last forever. I never felt that. I was told, and then I assumed, and once I kind of hoped because it would be cute, but I never believed. 

It's terrifying to believe.

After watching relationship after relationship fall apart how can I believe I can be different? I can hope and wish all I want but the happy, wonderful marriages I know are distant acquaintances - I have no idea how their real lives are; they could break up tomorrow and I would only be able to say how happy they seemed on Instagram (except for one - but I don't see them that often). 

Believing your relationship is secure enough to last is a risk - it's dumb to think otherwise. But at the end of the day you just have to trust yourself and hope your partner is in the same boat. 

I think this is a little bit harder to do as a woman. If we say we're going to marry the person we're dating it gets assumed all we really want is to get married, not that this person is that special; we sound less certain than men saying the same words because he's not romantic or marriage-hungry or whatever it is women are.

I made myself a promise after watching my parents divorce that I wouldn't marry if I wasn't absolutely positive beyond a doubt that I would never go through what they did. But the best I can do is believe that I'm making the best decision I can make and be OK enough to take a risk. I've worried for a long time about being naive in thinking marriage is still a good idea when so many end up broken or unhappy, but the belief that it's possible is valuable to me. I would rather take a risk and believe that I know what I'm doing than be afraid I'm just being naive and not pursue something that has the potential to make me happy.

Feeling Like A Child

Childhood relics at your parent's house can set a person back.

There's an article in Cosmo magazine (I know, I know, but my littlest sister pointed it out [who is their demographic, after all] and it wasn't awful) offering advice for those with emotional distress when home for the holidays. It was targeted at the young adults who are newly into their adult lives: out of college, in big kid jobs with big kid responsibilities and lives, who suddenly feel like children as soon as they're back in their teenage rooms and being chauffeured in the back seat of mom and dad's car. 

This article was pointed out to us because it's my sister's way of telling us that she feels like we treat her like a child, and not like the young adult with responsibilities that she is. She's never been one to openly discuss her feelings, so just showing us an article in a magazine is an invitation to talk about it. 

So we talked about it. Not with her, of course, because we're a normal dysfunctional family. Amongst ourselves, though, yes. We discussed what she might be feeling, what she might want us to do, what we might be doing that is causing her to feel like we see her as a child. And we pointed a lot of fingers. OK, I did a lot of the finger pointing.

I haven't felt like a child when visiting back home in a few years. But I did feel like that when I was my sister's age. And I do feel like that at my boyfriend's parents' house. Not because they treat me like a kid, or treat him like a kid, not at all. In fact they treat us both like adults. And not because of the way they talk to either of us. But I do feel like a kid when we have to sleep in different rooms. 

To be perfectly fair, I fully understand that this is a their-house-their-rules type of situation and I would never, ever say a word (hope they don't find this); and it's not like we're married or engaged or even living together (though I seriously hope one of those things would cause the room situation to change). But my boyfriend, their son, is 30. We're in a serious enough relationship that we're taking each other to our respective families for the holidays. And I'm pretty sure they're both aware we spend the majority of our nights together. But I sleep in the room next to the master and he sleeps in a room on the other side of the house. And I feel like I'm 17 who needs to be stopped from doing naughty things with her boyfriend rather than an adult in a totally normal adult relationship.

The Cosmo article also touched on dealing with family opinions and beliefs that may be different from yours, giving changes in religious and political beliefs as an example. Having to sleep in a different room is conforming to a belief that I don't share. While this is a more extreme example from the annoying-but-harmless dinner table discussions about who voted for who the magazine was hinting at, the feeling is there. You don't want to say anything and start something (especially in my family...), but the article pointed out that if you don't speak up your family won't learn who you are as a new young adult. This is easily my sister's largest issue: blame it on the divorce, but both of my sisters are massive people pleasers who will do anything to avoid a fight and anything to make everyone else happy. This  means repressing a lot of their own feelings and emotions, which is also not healthy. 

If the holidays make you stressed out (and I think most people feel some stress during this time), do what you can for yourself. Take a step back, distance yourself if you have to, and remember that you can't control how other people react or feel. I was reminded that these situations are a two way street, and that each person has to give a little to get somewhere. Myself included.

Growing Up

Divorce at 1:10

To the surprise of exactly everyone, two of the boyfriend's friends announced they're getting a divorce. And just like that, this stuff is in my generation.

I have certainly not been in the picture long enough to get a good idea of the type of relationship this couple had, but I have been around long enough to be completely shocked. This couple was known among the group of friends for having the most fun wedding- with a nacho bar (oh yeah, stealing that). The boyfriend has a photo of their friends' faces after they realized there was a nacho bar at the wedding. It's amazing.

And just to be a total cliche, they seemed so happy. Granted, when I did see them it was always the two of them together, and they both were upbeat, smiling and generally... happy. I didn't hang out with either of them one on one and obviously I have no idea how their private relationship was.

But all of their friends are just as surprised.

It's a really unsettling prospect. The husband is a little older but still in his thirties and his wife is just a year or two older than me. She just moved to Seattle for a better job, where he was going to follow at the end of the semester, when he dropped the ax. The super unsettling part? Apparently even she was blindsided.

Now, if that's not something to make you question relationships in general I don't know what is. When I was younger I usually assumed my relationship was about to end when couple-friends would break up. When The Ex's best friends broke up I thought for sure we were on the chopping block. As if break ups are contagious. A few months ago the boyfriend's BFF and his girlfriend broke up, and that didn't affect me or my relationship with my boyfriend at all (for one, I don't still worry that my boyfriend's friend's relationships will have much of an impact on ours, and for another the boyfriend has made me feel very secure about our relationship). But a divorce is different. A divorce isn't just a break up.

I was told that once I turned 26 it would be all weddings and babies and grown up stuff. That kind of happened - Facebook has far more weddings and babies than it did even a year ago, and my new friend requests are in long term committed relationships, if not engaged. I'm even going to be in a wedding. It's weird. People have been telling me this part would come but it's still surprising to actually see it. The other day I got my haircut and the woman asked me if I had kids. Because I look old enough.

And now people my age are getting divorced.

People are still making the same mistakes our parents made, still not talking to each other, still letting problems sit until they're ready to explode. Did we learn nothing? Am I that naive to think we actually would?

The good news for me is that I don't let things stew. If I have an issue that bugs me I bring it up -  for better or for worse. I don't like going to bed mad, really don't like waking up mad, and want things to be resolved as quickly as possible. The down side is this tendency has caused a few sleepless nights, and not in the good way.

Louis C.K. once chastised his audience for "awwww"ing when he announced his divorce, saying "no happy marriage has ever ended in divorce." The man has a good point: happy marriages last - unhappy marriages sometimes don't. I guess the only thing you can do is try to make your partner happy and hope for the best.

Being A Feminist In A Relationship

The other day on Pinterest (because I'm a woman in my late twenties) I saw a quote that said "You're the type of guy I'd make a sandwich for." As a born feminist, it spoke to me. The boyfriend and I were discussing a very religious wedding he'd recently worked, where the priest told the bride that she needed to submit to her husband, and joked to the groom that a happy wife means a happy life. We both thought that was a ridiculous thing to say to two people about to commit their lives together: why not just politely advise the couple to do what they can to make each other happy?

I've been a feminist since before I knew what that word meant, but there are some stereotypically feminine things I really enjoy doing. I love cooking, cooking for others, I care about animals more than most people and love taking care of animals (and plants, though I have greater successes with animals), I enjoy being in an educational position, I'm a neat freak and am constantly cleaning or tidying up. And recently, I've developed an interest in home decorating (rather, discovered that I have a style). While there was a time in my life I thought my future held children and motherhood, I still never wanted to be a stay-at-home-mom, never wanted to be wholly financially dependent on my husband, never desired the traditional housewife role. As I grew up and realized it was never my dream to have children, just me mentally fulfilling the expectation that came along with my gender and dating guys who also made those assumptions, I inched closer towards being a modern feminist.

But I still want to get married, weird as that may sound. I still want to give up my name, have a wedding, be ridiculously in love, and adopt all the pets. I want to make one man feel like the luckiest man alive, and I'll want to make him a sandwich, if only because it would make him happy in that moment*. I would do that because making my spouse happy would be incredibly important to me, just as making me happy would be incredibly important to him. 

This idea - of mutual happiness - at first seemed out of line with traditional feminism; some women refuse to cook, or never bother learning how to be good at it, because it's "anti-feminist." These women might have children but only because they physically have to be the ones to do so  if they want them (we still haven't advanced that far in modern medicine) but will refuse to do anything but the most basic of childcare duties, throwing themselves into their jobs instead. But doing something for the sake of doing it is as bad as not doing something for the sake of not doing it.

In addition to being a feminist, I've also been a cynic pretty much since puberty and my adult years have only solidified those views. After watching marriages fall apart, see couples stay together for the wrong reasons, and see people be so sure they'll end up happily ever after only to see their relationships crumble (always painfully), my cynicism grew. I consoled women who saw their relationships completely fail when they were so sure they wouldn't. I thought maybe I'd marry my high school boyfriend only because he was so sure we were soul mates. I thought I'd probably end up marrying The Ex only because we'd been together so long. It was only after those relationships ended that I realized how wrong I'd been. But I was never so sure. I was never even sure. The very idea of being sure, much less so sure, is terrifying.

I started to realize I didn't really want kids when I was in college. I grew up the oldest of three in a home daycare house. There were always kids around. Always. And I helped. When I came home from school I popped a bag of popcorn and sat at the kitchen table to start my homework, and our regular daycare kid would come and sit with me and share my popcorn. Because I grew up with kids literally always around I knew what to do with them at a very young age. By the time I got old enough to start thinking about my own future I knew what work kids were, and knew that I wasn't very eager to get on that. The people I admired were childless: my uncle, who married in his 50s, never had kids and was able to spoil my sisters and I. The Director of HR at my first post-college job married in her late 30s, got herself snipped, and was able to buy lovely clothes, a sporty car and spend the night in a hotel with her husband, just because. Once I realized I could easily not worry about money, have leisure time, experience a marriage and spoil my nieces and nephews I was hooked.

This idea of modern feminism is sort of a blend of traditional female roles and the super feminist ideals. While we may not want children, we still want to experience the love and acceptance that comes with being married. We watched our parents do all the wrong things with us and each other, make the wrong kind of sacrifices, and we've learned. We'll get married for the right reasons, and if we have kids we'll remember why, and we'll teach them how to be good people. I think we'll see stronger families and relationships because of this.

*Should that man not eat sandwiches very often I would happily make him something else. Preferably something I also want to eat, so we can eat it together.

Paying Attention To Ads

Actual Facebook ad on my profile

If I were to pay attention to all the ads that are tailored for me (though their methods for "tailoring" are total crap) I would feel the need to change everything about myself.

I signed up for the LivingSocial and Groupon emails, and also now get emails from Amazon and Amazon Local. My morning inbox gets crowded, and my trash box must be overflowing. The vast, vast majority of those deals are about beauty and weight loss. Body wraps, eyelash extensions, gym memberships, bootcamp classes, hair coloring, liposuction, and so on. Occasionally dental services, which I'm actually interested in, but still many of them focus more on whitening than teeth health. A quite small portion of these ads are for fun events (some runs, even), restaurants, or services and those are the reason I'm even signed up for these promotions.

Then, if I were to listen to Facebook I should be picking out my engagement ring and bridesmaids dresses. Having used Facebook ads for work before, the engagement ring ads I see must target a very wide audience, the requirements being only that the target individual is female and in a relationship. Since I don't include my age or my anniversary date with my boyfriend on Facebook, these advertisers must only be going off the two bits of information I provide them with. I've experienced this with Facebook before, and have dealt with ads that were promoting fertility (along with engagement rings) the last time I was in a relationship and then ads offering help on getting a man when I was single. It seems that no matter what I can't just be happy with the way things are; I always have to be wanting something more. Thank goodness I have Facebook!

Oh, they also have access to my likes and interests. I have a lot of environmental organizations that I like and very frequently post about animals or conservation, so the majority of these engagement ring ads are trying to sell me an eco-friendly diamond engagement ring. Now, I don't know a whole lot about the eco-friendly ring or even the diamond ring industries, but I know how diamonds are mined (think big gaping holes in the earth), leading me to think "eco-friendly diamond ring" sounds a whole lot like "clean coal." It's an oxymoron. I'm sure that makes a lot of women feel great about their rocks, or will convince them to even pay more for them. I'm also thinking that eco-friendly or conflict-free diamond rings are the result of the whole green movement in general, and I imagine rings are more subject to being "green washed" than things like tea and soap.

Even if a ring is "conflict-free" or "as-eco-friendly-as-a-diamond-ring-can-get", the fact remains that the majority of the world's diamonds come from the same place and pass through the hands of one company (which, to be fair, has decreased from 80% of the world production and market to less than 50% in recent years) and diamonds were one of the reasons there was so much war and death in the Congo (which hasn't stopped yet). Diamond mining and production caused a whole lot of other environmental problems, namely the destruction of habitat for war and the extinction or near extinction of many species. Thanks at least in part to the diamond ring industry, the Congolese people are literally fighting for survival and do anything to stay alive today, thinking nothing of depleting resources for tomorrow, which includes killing endangered animals and destroying habitat and mining the earth for pretty rocks.

End tangent, back to the ads: these ring ads are even pushing the get engaged now timeline without knowing (or caring about) the length of time I've been in a relationship, by telling me I can view rings on my phone, order, and then go pick it up in the store with my fiancé. How romantic. Although it wouldn't surprise me to know that people get engaged that way. I know most women want diamond rings and most women want to love their rings, which makes sense considering you plan to wear it for the rest of your life, but to not trust that the love of your life can pick one out that you'd like seems a little sketchy. My sister had the unfortunate experience to go through an engagement she didn't want with the ugliest ring I'd ever seen, in a style she said she explicitly told the guy she didn't want (red flag!), so I get wanting to make sure your ring is something you like. But having it all picked out and telling your man to go pay for it and then give it to you seems to take all the fun and surprise out of it. Ideally (and maybe this is my problem), you'd be with someone long enough for him to get a sense of your style and what you'd like and if he was still having problems he'd feel comfortable enough asking a friend or close relative for help. But what do I know... the idea of diamonds in general isn't exactly appealing to me. It would be difficult to look at something every day and wonder where it came from; even if I were to get an eco-friendly diamond I'd mistrust it and would be more inclined to think the eco-friendly part was more marketing ploy than actual truth. And I don't know if that's something worth wearing every day, much less spending thousands of dollars on it to do so.

Luckily for me, I have a pretty decent body image, generally high self esteem, and am quite pleased with the relationship I'm in, so getting emails for body "enhancements" and seeing constant ads for tying the knot don't phase me too much. Admittedly, they annoy me enough to write a whole post on it, but clearly I've done it before.

The First Year

Getting distracted making dinner.

Today marks a full year since deciding to date one of my great friends and it's easily one of the best decisions I've ever made. But while we've been dating a year, our relationship started more than two years ago when we met. I remember telling someone once, slightly more than a year ago, about our friendship and how I didn't think it would come to be considering how it started, and then saying how very glad I was that it did.

Right off the bat this was the person I texted more than anyone else. We had immediately established a mutual love of food and burritos (and what he was eating, normally way past normal bedtimes) became a frequent topic of conversation. Part of this was fueled by my late night job which required me to eat dinner around 11pm, which was right around the time he'd be grabbing a burrito or carne asada fries. After I left that job I remember laying in bed once just before midnight and checked my phone: no text from my friend. And no texts the whole day or day before that, either. Suddenly that felt weird, even though we didn't necessarily text daily. I must have just gotten used to that communication.

A few months before we started dating I was fed up and frustrated... I had been off and on seeing someone I felt meh about and was ready for someone I'd feel more for. My mind kept going back to my friend, making me ask myself why we weren't dating. I couldn't explain it but something just wasn't there, and by then he'd become too good a friend to risk a short term fling (I really liked him and I didn't exactly have a good track record of staying in touch, much less staying friends, with people I dated). But I caught myself thinking about him more than I should if we were just friends, and way more than I should if I was sort-of-seeing someone else. This was someone who was ready to be there for me, someone who talked me to sleep when my psycho housemate had some sort of night terror, who picked me up to take me to get my car at a mechanic, who made me leap out of my bar stool at a restaurant when I saw him so I could go say hi, who felt comfortable asking me about the brief time we pseudo-dated to assess a strange rejection, who introduced me to great little restaurants, who took me to the zoo for our friendship zooversary, who took me on a day date to a theatre matinee... why, again, weren't we dating?

And then all of a sudden, through a strange turn of events I still don't fully understand, we were. And it was the easiest, least awkward, and most exciting time. When my phone buzzed from a text it was already likely going to be from him, but now my heart was doing little skips hoping it was him. I hadn't had that in... a long time.

It turned out that year of being friends, and growing into good friends, was what made me fall in love with him without even realizing it. All we did was acknowledge it. And because of that, I've been lucky enough to have spent the last year with someone who:

*Pulls me closer in the middle of the night, without realizing what he's doing

*Dances with me in the grocery store (rather, dances next to me while I stand there looking awkward)

*Tells me I'm weird. And silly.

*Turns on Friends and laughs hysterically at all the same parts

*Brings me a cupcake from our favorite dessert place, just because I was having a bad day (and flowers just because)

*Sends me romantic text messages randomly, even ones that just have a heart

*Wanted to collaborate on a blog about food

*Looks at me in a way I've never been looked at before

*Is not afraid to be honest or direct with me

*Will eat anything I make, even banana bread

*Noticeably talks with me openly about our differences or disagreements

*Makes me feel like a real partner, an equal

Now this is a better representation of us.

When I wrote about having a boyfriend a week after we made things official I had said that I'd never felt this way about someone, that there hasn't been a person I've been this crazy for. Ever. A year later that's still true. I still, 12 months later, get that in-love feeling. I look at him when he's just sitting there, or playing with his dog, or editing photos, or (my favorite) out cold asleep, and get this wonderful surge of love. 

I get a similar feeling from his dog. From night one Argo has slept next to me (that might have far more to do with me being new than with me being me, but it still feels nice), sandwiching me in between him and my boyfriend, and as time has gone on he's seemed to get more attached and more comfortable with me. When the boyfriend is in the other room, Argo will come and hang out with me on the couch, and he's relaxed enough now to fall asleep on the couch spread out up against me or let me bury my toes in his warm fur. Through training and conditioning, partially due to my efforts but mostly due to the efforts of my boyfriend who immediately wanted us to have a deep connection, the dog now listens to my commands (mostly) and has developed an interesting level of respect for me that's entirely different from the respect he gives his dad. I'm still the fun one, but when I have to lay down the law he listens. And I can't help but think, when all three of us are cuddled on the couch, what a great little family we make. Now, to get the cat on board...

Civil Rights: A Review of Gay Pride Weekend

Now add another decade and realize how things haven't changed.

I hope one day gay pride parades, festivals and celebrations don't exist anymore. At least, I hope they don't exist because they won't be needed to bring awareness to the gay community because gay people aren't seen any differently anymore.

I had a discussion the other day with a rather conservative family member about Pride, which was last weekend here in San Diego, and we discussed mostly why they felt like they needed to have a parade and why they needed to be so overtly sexual (paraphrasing... can't remember the actual words used) with their displays during the parade. (For the record, this person knows full well of my support for the gay community and was probably trying to instigate an argument, not necessarily be enlightened to another viewpoint.) I offered that maybe it was because doing so would not only bring up the subject of sexuality and the gay lifestyle and encourage people to talk about it, which would hopefully eventually get people to realize gays deserve the same rights as everyone else, but also makes the argument that sexuality, even gay sexuality, is not something to be ashamed of. By parading around (punny pun pun) in booty shorts those in the parade were not making any apologies for who they are. And that's kind of the point of gay pride weekend, I think. We have gay neighborhoods, gay bars, gay clubs, even a gay brewery now so that gays have a place they can go and be themselves and among like minded individuals without worrying about offending someone. Isn't it the same reason people go to sports bars? All that hollering at the TV, jeering with total strangers, and ignoring almost everything else going on would be offensive at another bar or establishment.

I also pointed out that "the way times used to be," as I too often hear older generations talking about, probably wasn't all it's chalked up to be. Human beings have likely always been this way, we maybe just didn't talk about it as much (which this particular relative sort of agreed with, and then said that it's more decent that we don't discuss it). And now that we're OK discussing our sexualities and the so-called weird things that we do, which are only weird because we have a sense of self and guilt that many other animals don't have, now that these things aren't as taboo as they once were, some people consider our society to be degraded. I just think we're getting to the point where we won't have self-imposed guilt anymore for living our lives the way we've lived them for generations. In fact, from a feminine standpoint, I'm pretty glad things aren't "what they used to be" because if my husband cheated on me it would have been my fault for not pleasing him enough, having a job would have been classless and not having kids would have given me an unsavory label. And if we go back further, I would have been sold by my father to the highest bidder. No owning property, no voting, no speaking out of turn, no leaving the house without a male relative to escort me, no rights or individuality. Just a walking pair of boobs that might entice a helpless man if someone isn't there to protect me.

Maybe gay people feel different-in-a-bad-way too often. Sure they can't marry the person they love or even provide that person benefits no matter how long they're together and in many places cannot adopt a child, but that's a federal issue. Maybe it's less deep than that: maybe gay people feel the need to function in a straight world where their individuality isn't celebrated in the same way as others' is. And maybe Pride weekend is an outlet. Maybe those participating in and watching the parade last weekend aren't all flamboyant and overtly sexual and slutty, but maybe it's about fitting in, being noticed for being different, or even just proving a point.

Speaking of which, my whole point was gays might not feel the need to have that outlet or create that awareness of gay or straight didn't matter. There was a time, long before I was born, where people were campaigning for a right I now very much appreciate. Had my boyfriend and I been born just a few generations ago it would not have been appropriate for us to be seen together, much less date. It would have been illegal for us to get married, and our kids would have been ridiculed, having no place to belong. Fortunately, we were both born long after those civil rights were obtained and now it's not unusual at all to see us walking down the street holding hands; no one would bat an eye at  our wedding, and our kids would be welcomed into any group. Watching the parade with him made me realize in a tangible way that this civil rights fight is exactly the same as the one we're benefitting from: it might not be unusual for a black man and a white woman to walk down the street holding hands, but a lot of people still feel uncomfortable seeing two men holding hands or two women stopping for a quick kiss. Those couples have to deal with that discrimination (even when it's not blatant) every day. They might be in love but feel like they aren't allowed to express it. They might want marriage and kids like most people do but the government, and plenty of their fellow citizens, don't think it's a good idea. Actually the government and many Americans think it's a very bad idea, and one that would directly contribute to the downfall of our country. Just like they once did when the idea that races could intermarry and *gasp* have mixed children (the poor things!). 

I know deep in my heart that a generation or two from now all of this will be in the past and my grand nieces and nephews will ask questions about it, wondering why it was such a big deal. I won't know what to tell them, but at least I'll be able to say I didn't agree and did what I could to change things.

London Olympics

The opening ceremonies start tonight in London (actually, they start tonight in the US, they've been over for a few hours already in London) for the 2012 Olympic games, marking 4, 8 and 12 years since a memory or event from my past. The Olympics are big enough to form these kinds of associations, even though the games have absolutely nothing to do with the events from my life. Well, except for the first one...

In 2000 the Olympics were in Sydney, Australia and we named my sister's cat Sydney Alexander Australia in part to commemorate the games and in part because of the book Alexander and the Terrible, Awful, No Good, Very Bad Day because of the first day poor little Sydney had (he was a flea infested pound kitten and did not have a pleasant first experience with the bath). In 2004 Sydney died, two months before the next summer Olympics in Athens (very sadly poetic). In 2008, when the games were in Bejing, The Ex and I promised that we would make it to the next games in London, in 2012. I fantasized that that trip, since we'd been to London together already, would be when he'd propose. Because that'd be poetic and romantic as hell. And now it's the 2012 Summer Olympics in London, England, and guess who's not in London? This girl.


(Side note: the opening ceremonies are today, which is three years to the week from when I ended the relationship that was supposed to culminate [in my fantasy] in engagement this week. It's also one year to the week from when the boyfriend and I had our [second] first date. Interesting business.)

Instead, this girl will spend the 2012 Olympics in San Diego, happy to be nowhere near London, celebrating her one year anniversary with the boyfriend. I have an alternative take on the saying "you never know what you have until it's gone": when you lose something you often see it for what it truly is, without the benefit of rose colored glasses. You can see what you lost for what it actually is, rather than what was yours, which is always going to be better simply because it's yours. I saw my relationship with The Ex wholly differently once it was over and realized how much I'd given up for the sake of the relationship. The fantasy of a proposal in London this year only existed because by then we'd have been dating for almost 8 years and I was sure we'd have had everything figured out by then and be sure we wanted to be together forever. But after the break up I was able to see far more clearly how badly that would have been for the both of us. Just because we had been together for a long time did not mean we should stay together, and when I finally realized that (in addition to how incompatible we actually were) I was able to let the relationship go. 

(And in exchange I got someone who I know I'm compatible with on every major issue, someone who makes me laugh every day, someone who I look at and cannot believe my luck. I don't think I need to let him go to know what I've got.)

Meanwhile, back to the Olympics. I feel like this year there's a lot more controversy around the games. I know there has always been some sort of news story that sweeps the world about doping or accommodations, or the awful air quality of China... but this year we've had the embarrassingly poor photos of the US athletes, and I have not stopped hearing about how branding the Olympics has gotten so wildly out of control. It almost doesn't seem like anyone's having any fun anymore. Maybe it's just the news sources I tune in to, but I have yet to hear something positive about these games. Instead, I've heard how mom and pop shops near the games can't sell products because of branding restrictions, how Olympic employees are forced to sign gag contracts to not discuss anything about their jobs or let family or friends visit them, how two Olympic athlete siblings are competing for one spot, how there are missiles on apartment rooftops for "security reasons," and how travelers need to learn how to not look like a terrorist to not be suspicious (that last one is supposed to be funny). It isn't seeming worth the trouble and expense. But there are, this year and always, hundreds of thousands of people who do care to make it worth the trouble and expense, even though the Olympics will always have this sort of trouble.

Deconstructing Family

Last night I went to see Deconstruction of a Drag Queen, a play put on by Circle Circle dot dot, a San Diego theatre company owned by my boyfriend's friends. It was an incredibly moving piece that detailed the life of a popular San Diego drag queen, Grace Towers, and her struggling to come to terms with who she was as well as getting her family to accept her lifestyle. Although most people do not have to go through what Grace did, it still resonates because most people have at one point or another disappointed their parents.

The play starred a boy named Michael (or Mike) who grew up in a religious, conservative household with a mother who wanted her only son to be a successful doctor or lawyer or something respectable with a giant income. Unfortunately, ever since Mike was a little kid he was attracted to his older sister's dresses, her make up box, organizing musical skits for town performances with his friends, and dancing, none of which his mother approved of. She called him every horrible name in the book and forced him to ignore who he was for who she wanted him to be. It wasn't until he started at UCSD under a pre-med program (arguably one of the hardest in the country) that he discovered a little bit of freedom, thanks to his new friends. The rest of the play was about him embracing being gay, discovering a passion for drag, and ultimately losing his family because they could not accept his choices. And that last part is what resonates so clearly.

It was easy to feel the audience experience shock, anger, empathy and joy for the characters on stage, especially knowing that the play is based on a real person and her real experiences. More than I expected I found myself getting emotional... although I never had to work to get anyone to accept my lifestyle and was never called those names or anything even remotely similar, I too had to deal with disappointment and feeling not good enough. On stage, Mike makes a phone call to his mother telling her he's switching his major and asks that she still love him; she hangs up on him. Their last conversation ends with his mother telling him he's no longer part of the family because of his choices. It was powerful watching a person, even an actor, go through that. There was a time I was not allowed in a parent's house and have felt like I lost both parents... one of whom has gone out of his way to make me feel unloved, unwanted and unimportant. For what?

Last weekend at Easter I spent a good amount of time in my hometown with my family, and although I do miss them and do wish I could see them more often, I feel like the burden is always on me to make the effort when no one else will, and my feeling that I don't belong in that town is reinforced with every return. Watching this play after spending a lot (= less than 3 days) of time up there reminded me of how different I am, but it also made me realize how perceptions change with time, and how truths get twisted... these are things I can't talk about with the people I should be talking about them with because doing so could severely damage relationships that are often already hanging by a thread. I made the decision that it's not worth bringing up, which means I have to live knowing people believe things that just aren't true about me, and that hurts.

Fortunately, the inspiration for Deconstruction of a Drag Queen, Grace Towers, found her niche and seems happy and well accepted among her surrogate family. We all need a surrogate family sometimes... we can't choose who we're related to and that can make it near impossible to get along with our family members. Hopefully people can keep in mind that it always hurts to feel like you've disappointed a parent just for being who you are, no matter how old you get.

Letting Go of Tradition

An example of a tradition that's gone through a lot of change...

Easily one of the biggest hardships I felt in the aftermath of my parent's divorce was the loss of tradition. They tried to keep it the same, but because we now had two houses to go to for every holiday and birthday the traditions got split up between parents: one did brunch while the other took care of dinner, we still got stockings at Christmas and baskets at Easter and one parent did a birthday dinner while the other maybe did a party the weekend before. It worked for a while, but when we got older and lives got more complicated the traditions started dropping. It was hard on me and I felt like I was the only one who cared. Truth be told I shouldn't have cared because I was too old for most of that anyway, but so much had changed during the previous years that I just wanted the traditions to feel normal.

But I'm getting better in my old age. And honestly I don't know what to attribute that to... am I really maturing? Do I just not care anymore? Has there been so much change that I've given up? A combination? Maybe. But I think it has a lot more to do with my relationships with my family members than anything. For a while I was working a tourist job and it was easy enough to stay in San Diego and work, allowing my coworkers to spend time with their families and earning some extra money I was desperate for... and I did feel a little like it might just be easier on everyone if I just didn't go for the holidays, which were always stressful enough on their own, and I couldn't seem to keep my mouth shut around certain people or situations. Now that everyone's a little bit older and has gone through their own personal ordeals they're letting me be myself as much as I'm letting them do the same and we're all getting through the holidays a bit easier. And at least we still have the same food traditions: Easter just wouldn't be the same without the lamb cake or buttercreams, just like we can't have Christmas without fudge and start every holiday with "holiday food" (most people call it eggs benedict). 

I have, however, noticed that it's been a lot easier for me the last year or so because I really like who my sister is dating and my other sister and mom haven't had anyone serious enough to make a big deal of. And since Thanksgiving I've had someone I'm excited to bring home, someone they seem to actually love, someone that makes me visibly happy. And I don't really know why but it makes me more excited for holidays because I'm bringing someone who's so accepted by my family. It's exciting in a way I haven't felt towards the holidays in over a decade. It's always wonderful to spend time with them, but knowing that they not only accept but like and welcome someone who's so important to me makes me the happiest of campers around the holidays. 

Now, if only I could get the cat to get along with the dogs...

Three Years of Blogging

I started this blog 3 years ago today (under a different name for a few days, until I settled on this) as a way to keep me focused and sharp during what would become a 3 month period of unemployment. There's certainly been a lot that's happened and changed in three years:


Got 2 jobs at the Wild Animal Park
Broke up with my long term boyfriend
Seriously doubted my faith
Collected unemployment insurance
Moved out of my wonderful studio
Changed my phone number
Lived with a friend
Lived with a crazy person
Had an amazing summer
Started running, seriously
Reevaluated my meat eating habits
Dated a friend, then ended the friendship
Used my Class B license for a job
Made a bunch of international friends
Had a shitty year
Said goodbye to a dog
Read a bunch of books
Remembered why I love living in San Diego
Was more or less dumped in favor of cocaine
Was more or less disowned by my father
Found a great roommate and a great apartment
Learned to love North Park
Got a writing job
Rediscovered my real passion
Celebrated 2 cousin's weddings
Ran 3 half marathons in 2 states
Made real friendships
Lost fake friendships
Fell deeply in love with a real friend
Traveled to San Francisco and Las Vegas
Sold a car
Bought a car
Started a new blog


This year has been amazing so far and the vast majority of last year was, too. I fully intend on enjoying the rest of it as much as I possibly can. Imagining what the next three years might hold is pretty exciting, too, especially (and this is where I get to be a girl) when I think about the amazing times in store with my boyfriend at my side. There's one thing that will always be certain in my life, in the next 3 years an beyond, and that is that I will always be writing. 

Illegal Abortion

I get to use this image again!

For whatever reason, whether or not women should be allowed to get an abortion is a political issue, and some people believe there is absolutely no reason abortion should be legal, even in cases of rape (fortunately, even the craziest people think an abortion can sneak by when the pregnancy will kill the mother, but if not that would be condemning a woman to death).

But all this got me wondering: what would I do if I were raped tonight and forced by law to carry a resulting pregnancy to term? For the sake of depression, and because the thing that started this was a presidential hopeful suggesting women view babies conceived through a rape as a "gift from God," which you surely wouldn't return, I'll include raising a baby bestowed upon me by the gift of rape.

Emotions:

First, going through a rape (something I fortunately have never experienced and hopefully never will) is one of the most traumatizing things a person can experience. Some statistics say between 15-20% of the population have been raped, but I'd be willing to bet it's more than that because men who are raped almost never report it and women who are raped are often too afraid, too traumatized or don't believe it's rape because the criminal was someone they knew. Even still, at least 15% of the population has been traumatized by rape. First off, if this were to ever happen to me I'd be at the police station and hospital to report it and have any evidence collected to catch the son of a bitch. But I would be devastated. I would replay it in my mind again and again, trying to come up with something I did wrong, some way I could have prevented it or stopped him. It would depress me intensely, most likely affecting my sleep, my day to day activities, and most certainly my relationship. As much as I can say now I wish I were stronger than that, sex would be entirely different after a rape, and there's no way that wouldn't be an issue. And if the rape resulted in a pregnancy and I was forced to carry it?

Money:

I currently make about enough to pay rent, utilities, car payments, car insurance, cell phone, food and gas with just enough left over to put aside for taxes in April and car insurance in July. Other than what I'm currently saving, which is already ear marked, I have no savings. I would have to keep my current job, even though it does not provide any benefits whatsoever, because no company would hire a woman about to need medical leave in 9 months. This would mean that any time I needed to go to the doctor or felt too sick to work would be unpaid, and my eventual maternity leave would be 1-3 months of no income. Plus, I would likely lose my job during the leave (they would have to replace me) and finding a job that paid decently or maybe even one that provided benefits would be next to impossible as a brand new, single mother who will need flexibility to care for her baby.

In addition, I have no health insurance so all those required doctor's visits would be debt under my name. Of course, I would have to have health insurance for myself and my baby once it's born, but I couldn't exactly go get pre-natal insurance after I got pregnant, now could I? My credit limit is $5k, which isn't anywhere near enough to have a healthy baby in a hospital. Actually having the baby would cripple me, and if there were any complications whatsoever I would never recover from the debt. Diapers, a car seat, baby clothes, and whatever else you buy for a baby (even Target maternity clothes are expensive) would be beyond my current budget, which would change to zero once I became unemployed.

I could cash out my stock, but it would only be a temporary fix and only enough to cover basic doctors visits or maybe the time I would be unemployed, if I somehow found a job soon enough. Plus, cashing out would affect me at tax time, so the benefit would be further diminished.

(Should I decide to give the baby up for adoption and happen to actually find a couple willing to adopt my rape baby, they would most likely pay for my medical bills and giving birth. However, they would probably not pay for sick days when I was puking or at the doctor or for maternity clothes. And they definitely would not pay for a gym membership so I could work on getting my body back and try going back to my normal life.)

Life:

I would be forced to move out of my current apartment and find a studio or 1-bedroom apartment, which is already something I can't afford, much less after at least a month of unemployment and thousands in medical bills. I could probably move back to my hometown and rent out a room in my mom's house, but I would still need a job to pay for rent (which wouldn't be much cheaper than a place in San Diego) and baby stuff (and like I said, I have no savings). Plus, it would involve leaving my friends, my boyfriend and my life in San Diego.

Speaking of boyfriend, that would most likely end. I feel fortunate to be with someone who feels the same as I do about having kids, but unfortunately for this hypothetical situation that's that we don't want them. Even if my boyfriend wanted to be supportive and helpful, I could never ask him to stay when I have a baby that belongs to a rapist, not to him. Being pregnant is enough of a strain when the baby belongs to both people in the relationship, but a rape and a pregnancy together would be too much.

Things I Would Give Up:

All hope of getting my Master's degree (student debt on top of medical debt? Yeah right.), my dream job (taking any job without considering the flexibility, the benefits, the day care), possibly freelancing, traveling, having a horse, spending any time taking care of animals for a living, and having anything else that goes along with the somewhat exotic lifestyle I want.

My whole life would be living so that a baby I never wanted would have a chance at a decent life because, despite it just being the right thing to do if you bring a child into the world, it's against the law to neglect it. I suppose I could just go on welfare. Let all the other taxpayers pay for me and my baby, and just not work. God, this is depressing.

I might also have to let go of what I hope a marriage would be like. Dating wouldn't be for me anymore, it would be to find a husband who would be a good father for my rape baby, who would not have a father. Not to mention, between working and raising a baby I'd never have time to actually date. Meeting a man who already has a child (and probably an ex wife) would most likely be my only option, and then date nights could be movies at home with the kids. Lounging in bed for hours, making brunch and mimosas on Sunday at noon, hanging out writing this blog, spending time on Reddit, and  staying out late at a bar will be things of the past. And forget reading. Well, forget reading anything at my reading level. 

Additional Comments:

Should I ever be raped (which I'm just going to hope never happens... keep my wits about me, stay out of creepy dark alleys...) I really hope the criminal wears a condom. Fortunately as far as pregnancies go I'm already on birth control and have access to Plan B, so the chances of me becoming pregnant are pretty slim. But there's sexually transmitted disease and the trauma to worry about, one of which I will most assuredly have to deal with. The bottom line is rape is something so truly awful and should never happen to anyone, but that's unfortunately not the world we live in. I just hope I'm never forced to bear the consequences of someone else's criminal actions.