- You have Saturday shorts that have nothing to do with exercise.
- You put on your Saturday shorts, and they have a pocket full of screws.
- When you put on your Saturday shorts, with a pocket full of screws, and you can't remember the project you were working on the last time you put on those shorts.
Saturday, April 25, 2009
You Know You're a Completely Stereotypical Lesbian When...
Wednesday, April 8, 2009
Wow, This was Unexpected
I was making a comment in one of my favourite blogs - Big Ass Belle - and Lynette, the blogger, was asking the question: Have you ever had a fear you thought you couldn't get over, then you did? Tell, please.
And this is what I wrote:
"I used to fear my mother's disappointment. I don't know if anyone knows the kind of fiery red-head my mother is. She was also raised by a fiery red-head - chain-smoker, journalist-born-too-soon, member of John Birch Society who used to grill me from her position at the dining room table: [takes long drag of cigarette] "So, what are you gonna do when you grow up?" I was terrified, I was 8.
And so, my mother, raised by that woman who never wanted to become that woman, became a version of that woman, minus the cigs.
I kept my girlfriend a secret. For 3 years, she was my wonderful room-mate whom my mother LOVED. And then, she became my wife, and all hell broke loose.
It wasn't until we had kids that the fucking shit hit the fan - Prop. 8, her activism, my 3 year old's new questions. And I decided that I loved my children light years more than I wanted her respect. And that was that. I wasn't afraid anymore."
I'm not sure how long my estrangement with my mother (and by extension, my father) will last . I hope we will reconcile at some point before her health deteriorates - she's now 70 in somewhat poor, though not dire, health. I'm not expecting her views to change, I've never expected that. She believes with everything in her being that my relationship is sub-par, destructive, and vile. It will infect the "healthy" heterosexual relationships around me and force my children to follow into the "lifestyle" as a requirement for securing my love.
Okay. But the thing is: I used to believe these things. And it had very little to do with the people in actual gay relationships, and way more to do with my slavish devotion to a cultural mindset (and my own fears of the gay). Would I have maintained that mindset if I hadn't met Becca and instead, found some nice man who'd go along with my self-delusions? Honestly, probably. And I'd be one of those people I find so irritating today - self-righteous, bigoted, hard, small-minded. Well, I can never know.
But fear does horribly destructive things to your soul, and that is the TRUTH.
And this is what I wrote:
"I used to fear my mother's disappointment. I don't know if anyone knows the kind of fiery red-head my mother is. She was also raised by a fiery red-head - chain-smoker, journalist-born-too-soon, member of John Birch Society who used to grill me from her position at the dining room table: [takes long drag of cigarette] "So, what are you gonna do when you grow up?" I was terrified, I was 8.
And so, my mother, raised by that woman who never wanted to become that woman, became a version of that woman, minus the cigs.
I kept my girlfriend a secret. For 3 years, she was my wonderful room-mate whom my mother LOVED. And then, she became my wife, and all hell broke loose.
It wasn't until we had kids that the fucking shit hit the fan - Prop. 8, her activism, my 3 year old's new questions. And I decided that I loved my children light years more than I wanted her respect. And that was that. I wasn't afraid anymore."
I'm not sure how long my estrangement with my mother (and by extension, my father) will last . I hope we will reconcile at some point before her health deteriorates - she's now 70 in somewhat poor, though not dire, health. I'm not expecting her views to change, I've never expected that. She believes with everything in her being that my relationship is sub-par, destructive, and vile. It will infect the "healthy" heterosexual relationships around me and force my children to follow into the "lifestyle" as a requirement for securing my love.
Okay. But the thing is: I used to believe these things. And it had very little to do with the people in actual gay relationships, and way more to do with my slavish devotion to a cultural mindset (and my own fears of the gay). Would I have maintained that mindset if I hadn't met Becca and instead, found some nice man who'd go along with my self-delusions? Honestly, probably. And I'd be one of those people I find so irritating today - self-righteous, bigoted, hard, small-minded. Well, I can never know.
But fear does horribly destructive things to your soul, and that is the TRUTH.
Thursday, April 2, 2009
3 Hours of Sleep and Still Here...
Owen wakes Amelia, Amelia wakes Owen. We are all up, everyone in the house. Well, not Mabel. She lays on her pillow, oblivious to the human dramas. But if I make a beeline for the door to go after a critter, or a guy trying to steal my wheelbarrow, she's all over that. But no, it's just the kids, and she's immune to the crying in stereo.
So I'm trying to run a business and parent my kids and keep some semblance of a marriage. It's really late. I've sent the business e-mails out, updated the Facebook, and now will hope for more than the 3 hours we got last night. At least, I didn't sleep in the racecar bed. Poor Becca, I don't know how she does it. I'm crazy about that woman. And now, I get to hang out with her and be unconscious, 2 of my favourite things.
So I'm trying to run a business and parent my kids and keep some semblance of a marriage. It's really late. I've sent the business e-mails out, updated the Facebook, and now will hope for more than the 3 hours we got last night. At least, I didn't sleep in the racecar bed. Poor Becca, I don't know how she does it. I'm crazy about that woman. And now, I get to hang out with her and be unconscious, 2 of my favourite things.
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