a cat is purring next to me. this is bliss.

I kind of hate that any time past 8pm feels late. But there it is.

I’m not going to the Women’s March this weekend. Maybe I should, but…  here’s the thing.  I don’t really have many friends in the area (i.e. people I know to march with), I’m not a big fan of crowds, and I live in a very blue area of my state.  So… I’m super happy that this thing is happening. I’m excited that thousands upon thousands will be marching.  However, I think I will end up visiting my brother and nieces instead.

More and more, I am realizing that I need a group, people, a crew, a core.  It’s lonely being by myself, and I am not even talking in a romantic sense (that part is not lonely–I still maintain that the main driving force behind wanting to find a LTR is financial stability).  My friends are few and far between and all very busy with their own lives.

I went to a party yesterday at one of my newer friends’ houses (who is also my barber).  And it was a party of queers–all kinds, and I remembered again how comfortable I feel in those situations, how much I feel like they are my people and the people I need.  I need to focus on getting more queer friends, on establishing a friend group here, one that has space for me and a desire to include me in their lives.

After our fifth date, I decided I didn’t want to see that woman I mentioned anymore, and so I texted her my reasons, and she concurred.  And all I could think was that I was the more forthright of the two of us, since I was reading her hesitations to her and telling her the situation wasn’t going to work for me, despite the fact that it was only that way because it wasn’t working for her.  How frustrating that people, adults, can’t seem to speak up or acknowledge what it is they are truly looking for.  Learn who you are, embrace it, acknowledge it, give yourself space to breath and grow.

I am going to bed. It is late, and I am tired.

weekend plans

My weekend is going to be busy, but hopefully good.

Tomorrow I am spending the day in the city with a friend I haven’t seen in awhile.  She has had a hard time knowing how to be my friend since I came out, but in the way that she tries too hard.  The last time we had a good talk on the phone, she asked if she was awkward, which went a long way with me for knowing things will be okay with her (eventually).  She just needs to realize that there is nothing different. (Except for everything.)

After that, I am going to an art show with someone I have been maybe seeing.

Then on Sunday, I am going to a Polka Dot Party at my barber’s house (also my friend).  I’m nervous because I will know no one, but I don’t plan on being there very long, so that will help.

This evening, in preparation for my busy/anxious weekend, I cleaned.  I scrubbed my shower/tub from top to bottom, not to mention the rest of the bathroom.  I spot cleaned the carpet where one of the cats puked recently (damn puke is so hard to clean without the machine).  I did all my dishes. I put away papers.  I’m doing a load of laundry.

Of course, I am due to start my period at any time (probably tomorrow), because life.  Thank goodness for my ladycup.

In other news, you can both download Stone Butch Blues for free on Leslie Feinberg’s site, or you can purchase an on-demand copy from LuLu.com (link on the same site).  Since it’s out of print and impossible to find used, I just ordered a copy from LuLu.com. I can’t wait to own it!

Cats & Carrot Sandwiches

If I open the window in my apartment, at any point, no matter where she is, my Shelby-cat comes running.  It’s kind of funny.  I feel bad for her in the winter, because I so rarely open the window.  I just did, however, since it was feeling rather stuffy.  So she’s up there, sitting directly in front of the freezing cold air coming in through the screen, and joined by my Sophie-cat (but with slightly less enthusiasm).

That is not what I meant to write about, but my cats are just so darn cute. I recently got a good picture of them together–I’ll post it sometime so you can agree with me.

I can’t write about politics on here.  I’m too anxious about it.  Nothing I hear or read is good.  I listen to NPR until I can’t handle it, then I listen to pop music to sooth my soul.  I feel like I should be doing something, but I don’t hardly know what to do.

I am in love with a sandwich recipe. Here it is, basically (feel free to adjust, since I certainly change it on the regular):

-Cut up carrots (1.5 lb in theory), toss with olive oil, paprika (or pepper) and salt.  Roast at 450 for 40-50 minutes until charred & shriveled.
-Mash/mix the following into a spread: 15 oz cannellini beans (drained & rinsed), 4 oz mascarpone cheese (or goat cheese or cream cheese or…), 1 tsp fresh rosemary, juice of 1/2 lemon, 1 garlic clove, 1/2 tsp salt, 2 tbsp olive oil (the good tasting stuff).
-Put on bread, add sliced cucumber if desired.  Best if the carrots are warm, in my opinion.  They reheat well in a toaster oven (I don’t use microwaves, so I can give no recommendation there).

I have been making my own little sandwich rolls for it using my favorite no-knead bread recipe.  It’s so easy–I generally do a half recipe since I live alone.  It has great flavor, texture, the works. And it’s a mix it and leave it recipe, which is great for when you’re busy.

This recipe also isn’t what I meant to write about. But I just can’t seem to find the energy to talk about anything real lately.

Last Day of 2016

I can’t believe how time as flown.  I also can’t believe how little I’ve been blogging.  I just haven’t had the energy.  Or at least, that’s the excuse I’m going to use.

I’m not doing resolutions of any sort this year.  Overall, I’m pleased with the direction my life is going.  I’m pleased with the choices I’m making.  I don’t feel an overwhelming urge to change my life in a major way at this point.

I have a job I like. I have good friends who support me.  I have an active dating life (haha, maybe too active).  My family is getting used to the fact that I’m gay.  I’m eating okay, and although I need to get back on the exercise track and lose a bit of weight, that’s a lifelong struggle.

Today I’m making slow cooker butter chicken.  So far, it’s looking perfect.  I’m also making homemade no-knead bread (lazy me) for blackened carrot & cannellini bean sandwiches (which are way better than they sound).  I’m not going out tonight, so this is my way of celebrating.

I hope you all have a safe and fun New Years Eve.

second date update

I snuck out of a second date tonight.  Like a complete ass.

I had a pretty good first date with her last weekend, but I was unsure of a few things.  However, still willing to go on a second, because that’s how you find out, right?  She feels similarly about gender (although is self-described gender-fluid, which is different).  But there were all these things… some shallow, maybe most shallow, it’s hard to say.

Her hair did nothing for me.  (I am a sucker for good hair.)  She was a giggler.  Wtf.  I laugh, all the time. But I laugh.  I am not into giggles.  The occasional chuckle, sure.  Giggles?  What are we?  Fifteen year old girls?!  It’s so unattractive.

And then for the real kicker. She kept telling me how excited she was to see me, how she had a good feeling about me, how she liked all these things about me.  (What things? We went on one date.)  And that made me so incredibly anxious.  It sets up expectations that I know I can’t meet (nor do I want to).  Sure, be excited, but keep it to yourself. I don’t want to know it.

So here we are on this date. We had a casual dinner, then were going to watch Fantastic Beasts.  I’m freezing cold because I got cold at dinner and couldn’t warm up again (my life story).  The movie was not exciting me.  And I felt dread and anxiety about the person sitting next to me, giggling.  So I got up to use the bathroom and ran out to my car where I texted that I left because I wasn’t into the movie, was anxious, and was an ass.  She wrote back to say she hoped we could try again.  Um. No?

I need to be with someone that I’m into and that doesn’t fill me with anxiety.  And maybe that person doesn’t exist–which is cool so long as I get some action here and there.  And even if not, I’m pretty good with being by myself, to be honest.

Ugh.

androgyny

I went out on like three dates last week.  It was too many.  One was a butch, with whom I had nothing in common.  She was hot, but our lives were too opposite.  Another was a librarian, but she had nothing interesting to say (or maybe I didn’t). Regardless, we couldn’t find any points of connection.  The last was a femme who doesn’t believe bisexuals exist and that trans or gender non-conforming people insisting on their correct/chosen pronouns is annoying.  (I do not have time for that kind of shit. It’s 2016. And shouldn’t we LGBTQ+ folk be interested in the welfare of the whole group, not just the L or G??)

Speaking of femmes, speaking of beating a dead horse, I have tried and tried. I just can’t get into them.  I’ve done my best.  I’m giving up.

I don’t think it’s being a femme that inherently turns me off. I think it’s their perspective on gender (to be fair, not all of them will feel this way).  I finally am starting to figure something out.  I don’t want to be made to feel gender.  The femmes I’ve gone out with have all wanted me to be the masculine butch. But I don’t want to be that.  I think I fall more into the androgynous butch category (is this a category? If not, I’m making it one right now).  I dress butch, but I feel androgynous.  I don’t want to feel like a woman and I don’t want to feel like a man.  I want to feel like a nothing.

I still feel most comfortable with she/her pronouns, although I suppose that could change.  But even if it doesn’t, I’m allowed to feel like neither and use female pronouns, right?

So that to say, when I’m with other androgynous or butch women, they never make me feel gender.  They just feel like me, which is a good feeling.  In retrospect, the ones I’ve felt the most connection with have had similar feelings about their gender.

So now I’m learning to express this, learning that it’s important.  And I’m learning what it means for me.

bullet point updates

I’ve been going on dates, meeting women, making out, but not making connections.

I bought a bag of mixed nuts in shells, but I apparently don’t own a nutcracker.

I’m wandering, feeling lost.

The election has made me anxious, nauseous, most of the time. I don’t like to talk or think about it, but I can’t help doing both.

Gilmore Girls: A Year in the Life created more questions than it answered.

I wanted to make pumpkin custard pie, and then I realized that pumpkin pie is a custard.

I’m lonely, and it’s been a long time since I felt that way.

I want to know how to embrace who I am without letting others put limits on that.

I impulse bought peppermint frosted twinkies and snowballs today. They are delicious.

le sigh

I do not like having feels.

That aside, I went to a naked lady spa today with a friend. It was actually quite fun.  I wasn’t sure how I’d feel about the nakedness (my own, not others), but it wasn’t an issue at all.  I’d totally go again.

Moving on.

I’m feeling awful about life in general. It’s hard to keep perspective.

Fuck you, America.

So that just happened.  My country just voted the most hateful, xenophobic, racist, homophobic, misogynistic person into the oval office.  Thanks for the message, America. We get it: you don’t like us.  Fuck you.

What will this mean for the next four years?  What are going to happen to civil rights, freedoms, and liberties for those who aren’t straight cis white men?  I have no sympathy for those who voted for him, only for the rest of us who now can’t conceive what it means to be the country we’re living in.  Land of the free?  Home of the brave?  Bitch, please.

Telling me I live in a blue state is not helpful.  I’m not only scared for myself.  I know that this is bigger than me and my state, and I’m scared for those living in states where it was already dangerous to be who they were by birth.  It’s not going to get better.

And in a global sense: have you considered him learning national secrets?  Meeting other world leaders?  Being the head of the military?

I said since he first ran that we needed to take him seriously.  I am a small fish in a big ocean.  Not even my friends or family would take the threat seriously–they did not vote for him, but they never thought he’d make it in.  But he broke every rule, and now look.

The worst part is that America voted him in.  America voted him in.  Over half of voters were willing to stand behind the worst man for the job, to vote him in, because overwhelmingly straight cis white men they were, they don’t stand to lose anything.  Fuck you all.

election night rambles

It’s election night, and I’m drinking to buffer the horribleness that is currently happening.

The last time I was this buzzed/drunk (I am a lightweight, after all), was when I was seeing LM and we had drunk sex one night because she wanted to (it was good; she was right).  So being buzzed/on my way to drunk makes me think of her. What a doomed situation she was.

But I’ve been talking to this girl who reminds me of her–not in essentials, but in outward appearances.  I’m not sure what I’m saying right now.  There’s a lot of anxiety and booze in my system, so things are fuzzy.

I will regret this post.

This new girls lives too far away.  I met her the summer I came out. I was wearing a cat shirt the first time I went to our lesbian bar, and her friend came up and flirted with me. But her friend turned out to have no personality once I was sober.  I remember her, though. And she remembers me.  And we may actually go on a date one of these days.  She’s on the butch side of things, which makes me happy.  But I don’t know how it would work.  I suppose since we’ve never even gone on one date, I am getting ahead of myself. We’re going to have a phone call tomorrow.  I’ve definitely thought about getting her in bed. She’s hot.

So much regret–not yet. In the future.  We’re texting, so I’m texting her half drunk, which is a horrible idea, but I can’t stop myself.

Damn election.

I want to puke. Not from booze. From the election. Goddamn it.