Tuesday, February 28, 2006

He takes a whiskey drink, he takes a vodka drink

Happy Mardis Gras everyone!

I used to give up things for lent every year, although I not cathlolic. I feel like its a good thing to deprive yourself of things you enjoy. Of course, if I were to give up what I love most I would be out of a blog and all my writing, and I would go into shock...so maybe not this year.

I was on campus having lunch with Mystery today and while I was headed over to the library t say hello to Beloved I saw a couple of girls passing out beads. They were also handing out cups that discouraged people from drinking. I have a feeling it won't do much good. There's a pub crawl downtown tonight, and I have a feeling most everyone on the campus are going. Iheard several conversations about it as I made my way to my truck. There's something like 17 bars invovled. Wow. I went one year and it was crazy. I was too young to drink, so I didn't indulge in all of the free hurricanes, and of course I am allergic to crawfish, so that wasnt much fun either. Also meant I had to watch who I kissed....

I recall oe year I gave up caffine and went into shock. I got a horrible migrane and my parents took me to the emergency room. They gave me a shot of adrenaline, and a soda. So that year didn't work out well. Preacher Man became a vegan after he was a vegetarian for Lent. I loved eating steak in front of him. I'm cruel, aren't I? Of course, he deserved it however I could give it, as far as I am concerned now...

Yep, cruel. Ah, well. I could give that up for lent.....I suppose we all could.

Right. I am off. If you party, party safe. See you on Ash Wednesday, my loves.

Monday, February 27, 2006


Or Someone who has her email.

Yes, your comments are busted. I left you two in the past few days and they arent showing up for me. Of course, it might be my crap computer....

And the magazines agree with all the radios

From My Local Paper:

In Opinion

"Acceptance of homosexuality, once seemingly inconceivable, comes from calculated agenda"


"uninhibited homosecual parenting is being pushed into acceptance. Once acheived, groups who have been laying groundwork for years will emerge to coast on the gay agenda's success."

"now must be brutally honest: Homosexuality has been pushed into social acceptance following a precise and calculated agenda started long ago. Consider: Are individuals who give in to the temptation of homosexuality really different than those parents asked to turn their children over to the child welfare system? Alcoholics, drug addicts, neglectful parents and the like engage in behavior that can only be characterized as destructive. And up until a few years ago, living life apart from God as a practicing gay/lesbian was, too. Yet judges are now taking our children out of one unhealthy situation and placing them into another. How far will it go?"

In slightly more happy news:

The Life Section:

A review of the Artic Monkey's album "Whatever People Say I Am, That's What I'm Not"

"Like most neo-garage acts, Britain's Arctic Monkeys dip liberally into the past, channeling The Clash, Oasis and Nirvana. Except those influences are filtered through The Libertines, The Strokes and Franz Ferdinand, with a little hip-hop freneticism. What sets the Monkeys apart is an ability to sound fresh and authentically young as they confidently bash and tear through scrappy rock 'n' roll songs. Sweaty, witty and unpretentious, "Whatever" packs feverish energy and slyly observed tales into giddy post-punk that gels like teen spirit. The generation gap is finally making a comeback."

Maybe I'll get lucky and they'll start selling the album somewhere near here.

Sunday, February 26, 2006

The best things happen when you're dancing

Last night I went to a comedy club in our town to watch comedian Tim Cavenaugh preform. He's a regular on one of the morning radio shows I listen to [Bob and Tom]. He was very good. We met one ofour friends out, it was her mom's birthday and we know her family and so we spent time with them. It was good. After the show we played billiards and Beloved got drunk. I stayed sober to drive. The bar was really full and there was more than once I waited in line 20 minutes or more to get a soda.

Highlights of the evening include:

Me singing karaoke and doing really well. Random people stopped me to tell me they liked it. I was thrilled. People actually danced while I sang.

Beloved got hit on in the bathroom by some random girl. She was *gorgeous* My girl, she can reel them in.

I got chatted up by a fellow at the bar who was sitting by the spot I got my drinks. He complimented me on my "lovely, softspoken voice" and said he was hoping I would sing [which of course, I did. I never made it back to see what he thought, though] We also made fun of some of the incredibly bad singers. Its always nice to get a compliment.

Beloved got really, really smashed.

All in all a decent evening. Of course, she's sleeping off her hangover right now.

In other news, tonight is the season finale of Dancing with the Stars [Strictly Come Dncing to you English readers] Last week my favorites, Lisa Rinna and Louis VanAmstel were voted off [robbed] and the finals were Stacy Keebler, DrewLatchey and Jerry Rice. I am hoping Drew wins. He is my next favorite after Lisa and Louis, and definately the best left. I've stopped voting though. Everytime I vote for a reality show contestant they get voted off. There's a lesson there, I am sure.

Friday, February 24, 2006

Chuck Norris doesn't sleep. He waits.

Mystery pointed me to this site, which is great for a laugh.

Chuck's favorites include....

When the Boogeyman goes to sleep every night, he checks his closet for Chuck Norris.
Chuck Norris doesn't read books. He stares them down until he gets the information he wants.
Chuck Norris does not sleep. He waits.
Chuck Norris is the reason why Waldo is hiding.
Chuck Norris counted to infinity - twice.
Chuck Norris’ hand is the only hand that can beat a Royal Flush.
There is no such thing as global warming. Chuck Norris was cold, so he turned the sun up.
Chuck Norris can lead a horse to water AND make it drink.
Chuck Norris gave Mona Lisa that smile.
Chuck Norris can slam a revolving door.
Remember the Soviet Union? They decided to quit after watching a DeltaForce marathon on Satellite TV.

Good for a giggle. My Grandfather loved Delta Force. I used to scare me.

The angel closes her eyes

Hello my friends. Thank you for the sentiment. Thank you. It means a lot to me.

I will be just fine. I promise. Its not always I feel that way. Just sometimes. And, well, its hard to deal with remembering something unplesant, isn't it? I promise, your Alecya will be up and happily running soon enough.

You are all very sweet. Very.

Lets think of happy things for a bit, eh? Puppies, kittens, rainbows, a hot cup of tea....sex.

That's better.

Its a flash in the pan, I promise....

This is how you remind me of what I really am

Sometimes a person or a memory will pop into your mind. Something passing in the day will remind you of them and you are suddenly flooded with memories of time you spent with them, something you did with them or something you did to them. Some people remind you strongly of a personality trait of yours you try to forget or try to hide. But it seems there is no escaping it. There is never an escape from what it is you really are.

Sometimes I am reminded of my Preacher Man. This happens a lot. We spent a lot of time together and his father’s church is not far from my home. I think of him and I am suddenly reminded of all the longing I felt when I was with him. To be something more, to feel something real. And I never did. I remember the feeling of emptiness. Of shame. I remember feeling used and unwanted. I am reminded of a lot of ugly things, and they tend to play themselves over and over in my mind until I am driven to think of something more horrible or more sad to get away from it. Sometimes I lock myself in my shower and think of the water as tears, I’ve gotten to where I can’t even cry about him and what he did anymore.

Sometimes I think of my girlfriend before Beloved and I feel completely inadequate. She had a remarkable way of bringing that out in me, showing me I was never quite living up to all the potential she saw in me, that she knew I had. I remember her hounding me to do more, to make a difference, to love myself. I remember she and I would discuss things, silly things to me but very important to her, and she would exclaim, always, after these long conversations, "you are so intelligent, why are you wasting yourself the way you do." I never knew what to say. When she left me I remember thinking I wasn’t good enough for her. She had gone back to an old lover. One I knew was very smart, very driven, everything, in short, I wasn’t.

I look at my mother sometimes and I see where I have come from and I feel a little sick inside. In part because I am nothing like I was, I am more, I have clawed my way out of the gutter I was raised in. And still, I see myself as the thing I was, poor, not good enough, not having enough. I want more, always, even now when I have everything I ought to need. I see her satisfied with her house, her husband, her religion, her completely hum drum nondescript life and I feel almost jealous because she is happy with it. She struggles to keep it and she loves it so much. I have a lot more than I used to, more than her, more than I should have ever hoped for as a child, and I am unhappy. I want more. I am selfish and greedy.

There are moments when I look at Beloved and wonder what it is I am to her. She seems, to me, so smart. She has it all together. She knows it all sometimes and I wonder what she must think of someone as simple and tired as I am. I see her fighting to make more of herself when I am still unsure of what I want to be, who I want to be, and whether or not [some days] I even like myself.

I am unable to escape my memories. I am unable to escape the shadows of the present that seem to overwhelm me with my shortcomings and my longings. I feel them and I see what I am, to me. Unfinished, incomplete, needy. Ungrateful, unloving, greedy.

Thursday, February 23, 2006

I'd like to wait and see how things turn out

I was initially reluctant, but now I think I am sure I woudl like to rip off our good friend Swiss Toni and do one of the Jahari Windows.

Click the link and let me know what you think.

I am also giving in to the temptation to do a Nohari window. Of course, you brave souls are likely not to touch it, and I dont blame you. But if you want to give it a try, I won't hold anything against you. I promise.

In other more annoying news, my job fell through. I am really bothered by it. Beloved is less than pleased with me. I would be too.


Is there somewhere you can buy luck?


late edition, I know I am about to put my foot in my mouth, but Joe R, if you are lurking, I am curious who you are. Email me, so I know. I don't recall any Joe R's in my aquaintance. Lets meet, eh?

Wednesday, February 22, 2006

Higher than I am ready for

I discovered something last night as I was lying in bed. I am not afraid of heights, as I always thought. Come to it, I like heights. I like roller coasters, ferris wheels, hiking, repelling, rock climbing and any other form of getting as high up as possible.

I am afraid of falling.

This may not sound like much difference, but to me it is huge. If I can overcome my fear of dropping from a high place [which, lets face it, isnt likely to happen] I can make all sorts of progress. And do a lot more fun stuff.

When I was younger I used to have a dream, that falling dream, you know? But in it Iwas walking across a fallen tree over a canyon. I would fall halfway across and then, as I was falling, I would loop, sort of. I would fall from the sky back on to the branch I was walking on and I would start all over.

I can see now it was talking about me not being able to change my situation, or my frustration with it. How I felt helpless and trapped.

But then I thought it was me being afraid of heights.

Well. Interesting discovery, isn't it?

What are you afraid of?

In case you are interested, the picture I selected is the sun setting from the top of a bluff on my favorite river to canoe. Its called Goat Bluff and it is the highest place on the river, if you turn the right direction you can see for miles and miles on the river. Its a strenuous hike, but gorgeous.

Sunday, February 19, 2006

Hang It On A Shelf In Good Health and Good Time

Alright, here are the pics I have been promising from my birthday and of my tattoos, which you can actually see. Enjoy.

This is my back with all my tattoos visible. Not much else to say here.

This is me and the obscenely low cut shirt I bought before Beloved and I went out for my birthday. If you look closely you can also see I have my favorite pair of boots on. With those things on I am 6 feet tall. Makes me a very happy girl.

In case you are curious, the red walls are in my bedroom. I love the color.

So there you have it.

Saturday, February 18, 2006

I come from the "down there" generation

I am going to see Mystery in The Vagina Monologues at the University tonight. I am very excited. If you've never seen or read them I really encourage you [especially the women] to go out and find someone who had the book or is showing the monologues nearby. Its a beautiful, life changing experience.

I know its rare to see me go into my [as Beloved calls it] "psychotic woman worship activism" but this is one of those rare occasions where I feel like I can't hold it back. A woman's vagina is beautiful. Absolutely amazing. And far too many women don't appreciate their own. It makes me sad, especially when I think about all the women who have been violated or allow men and people who have no understanding of their bodies make decisions or touch or use them without ever properly appreciating all the amazing things about it.

Ladies, if you haven't taken time to appreciate your own sex, please do. I'm not talking about masturbation [although, if that is how you want to go about it, I can't object] but please, sometime today, go be quiet somewhere and take a moment to marvel at your own beauty, you ability to create life, your unique capacity for pleasure. There is no one else like you. No one. No animal, no other sex, no other thing as unique and amazing as your sex. Appreciate it.

A MeMe for the ladies, and you don't have to answer it on your blog or in comments, jsut think about it. I've never answered these questions in print before, and it took me forever to think of the answers to these questions. Some women might find it silly, but to me, it is the essence of who I am, and what I feel about myself, and my own sex.

1. If your vagina got dressed, what would it wear?

2. if your vagina could talk, what would it say, in two words?

3. what does a vagina smell like?

4. What is Special About your vagina?

As for me?

1. Black leather pants and a red silk scarf
2. Ask Nicely
3. Earl Grey Tea and rain in the spring
4. It belongs to me, and no one else.

Okay. I am off to buy a vagina shaped something [I am hopeing for a lollypop] as a gift for Mystery tonight at the play. flowers are overdone, dont you think?

Friday, February 17, 2006

Maybe I Should Put a bucket Over My Head, And A Marshmellow in Each Ear

I suppose everyone has heard about the Cheney shooting incident by now. I know I've not liekly got much to add to the commentary except to say, had anyone thought about what might have happened if this guy had died? No one? Nope? I didn't think so. The only reason I laugh about this at all [and yes, I am a bad person and I laugh] is because it amazes me how stpuid the people who run our country are.

And Mr. President says he is satisfied. That he gave a 'strong explanation'. Right. "I didn't see him until I shot the gun" is a great excuse. Somewhere up there with other greats like: I didn't do it, It was an accident, and [my favorite] the devil made me do it.

What really makes me laugh is that it was Karl Rove who told him to go public because it might be bad for his public image. When he's the guy saying, 'dude, you look bad' you know you're in trouble.

Of course, that news bit was good for a laugh, but I was really indignant when I discovered that they were on a canned hunt.

Canned hunts aren't really hunts, are they? Not really, when you consider these poor animals are raised and practically conditioned to move as targets. And people pay large sums of money to do this. Cheney's birds? Released from a cage. And he can't even hit those. Sick, wrong, pathetic. This isn't sport, this is cruelty, plain and simple.

This site also points out that there is a large variety of places where you can hunt exotic animals. Even better, if you're a *really* poor marksman and can't kill one, they'll give you your money back!

I also saw on my local news last night that canned hunting in the US is allowed for some endangered species. Now, even if you were going to count canned hunts as real sport, why in gods name would you allow people to do it to endangered species? But, as our lovely president pointed out on my local news [and I am searching desperatly for a link to this interview] All the money these people pay to kill caged and tame animals "goes to conservation efforts"

Oh, well, that makes it okay doesnt it? Lets kill some exotic animals, save the earth while we're at it.

Suddenly I am able to see how they might think that they are doing overseas is okay if they don't have a problem with this.

Wednesday, February 15, 2006

I’ve been meaning to post this for a while, now. I wanted to tell you why I have the people I do on my blogroll. I obviously visit more blogs than this, but the ones on my sidebar are, honestly, the ones I read obsessively.

Charby is on my blogroll because when I came across her through another person’s site [Hyde’s I think] I was completely struck at how honest she was. And how she never seemed to complain about the things that happen to her so much as she accepted it, and then went about her life. I am always amazed at how she loves her family and how sweet she can be. I am very jealous of the passion she has for her family. I think its lovely. And, I should point out, how well she knows her footie.

Spinsterwitch is another amazing woman. I was overjoyed to find her, in part, because finding someone like yourself is always a joy, and also, because she is sensitive. If you know her at all, you know how in touch she is with everything around her, how much she loves her friends. She always wants to make herself better, something I really admire. Spinny radiates love, and peace, and I found myself drawn to her blog, if only to see how she was. She made me care about her.

The Urban Fox is the first politically dedicated blog I ever visited. She is terribly outspoken and very, very blunt. I like that she makes no bones about her opinions, and that her readers use her comments as a forum to communicate with her, and each other. Fox’s blog makes me think. I like that.

Pisser is on my blogroll because she is a funny, sarcastic bitch. There’s no other way to put it. When I have a bad day, I go visit Pisser. She makes me laugh. She reminds me how much I appreciate being me. Right now she’s had a loss, and although she never comments, I hope she knows my thoughts are with her.

The Annals of Mr. Hyde is no longer where Hyde writes. However, this was the first blog I ever read. This is the blog that inspired me to get one. And Hyde- the writer, the person, the diva - I leave it there to remind me of her. She is passion, Hyde. She is beautiful. She is, in my mind, the ultimate paradox. Fragile Strength.

Gladys is another tough cookie. And she was one of the first people to wander over to my place and say hello. I was so excited. And she stays on top of things. I love that when I visit her I always read something that makes me aware of the nature of people. And as a person, she’s a fighter - tough as they come. I really admire her.

I don’t know who could not love Flash. He is endearing in a way I can’t comprehend. But, I read his comments, and wandered to his site, and I was an addict. Life is a huge adventure for him, and I never get tired of hearing about his escapades. He is also completely shameless about who and what he is, and there are too few people who are like that.

Lord Bargain writes with a really passionate tone. He’s one of the few bloggers that I can hear a distinct voice for when I read his blog. He is also unflinchingly honest about himself and his opinions. He is completely human, there is no doubt that there is someone on the other end of the screen who is living, breathing, suffering and rejoicing. He also has decent taste in music, something everyone can appreciate.

Red One has been gone since before Christmas, although I think I saw Red sneaking about some comments earlier this week. Its my hope I’ll soon get to read the passionate and well thought posts Red always provides with regards to the current state of the world. Red also got me involved in NaNoWriMo, so I owe a big thank you to Red. I met my best friend through NaNo and I also got going on my writing. Thanks, Red.

Swiss Toni never fails to get his readers involved in his blog. I like this. His blog is completely interactive, be it photo contests or weekly reads or earworm lists, you can’t go there and be a passive reader. You have to involve yourself. He draws his readers in. When I first came across him I saw his comments on another site. I actually had to go looking for his link on people’s site’s for about a week before I decided it was time to add him to mine. Lucky for me, I think everyone on the planet links to him, so I never had to work hard to get there. This is another fellow with decent taste in music. As an added bonus [although he’ll protest] he’s a pretty nice guy, too.

Perpet [Mystery] is my ML for NaNo. She is an outspoken, loud, foul mouthed, opinionated, liberal geek, and that’s just the start of it. But she’s sweet. And funny. And also happens to be one of the two bloggers on my blogroll I have ever met. If you look far enough back you can see some of her fiction writing, which is amazing. She inspires me to be a better writer.

Malachai Succar is the link to the person I commonly call ‘Froboy about the sight. It’s a good source of meme’s and silliness. He is the other blogger on my roll that I have met, and in fact, lives only a few blocks from me. Nice guy. Odd, but nice.

Aravis is a sweetheart. And I am completely addicted to her photos. They are lovely. She also writes about some of her delightful habits [such as shooting nerf guns at the TV and randomly bursting into song on occasion] that make me like her all the more. She’s a lovely lady, and she writes with a lot of honestly. She is also a wonderful blog friend, seems like every time I have a bad day she’s one of the first to send me virtual hugs. She’s a darling, pure and simple. Go get to know her.

B has been missing for a while, but I read her when I started writing over at Reader Meet Author, and I am determined not to miss a second when she comes back. If she’s moved, someone poke me, so I can get a move on.

The Big Blog’s Adem is a funny, funny guy. He also will surprise me on occasion with a post about politics or some pics of him and his buddies out celebrating or in general having a nice time. Adem’s blog is lacking in the usual blog drama, and he’s always a pleasure to visit.

Mr. Mystic has been a dark father type figure around the neighborhood as long as I can remember. I linked up to him once I realized I was heading to his site every time he left a comment on someone’s blog. To me he seems really wise, and incredibly loving. He’s also got going an all women’s blog at the moment, which I think is fantastic.

Reader Meet Author gets so many plugs I am sure you all are sick of hearing about it. But if you are looking for fiction, and something interesting to read, go there. Incidentally, I am going to start serializing my NaNo novel on it, so if you were looking to read it, this might be a good place to go. Look out for other amazing writers as well, including a few from my blogroll and quite a few I am not linked to, but are likely to end up here eventually.

Fear and Loafing in England, one of my newer additions, is also one of my newer addictions. Mark [its author] is a really fascinating guy. He has no shortage of opinions on everything from movies, to politics, to books, to former lovers. He is sometimes painfully honest about his past, and I can’t get enough of him. He also updates more than any blogger I know, so its always interesting to head over there throughout the day to see what is on his mind.

The Grey City Manifesto is where Ka resides when she isn’t off traveling the world, and if you can find a sweeter, more genuine lady, I want you to point her out to me. That’s not to say the women I have previously mentioned aren’t great, but when I visit Ka I always wind up just a little touched. There’s always something interesting going on with her, as well. I love to see what she’s been up to.

Crucifer is an addition from the RMA page. He doesn’t update often, but he does write some interesting stuff, and to my knowledge, knows more about gaming than any blogger I’ve yet met.

Freespurge is actually not my discovery. Phil wandered over to my site from a few links [thank you Adem, and Lord B] and I couldn’t be happier he did. For one thing, he loves Firefly/Serentiy and I’d like him for only that. But I read Freespurge for Phil’s personality. He’s a captivating person. Whether he is off to a new city, or looking for a new job, or just waxing poetical about his life, he makes me want to read more. He’s shiny.

The Secret Room, of course, is my blog. Of course I will add it on to my blogroll. I do have some collaborators, though, and as soon as they get the lead out we’ll be seeing more interesting stuff than I can write, I am sure. However, I will say, if you are missing my near daily cries for sex or sensuality, this is where they have disappeared to. So you can go check them out.

Right. So thats the people on my blogroll and a terribly worded explanation as to how they got there.

I would be remiss in not mentioning Sunshine, who's blog has been changed, and to whom I will not link to per request. She's a great lady. I like her a lot. Good friend. *waves at Sunshine*

Love you all.


Sunday, February 12, 2006

A Water Lyric, Anyone?

Big news - the pool at my gym is finally fixed, and I got to go and swim laps yesterday. It had been out of service all week, and I was missing my time in the pool. After a few weeks you grow accustomed to the feeling of stretching out in the pool after a long run or a decent bike ride, and I was missing it. I am sure that the receptionist was as sick of me calling as I was of her rudely telling me ‘still broke, no I don’t know and call tomorrow’. Thanks, sweetie. No, really. Don’t get up and ask. Its alright. Its not like I pay to work out there anyway. Oh, wait....

I had been wound up all day because I had bought a new tank suit and goggles at the beginning of the week and was dying to break them in. It was incredibly refreshing from the moment I slipped into the water, and I could feel my body whispering thank you with every stroke. I had almost forgotten how nice it felt. Almost. My entire body relaxed and I could literally feel the tension washing away as I swam. It’s a glorious feeling. Swimming is my favorite way to exercise. It never feels like work. My body was very happy.

My head wasn’t nearly so. I made the mistake of not checking the time before I left the house and I wound up being interrupted five minutes into my swim by "family swim time" which occurs on the weekends in three hour blocks once a day. I’ll say this, I like kids. A lot. I even daydream from time to time of having my own. However, the little monsters [and their parents] that interrupted the perfection and stillness that was me and the pool and the sound of the hot tub were not the kind I like. Not at all. In fact, by the time I left I was ready to scream.

It started with a squeal. Almost a yowl, really, pure animalism and raw energy. And then children flying up the stairwell to the pool and jumping into the water, never mind looking to make sure they weren’t crashing into something or someone [like me], bellowing at the top of their tiny lungs. [There must be some sort of study relating how the smaller your lungs are the louder you can yell] In the course of five minutes the pool had no less than 15 children in it, thanks in part to a couple that brought two sets of twins and their other two children. I thought they were friends until I noticed they all called the man "daddy". They had torn every floatation device and "noodle" out of the closet and dumped them in the pool. They even had the water barbels out.

I tried to be nice. I understand they are allowed. Its only three times a week. And I do, honestly, like children. However, they were also running in and out of the sauna, slamming the door and shrieking inside it after discovering that it echoed. They also would *jump* into the hot tub and then back out or back in to the pool. Still, I kept swimming, I got my laps in. I never said a word, I didn’t mind dodging the kids too much, and I kept my head when one jumped on me while I was underwater.

The kicker, for me, was the dirty looks several of the mothers gave me when I got out of the pool to sit in the hot tub for a moment. One looked at me and scooted closer to her husband, which I am unsure was a proprietary gesture or one of fear. Another gave me dirty looks when I got in the hot tub and several children, ostensibly hers, got out immediately.

It pissed me off. One, a responsible parent would be in the pool with their kids. None of the children, *none* were over the age of 6 if I were to guess. Maybe one 7 or 8 year old in the bunch. Two, no one should jump in and out of a hot tub - its dangerous because of how shallow it is, and allowing your child to jump in it and then into the pool repeatedly is begging for them to catch pneumonia. Not to mention it splashes hot water all over people in the pool, standing by and in the tub. Its rude. Third, no one under the age of 15 or so should be in a sauna. Letting your four year old go into a steam sauna with a bucket of water and letting them lay in there without checking to see if the temperature is turned low enough not to injure them is plain stupidity [it wasn’t, I turned it to the highest setting, planning to use it after my soak]. Hell, letting them in there is plain stupidity, if you ask me.

But these parents sat there with their magazines, completely oblivious to the health and safety of their children and only look up to give me a dirty look because I had *dared* to swim laps while their children played and *dared* to get into the hot tub while their children were jumping in and out of it, having I am sure, an excellent time.

F*ck off, lady. If I had children I would have the decency to at least get in the pool and make sure my children are safe. I’d take a moment to look up from my copy of Redbook to make sure they weren’t laying in a steam sauna with the temperature turned up to tropical rainforest setting and likely risking heat stroke. Know what darling? I bet that the article on weight loss you are reading won’t do you half the good putting in a few laps or spending time with your children would. And, I know the notion is crazy, but since you are in a fitness center, and paying dues, and here at the pool with your children who obviously are dying for attention, judging from the way they keep trying to call to you, why not get in and do some exercise and use a little of that parental discretion and maternal instinct I keep hearing you develop when you have kids? I would certainly prevent them from destroying the facility and its equipment, dues are high enough without them having to fix the sauna or the pool every other week because someone’s child has messed it about. That’s a little thing I like to call common courtesy.

As I was in the hot tub two girls came in that I normally wouldn’t give a second glance to. They are the average over-tanned big chested bikini wearing college girls who like to soak in the hot tub after they run however many miles they do on the treadmill that frequent my gym [this isn’t a stereotype - I swear, these girls are machines, I glanced at one the other day and she had already run 15 miles!]. These two came in, earned the same dirty looks I had when I got out, and stopped short when they came to the top of stairway to the hot tub. One looked at the other when she spotted the three year old floating in the middle in her life jacket, and she shook her head and said "Oh, hell no."

My sentiments exactly.

**** UPDATE ******

I just returned back from the pool. I got to swim my laps. There were three very darling children there, who picked up their toys and offered to get out when I started swimming [I told them to stay as long as they like.] Their parents were swimming as well. This is proof to me that I was right about those parents.

Further proof? Hot tub was broken tonight. Apparently *someone* shoved a half a fun noodle into the clean-y thing and jammed up the spouts.

Friday, February 10, 2006

I Love The Way You Look At Me

Hello darlings. I am continuing with my little bit of blogging on topics you give me.

Spinsterwitch asked me what made me want to work in a strip club and what I thought of it.
First, I should correct you Spinny. I never worked in a strip club. I worked in a gay club in my town. I was not a ‘stripper’ but a ‘gogo dancer’. Some may say there is little distinction, but whatever gets you by, right? Suffice to say I never, in the time I worked there, took off my top or my bottoms. I was never naked. I was never even half naked..

So - to the story of how I became a gogo dancer.

The club I worked at was [is] the most prominent gay club in my city, and likely one of the most prominent in my state. It was not a strictly male or female club. It allowed patrons of age 18 or older. When I was not working or in college I would run off to this club. In part because I was excited to be ‘out’ and I loved the atmosphere. In part because it was helping me to overcome my shyness. Believe it or not, I spent the first few months I went to this club hiding in a corner with a soda watching people.

Eventually I came out of my shell [left school, for reasons I don’t feel like discussing at this point, although it wasn’t because I was failing] and got an apartment with Preacher Man, whom I was still on speaking terms with. He has come out as well, and it turned out there were several gay men who lived in the townhouse next to us. Eventually the group of us began going out most nights.

When they didn’t go I went alone, and it was on some of these nights I began to make friends of my own that I happened to like a little better than them. I watched the drag shows and became a familiar face. I was a good tipper and became friendly with most of the queens, who even if they didn’t call me friend certainly called me a fond acquaintance.

I am also, as I have mentioned before, a remarkable dancer. I grew up classically trained, and in the hands of gay men it didn’t take me long to become one of the more prominent dancers at the weekend dance parties. Even at the club, long before I was working as a dancer, on dance nights I was being tipped by patrons who enjoyed watching me dance. It was my dancing, I think, that caught Diva’s eye.

After my dalliance with Diva I think just about everyone who worked at the club knew me, and thankfully possessed no ill will over the fact that I was able to get Diva into bed when so many of them had failed at it. Diva invited me out one night to the "gogo" night, a new feature they had on a few different week nights. It was formatted so you would dance on the stage as a patron, but there were also "gogo" dancers preforming on elevated platforms surrounding the stage. Every now and again they would preform to a song on their own and everyone watched. A lot of fun.

The first night I went Diva got a phone call and had to leave [he had a day job as a security officer for a large corporation in my area] and I was left to my own devices. Suffice to say I was a little nervous. I did not know this particular night’s group of patrons, and all of the dancers were male, so I was only mildly interested in them, and only because there were a couple who were good dancers.

During one of the breaks the host spotted me and pulled me up on stage because ‘she’ knew me through Diva, who was her roommate. She also knew my dancing. Through no small amount of intimidation through the microphone and catcalls from an interested crowd she pulled me onto one of the platforms and tried to get me to dance. I shook my head ‘no’ but before I could get away she had the DJ playing one of my favorite songs, and she was poking at me to dance. She whispered up I didn’t have to take off my clothes, and after that I figured why not?
I danced for 20 minutes. I made nearly $200. After the evening was over, as I was leaving, the manager of the bar told me the owner had instructed him to hire me as a dancer, whatever my price. I negotiated free entrance to the club, free drinks and a base pay into the works and I was an employee that night.

As far as what I thought of it, there isn’t much to say. I made a lot of money. More than most of the men. I was the only female, so I was doted on heavily, which I loved. I became a bit of a mini celebrity, which I loved. Of course, it took as while because I wore a lot of wigs and when I went out a made an effort not to look like "Alecya" but myself so no one would bug me. When that didn’t work I became Alecya all the time and I had a lot of fun. I also started preforming in some of the other shows singing [yes, I do sing] and I worked with some of the drag performers as a contract dancer for shows when they were in pageants or on the road, and I also dressed them, which taught me a lot of the makeup, breast binding/enhancing, leg shaving tips that make me such a lovely woman when I get all dressed up.

I was never admired by many women, but made most of my money from gay men who liked my dancing or had other reasons for liking me [which I sometimes couldn’t fathom]. I was very thin, and very pretty I think, at the time.

This was also the time I started doing drugs. They were free, another perk to working in a prominent club, because people who knew me wanted them too, so the people who provided me with them made plenty of money off of people who knew I could point them in the direction of whatever they wanted. Of course, the non-stop parade of nose candy had two major effects on me. One, I was ridiculously confident, almost unbearable to people who didn’t like me, but it made me generous to the point of excess with people I did like. This made me a lot of temporary friends and garnered me access to a lot of places in the club, and in other gay clubs and parties, etc. about town, that I wouldn’t have otherwise because I was a lesbian and there are far more gay males on the club circuit. It also destroyed my nasal cavity. Which is the one drawback I can think of for the whole experience.

I never had a lot of problems as a dancer. There are only two incidents that come to mind immediately. The first is one night when a strait couple came in and were looking for a partner for sex afterwards. I indicated to them I wasn’t interested, despite the heavy tipping, and their coaxing. The gentleman [and I use that term loosely] made to grab at me and when I moved away called me a name I am too much a lady to repeat. He moved away as the bouncer came over, but tried again later in the evening. I lost my temper and grabbed him by the elbow and took him to the door of the club myself, tossing him into the street with what was likely a little more force than needed, and then sent the bouncer out to him as I sent the manager to get his wife, and their names, so they would not be allowed back in the club. I did, however, make a bit of money that night from guys who thought the sight of me in high heels and my underwear forcefully ejecting a male from the club was amusing.

The other incident came from a woman, believe it or not. She was drunk, and had stumbled in with her buddies from a college bar next door known well for its "meat market" atmosphere and high rate of Fraternity/Sorority attendees. She was dressed, as usual for that club, in clothes that were to small, too short and too revealing. There’s sensuality with taste, and then there’s looking like a whore. This poor girl got it all wrong. She and her friends settled near my platform, and she began to loudly protest she was better looking and a better dancer than I. She stumbled onto the dance floor and kept making to get onto my platform. I gently pushed her away a few times, the law in my state requires that patrons are not allowed to be on the platform with a dancer. She became mouthier, and drew the attention of most of the patrons.

I’ll pause to say, for the most part, I am a lady. Regardless of my personal preferences in the bedroom, regardless of my orientations, regardless of my profession at the time, I prided myself on acting like a lady. I treated the patrons well. I used clean language. I always minded my manners in front of customers - never mouthing off, never insulting. It is not only necessary for that profession if you want to be more than a dancer, as I was, but important to me.
I was not a lady that night.

The kind thing to do would have been to have her bounced, had them call her a cab, and send her away alone. That would have been the ladylike thing to do. She caught me on the wrong night. I won’t make excuses, but I will say it had been a bad day, I was on speed and completely overconfident, and was sick to death of the morons that had been stumbling in and out of the club that evening from the bar next door. The other women were mildly belligerent. A few sneered at me. I expected that, its part of the job. I got it from lesbians too. I didn’t mind that too much. But for someone to invade my space and insult me, that was too much.

I signaled the bartender to send her a shot, smiled at her friends, and stalked off to the bar to sit with a few my regular patrons who were grinning like sharks. They knew what would happen. I was quite popular, and this strait girl had crossed the line. The host set her on my platform, gave her the shot, compliments of me, and told her I was offering her my job. They played my signature song, and she was hissed off the stage. There was no question it would happen, there had been a few of the male dancers who had the same problem with other men who had auditioned and not been given a job. Only after she was done did the bar pay her a cab home, and left her friends to figure out what to do. I went back to dancing, the girl left in drunken tears. I was cruel, I know.

And maybe a little passive aggressive.

Other than that, I really enjoyed it. I miss it from time to time. When Beloved and I started dating she insisted I stop. I still go out on the weekends every now and again [like on my birthday] and I am still treated well by all the staff.

Does that answer your question Spinny? Or were you wanting more like ‘what was my favorite outfit to dance in’ or ‘what were my favorite songs’ or....I don’t know. Was that what you wanted to know?

More questions, loves. This is fun for me.

Thursday, February 09, 2006

A Brief Interruption

And then its you, Spinny. More questions, by the way, friends. I love this. I just wanted to tell you all, I am cutting my hair. Like this: What do you think? [Mind you, I am doing it anyway, I am sick of my long hair]

Wednesday, February 08, 2006

My earliest memory

Shorty asked me for my earliest memory.

I actually have two that come to mind, and they are both about the same time in my life. They say you aren’t supposed to be able to remember back past a certain age, but I know I go back earlier than that. I have asked my grandmother about these two memories. I was four when both of these things happened.

The first thing I remember is a little girl outside the screen window of my bedroom. She and I were playing dolls and mommas through the window. I was not allowed out of my room for some reason. I remember passing a fake compact through the window to her. It was peach colored, and had a purple rose decal on the top of it. I was sitting on a blue and black checked quilt that my mom still has. I heard someone come outside the house and yell at her. She ran away with my compact.

The other thing I remember a lot more vividly.

It was Christmas time. I was at my grandma’s house. I am sitting in my Aunt Jana’s bedroom in the back of the house. There is a lot of shouting. I look at the walls. They are blue and have puffy rainbows hung on them. There is a mirrored picture of a unicorn and a poster of Bon Jovi. In the corner there is a birdcage with two parakeets in it. One is green, the other blue.
I am wearing my Christmas dress, its black velvet and red taffeta. Its got that scratchy black netting underneath it. In my lap is a new play tea set. Strawberry Shortcake. The dishes are pink and have little fruits on them. I am very nervous. I don’t like the yelling. It frightens me. I want to go back and open more presents. I feel like I am going to cry.

My Aunt Jana comes in. She has on a jean skirt. One of her high heels is broken. She shows it to me and scoops me up into her lap. She tells me she loves me. She tells me not to be frightened of the yelling. I remember looking up into her curly brown hair and grabbing hold of it lightly. She shakes me a bit and calls me Buddy. That’s what she always called me. Buddy. We sit on her bed together.

This, according to my grandmother, is the night my biological dad left my mom for good. Just before I go to the room I was supposedly grabbed by my dad, who tried to make off with me. My aunt Jana broke her high heel by putting it into his boots. Or so the story goes. I don’t remember much of it. Not what happened before. And not after, either. But I remember her room. And the colors. And her coming in and talking to me.

So, not very romantic or poignant are they, Shorty? Spinny, you’re up next.

Pace Yourself On Me

I had said in my last post that I was happy to answer questions you might have had for me. Mark is up first, and his question was:

Have you slept with a man, and what did you think? How does it differ from sleeping with a woman?

Alright. Well, I answered part of his questions in the comments, but I want to go into more detail, because this isn’t something I get to discuss very often, and frankly, I think its interesting.

Like I said in this post I am not technically a lesbian. I do like men. And I have been with men before. I’ve been with nearly as many men as I have women. I’d have to do the math on who comes out higher, to be honest, and I am of course speaking only of sexual intercourse. I’d be here weeks counting men and women I have kissed, etc. and I am lazy.

Highlights of my male relationships would be N, whom I lost my virginity to; Preacher Man, my ex Fiancee; Diner Guy, one of maybe two males to make me climax during intercourse and certainly the only one worth remembering; and Diva, who was a drag queen, and I think one of the more interesting people I’ve ever been with.

N was an ass. I was 15. He was 18. It wasn’t good. I didn’t know what I was doing. I didn’t for years. That didn’t stop me from trying, mind you. I won’t make much fuss of him. Dated, had sex, got dumped. It was high school, what did I expect?

Preacher Man is possibly the worst person I have ever slept with. I was with him from age 16 until I graduated high school and never once - mark that, not even once - did he cause me to climax in bed. I should have quit while I was ahead. He also marks bad experiences because he was into "sharing" and I wasn’t so much. He was also my first experience with anal sex. You’d think I’d hate it as well since he was so horrible at it [guys - for reference - gentility and passion are everything. If your partner lets you do this she trusts you implicitly. Don’t blow it.] But me liking it is another story entirely.

It comes from Diner Guy. Who is, without a doubt, the best male partner I have ever had. Ever. He was 27 I was 18. [18 was a good year for me] This is the man who taught me to like sex with anyone, forget male or female. [I had, by that time, already had a few female fumblings] He taught me teasing. He taught me bondage. He taught me passion. He successively taught me how to get off with each of my senses. I can’t speak highly enough of him. I have learned a better part of 95% of my oral technique from him, and I thank him for it. Not a serious relationship, but one that was, and still is, very important for me.

Finally, Diva, who was completely irresistible as a woman and even more so as a man. I was 18 and he was 32. I am still unsure how we landed in bed together. I remember a lot of flirting, a lot of hugs and him chasing off quite a few female suitors of mine he did not approve of. Either way, it worked, and I had a nice time with him. I think I only slept with him two or three times. But he was incredibly passionate. He had a lot of stamina. And I remember him telling me that sleeping with me was not like sleeping with a woman. I am still working out what he meant by that. I remember he could charm me like no other. Lovely voice. Lots of fun. Also an excellent billiards player.

I add age, so you know, because I think it is interesting to see the variety of ages I have been with. I will say this, the older a man gets the better he is in bed. I think the oldest gap for me, male or female, is about 20 years. I don’t honestly think it matters, except, as I noted before, I think the older you are the better you are. I chalk that up to experience and the maturity to recognize sex as more than a physical act.

As to the difference between men and women, there aren’t a lot. I prefer women in bed, in part, because I feel like sex with them is more intimate. There is something incredibly erotic and heart-rendingly beautiful about being able to both be inside your partner and have your partner inside of you in the same moment. I think a woman’s body is more elegant. I think they are more esthetically pleasing. No offense, gents, but there’s something a little awkward about most of you. The few of you who aren’t like that? I fall all over you. That may be part of my attraction to Diva, he moved like a woman and made love like a man. He was graceful.

I am not entirely sure I am even answering your questions, Mark. Are you wanting to know the difference between how it feels? This is my experience:

Men are harder. They move with more intent. When they are slick with sweat it clings and moves differently. The look in their eyes is different. They are flat and easy to move with. They are stronger. They’re better for giving control when I need it. With a man there is never any question as to whether or not I turn him on or get him off. Its also nice to be able to be filled by your partner and have them by both hands. That probably sounds silly, but I think that having my partner’s hands on me is both erotic and completely romantic.

With a woman I am better able to move. I feel more in control with a woman. Women are softer, easier for me to ‘navigate’. Women I have been with have been more needy in bed. They want constant emotional attachment and reassurance they are beautiful and you are turned on by them. They are generally more vocal. Sex with women almost always last longer. Women have better legs. Women want romance with their sex. Women can have multiple climaxes [or at least, in quick succession and more frequently], so I always feel a little more confident in bed. Women taste better.

However, and I will stress this, the feeling of sex is similar for both. For me, what really does it, is emotion. Not romance, per say, I don’t always want romance. But what I do want is for my partner to get inside my head, feel out my fantasies and incite orgasm from there. All of my best lovers, male or female, have tapped into my psyche and sexed me there as well. Diner Guy was great at this, and he’s a perfect example, because he and I had little emotional attachment. What he did do was get inside me and convince me he was making me feel more turned on than I ever had been, and that he was the best lay I was ever going to have. Experience is nice, I’ll give you that. Lovers with technique are always a little better. But on par for technique, male or female, I will always select the partner that gets under my skin. A partner that moves *inside* you is always better. Always.

Mark, does this answer your questions? Tell me if I missed the point entirely, or if you want to know something different. Shorty- your question is next. And in yet another shameless plug, if you are interested at all in the more, erm, graphic memories I have of Diner Guy, I think I am going to post a piece on him at The Secret Room.

Tuesday, February 07, 2006

It Must Have Been Something You Said

I know I've not been posting to prolifically here, so I thought I would tell all of you I *am* posting here if you want to read some of my writing. And you can't go wrong for a good read at this place either.

I appreciate all of the support you guys have given me. Really, you've helped me stay a bit more sane than I would have been had I not had something to do while trapped in this godforsaken house. I really really appreciate it.

I am still eager to write anything anyone might want to hear my opinion on, or about anything you would like to know about me. I'm scraping the bottom of the barrell, or the fridge as it were.

Right, so there's plenty for you to do and read. And suggestions to make. I'd even settle for a short peice plot bunny.

Off we go.

Monday, February 06, 2006

Get it together like your big brother bob

I got a job! I dont know when it starts yet, the contract has to be signed, but I got a lovely municipal job that I had turned down to take my most recent one. Things are looking up. Hooray.

Saturday, February 04, 2006

Hey - Wait- I've Got a New Complaint

I am in a terrible mood today, and I've just woke up. Of course, I've also managed to argue with Beloved since I woke up as well.

Remember my new year's resolutions? All those good intentions of saying what I think and standing up for myself? Doing what I like in stead of what I think I have to do? Its a pain in the ass. The more I stand up formyself and express my opinions the more we fight, the more grief I get, the more fearful I am of losing her, and the more headaches I have to deal with. Frankly, I am sick of it. And if it weren't for the fact I know this is the right thing to do for myself, I would give up entirely and become a mindless drone.

I am sick to death of it. I am sick to death of doing what I am told by everyone important to me. My family... Beloved...Its wearing me down. I am sick of feeling like I don't make the right decisions. I am sick of feeling like my amitions and my loves are not as important. And I am really sick of hearing "what makes you happy?"

Why the [expletive deleted] does my happiness matter? Has anyone considered maybe we *don't* all deserve to be happy? That there are other things that are more important? Like having a job that pays your bills? Like having somewhere to live? Like responsibility? Like obligation? All of these things are important. Very important, and sometimes they impede happiness. Its a fact. Do I want to write for a living? Of course I do, and it makes me really happy. But the sad fact is, I can't make money at it, its not going to pay the bills. And I have tohave a job that does that, because I have obligations. And as much as I would like to come home every evening a write to make myself feel better, that isn't going to work either. Because I have to cook dinner, and clean my house, and write out my bills, plus spend time with my girlfriend so that she doesn't think I've stopped loving her. I barely have time to breathe, let alone write. Forget going to the gym to work out, or chat online or any other thing I would like to do.

I suppose outside all the worry I have had this little break from a job should have been a relief, i can actually spend time doing what I like. Well, after I've cleaned and cooked and applied for jobs and such.

I'm sick. Sick of all of it. This is enough for me. I feel like pulling a blanket over my head and sleeping until all my issues pass. I don't want to deal with it anymore. My relationships, my responsibilities, the person I am supposed to be or the one I want to be when I picture myself in my head.

I am so tired.

Friday, February 03, 2006

I bet you look good on the dancefloor

I am going to be completely fickle today and talk about Dancing with the Stars.

I have already mentioned several times that I absolutely adore rality TV and this show is fast becoming a favorite of mine.

For me, the top three are Stacey Keebler, Drew Latchey and Lisa Rinna [and not just because of my crush]. I think Lisa got robbed last night, and Drew definately did, I felt like his routine was more technically proficient, more entertaining and required more skill. Unfortunately, the jusdges are completely wet for Stacey. She's great, I'll give you that. But she didn't deserve a 30. Nope. Not at all.

In similar news, the university is offering ballroom lessons. I think I might take them come this fall when I am back in school. Mystery, darling girl she is, says she will go with me. Now all we need to do find partners.

Wednesday, February 01, 2006

all things considered I couldn't be better

Now that we’ve covered all of the stereotypes that I cannot stand, and no one seems to have any questions yet, we’ll move on to the real part of the post I think Ka was aiming at, and that’s discussing the way it is for me living in a country where queerness is not legal, nor accepted.
In a word, uncomfortable. I’d like to think I am very comfortable about my sexuality. I am firm in what I like, and what I want. And I don’t mind demanding it or displaying it. Sadly, there are a lot of people who do mind.

Where I live it is not acceptable to see two people of the same sex showing affection in public. It is not generally acceptable to be gay. A great example of this is my last visit to the mall, which I mentioned in a post a few days ago. While I was at a jewelry stand looking for a new navel ring, and talking to the adorable [and obviously gay] clerk, several young males walked by and were less than quiet about commenting on how "fags are disgusting" and "should die". Lovely.
Even Beloved has become what I call a gay homophobe. She does not allow me to hold her hand in public, or walk to closely to her for fear people will know we are gay. Even outside on out front porch she likes to keep up auspices we are roommates for the sake of our safety. I think out neighbors know, but if they didn’t? I don’t know what I would do.

I am a very open person, so it is hard for me to be "in the closet" I don’t like it in the least. Beloved, on the other hand, has not come out to quite a few members of her family and it isn’t mentioned when I go to her family functions. I am just "Beloved’s friend" and that’s it.
Even in my own family its not something that is talked about, and while my grandmother has been as supportive as a woman of her upbringing can be, I know that she would be much happier if I ‘settled down with a nice young man.’ My mother, by this point, is rather clear on the fact that Beloved is not really fond of her, and my mom has taken to digging at her when she isn’t around. She also tends to make out that any male I am friends with is a potential mate who is likely falling in love with me. I think she hopes it’s a phase, really. It will be a shame for her to figure out eventually things aren’t going to change.

Beyond the people who are supposed to be supportive, there is nothing where I live that really encourages you to live an open and happy lifestyle. There is a community center here, but it is located in a frightening part of town, and there is very little community support. It was only the year after I graduated that a high school in my town formed a gay/strait alliance, and it was amongst a large amount of controversy. For those interested, it was not the high school I went to.

In my state there have actually been moves to block equal rights legislation for gay couples. There was an amendment to the equal housing laws in my state, for example, that was meant to add "sexual orientation" to the laws, so that you could not be evicted from your residence for your sexuality. This amendment did not pass, unsurprisingly. In the most recent election in my state gay marriage was outlawed as well. Even the university I will be attending in the fall has no sexual orientation clause in its equal opportunity statement although it has been lobbied for strongly by both teachers and students because the university president feels it is not necessary and might divert state funding to other less liberal schools. I can also lose my job because of my orientation.

As a gay, there is no guarantee for me in housing, schooling or work because of who I sleep with. I might also add there is a disturbingly low rate of follow up on gay hate crimes in my city because the perpetrators generally get away and police say there is "no use" filing a report on an unknown perpetrator. I’ve seen them go as far as to say that a woman I saw attacked outside a local gay club "knew the risks she was taking" when she went into the establishment. [In my mind this is much the same as saying that a girl who gets raped after drinking at a frat party has no right to file a police report as well...rubbish]

More than these liberties when you enter into a long term relationship there is no recourse for you unless you and your partner die at the same time with wills and amicable families. I can honestly say, at this point, if something were to happen to me the following would happen: I would not be buried per my wish [I want to be cremated and my mother would never let me, she hates the idea] because Beloved would have no say in it. When my life insurance policies were cashed in, my family would contest Beloved’s amount and take the money from her because she is not a relation to me. If I did not have a will [which I do not at this time] they would become owners of all my property, including the things in mine and Beloved’s home which we may have purchased together, such as my computer, television and my truck. They would even have access to our joint bank account. If I did have a will they would hold it up in execution and end up with all of my things, all because Beloved has no legal right to any of my things because according to law we haven’t got a recognizable relationship. If something were to happen to Beloved, I would have no home, and the same problems with all of the insurance policies, wills, and etc. And while I love her family, I have no guarantee they would not do the same thing I know mine would.

I think the whole marriage issue has been done to death over here. It breaks my heart to think of all the couples in this world who cannot be together because they are the "wrong" sort of couple. To me, love is love. If both are adults, and consenting, it is no one’s business. I don’t look at marriage as a religious institution because its not. Its been made into one and I think that’s wrong. There were marriages before there was a Christian religion, and there will be long after it is gone. It should, for the concerns of law, be a legal status. A partnership between two people. I don’t care if its called marriage or partnership or whatever. I think if two people love each other and want to make a commitment to each other they should be able to do so. And if a man and a woman can be given special government rights for that pledge, I think a homosexual couple should be able to as well.

For me, I don’t need a marriage. I want a ceremony where I tell the world I am completely committed to the person I am in love with. I want people to celebrate that. But I don’t need a piece of paper to prove my love to someone. They know I love them. Beloved and I have agreed we would have a commitment ceremony after 10 years together, because that is a time commitment most people over here cannot make. Strait or gay. And if we make it that long, we deserve a long vacation and the celebration and admiration of the people we know.

Still, I think that it is wrong to reward heterosexuals for moving in together, saying they love each other and popping out babies like good little breeders. I know that sounds cynical. And it is. But that’s why I can’t get married to Beloved. I won’t be able to procreate. You know what? Fuck off, because there are too many people in this world who are having children they don’t care about and don’t want for there to be a reward for doing it in a committed relationship. And this may sound harsh, but it is so rare for a marriage to work out I think it is a complete joke that its called a "sacred" institution.

And children. I’ll tell you a secret. I want them. Not now, I am too young. But in the future I want one. I would love to have a family. I cannot adopt in my state. I cannot foster parent, even were I single, because of my sexual orientation. It is also difficult for me to get In Vitro or any form of AI because I am gay. There are *two* clinics in the whole of my state that will allow a single woman to become fertilized. I think that’s wrong. On top of that, I will have difficulty getting pregnant in those situations, paying what will end up being thousands upon thousands of dollars to doctors who think I shouldn’t be allowed have kids, because I could not run out and sleep with a man to get pregnant because of a past *heterosexual relationship* I was in put me in a situation where my body was damaged to the point I can’t have kids naturally. The irony of this is I know this man now is married and has 4 kids. I will never know that joy because I think women are beautiful. And if I ever did have kids? Social services can take my children away from me because of my "sexual perversion" and the risk that I might molest them. It sounds crazy, but I know people it has happened to.

Right. I am mad now. I am going to call this a stopping point, and if there’s something else you would like me to touch on, feel free to ask me about it.

I'm Super, Thanks for Asking

I really should have covered this topic a long time ago, and I appreciate Ka reminding me. I’ll tell you now, I am sure this will be in the top of my longest posts, because really, as concise as I try to be when I talk about politics, especially the politics of being alternatively affinity oriented I tend to ramble. My blood also tends to boil, so lets watch out for that as well, eh?

Right. First. I want to clear something up. I am not a lesbian. If you’re going to label me, don’t call me one of those. Because I am not. Not technically. Labels are hard for me, and I don’t really fall into a good category. And I think its unsound practice to label things. *But* for the sake of discussion, I call myself a lesbian because I am in a long term relationship with a woman. I primarily prefer women - not to say I don’t like men, just not as well or often. If I like a man, he tends to have an outstanding personality quality I will find myself attracted to. Since I have come out I have had more relationships with women than men. I do not date based on gender alone.

As far as vocabulary goes, if I refer to a lesbian, a dyke or any of those charming girly phrases they use for women who like women, I am referring to sexual practices only. Same goes for gay men or any term I might use for them [including fag - no I’m not being hateful, it’s a term widely used in my community]. When I refer to a bisexual I mean a person who has no gender preference or bias and does not date exclusively one way or the other. I also include Cross-dressing as a topic, because it seems to come up almost exclusively with topics of homosexuality.

If you want to go back to the second paragraph we’ll call me a Kinsey 5 Cross-Dressing Bisexual in a current Homosexual Relationship. If that’s a mouthful, you can call me a lesbian, alright?
Right, on to my first topic, which Ka, you will see in time, comes with the territory of being gay in the Midwest. Stereotypes. They’re everywhere, and it surprises me that even in a city with more than 5 colleges, and no matter how educated a person is, it seems that once you broach the subject of sexuality these stereotypes always come up.

I want to start with the males, simply because it’s a shorter list, and as I am not a homosexual male I haven’t got a list nearly as long, and I’ve not got nearly the peeves, I don’t think. Maybe I’ll have Sakura do me up a list of peeves, but for now, you’re stuck with mine.

Not all gay men are feminine. There’s actually quite a few who are very masculine. You’d be surprised to know some professional cowboys (i.e. rodeo) are gay. I’ve seen more than my share of brawls outside the most prominent gay bar in my town where the gay guy won because he was bigger, in better shape and a lot tougher. You can’t tell by looking.

Which brings me to peeves two and three - they don’t all speak with a lisp and they don’t all have good fashion sense. Fashion sense is a gift from god, I promise, and its just as rare among gay men as it is strait men, bless them, and all you need is to look at some of the train wrecks wandering the bar scene for proof of that. And as far as a lisp goes, I’ve never met a gay man who lisped who didn’t use it as a security blanket. They do this because, by and large, you think they should or will and because it makes them more comfortable because it wards off homophobes. Most of them talk quite normally.

Not all gay men are cross dressers either. Those are a completely separate category, and they are called "drag" performers, because most who do it do it for a living, not because they get sexual gratification from it, or because they wish they were women. There are some who do. I have not met them, and I won’t speak on their behalf, because I am ignorant, sadly, of their situation.

Women. Lesbians. I’ve got a million peeves about our stereotypes. Partially because I don’t think I fit a lot of these.

First. We don’t all hate men. I love men. A lot. They’re easy to get along with. They’re strait forward, for the most part. Most of the lesbians I know like guys and have guy friends. A lot of them have slept with men. There’s a big difference between a man hater and a lesbian. There are some that are both, but the two should never be confused.

Item two. We don’t all look like boys. Yes, there a some that wear men’s clothes. There are some that are more masculine looking. There are some that have short haircuts. But I wear men’s clothing, I have *shaved my head* in the past and I look nothing like a male. Nothing. Of course, the ones that are masculine looking, some try very hard to be feminine. It may not be in their nature. I knew of a female who played softball in our league and everyone thought she was gay because she had extremely masculine looks, but her husband was always in the stand cheering. I also have a friend who is often mistaken for a male, and she hates it. But it had nothing to do with her orientation, meaning, I suppose, she is gay whether she looks like a pixie or a bulldog, you see? But I despise the idea that someone either decides they must be gay because of their looks or decides to look like a man because she is gay. I don’t think that is the case for most women.

This also goes to the myth that we are all ugly. I am not ugly. I am not. And if you disagree, bugger off, you’re blind. I’m not, say, Natalie Portman, but I’m not scary. And I certainly am not going to waste my time and effort and sexual energy chasing unattractive women [or men for that matter] when I know I can find someone of the opposite sex who will have me that I am attracted to. Its an insult to me, and my instincts - any woman’s instincts - to say we are abandoning what is "normal" to go after some sort of freakish end of the gene pool.

Item the next. Not all lesbians wish they were men. Now, I will admit, on occasion I do get a bit of penis envy, but that’s for reasons entirely different than what this assumption implies: that a woman who wants to be with woman is acting out her need to be a man, which is patently untrue. I am with women because I think they are beautiful, they feel nice when you touch them, and they can make excellent companions. Same reasons men do. That, and you get that lovely draw in your stomach when you see them. However, I have no desire to be a man. If I were a man I would be gay anyway, since I like men as well. No, I have no desire to swap sexes. Most lesbians I know love the female form, and their own bodies very much.

Also, not all of us fall into the "butch" or "femme" category. There is not male/female dynamic to any lesbian relationship. There are two people with two personalities. And they are both women. There are some people who gravitate to a male/female dynamic, but not all of them. Not even most of them. For example. Most people would think my Beloved is a butch, but she isn’t. There’s really nothing tough about her other than her short hair. I am not a femme either. If you drop labels like that [which I object to, of course] I am termed "fag" because of my proclivity to things that are stereotypical gale male entertainments, such as cross dressing, and my form of dress, which is a combination of men’s and women’s clothing and other things that supposedly define me as a "fag" more than a "soft butch" or "femme" or whatever. I think the labels are complicated and I honestly don’t care what you call me. Still, I hate when people ask me who the "man" is in our relationship. In part because they expect it to be Beloved because of my looks and they somehow think less of her when they figure out she is a total femme. Its also because, if you did choose to define us from a male/female perspective I would be the more masculine of the two of us, and I don’t want to be seen as a "man" in any form. Because I am a woman. I like being a woman. And I in no way act "like a man" when I am in bed with Beloved or otherwise. If I were a "man" in bed I would have a penis. I don’t. I am not a man. My relationship with Beloved has a Beloved/Alecya dynamic, and that is all. I don’t ask strait couples who the man in their relationship is, and I don’t expect them to ask me the same. I would offend them, just as I become offended by that sort of ignorance.

A lot of people also assume that because I am a lesbian I have either been hurt by a man or had a poor relationship with my mother, and those are the things that I don’t think should be assumed about any female relationship. I do fit this stereotype, but I think this puts me into a unique position to clear things up. I can’t stand my mother. She has always been distant and irresponsible. However, I have had plenty of female support in my grandmother and my aunts. Even if I hadn’t I would find it more a reason to stick to men, because most of the women I have met in my life time have let me down. A large portion of them. And yes, I had a terrible relationship with Preacher Man [and all his buddies] and some of the other men I have dated. Still, I like men too. I just prefer to be with Beloved. Who is to say my next partner, if I have one, will not be a male? I won’t know, because I love indiscriminately, regardless of my preferences. There are some very fine men out there that any female would be lucky to be with, if she likes men. There are bad apples in any bunch.

This is what makes the difference between a man hater and a lesbian if you ask me. A lesbian who has had relationships, however good or bad, with a male and can still say that they are with women because they love women and not because they don’t have an alternative other than celibacy is a honest to god lesbian. A man hater is a woman who has been hurt and cannot get beyond her own suffering, however justified, to try and love again regardless of sex. These, I also find, tend to make bad girlfriends, because they have unsettled sexual and aggression issues that aren’t going to be solved by sleeping with a female. [that sounds like a broad statement, but I have met, and dated, women like this.]

Finally, and this one always gives me a good laugh, [I’m going to quote a Kevin Smith film] lesbians don’t need a "good deep dicking." I’ve been with men. They weren’t the reason I decided to be with females, and they aren’t going to change my mind about the issue. Of course, I still like men, so I may be biased. Still, if I go out and sleep with a man it is not going to effect my love of women any more than my current relationship prevents me from appreciating how truly beautiful men can be as well. A better example is my Beloved, who has only been with one man, and enjoyed the experience, but wouldn’t do it again. It wasn’t bad. He wasn’t mean to her. She had a good time. She just likes ladies. Nothing wrong with that. Not with me anyway. :)

Also, there are a few stereotypes I need to get out of the way that I am not going to refute with anecdotal evidence, instead, will just say that these are untrue, generally disgusting untruths that piss me off to no end when discussed by people who know nothing about the gay community.

We are not pedophiles. We are not derelicts. We don’t sleep with animals or children. We will not have sex with anything that offers. We are not more sexually adventurous or deviant than a strait person. We do not hate Christians. We are not all atheists. We were not abused as children. We do not hate strait people.

There is no end to the pathetic amount of lies that go on about our community, and I encourage you, if there is a stereotype you are curious about or want to ask me about, go for it, because its through discussion that these types of things are cleared up.

Right. I have to have lunch with Mystery now. So I’ll come back later and get on to the political things [sorry, Ka] but those needed to be put off first so that we are clear how I feel about things, and none of us are operating under any illusions.

Back in a few, loves.