Party time with Non-Lesbian

     I wanted to have a party.  So I decided since I celebrate Chanukah (a confusing family tradition), that I would invite my church friends, lesbian friends, and Non-Lesbian, A.  I wanted to introduce my friends to a neat aspect of Jewish culture and also I wanted to drink.  

     As the night wore on, my friends all drank more and pretty soon A was doing some interesting things…like hitting on me.  Every five minutes she would tell the room “how sexy I was” and every fifteen she’d say how sexy the rest of my friends were (all women).  She hit on me so hard that she made two of my church friends awkward.  Not because she was a woman hitting on a woman, but because she was a “straight” woman hitting so hard on another “straight” woman.  

     Despite all the alcohol in my system, I was very tame.  I’m not actually all that different when I drink, a bit more talkative and courageous.  Having said that, at some point that night, for some reason, I decided I was hot and took off my t-shirt, stripping to my A-shirt.  (I also danced for everyone, so I must have been intoxicated.  I love to dance, but not generally in front of other people.)  Looking back I think I did it because I was enjoying all the attention A was giving me.  It’s been awhile since someone has viewed me as a sexual being (if you don’t count the very drunk men at the bus stop).  

     Everyone at the party was getting frustrated with A and her not-so-subtle advances.  They kept on pointing out she could actually date women if she so choose.  I too accosted her (politely).  I asked if she liked women so much well then she should just become a lesbian.  All she responded with was “I wish”.  “I wish”?  This is the 21^st century; it doesn’t have to be a wish!  It can be an action!  (But that would make it a verb…hmmm…lesbianing?  Lesbainizing?  Lesbonicycling?)

     Unfortunately it was around this time that I felt I was tired and wanted to go to bed.  I left to go crash in my room.  Thankfully everyone was nicely intoxicated that they didn’t mind one of the hosts (my roommate being the other) leaving her own party.  (I found out later that actually I left because I was wearing a sailor’s hat slightly askew and getting slightly pissed that everyone was calling me “cute”.  “Cute” huh?  What an insult!)  

     I’ve only seen A once since the party.  She invited me out to “dinner and a movie”, but I had other plans so I invited her out to drinks with me and our mutual gay friends.  There’s not much to note of that night except that she got me a Christmas gift, a book in which she wrote a nice (platonic) note.  No one else got a gift.  

     Non-Lesbian, A. might be lesbi-curious, but I’m not going to be her experiment.  All the attention makes me uncomfortable anyway.  I’ll be her friend and support her, but I don’t want my first forays into that big gay world be with a straight girl, even if she is “straight”.

QBP: "Drinking makes such fools of people, and people are such fools to begin with, that it's compounding a felony." -Robert Benchley

Who wouldn't hit on someone with this sexy mug?

Launching of Butch Lab: Symposium #1

     About a month ago I posted something for Sinclair's Butch Symposium.  Today the Butch Symposium launched here!  I'm so excited to be a part of this project alongside some prolific butch and those interested in all things butch bloggers.  So please read the excerpts below and be sure to comment and check out all the different bloggers.  And for newcomers to this blog please feel free to look around.  The stuff about Non-Lesbian is intriguing if not infuriating for myself.

***

     The Butch Lab Symposium is meant to be a cross between a blog carnival and a link round-up, where whoever wants to chimes in on a particular topic around butch identity and we all have a conversation.

     I strongly urge all the folks who participated in this to: a) re-post this roundup, in whole or part (I can provide the HTML if you’d like, contact me); and b) to comment on as many of the contributions as you can. Seriously, challenge yourself to read every single one and comment. Think about what is different or the same from your definition. Make note of a line that made you go “hmmmm,” or “yeah, that!” and tell them.

     So, because this was the first Symposium, I figured we should start out with the basics. To get all of us on the same page, to come up with a common language and definition and structure for talking about this stuff. I’d really like to continue elevating the discussion around butch identity through this project, and this is part of that, to really dig our hands into the deep stuff and see what we come up with.

     So the first topic was: What is butch? How do you define butch? What do you love about it? What does it mean to you?

Thirteen bloggers wrote in, four of them not butch identified but are interested in this work.

Ulla writes on Boxer Shorts & Bras:

I am a butch woman, a butch lesbian, a butch dyke – so my interpretation of butch stems directly from that. Beyond that though, butch is an adjective I use to describe the way I look, the way I walk. For me it’s about style, not gender. It’s the hipster jeans, the sneakers, the wallet chain, the watch, the heavy silver rings, the fact that I wear men’s clothing but refuse to accept masculinity and femininity as my gender labels. It’s my reclaiming of stuff that society says is just for boys and men. It’s liberation. It’s boxer shorts and bras.

Kyle at Butchtastic:

I love the word butch, it looks and feels exactly the way it should: tough, masculine, a little hard. For me, ‘butch’ evokes images of blue jeans and leather jackets, sturdy footwear and strong hands. ’Butch’ is strong, handsome, capable, ready to help, there to back up a friend or a stranger in need. And while I realize it’s not true for all who embrace the term, for me, butch is all the great things about being a woman, wrapped in the great things about being a man.

Holden from Packing Vocals:

I love taking what I perceive to be the best bits of masculinity and putting them into practice, such as chivalry and courteousness. I love opening doors, carrying bags, being called a gent and generally attempting to display as many ‘old fashioned’ good manners as possible. I also love the clothes and accessories, suits, ties, cufflinks, waistcoats etc. It’s all of that which makes the blood in my veins run thicker and stronger.

Roxy at Uncommon Curiosity writes about butch from the perspective of loving someone butch:

Butch is that red-and-white, candy-striped, aftershave-and-razor hair cut, the hand you wish you dared reach out to feel those strong, ripped shoulders, that neck that slides up, close-cropped, under the fabric, like she was born with that cap on, like they were made for each other, lookin out at the world like it’s one big fight or maybe just last night’s lay. The way she shines those boots that have known the ground, walked miles outside this town, out of her house and never looking back, marching and dancing with her girl, but always easy, hips that were built to press up close when her girl sways and leans her head back, stretching out her neck, long and graceful, inviting her inside.

G at Can I Help You Sir:

Being a butch is complex, and I dig it. When I think about what I love about being a butch, it’s easy to think tactically – “What things do I do that make me a butch?” I shave my face and wear my ball cap backward when I watch sports and love manual labor and open doors for my date, but anyone can do that. I went a step further and thought, “How do those things make me feel?” (Ew, feelings!) I can tell you this: I know what my life felt like before and after I came out as a butch, and the difference in my comfort level is astounding.

Victoria Oldham wrote at The Musings of a Lesbian Writer:

I am a femme. To me, butch is the other half of my equation. … There’s a swagger, a sureness, a sense of yeah, that’s who I am, so what? to her walk. A sense of comfort in her own body, of knowing who she is and what she wants out of life. A defiance of pronouns. An ability to take up space like a man, without every having to be one. She is in-between and everything, all at once.

EST from A Lesbian Christian writes:

Though it might be how others identify butch individuals, for me butch has very little to do with clothes and hair. Butch is an attitude. I think above all Butch means embracing your protective instincts. Holding a door open for a woman…or a man. Standing up for others who can’t stand up for themselves. Butch means not being afraid to get dirty especially when others are involved.

Wendi at A Stranger in This Place:

No matter how much I am against putting myself in a box by claiming the title of ‘butch’, I have learned to be much more ok with it after attending the conference and talking to others about the term and what it means to them. You see, the thing about words and titles is that you can mold and define them for yourself. … I am just me. A boots, jeans and t-shirt wearing, motorcycle riding, butch lesbian with a buzz cut. I like to think of myself as mostly a guy but I’m not. I’m a woman.

Jenni from Butch.org writes:

Having grown up as a gender non-conforming child, and navigating life as a gender-trans adult, my butch identity has been a way of naming myself and proclaiming who I am — so that I might embrace these qualities and think of myself as a hero instead of an awkward, self-conscious mistake of nature.

Ali at Made of Words doesn’t identify as butch, but chimes in:

I think you’re butch if you feel butch. I don’t think you need to claim the title every day. I think short hair my be a visual clue, but long hair doesn’t exclude you. I think gender identity and butch can be completely separated from each other, that it’s just an adjective for power, pants-wearing, and planning really great dates. For being swanky and taking care of yourself and being unafraid to get dirty. For occasionally getting “Sir” on the street, either accidentally or intentionally.

Jolie writes at This Side of Changed:

Butch is an adjective. Butch is a noun. Butch is a compliment, an acknowledgement, a performance, an attitude. Butch is an insult, an attack, an assault. It’s flattering and pejorative and honest and undeniable. Butch is a body born female and worn male. Butch is a title. One that must be first accepted, then adopted, and finally fulfilled. … Butch is the strength to grow up female and then choose for yourself – it is the strength to walk out the door every single day looking like everything you shouldn’t and making it work.

Lesbian Dad (Polly) writes over at Lesbian Dad:

Whether or not “butch” is the first term I find myself using to describe my gender, it is an umbrella I find shelter under. At the Butch Voices conference my breath was taken away: a room after room, hallway after hallway of people like me. I’ve got years of familiarity at being called “sir” (“six of one, half dozen of the other,” I usually reply, with a smile and a hop of the eyebrows); I am resigned to forever fluster/ disorient/ alarm women in public restrooms (at forty some-odd, I still avert my gaze and head for stall or sink, in mute attempt to convey I’m “just here to pee, ma’am; just here to pee”). Yet being surrounded by so many mannish women showed me how inured I am to aloneness in public.

Sinclair (um that would be me) over on Sugarbutch Chronicles:

So here’s what butch is, for me: Permission. Permission to be myself, that little solid stardust shiny nugget I feel somewhere in my core, like a diamond lodged between L5 and L4 of the lumbar spine vertebrae. Permission to wear what I like, to love who I desire, to play how I crave, to decorate and adorn my body how I choose. To experience all the things this world has to offer, without guilt or obligation, but with curiosity and an open heart and experimental hands. Permission to be right where I’m at, regardless of whether that’s where I was yesterday. Permission to explore and seek pleasure, to connect and create friction, to question and make change. Permission to be exactly who I am, doing exactly what I’m doing, to have bright burning faith that everything I do works toward the greatest liberation for everyone, as much as possible, all the time, in all ways.

Here’s a list of all the posts by link, if you’d like to copy & paste it onto your own blog.

Symposium #1: What is Butch? on Butch Lab:

• Ulla from Boxer Shorts & Bras
• Kyle from Butchtastic
• Holden from Packing Vocals
• Roxy from Uncommon Curiosity
• G from Can I Help You Sir
• Victoria from The Musings of a Lesbian Writer
• EST from A Lesbian Christian
• Wendi from A Stranger in This Place
• Jenni from Butch.org
• Ali from Made of Words
• Jolie from This Side of Changed
• Polly from Lesbian Dad
• Sinclair from Sugarbutch Chronicles

Decisions and DADT in December

     The long awaited decision of whether or not I got into medical school has “not yet been made”.  That means all the stress I endured this week was for naught.  It’s infuriating.  I can’t make a decision about my future if I don’t have an answer on med school.  If I get in, wonderful, I’ll live out my dream and become a doctor.  If I don’t get it (or possibly even if I get waitlisted) I’ll give myself a strict time limit for brooding and then get ready to enlist. 

     The good news is that DADT, the stand-alone bill edition, passed the House yesterday.   Now on to the trickier Senate.  Let’s say I’ll be super enthused if it does pass the Senate.  If I end up enlisting and DADT gets repealed, it’s not as if I’m going to broadcast my sexual orientation to the masses.  I’m still a very private person, but at least I won’t have the fear that if someone were to find out, that I’d be kicked out. 

     Perhaps a repeal will actually help grant me the courage to tell my church friends I’m gay.  Cause at this point it’s ridiculous.  It’s gotten to the point where it’s almost a betrayal not to tell them.  I’ll talk about this soon, but I had a party a few weeks ago.  I invited my lesbian friends W and SL, my church friends, and Non-Lesbian, A.  No surprise, drinking brought out a very interesting side to Non-Lesbian. 

     Anyways, my church friends noticed how A was acting towards me, and asked if I had told her I wasn’t a lesbian.  Perfect opportunity right?  Well the words caught in my throat.  All I said was, “I told her about breaking up with my last boyfriend.”  To which one of my friends said, “You could be a lesbian and still have an ex-boyfriend.”  To which I said nothing.  The subject was changed and the topic not revisited. 

     In other news, I’m headed “home” for the holidays.  I haven’t seen my family in about a year.  But everyone, except my mother, knows about my sexual leanings.  It’s easy to do so when your brother comes out as gay and your own father is bi.  My mother is kept in the dark, frankly because we don’t get along and it’s none of her business. 

     So that’s me for now.  Pissed about not having a decision yet about med school; befuddled by Non-lesbian; frustrated by my inability to say two simple words (I’m gay), and anxious about being with my family for the holidays.

QBP: “Army values are taught to soldiers from their earliest days in the Army.  Those values are: Loyalty, duty, mutual respect, selfless service, honor, integrity and personal courage. We teach our soldiers that these are the values we expect them to live up to. I believe that as an institution, our military needs to live up to the values we demand of the service members. Military leaders need to respect all service members. We need to recognize that loyalty and selfless service are exhibited equally, by service members of every color, gender and sexual orientation.” -Three-star Retired Lieutenant General Claudia Kennedy

Working with your hands *No homo*

  First let me explain the title of this post.  Here in America there was a trend in which rappers would talk/sing/rap about sexual acts of a distinctly homosexual nature.  However, they thought to erase this (I don’t know, perceived homosexual vibe) by adding "No homo". 
     One, it’s incredibly insulting and two, it doesn’t work.  Sorry rappers whatever you said definitely still sounds gay.  Maybe even more so, now that you’ve added a disclaimer.

     This past week I was asked to help my lesbian friends, SL and W (when I asked them what they wanted their pseudonyms to be, they said, "Snow Leopard" and "Wolf"...Apparently I have odd friends).  They were planning on creating a patio in their backyard, or in other words a large concrete slab.
     I helped where ever I could, including moving wheelbarrows of concrete back and forth, from the cement truck to the backyard.  Let me tell you, concrete is heavy.  It was hard work, but I enjoyed it.  As a grad student in the sciences, I do a lot of mental work.  I like being able to use my mind, but I’ve always loved using my hands too (No homo).
     During the pouring of the patio, I encountered something I imagine is frustrating to many butch women: the discrepancy between male and female strength.  Now I'm talking purely physical strength here.  I simply cannot lift as much as a muscled male.  So even though I tried hard, many tasks went to the males.  Nothing quite takes the wind out of your sails more than being unable to help due to an innate biological difference.
     But I helped, and I can at least take comfort in that.

QBP: "money money money get a dollar & a dick
weezy baby that crack mothafucka get a fix
got money out the ass no homo" -Lil' Wayne

A coward lives here today

When you think about it, saying the words, "I'm gay" aren't actually physically difficult.

When talking about non-lesbian with a couple of my church friends, they kept on saying, "well you're not gay" and "Haven't you told her that?"  I responded, "I told her about my ex-boyfriend."  One of my friends, correctly responded, "Well you can have an ex-boyfriend and still be a lesbian." 

Argh!  I wanted to say it, but the words just couldn't come out.  I've been called brave and strong, but after last night, I don't think I have a right to those words.

QBP: "The difference between a hero and a coward is one step sideways. " -Gene Hackman

pic source

Blast from the Past: Snippets

February 27, 2009

I don't know how to let go.

But boy has she really pissed me off.  She has made me angry way more than she has helped me out.

Seriously this relationship is unhealthy.  Let go.  Let go.

September 08, 2009

This is torture.  I have two men in my life.  Both of whom would like to be in a relationship with me.  They want me, but I don't want them.


This sucks so hard. 


I know.  I'm lucky to have them.  I just wish I could feel for them.

February 15, 2010

I'm done with men. 

QBP: "I'm going gay. I've decided I'm turning gay. Willow, gay me up. Come on, let's gay." -Xander  Buffy the Vampire Slayer

     

“Anything for you sir?”

     I have arrived.  Earlier this week I went out to a comedy club with my roommate and few friends (sorry, non-lesbian A was not there).  I was dressed in a tight black boy t-shirt and my favorite jacket.  The waitress comes over and asks for my friends’ drink orders and then turns to me.  “Anything for you sir?”  This is the first time anyone has called me sir.  I guessed I must have been slightly freaked, because my roommate, who was the only one who heard this exchange, said my voice went up an octave when I replied back to the waitress.  

     Don’t get me wrong.  I was excited to be called sir.  Two years ago when I cut my hair short because I was basically going on a long camping trip, I got offended when I was mistaken for a man (which was only once and it was a lady of an elderly status).  But now that my choice to look this way is deliberate, it’s nice to know someone notices. 

      It makes me feel good, though a bit wary.  One of the comedians was a lesbian, and when she mentioned it I wanted to shout out, to support her.  But I didn’t.  Some of the friends I was with didn’t know I’m gay.  Because I feel I can dress like a fem and support lesbians (as a generic liberal) or I can dress the part and then stay quiet in instances like these.   To dress both how I do and be vocal about LGBT things would just confirm everyone’s suspicions (in the logic that exists in my head). 

     Still I couldn’t help but love one comedian’s take on DADT.  One soldier friend of his confessed he doesn’t want gays in the military because they might look at his butt in the showers.  The comic made the point, if you can’t defend your butt, maybe you shouldn’t be defending the country!  But he said it all funny like…like you know comedians do.  All in all, a good night.

QBP: "Him, who incessantly laughs in the street, you may commonly hear grumbling in his closet. " -Johann Kaspar Lavater

AH!!! What do you want from me? Non-lesbian date #3

So you all remember non-lesbian, A, right?  Well if you don’t she is a girl I’ve been on a couple of “dates” with now, who talks about lesbians things, but is NOT a lesbian (her words).  Full story is here and here.  

      Some Thursdays we decide to hang out after she has class.  We agreed to hang out this past Thursday.  So I was chilling out in an blue A-shirt and baggy pajama pants watching a silly horror German flick, when I hear the doorbell.  Now I tend to be formal in appearance which means I never wear sweatpants to class and I don’t let new friends see me in pajamas.   I'm explaining this so you know how comfortable I was to begin with when I opened the door and there was A, without having called first.  What could I do except invite her in?  I apologize for my attire and she comments “The black looks good on you”.  Now I think she’s talking about my A-shirt, so I point out my shirt is more blue than black.  She points out she was talking about my hair and not my A-shirt.  I had recently dyed my hair and I had forgotten she hadn’t seen the outcome yet.  Usually I’m not so dim-witted, I swear.  So I laugh off the misunderstanding and then we sit and start chatting.

    Anyways flash forward to the pub we frequent.  She starts talking about the past weekend she had with our mutual gay guy friends.  She tells me she got drunk and then kissed a girl and then kissed a boy…and WAIT WHAT?  I was so stunned that I only half heard a comment about how the girl in question managed to “turn” her.  She said this all very quickly and unceremoniously before she proceeded to mention the guy she kissed.  I was too flabbergasted to bring the topic up again.  Okay I haven’t even kissed a girl and here is non-lesbian, a conservative Baptist preacher kid, telling me she kissed a girl.  I know, I know, lots of straight girls kiss other girls for a variety of reasons, but I guess I never expected A to be someone like that.

     As this is how the night gets started, my mind decides to go and drop general hints about sexuality, by talking about LGBT business in the church and such.  But each time I mention anything gay related except about our mutual gay friends, she gets quiet and a tiny bit cold.  

    At one point during the night A is talking about flirting and how she’s so bad at it, and why can’t the person she’s attempting to flirt with just ask her out already?  Now if I was a male thing I would not be able to ignore this anvil sized hint, but I’m not, so complications.  If A is interested I’m not going to be the aggressor particularly when whenever I mention gay things she withdraws. 

     She’s a feminist, into strong women (at least intellectually), but can’t help but mention how cute the waiter is every time he passes by.  Once when the waiter passed she grabbed him and said to me, “Honey what do you want?”  Now I know “honey” is used by women in the South even to strangers, but is it a Midwest thing too?  I don’t generally let my friends call me “honey”, “kid”, “etc.”

     She drops me off at my apartment and I’m all confused.  Still am.  Though I had thought with all my LGBT talking I would have scared her away.  But this past Sunday she came to see me play in the orchestra (in my tie) and then suggested we go grab lunch.  Again just me, the invitation wasn’t extended to anyone else.  Afterwards she offered to drive me to work, and I had to change clothes so I invited her into my apartment.  Or well I was going to but my roommate answered the door with no pants on.  She hurriedly closed the door and rushed inside.  I apologized for my roommate and A said “Sometimes no-pants time can be fun”.   

     This woman drives me nuts sometimes.  At this point it’s become a game.  How much of my gay-ness can I reveal before she realizes I am actually gay.  And ultimately is she or isn’t she?

QBP: "Some women can't say the word lesbian... even when their mouth is full of one." -Kate Clinton

I wore a tie to church Sunday…

     For church on Sunday I played in the orchestra during service.  As our dress code is all black for when we play I thought it was the perfect opportunity to try out my new black Tommy Hilfiger vintage slim (I say not for fashion’s sake, but because it has the best width for a slim upper body) tie.  As I tied my Windsor and adjusted it in the mirror, I started to feel anxious.

     This feeling increased as I walked to church.  In my head I was playing out a scenario in which the orchestra conductor looked over at me and my tie and just said “no” and then asked me to take it off.  From there I would insist that a tie wasn’t hurting anyone and I wouldn’t play without it.  Then things would escalate and I would make a dramatic show of leaving.  Then I would go teach my Bible Study class, cause I made a commitment and I stand by my commitments, and then a minister would come in and beg me to take off the tie.  I would again insist that such a small piece of clothing shouldn’t matter to anyone.  He would say he doesn’t care, but do it for the older people.  And again I would say no, and then never return to church again.

     Yeah.  My mind sorta goes into overdrive sometimes.  Then I thought that the above would probably not happen, but that I would get some awkwardness, faces, and questions about why would I wear a tie from my fellow Bible Study teachers and orchestra members.

     I stood tall, prepared for the worst, and strode into the Sanctuary where the orchestra was prepping and…NO ONE SAID A THING.  Not one person the entire day.  The closest to any recognition of the tie I got was a short double-take by my music stand partner.  Even the older ladies I work with to teach Bible Study showed no inkling of tie-worry. 

     I was almost disappointed!  But then I looked around and saw a friend of mine, a gay male, who was wearing a hot pink polo, jeans, and heavily gelled hair.  Oh and the skinny tall gay seminary student wearing a full length fake (obviously) leopard print stole.  Compared to all of that my tie was a pittance.  God loves me no matter what I wear and apparently so do the parishioners of my church.

     So Sunday I wore a tie to church…and no one cared.  The end. 

QBP: "Church is the only place where someone speaks to me and I do not have to answer back." -Charles de Gaulle

 pic source

Butch Symposium: What is Butch?

Over at Sugarbutch, Mr. Sexsmith is starting up a symposium of butch bloggers/writers and addressing a question concerning butch and butch identity each month.  As this is the first one, we have the most fundamental question.  What exactly is butch?  I collected my own thoughts below.

     Though it might be how others identify butch individuals, for me butch has very little to do with clothes and hair.  Butch is an attitude.  I think above all Butch means embracing your protective instincts.  Holding a door open for a woman…or a man.  Standing up for others who can’t stand up for themselves.  Butch means not being afraid to get dirty especially when others are involved.  

      It means always hauling the heavy stuff your roommate can’t and hiding the fact that the box is slipping from your fingers and your arms are screaming out in pain.  It’s that swelling in your chest when a female friend compliments your strength or calls you brave, sexy, handsome.  And it’s that awkward feeling when people call you pretty, beautiful, or *gasp* feminine!  It’s the feeling when someone is hassling your friend that makes you want to haul out and slug them despite any size differences or logic.  It’s knowing when to listen and knowing when you back up your girl/friends.  It’s that feeling of confidence when you wear a dapper suit or perfectly fit t-shirt.  It’s calm under pressure (almost always at least).  It’s presence and swagger.  A woman can be dressed up as the completely stereotypical feminine icon, but if she has the appropriate swagger she can be Butch. 

     Coming from a more analytical perspective it’s the masculine part of the spectrum for all genders.  A lesbian friend of mine, SL, called butch “performed masculinity”.  I disagree wholeheartedly.  Clothing is a choice. Hair is a choice.  Butch isn’t.  Embellishment might be but otherwise I believe it’s as inherent as sexual orientation.   

     I take great pride in being Butch-identified.  Butch men and women are tough, strong, dependable, giving, and chivalrous.  With such wonderful adjectives like that who wouldn't want to be or know a Butch? 

First Butch Symposium by Sugarbutch 

Blast from the Past: A flash of blue

  December 03, 2008

     I tried cutting you out and it was hard.  But you made me love you, because I'm obsessed.  And you treat me so very differently than I treat you.  You're selfish.  I put my heart on my sleeve with you, so exposed and you ignore and bash it back in.  I don't know why I'm obsessed with you.  Your eyes maybe.  I know the shape of your body, the color of your hair, your jacket.  I know how you wear your hair.  Is this love?  I beg you to talk to me.  When I am hurt I call out for you and you turn me aside.  I check your Facebook profile many times a day.  I give you my best and my worst.  I look for you.  I know your friends and when they're around I look for you.  If I know the color of your shirt I look for it in the dining hall when we're sitting at different tables.  I do it covertly.  And I wish I was sitting with you at your table.  But this is wrong.  I need to fall out of love with you.  I know I have a strong will.  I just have to use it.  

      I will not love you anymore.  I am stronger than my mind.  I have proven it before.  I'll prove it yet again.

QBP: "As soon go kindle fire with snow, as seek to quench the fire of love with words." -William Shakespeare

Formal wear

     I had to buy a suit a few weeks ago.  Wanting to be hetero-normative for the interview I needed the suit for, I went to a female oriented store.  One of my Aunts offered her “advice” without my asking for it (as family does) and told me to make sure I didn’t get a blouse that was “macho”.  Okay…someone please tell me what a macho blouse looks like, because my thought is that blouses are distinctly feminine.  Even the word sounds feminine.  Well of course I bought a pantsuit; I haven't worn a skirt since junior high. The suit looks great and feel great, and that’s good enough for me.  Combine that with a button down my roommate lent me and I looked pretty fantastic. 

     However after acting more feminine than I am at my interview I wanted to try something out.  I tried on a different button down, my suit jacket, and a new skinny tie I had purchased.  After trying out first a half Windsor, and then a full Windsor I found my favored tie knot.  The combination made me look real good.  But more importantly I felt like a million bucks.  Whenever I’ve worn a dress I’ve wondered how I much longer I had to wear it.  My friends would laugh at how I looked like I was being tortured.  It was a form of torture, ranking up there with death by spider bites (Buffy reference anyone?).  As I stood in front of the mirror, I realized I didn’t want to take it off, though it looked a little weird as I was wearing my pajama pants.

     It’s strange, perhaps even queer, the powers inherent in the tie.  It’s a strip of cloth that can transform a person more so than any other accessory.  Mystical powers.

     I took a few pictures and was struck by my appearance.  I compared a photo with one of me a little less than a year ago.  Long hair, glasses, along with my tomboyish clothes.  I looked disconnected particularly when compared to the formal wear pic.  It truly is amazing how much clothes and hair can make the (wo)man.

QBP: "Be sure what you want and be sure about yourself. Fashion is not just beauty, it's about good attitude. You have to believe in yourself and be strong." -Adriana Lima

The suit I wore to the interview

The other outfit