A Lesbian Christian: My Life of Contradictions

Three months later...

2012-01-21T08:46:00.000-08:00

Two things have got in the way of my blogging. First my job as an EMT, and second I bought an XBox...I'm sorry? Um...I'll try to write more and XBox less. But we'll see. I'm also starting an online MCAT class, so I may or may not write more.

Hope everyone is doing well!

So I Came Out

2011-10-13T10:42:00.000-07:00

I have mentioned previously that I might and then on National Coming Out Day...I did! I came over via Facebook and the response was overwhelmingly positive. My conservative friends were dead silent of course, well except for one. All she did was like my coming out note, but as she is a staunch Republican I will take that as a personal victory.

I thought I would show you all what I said. Eventually I even allow for more transparency on this site. Like an actual picture of me! Maybe. We'll see. ;-)

Here is what I wrote:

"What is bravery? I have been told I was brave before, that I was one of the bravest individuals people have ever met. But I’m not, not really. All I’ve done is put one foot in front of the other in a desperate attempt to move forward and not get stuck. I have stumbled through life like everyone else. It is no big secret that I have not followed my five year plan or even my back up five year plan. Perhaps it is a secret though that I am happier than I have ever been in my entire life. All because I stopped listening to what others wanted for me, expected of me.

Now that I’ve written that nice intro paragraph (and professors said I didn’t write transitions!) let’s get into it. If you, like me, are a Facebook stalker then you have keep tabs on the people you went to school with. You want to know who’s married, who’s in grad school, who’s working where, and who’s having babies. So perhaps if you have stumbled on my profile in the past couple of years, you have noticed a visual change in your old schoolmate.

I have never been really girly, but you certainly can tell a difference between the pictures of me on Homecoming Court (I know! I’m still shocked about it!) and pictures of late. I cut my long hair short, really short, and I have started wearing slightly different apparel. I look well…perhaps a bit gay. Of course that is easily explained, in that I am a lot of gay. It’s probably not a huge shock for the people who knew me better than I knew myself, but maybe for some of you it is a shock.

I’m sure some of you are going, “Ha! I knew it!” Well I guess I would say congratulations. You win? Also I’d ask for how long have you’ve known? Because I didn’t know for the longest time and if someone might have told me I might have figured it out sooner. As it is I didn’t even entertain the thought that I was something other than straight until my senior year of college. Even still I was in such a state of denial that it was easy to rationalize various feelings. As many of you know I am a logic driven person, so it wasn’t too hard to explain away the confusing feelings.

Being gay wasn’t anything I wanted for myself. What I wanted was to go to medical school, marry my best friend, and have his silly little babies. I rather desperately wanted to feel more for my best friend than I did, but time and time again I infuriatingly didn’t. I loved him. I did, but I wasn’t in love with him. There came a point where I couldn’t lie to myself anymore. I didn’t want it, but I wasn’t going to be given a choice in the matter it seemed.

After breaking things off with my best friend, now ex-best friend due my seemingly callous treatment of his feelings, I was alone with my thoughts. And let me tell you there were a lot of them. I considered what it would mean, to be gay. To be hated by people who don’t even know me. To be a second class citizen. To live in the constant fear of offending or provoking others, just for attempting to live as the person God made me.

The one thing I never worried about was whether or not God would still love me. It’s one of the reasons why even though I considered going away to ex-gay camp, I never went through with it. God is love, not hate. People can condemn me to hell all they want, but ultimately the decision isn’t theirs. I have always tried to live my life in a Christian manner. I try to be kind and help others. Does it make me less of a Christian if I’m gay?

Besides I may have been gay before I was a Christian, but I was Christian before I had even an inkling that I could be gay. Since God is important to me and since I can’t figure out a way to stop being gay, I have had to learn a way to reconcile the two. It actually has been a lot easier than I thought it would be, but then again I have a progressive thinking church here in Louisville to thank for that.

I have accepted being gay, but I’m still not fully comfortable with it. I will say I am much more comfortable in my skin now that I have changed certain visual aspects, namely my hair and wardrobe. However I was content to stay silent and live in those questioning looks, “Is she or isn’t she?” I saw openly gay folks all around me, but I didn’t think I had a right to be open. I have made a life of hiding and living in the background. It was alright. It is all I know.

But the pretending to be something I’m not got more and more draining. I became an actress who really couldn’t stand the role she played. So I came out little by little to friends. I should have been comforted by their acceptance, but often I became worried. Would they tell others? What would they say? What would happen? I was worried, because I was ashamed of who I am.

It wasn’t until someone very dear to me came out to me in secret, that I was forced to think about others. I didn’t want him to be ashamed of who he is. It is not his problem; it is the world’s. I didn’t want him to hate himself for something he couldn’t even help. Of course then if I thought this way about him, then I had to apply it to myself.

Now don’t expect any big changes from me. I’m still the same quiet, self-effacing, modest and wonderfully witty girl I’ve always been. I’m not going to strut down the sidewalk in a rainbow pin-stripe suit, because that’s just not who I am. I imagine I’ll simply do the same things I always do: hang out with friends, go to church, and save lives whether it is as an EMT or a doctor I guess we’ll see.

Because while I am gay I am so much more than that. As the poet Walt Whitman once wrote, “I am large, I contain multitudes.” I don’t want friends to look at me and go, “oh that’s the gay one”. Or “Whatever happened to her?” followed by “Oh she’s gay now.” I mean really? I understand gossip will happen. It’s inevitable. So gossip, but don’t forget I’m still the intelligent woman who helped you out when you were struggling, the stubborn girl who doesn’t give up, the woman who is always there to listen, heck I’ll even take the girl who sometimes lets her temper gets the best of her.

I don’t want to hide anymore. I want to be who I am and not apologize for it. I know I may lose friends, but I’ve come to a place where I don’t need to spend time on fair-weather friends. I may cause potential opportunities to be stripped from my hands, but it’s better than living a lie. I’ve seen firsthand the pain that living the lie causes. I don’t want that for myself. I want to be honest and open. I want to be brave. I have often wished I was as brave as you think I am. Maybe today I finally am."

QBP: "Bravery is believing in yourself, and that thing nobody can teach you." -El Cordobes

pic source

This Past Month and To Come Out or Not to Come Out?

2011-10-08T08:32:00.000-07:00

A month after taking my practical test I am almost employed as an EMT. It’s been a frustrating wait. First I waited for NREMT to approve my practicals. That took a week. Then I had to wait until my NREMT card came in the mail which took four days. Then I had to go fill out paperwork. Then I had to wait for one state to approve me. After that I had to make an appointment and drive an hour to get my other state’s license. Of course once I had all my certifications I had to apply to my company again. It took a few days for them to call me back for the interview. Finally I had the FIRST part of the interview this Tuesday. The second part is this upcoming week and includes a multiple choice test, a fitness test, and of course a drug test. Maybe finally then I will be hired on and I can start to use the skills I’ve been taught.

The last thing for now is that I am considering coming out in a big way. I’ve considered writing a long Facebook note about it and then letting the chips fall where they may. I don’t want my baby brother, who is gay himself, feel like he has to hide who he is nor should he be ashamed of being gay. (Though I frankly want him to hide until he graduates from his high school which is in a deep south state.) But if I don’t want my brother to feel ashamed, then I have to apply that to myself. I’m sick of pretending I am something I’m not. Plus I don’t think most people would care…well except for maybe my ex-sorority sisters.

The only thing keeping me from posting the note is that I’m scared and that I haven’t been able to figure out how to end my story. Granted I could just tell people I’m gay in person one by one, but I have this tendency to either gloss over the fact I’m gay or lie about it when confronted. I think I’d be braver behind a computer than in person. Anyone close to me in this city knows I’m gay and I’m pretty much living open in life. It’s those people outside of the city who may be guessing but don’t truly know anything who this note would be for.

Sometimes feel like a fraud when it comes to being gay. I haven’t ever kissed a girl. Certainly I’ve never had sex with them. But then again I am only attracted to women. I only want to kiss women. I just lack the game/confidence to follow through with things. I have this irrational fear that I will come out and then suddenly I’ll fall in love with a guy. But it’s laughable. If I’m not gay then I am more likely to be asexual than straight. I absolutely know I am not straight. Why am I so scared of posting this note?

Right now I envy my friends who have known they were gay for a long time and besides high school never had to live or lie about being someone different. Sigh. I guess we all have our journeys which we must make. This is mine.

Love her and love this song.

The NREMT Exam

2011-09-12T09:54:00.000-07:00

The key to the NREMT is to take it soon after your EMT course is finished. That way you won’t forget too much before you take the test. I took it less than a week after I passed my practical exam. While studying for practicals I also studied and went through this review book I bought. I’ve put the picture below so you know which book I was studying from. The book is filled with 300 questions and explanations. It had a few odd and wrong answers especially if you take into account the new updated AHA standards for CPR, but otherwise it was a valuable resource. I also went back to my textbook and review the more difficult sections: OB, head injuries, and environmental injuries (hypothermia, snake bites, deep sea diving injuries, etc.). Also I reviewed my scales: Glasgow Coma, Apgar, and for good measure Revised Trauma Score.

Waiting to get authorization to schedule my test was a bit of a pain. I had to wait a few days after I passed my practicals for my state proctor to clear my class. Once I was given authorization I got my letter which explained how to register. I decided to do it online and was pleased with the ease of use. I could see all the open days and see the times available. I was initially was going to test for today, but the early weekdays were already booked, so I decided to test for the Friday of that week in the afternoon.

One and my classmates coordinated so that we could test at the same time and carpool. We managed to find the site pretty easily. We each had to provide two forms of ID, a driver’s license and a passport, or social security card (or something equivalent). Then I had to get my palm scanned so it could take a picture of my palm print. I thought that was pretty weird. I asked why they didn’t use fingerprints anymore, and he told me the palm had more points of identification. Next I had my picture taken by webcam so you know it’s gotta be quality. I stashed all my stuff, including my watch and cellphone, into a provided for locker.

Then I went to just outside the test center and had my palm scanned again, I guess to make sure I hadn’t changed my hands in the last two minutes. It was actually amusing, because it was having trouble scanning my hand and when it did it turned me into a blonde girl with long hair. Fortunately the testing proctor and I both noticed the obvious difference. Finally I got to go into the testing area, where the walls were lined with computers with dividers in between. I got to sit next to my friend, though I couldn’t see him at all from my seat. The proctor logged into the computer and finally I got to start the test.

A few instructions on how to work the computer test and I was off! I think it gives you two hours to finish everything. There are two tricks to the NREMT. The first is that it is an adaptive computer test, so that means if you get a question wrong it will probably ask you a similar question. There is no set number of questions. You could finish in 50; you could finish in 130. Also a notable difference is the fact that you cannot go back to a previous question. When you hit ‘Next’ that’s the last time you’ll ever see that question again, so be sure you certain about your answer, as much as you can be.

There are six categories they use and have questions about on the test: Airway & Breathing, Cardiology, Medical, Trauma, OB/Gyn/Peds, and Operations. Other than knowing the categories there is no telling what questions you’re going to have. I conferred with my classmate after the test and he had some really different questions than the ones I had. He took in 125 questions and had a lot of questions about OB, Airway and Breathing, and even some on Orthopedics. I took it in around 60 and had a lot of questions about Airway and Breathing, and an inordinate amount on Triage and Mass Casualty Incidents and not a single Orthopedic question.

I was actually angry when I finished the exam. I was on a roll and then all of a sudden I was cut off and the computer told me I was finished. I had finished the test in less than a half hour. It didn’t feel right. I had been trying to keep track of the question number, but I stopped looking around 30, so I finished anywhere at 50-70 questions.

After waiting an hour for my friend to finish I finally got to go home and wait…and wait…and wait. Since I took my test on a Friday afternoon I had to wait until Monday morning to finally see if I passed or not. You can find whether or not you passed under Application Status on the NREMT.org site. I ended up passing, and so did my friend. So it really doesn’t matter how matter questions you take the test in. You can fail at 60 questions as easily as pass it and the same goes for 130 questions. Plus sometimes they put in experimental questions which don’t get graded, but help the testers decided to put it on a future exam, like one that my friend had was weird. “What is the tightest knot?” Um…I don’t know. Go ask a boy scout or a firefighter. Just don’t be flustered by weird questions like that. More likely than not it’s an experimental question.

So next for me is to wait until NREMT approves my practicals then I have to go to the EMS State Office in this state to get reciprocity so I can have my dual certification. After that I can finally apply to work at the place that taught me and go through their hurdles. But it doesn’t matter, but I am an EMT and it’s worth it for the chance to change and save lives.

QBP: "Next to creating a life, the finest thing a man can do is save one." -Abraham Lincoln

Taking the NREMT Exam Friday

2011-09-07T09:24:00.000-07:00

Friday I'll be taking the National test for EMTs, so that's exciting. That's right. I am one of those weird people who actually get excited about taking tests. I think I'll do well. I consistently got the top score in my EMT class. Though when you're one of the very few who has a college education it is not too surprising. Even though I don't think I will do too badly, taking important tests while exciting is always somewhat nerve-wracking. If I fail then I'll just have to take it again and that means more time before I can start working and more money out of my pocket.

Guess that means I should study...more. I will be sure to give an nauseatingly detailed account of my experience taking the NREMT Exam this weekend. I just know you can't wait!

I'm back!

2011-09-06T09:10:00.000-07:00

So how was everyone's summer? Mine was semi-productive, after I finally dragged my butt out of bed. I just finished an accelerated EMT class. All I have to do to have certification in two states is to take and pass the NREMT exam. Once that is finished I can go ahead and get myself a real job!

I was planning on reapplying to medical school this year, but I am just so burned out. So I am postponing until next year. But for now I am putting the focus on getting a job as an EMT. Get a job, make money, then worry about the future.

I am very sorry for being away for so long. I had some personal journeys I had to get through. I will have more to say on that in the future. I am going to be taking advantage of the relative anonymity of this blog and air out some dirty laundry. So for the next bit the blog is going to be focuses on my issues, including family and my inability to say yes to girls who want to date me.

Until the next post!

Why I Struggle with the Idea of Heaven

2011-04-13T09:19:00.000-07:00

In Christianity there is a certain tenet across most sects that is prevalent: the idea of heaven and hell. I suppose it makes me a bad or at least unusual Christian, but I don't think I can believe in Heaven or even an afterlife. Being blessed and cursed with a highly logically mind had led me to this conclusion.

My faith only goes as far as believing in God and the basic principles of Christianity. Hell is not one of those. Not believing in Hell is easy for me, because I believe that a God of Love of would not subject his people to torment that way. I also think that every person has some amount of good in them; it may be just a speck, but it's there. And for a God of Love to send these folk to Hell is cruel. I mean think of the mentally ill who commit violent crimes not because of their free will, but because of their illness. Where do they end up? They can't end up in Hell, not for just being who God made them to be! So I logiciked that it makes more sense that there isn't a Hell. Hell is easy to discount. But Heaven?

I want to believe there is a Heaven or some sort of afterlife, but right now I can't/don't/won't. My view of the soul is more of a person's conscience and personality than something that is going to float up into the sky to rest at God's side after I die. However though I struggle with the idea of Heaven, I don't struggle with my belief in God. Call it what you will: a universal force, coincidence, God, Allah, Yaweh, Vishnu, Jehovah, or Eloheim. I believe in some form God exists in the world and in all of us. I will always doubt God's existence, but my belief in Him will never be uprooted from my mind.

Anyways that being said, Religion is a man construct. Humankind loves stories. I am more led to believe that that is what Heaven is, a fairy tale told to adults so that they move away from their animalistic impulses and become good men of character. Because positive reinforcement works. I also believe Heaven exists because death and the unknown that follow are terrifying prospects. Better to believe life goes on, albeit in a different manner, one where you get rewarded for making through the tough shit that is life.

Heaven is a crutch. There are a whole lot of Christians who have stopped living to live, and instead live to die. That is insanity in my head. Then there are those Christians who have moved away from Jesus teachings and towards hate, denouncing others. They have created a system of have and have nots, but in this system it's Heaven they have and Hell for the rest of us. Well if there is a Heaven, I'm afraid they are in for a rude awakening when Jesus walks up to them with the Bible, and says, "Did you not read this thing!?!"

Okay, I discussed my thoughts on Heaven, and my thoughts are a bit cynical. I can't leave you guys here. So I'll tell what I do believe in, History. History is easy to believe in, just pick up any textbook to read the stories of long since dead men and women. They may has passed, but they live on in our books, and through the actions they have had on people in their lifetime, for good or bad. I mean your grandparents raised your parents a certain way and that was reflected on how they raised you. History is there; it's palpable in a way Heaven is not.

Since I believe in History, I feel like I have to be the best person I can be. Because how I act and what I do in my life has an effect on others, who in turn influence others and on and on, in varying degrees of importance. This is also easy to believe because others have affected me positively and negatively and that affects how I interact with others. I am a Christian, but really I feel more like a Jesus Follower. I use Jesus's teachings as a template for the person I would aspire to be. And I use Church as a support group for these views.

My name may never get into the History books, and I may never end up with my name on the cover of a book, but it doesn't matter. If a single action has changed someone's life in one small way I will live on forever in the collective conscious of this world. I may change my mind on Heaven some day, but for now, this is my life and afterlife.

QBP: "If nothing we do in this world matters, then the only thing that matters is what we do." -Joss Whedon

Butch Symposium Round Up #2: Butch Stereotypes and Misconceptions

2011-04-13T08:59:00.000-07:00

Butch Lab Symposium #2 is here! For the first symposium the topic was "What is Butch?". Here you can find my entry and the round up for that topic. This next topic was about the stereotypes and misconceptions that exist with the Butch identity and image. As a young butch I do try my best to write at least something that could be thought provoking, if not beautifully scribed. My entry for this topic can be found here, and I encourage each of you to check out what the other symposium participants felt about the issue. Just check the links below or at Butch Lab.

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Butch Lab Symposium #2: Stereotypes, Cliches, and Misconceptions on Butch Lab:

My month long absence

2011-04-13T08:45:00.000-07:00

Sorry readers about not posting for so long! I have some catching up to do! Have to post the new Butch Symposium Round Up! Also I've got a religious contemplation entry to post after that.

The short of the long, is that I got rejected from medical school for a second time, the military thing fell apart and family issues equals not really want to do anything except brood and sulk for weeks. I've finally got my head back on relatively straight now though.

So I'm back. I'll try and keep the post twice a week schedule, but it may devolve in a single post a week as I try just what in tarnation I am going to do with my life.

Also I just want to thank everyone for reading and commenting on my second Butch Symposium Post. Now that I'm back I'm going to do my best to comment on the other extremely well written posts that put mine to shame.

Back when I was homophobic

2011-03-10T20:24:00.000-08:00

I grew up in the great blue north, and felt that gay was normal, more than normal, cool. So when I say I was homophobic, I don’t mean gay bashing homophobic. I mean literally I was afraid of the same sex.

My personal space bubble in high school was well documented. Hugs were a rarity, and if I were to give one it probably went to the guy I was dating. I just didn’t do affection. In college I learned about the power of hugs and I started to let people into my bubble…occasionally. But still when it came to girls I was very picky as to would I allow there.

College is also where I met my first lesbians and made lesbian friends. And as much as I loved them or supported I didn’t want to see them doing anything together or hear about it. I was quoted as saying something to effect to lesbians friends W and SL, “Your love is a wondrous thing and makes me feel weird.”

As for being in a sorority? My personal uncomfortableness and extreme modesty became well known among my sisters. It even became a game. At important events I would get “boobed” by certain sisters. I went along with the game, because it was meant to be funny, but it tore me up inside. This game came to a halt when after an event the girls were changing. I was surrounded by a room of half naked women and I was overwhelmed. Then I got boobed by a sister and then I hid away and cried. It was so freaking confusing as to why I was crying.

At a meeting with a small group of sisters I had gotten close to, I was asked why I was so uncomfortable around women. I postulated that it was because my alcoholic mother was never affectionate with me. One of my friends stated this didn’t quite explain my uncomfortableness. While I agreed with this, I couldn’t think of another reason. I said it could be because my mother only ever hugged me while drunk. But even as I said the words, I didn’t believe them.

Since college I finally figured out I was gay, and interestingly enough my fear of women has pretty much vanished. I’m still not the most lovey dovey individual, but my personal bubble is much much smaller now. I’m still quite modest, but that’s because I don’t wear skin showing girly clothes, cause I’d rather guy clothes. And I’ve never had anyone to be naked with, so nakedness is unusual to me.

And that’s how the great big gayness resting in my soul destroyed the evil homophobia.

The end.

QBP: "The roots of homophobia are fear. Fear and more fear." -George Weinberg

pic source

My Lenten Promise

2011-03-09T06:56:00.000-08:00

I vow to give up self-hatred and slothfulness. And in an effort to better my relationship with God, I will pray/converse with God everyday for the forty days of Lent.

Butch Symposium: Butch Stereotypes

2011-03-01T17:38:00.000-08:00

This is the second edition of the Butch Symposium going on at Butch Lab, created by Sugarbutch.

"What do people think “butch” means? What are the stereotypes around being butch? What do people assume is true about you [or about your masculine of center friends], but actually isn’t? What image or concept do you constantly have to correct or fight against? How do you feel about these misconceptions? How do you deal with them? Do you respond to these stereotypes or cliches? How?"

Butches hate men. Butches drive motorcycles. Butches wear leather jackets. Butches are the “man” in the relationship and perform all the “male” duties. Butches work with their hands. Butches aren’t intellectuals. Butches can only have short hair in a men’s style. Butches like beer and sports. Butches are mean. Butches cannot access their feelings. Butches want to be men. Butches will only date Femmes and do not date other Butches. Butches are (always) the sexually dominant ones. Butches only wear masculine attire. Butches under the age of thirty do not exist.

I think the very first assumption is that if you’re a woman who presents masculine of center, is that you must be a lesbian. This is perhaps true a lot of the time, due to homosexual being “alternative” there is more room for gender expression in that community. But as Franky Fitzgerald of the new Skins generation has shown us, one does not have to love girls to feel most comfortable wearing masculine attire. Assumptions specifically about me are tough due to my soft butch look. More people would rather assume I am like them, straight and gender normative, than see me as I truly am and present.

The assumption that strikes me the most is that Butches cannot be intellectuals. When I look at the representations of Butches in the media, I cringe. A Butch can’t be a doctor, or a lawyer, and if she’s a professor she’s a women’s studies professor.

Any misconceptions I hear about butch women I personally respond back to, but I’m afraid I’m not brought into those discussions. I present “normal” enough, which means I’m “safe”, which also means I don’t provoke those types of questions. And it bugs me. I want to get into the fight. I want to support my Butch brothers and sisters.

I finish answering these questions with a question of my own. What is that line between “normal” presenting and “Butch” presenting? Or what has it been for you guys?

Bought my first pair of men’s pants today

2011-03-01T17:12:00.000-08:00

It has been my plan ever since I started wearing men’s (boy’s) shirts, that I would one day buy men’s pants. Each time I pulled on a pair of suffocatingly tight women’s jeans, or looked in the mirror at how the jeans hugged my curves, I thought about getting men’s pants. But I didn’t. Mostly because I was scared. If I wore men’s pants would it change how people looked at me? After I came out to my church friends, and got my hair trimmed short again, I realized that at this point wearing differently gendered pants was not going to matter.

One issue down, next? How did men size their pants? A quick internet search provided me with the information. Waist length by Inseam Length. Okay…then I needed a measuring tape (and the only one I could find was pink…just tell me why “girly” things have to be pink?). Measurements roughly taken. Next to the store!

Nope. I waited and waited. It wasn't until my roommate had to go to Old Navy before I finally made the decision to purchase the pants. I think a store like Old Navy is great for the baby butch who doesn’t want to break the bank. The jeans are moderately priced and usually the workers don’t care enough to bother you. Plus I could easily slip in and out of the fitting room without being harassed by an attendant.

Though it was nerve wracking, I selected a few pairs of jeans of different measurements around the ones I took with my measuring tape. I tried the different sizes on until found the measurements that worked best for me. Then all I had to do was find the pants that I liked. In the end I selected a pair of dark jeans, lighter jeans, and gray cargo pants I found on clearance.

So even though my heart pounded and I was wary of looks, I found that as long as I just went about my tasks no one bothered me. And the day ended with success.

QBP: "Clothes make the man. Naked people have little or no influence on society." -Mark Twain

So...

2011-02-25T10:27:00.000-08:00

I lied. Franky post is pushed back to come out eventually in the future. As for today's post how about this:

Non-lesbian broke things off with the guy she was dating (for about a month). Tonight she will be seeing me at a social gathering for the first time in several weeks. Interesting times may (but will probably not) ensue!

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2011-02-23T12:41:00.000-08:00

So my dream of becoming a military doc may be just that. Nothing is set in stone yet, but it's not looking good.

I'm working on a recap to the first episode of the fifth season of Skins (UK). But recent events have me not wanting to write, but I'll try to get it out by Friday.

Enlisting Update #2

2011-02-18T08:53:00.000-08:00

The military is so aggravating. So finally the chart records I've been waiting for come, years 12 and older. No record of asthma. Should be a good thing right, because I'm not supposed to have asthma then, but no. That's a bad thing.

My recruiter told me that my records are off to the doctor to be approved/disapproved. Which to a logical individual means oh hey no asthma after age 12, you're good! But since there is no mention of it, BECAUSE I WAS 10!, my recruiter thinks they'll send me to get a pulmonary function test...which they won't pay for!

I am beyond livid. Please if anyone has other options for me to do in life, please tell me cause this is stupid. Logic...apparently not a factor in the military.

Coming Out to My Church Friends

2011-02-16T10:46:00.000-08:00

Last month I had made a promise that I would at the new gay ministry group that started up, to come out and to tell my brother’s story (which can be read here). Since then I have come out to one of my church friends, by way of Facebook message since I couldn’t get the words out any other way. This church friend, D, promised me she would support me at the ministry group meeting.

When I arrived, immediately I started to feel my heart beat faster. Last month there were only six people who showed up. This month there were about twenty. I’m not so good at doing the emotional thing in general, particularly when there is more than one other person listening. I sat next to D, and tried to calm my heart down. I was fine telling strangers, even the church friends of mine who came, but when a few ministers of my church came in, I thought my heart was going to break from my chest.

I was volunteered to go first, but I could barely think, so I pledged to share later. I had hoped that after listening to a few shares, my heart would ease up, but it didn’t. I could see my shirt moving from my heart beating so hard. I was worried I was going to pass out. Nothing was helping. Finally my friend, D, gave her own share and made sure everyone in the room knew she was there “to support them”. A secret message saying D was there for me. It was only then after taking a few deep breaths that I volunteered to share.

I won’t lie. It was rough. I couldn’t do anything but stare at my shoes and talk, and even then my words fell on top each other. I quickly came out in the beginning, and then transitioned equally quickly to the story about my brother. I started to get choked up when talking about him and the attempted suicide. I didn’t cry, but it was a near thing. I stopped before I completely lost it, and then stared at the floor some more.

If there was a sense of relief, I don’t think I felt it. Instead I felt really shaky and uncomfortable, so much so that I still couldn’t look anyone in the eye. So after the next share was done, I went to the bathroom and just stood and breathed until I was in control and not my emotions. Though I still felt shaky I was better enough that I could look everyone in the eye and listen to the rest of the shares.

After the meeting was over, my church friend, B, came over and hugged me tightly. He was very supportive, as well as my friend D and my minister. I even received support from strangers. The leader of the ministry group was especially moved by my share, later telling me I “inspired him”. But what struck me most was people calling me brave and telling me they were proud of me. It felt weird. I’m not brave and what have I’ve done to be proud of: saying words? Finally coming out? Probably.

Though I was blessed by supportive, wonderful friends, I don’t think I’ll be coming out again anytime soon. I was shaky for a whole hour after and I hate feeling that way. I just wish my church friends would tell the rest of my church friends, so I don’t have to.

But yay for me getting through this and for saying words. Woo words!

QBP: "Never apologize for showing feeling. When you do so, you apologize for the truth." -Benjamin Disraeli

comic source

God and the Gay

2011-02-10T09:21:00.000-08:00

Christianity as a realm of popularity in the gay community would be about as popular as Tea Bagger Sarah Palin. I am unabashedly Christian, as I am completely comfortable being gay. In the past year I have experience more prejudice for being a Christian than for being gay. From people I consider friends no less. But I can’t say anything against my friends, because I’m the one who has changed, not them.

In college I would laugh along with the jokes that make fun of Christians and God. Nowadays while I find a lot of jokes about those so-called “Christians” hilarious, I don’t think God or Christian should be used as a punchline. My friends in the same breath will support my choices and in the next make a tactless joke about Jesus.

I have always been at odds with people. Whether it’s because I’m Christian as a lesbian, or I’m a female who likes being seen as masculine. Or even because I’m a science person, who loves writing creatively. I abhor persecution in all avenues. Humor is great, but we cannot stereotype Christians and then complain about being stereotyped ourselves. Intolerance goes both ways.

What I write may not be popular, but I will continue to write about God. Because everyone needs a voice even if they might be gay…even if they might be a Christian.

How my roommate has made me a better woman, a better butch

2011-02-08T17:32:00.000-08:00

I am by in large untested in romantic long relationships. I haven’t had a relationship last longer than three months. Granted they were all with men, and a reason for not staying with them longer was that physical intimacy with them grossed me out. The closest thing I have had to a lengthy relationship is with my straight best friend and roommate, The GDB (as she would like to be known on here).

We’ve been friends since freshmen orientation at college, and joined the same sorority. Yeah, I was in an honest to god sorority. To say it was painful at times is an understatement. Through it all though, I had The GDB: my best friend, sorority sister, and polar opposite.

     I am driven, serious (though extremely snarky), type A, punctual, mature, masculine, and involved. My roommate, The GDB, is more of a girly girl, and a free spirit. She does life in her own time, and laughs things off easily. An example, on a walk I am focused to getting to my destination. The GDB stops for every stray cat, petting and chatting with them. Do you guys remember that show The Odd Couple? Well I don’t really but I do know it’s about two men who occupy the same apartment and are complete opposites. My roommate and I make the Odd Couple look like loving identical twins. That isn’t to say I don’t care for my roommate cause I do, but we are so very different.
     Where I am the brains, she is the heart. When new people first meet us, they instantly fall in love with her. They’re more hesitant with me. I’m friendly, but I’m also withdrawn and stoic with new people. I gain them over with snarky brand of humor and then with enough time my unwavering loyalty and kindness.   She laughs with ease. She’s vastly inappropriate. The list of our differences goes on and on.
     And yet, we work together real well. Typically with people I feel like I have to be polite, so much that it's a real fault. I’d rather internalize my pain than to inflict it on others. I feel guilty about confronting people and when I don’t I get passive aggressive and angry. With The GDB, I feel no worries about confronting her. I can say straight to her face how I feel about the trash piling up, or keeping me awake with her drunken gaming. And I don’t have to worry about her getting defensive. I don’t keep nearly as much inside, and I have learned how to stand up for myself and my feelings.
     As for being a better butch, The GDB has not only encouraged my forays into butch, but has gone clothes shopping with me, taken me to get my haircut short, and learned real quickly to call me “handsome” and not “pretty”. She lets me take over the masculine roles like the heavy lifting or opening jars.   And despite the fact that I don’t own a car, and she does and has to drive me places, she still doesn’t take away my “man” card.
     If my life were a lesbian romantic comedy, then I’m sure me and my roommate would be shacking up. My lesbian friends SL and W joke that we’re like an old married couple, bickering and all. Truth be told we’re very much like an old married couple, including the part where we don’t have sex. For many reasons such as my roommate is straight and that I’m not interested in her like that. You know, little things like that. :-)

QBP: “I don't need to pay a therapist to give me crap. I have a roommate that does it for free." -Ally McBeal

comic source

Gay does not mean Stupid, Stupid

2011-02-03T11:01:00.000-08:00

Hey small minded idgit, I don’t think you know actually know what “gay” means.

Gay means gleeful, jovial, glad, joyous, happy, cheerful, sprightly, blithe, airy, light-hearted, vivacious, frolicsome, sportive, hilarious, merry, good-humored, brilliant and lastly pertaining to a homosexual. Weird how none of those words come even close to stupid!

But I mean I understand. Why use stupid when you could use another word?

Like anserine, dopey, foolish, goosey, gooselike, jerky, blockheaded, boneheaded, duncical, duncish, fatheaded, loggerheaded, thick, thickheaded, thick-skulled, wooden-headed, cloddish, doltish, dense, dim, dim witted, dull, dumb, obtuse, slow, gaumless, gormless, lumpish, unthinking, nitwitted, senseless, soft-witted, witless, weak, weak-minded, yokel-like, brainless, headless, dazed, deficient, dummy, futile, gullible, half-baked, half-witted, idiotic, ill-advised, imbecilic, inane, indiscreet, insensate, irrelevant, laughable, ludicrous, meaningless, mindless, moronic, naive, nonsensical, out to lunch, pointless, puerile, shortsighted, simple, simpleminded, sluggish, stolid, stupefied, trivial, unintelligent, batty, campy, crazy, daffy, dippy, freaky, gagged up, goofy, illogical, incongruous, irrational, jokey, loony, nutty, off the wall, preposterous, screwy, silly, tomfool, unreasonable, wacky, absurd, cretinous, daft, sophomoric, asinine, balmy, bugged out, cracked, crazed, deranged, dotty, harebrained, mentally incompetent, nuts, odd, Philistine, blundering, boorish, bovine, churlish, gross, indelicate, inelegant, loutish, lowbrow, oafish, raw, rough, rude, uncouth, unrefined, vulgar, slow on the uptake, crass, addled, backward, besotted, boring, feeble-minded, ignorant, indolent, not bright, numskulled, scatterbrained, shallow, tedious, unintellectual, vacuous, wearisome, huff, ditzy, cockamamie, fatuous, ill-considered, imprudent, incautious, injudicious, insane, kooky, lunatic, mad, nerdy, ridiculous, short-sighted, unwise, or zany.

Consider your vocabulary expanded. You’re welcome.

P.S. Anyone who chooses to use “gay” as “stupid” is in my opinion a dingbat, moron, airhead, barmey, cabbage, dickish, dipstick, dope, drongo, fat head, plank, plonker, turkey, wanker, yob, git, knob-end, bell-end, numpty, nutter, pillock, toser, tube, twat, blockhead, boob, chump, clodpate, dimwit, dodo, dork, dumdum, dunce, fool, goon, idiot, ignoramus, lamebrain, lunkhead, meathead, nitwit, sap, yo-yo, loser, feeble-minded, imbecile, late, subnormal, underdeveloped, underprivileged and quite possibly inbreed.

QBP: "I think the most overused words in our vocabulary in the South are black and white." -Artur Davis

Dancing to our own beat

2011-02-01T10:21:00.000-08:00

Last week I was invited out to go dancing with Non-lesbian and her college friend who was in town. Non-lesbian was trying to get me to wear a dress, a cocktail dress. Yeah, there is no way I was going to do that. I haven’t dealt with someone trying to get me in a dress in a long time, and I had gotten used to people respecting my choices and not pressuring me. Non-lesbian reminded me of how I differed from other girls. Anyways, the best bar in town for dancing is actually a gay bar, so we headed there.

Her and her friend were dressed in well…dresses and I, on the urging of my roommate, wore a nice button up and dark jeans. No one at the club besides the straight women was particularly dressed up. Perhaps they did it because they felt they needed a sign for all those *gasp* lesbians *ungasp* to keep away. Didn’t matter, no lesbians at this gay bar (well except for me). No, this is one of those gay bars populated by gay men and straight women, and sometimes their boyfriends.

Non-lesbian decides to invite the guy she’s has two dates with, who hasn’t kissed her yet (she can't believe it!). When he arrives he is the most precious, but awkward software engineer ever. He won’t dance, or loosen up, not even a little.

I get bored real easily, so at this point I was about to gnaw me eyes out, anything to get myself to bed and away. Then I see a girl sitting by the side, and I think she’s watching me. I figure it’s because I’m actually dancing and not grinding up on someone. So I make the decision then to dance for her. I stay dancing in a group with Non-lesbian and her friend, but in my head I decided it’s all for her.

About five minutes later I see the girl has left, and I’m a bit disappointed, but when I turn around there she is ten feet to my left. She is dancing alone. I can’t help but smile. I’ve got a dancing partner. We’re nowhere near close to each other. I continue dancing with my group, but in my head I’m dancing with the strange girl.

She’s a peculiar little thing. They way she’s dancing reminds me of Luna Lovegood from Harry Potter. She’s dancing like she doesn’t have a care in the world. She doesn’t care what anyone thinks about her. She is truly free. I am envious. The strange girl and I dance on and off for about an hour.

I could have danced longer, but I had to get up early in the morning. I looked for the strange girl, but she was nowhere to be found. My group left the club. As we were walking outside in the cold, someone comes running over to us and stops in front of me. It was the strange girl.

“I had a great time dancing with you tonight.”

I was in shock, so I stuttered, “you…you too!” and then with a smile the strange girl was off. I couldn’t believe it. I had constructed this fantasy of dancing with her, all in my head, but she was right there with me, ten feet away. Dancing separately, yet together.

I should have asked her for her number, her name, anything. She was pretty, possibly high, but I haven’t had that much fun dancing in months. Non-lesbian and friends brushed off the encounter, but that night will stay with me for a long time to come.

In other news: I’m calling it. Non-lesbian is straight, though I feel like I did bring out some bi feelings in her. I wish her well with her dorky software engineer.

QBP: "I see dance being used as communication between body and soul, to express what it too deep to find for words." -Ruth St. Denis

Enlisting Update

2011-02-01T09:56:00.000-08:00

Still waiting on medical records to come down. After we finally get them, my recruiter will send them on to MEPS. Two or Three days later we'll get final word of whether I can move forward. If I do then it is looking like next week for the eye consult and hopeful job selection. Hoping for the best.

My First MEPS Experience and How Stupid I Was

2011-01-26T11:47:00.000-08:00

I arrived at the recruiter’s around 1400 or 2:00pm. I filled out a few pieces of paperwork, and then he questioned me again about the hot topic questions. He did this in the hopes I would not suddenly reveal something at MEPS (haha yeah…that didn’t work…). After this I waited for him to finish his own work, and we headed out to the hotel around 1600.

What to bring to MEPS:

-ID and Social Security Card

-Any forms or documents your recruiter told you to bring

-Change of clothes (x2 if you’re there for two nights)

-Pajamas or something to sleep in

-Toiletries

-Contact lens case, contact solution (or just bring and wear your glasses)

-A book to beat the boredom

-Change for a snack or drink from a vending machine

-Cell phone (though there are specific rules for where you can have a cell phone)

For the rest of My MEPS Experience, Advice about whether or not to withhold information, and a video of the Duck Walk click "Read More" or read below.

At the hotel the recruiter led me and my bag to the “Freedom Club” where the MEPS sign in and hang out area was. It was a sweet set up. Several TVs hooked up to DVD players, Cable, and PS3s, a few computers, and a weird bumper pool table thing.

I signed in, received my room key, voucher, and tag for my bag. I said goodbye to my recruiter and then headed upstairs to my room. My roommate had already dropped her stuff off and left. I collapsed on the bed, again wondering how crazy I am to do this. I picked up a book and read until my stomach told me it was dinner time. I had been hoping my roommate would return and we could go to dinner together, but I am a big girl. I headed to the restaurant inside the hotel and presented my meal voucher. In the corner I saw a gaggle of young people, so I headed over. Once they told me they were here for MEPS too I grabbed a seat.

At the table were five guys and one girl, who happened to be my roommate. She was an incredibly sweet girl. This was her second time at MEPS. She was there to get X-rays of her back because of spinal issues. Also at the table were two guys who were set to be shipping out the next day. How it works with MEPS is that you go at least two times. The first time is to qualify you to enlist and the second is right before you ship to boot camp to make sure nothing big has changed since your last physical.

For the rest of the night I hung out with these kids (kids I say because I’m pretty sure I was the oldest in the group). A short meeting and old instructional video about MEPS later and it’s nearly time for the 2200 curfew. I’ve never had a curfew. It was weird, but I liked having a curfew; no one was expecting me to stay out late and party. I could go to sleep early and no one would guilt me to do otherwise.

0400 came sooner than I wanted it to come. Even though my roommate and I were on time to checkout we were among the last ones at breakfast. Then of course after all that hurry we had to wait an hour for the shuttle to come get us. The shuttle took us to the federal building that houses MEPS and we were made to stand outside in the snow while the Marine sergeant got us organized. Three lines. The first was for those shipping out today. Only three people were in that line. The next line was for those who had been to MEPS before and were just coming in for a consultation. The last line, the one I was in, was for those poor saps getting full physicals. I looked over at the consultation line and saw it was nearly long as the full physical line. Got to say it was not an encouraging sight.

Once we made it through security (Remember NO WEAPONS, not even a pocket knife) we headed up to MEPS. Once we all got our paperwork, those of us there for the full physical lined up outside the medical section of MEPS. Then the barrage of tests (may vary slightly depending on where you have MEPS).

First we had our blood pressure and pulse taken. Then I had my hearing checked next. We wore a headset and had a buzzer we would click whenever we heard the tone. My hearing in my right ear was better than my left, but I still passed easily. Oh. Vision was next. Let me preface this by saying I am nearly blind without my glasses. He had me take off my glasses to use the machine. (If you wear contacts he'll make you take them out and will bitch at you if you don't have solution. Some kid got a dressing down because he didn't have any.) I could barely read ANY of the letters that came through the view screen of the machine. Color blind test went by easily enough, though I missed one, couldn’t tell if it was 76 or a 78. Since my eyes were so bad I was tested on another machine. I’m not sure what it does, but the tech couldn’t get it focus on my right eye. Apparently I have a bad astigmatism. Left was fine though. The result? I was borderline on automatically qualifying so I have to see an eye consult. I thought to myself, “A consult already?” I was bummed.

Next the deluge of paperwork and this is where I really got stupid. They threatened us by saying if we withheld any information we could get a large fine or be sent to prison. I was worried if they looked at my medical records they would see I had a brief case of exercise-induced asthma when I was 10, and I didn’t tell them about it I surely would be sent to jail. Even though now with hindsight, unless they have a reason to look at your medical records or unless something becomes a problem, they’re NOT going to look at your medical records. Not to mention they’re not likely to prosecute anyone for doing that. But sleep deprivation and my personal integrity made me include it on my medical form.

After this was the interview with the Doc. She seemed very kind to me, no-nonsense, but not mean like she was described to me. She asked me some questions, including about my childhood asthma. She looked at my eyes, ears, and a few others things. She was impressed I was a grad student, though she wondered why I wasn’t going OCS (Officer Candidate School). The answer is simple. I want to do medical. I can’t do that as an officer unless I have a medical degree of some sort. As I was leaving I asked her how bad my eyes were. She told me she had seen much worse and I shouldn’t have any problems getting a waiver for that if I needed it. I breathed a sigh of relief (it didn’t last long).

Blood was taken from the vein in the inner elbow and then all that was left was the gender specific stuff. The single other female recruit having the full physical and I went into a separate room. We were told to strip down to our bra and underpants (I wore a sports bra and boxer briefs). The assistant, who was really friendly, got our height and weight. Next she looked at the arches in our feet and asked us a few questions about our feet. She asked us about tattoos, birth marks, and lastly scars. I have a few scars. All they asked about them was were the scars surgical or traumatic, or if they looked suspicious how they happened. They also checked inner arms for signs of cutting. The other recruit asked if they get a lot of cutters. The woman told us “More than you think. It’s so sad.”

Then the pee test. I had been drinking water all last night and this morning to prepare. I was ready to go, except my shy bladder lived up to its name. Eventually I got out enough, but having someone watch you makes things real tough. After that I and the other recruit waited around in our underwear for a long time. We had to wait on the doctor. When she finally came in, she double checked the work the assistant did and then we did the 23 range of motion exercises. They want to make sure you have full range of motion in all your joints and that you don’t have joint damage. Part of this was the infamous duck walk, which…words can’t do it justice. It was difficult, but I passed.

All that was left then was the female exam. I put on one of those hospital gowns, and took off my underclothes. In a room off the main room was the Examination room. In there the doctor did a breast exam and an external gentitalia check, no internal. It was very awkward, but since I want to be a doctor I’d just thought how I’d be if I was the doctor. Then I was done.

More waiting, then I was handed a few pages to show my military liaison. I was so excited. I thought that if they were sending me to the liaison that meant I was going to do job selection today. Wrong. All it meant was to show him what I still needed, which was an eye consultation. I thought to myself, “Okay no problem. I already knew I needed that.” AND I needed to get my medical records. Why? Because I admitted I had a short bout of asthma when I was ten. The Army doesn’t care unless the asthma was diagnosed at 13 or later. However when I asked for the reason, they said they needed the medical records to see if I was lying or not. Hell! I could lied and not have admitted it in the first place and I would have been better off!

Due to my honesty while I could have had my eye consultation done that day I could no longer, because my processing is stalled pending my medical records. Now the physician I went to for this was many moves ago as well as states. But I have to get the records. Plus sending them in doesn’t mean anything. They could still approve or disapprove. So I have to go to MEPS again, after my records are in and hopefully approved, next week just for the eye consult. I could have been done today if it weren’t for my honesty.

When I told my recruiter he wasn’t exactly pleased. You’re supposed to tell them everything, but seriously it slipped my mind until faced with imprisonment! The system is effed up. They made a guy get a psych consult because he forgot he got a few moles removed. It’s messed up man. It’s a wonder they find any recruits healthy enough to join when they’re so nitpicky with every single thing you admit. One last example of the system being broke. They lost this kid's paperwork, but then re-found it with a marijuana charge with a name and signature that wasn't his own. AND they said he must have wrote a different name and signature, not the more likely possibility that they messed the paperwork...

On top of this I don’t know if I can even get the job I want! In related news, I pretty much confirmed that my recruiter was lying about other services not having medical open. It doesn’t matter though because the Army owns my soul (and my important documents) until this MEPS thing is figured out.

Is it worth it? I don’t know. I guess we’ll see.

Advice about whether to withhold:

My advice to you is that if the medical problem wasn’t recent, isn’t going to affect your performance, and hasn’t left any obvious indicators on our skin (like surgery might) then DON’T REVEAL IT! Don’t give me this bull about withholding. They will take every little thing you say and even if it happened ages ago, will DQ you in a second. For instance the recruiter told me of this smart, good kid who was perfectly fine until MEPS and he told them when he was four he had anal polyps. Permanent DQ. All he wanted was to be a part of the military and because of his admission he will never be able to do so. Don’t get DQed for some stupid stuff like that. Just forget you ever had those problems. Be ignorant. I AM NOT saying hide the major stuff, just the little things which do not have any effect on your current performance.

The Duck Walk

Off to MEPS and Hoping for the Best

2011-01-25T07:37:00.000-08:00

The roommate and I woke up early and headed to the recruitment office. As soon as we walked in, my recruiter ushered us to the back room. He had me initial every answer I jotted down on my pre-screening medical form and signed the form. I had to check and sign a tattoo form for the single tattoo I have: a moment of planned impulsivity much like my choice to join the military. A few other forms and then the recruiter gave me the hard truth.

Across all the services (perhaps this is true, perhaps this isn’t) there are no medical spots for females and in at least my service there haven’t been for four/five weeks. So that’s the bad news. However the recruiter and his boss and his bosses’ boss are trying their hardest to get me this job. Their plan of attack? They are going to send me to MEPS to get my physical done without a job. They hope that by showing my commitment to follow through with the physical (having high ASVAB scores and a college degree doesn’t hurt) the higher ups will feel pressured to give me the job I want. The jobs do exist; they’re just reserved for those already in the military, and not those initial entry slobs like me.

My recruiter said I had about an 80-85% chance of getting the job. What will happen if I don’t get the job is that after I pass the physical, they’ll send me to the job counselor. He/She will try and convince me to take another job. I don’t have to accept a thing. If I don’t choose anything, I simply go home. Then the recruiter and I will simply wait for the job to become available. At the very least I will have taken the physical and gotten it out of the way. Then when the job does pop up, the recruiter will jump on it. All I’ll have to do is go into the MEPS station, sign and take the oath of enlistment.

QBP: "Luck is what you have left over after you give 100 percent." -Langston Coleman

This could be me tomorrow.

pic source from a great Army female blogger

The ASVAB, TAPAS, and why being a girl sucks right now

2011-01-24T08:47:00.000-08:00

Second installment of the "Hey wow I'm enlisting in the military!" series.

My roommate dropped me off at the recruiting office, and after a few questions and instructions we were off to take the ASVAB (Armed Services Vocational Aptitude Battery). Making sure I had no weapons, my driver’s license and my social security card we drove over to the federal building housing MEPS and ASVAB testing in our area. We went through a metal detector and went up to our floor. Apparently the recruiters can only go so far, so soon I was on my own. I handed over my paperwork, showed off my license and social, signed in (felt embarrassed because I didn’t know my recruiter’s name) and got a binder of general info/rules. Then I sat and chilled and watched Sportscenter in a waiting area.

When it was my turn my name was called and I got my fingerprints scanned and picture taken. Very similar to taking the MCAT. Then I dropped off my coat and headed to the testing room. There were rows of computers. I signed in again with my fingerprint. The proctor led me to a computer, asked for my service branch and then helped me choose the right test.

And after a short tutorial, I was set to start. It was a maximum three hour test. I didn’t take that long, though not because it wasn’t hard (mostly because I got bored or simply didn't know something). I’m pretty sure it got harder every time I answered a question correctly. The nine sections on the test are General Science, Arithmetic Reasoning, Word Knowledge, Paragraph Comprehension, Mathematics Knowledge, Electronics Information, Automotive and Shop Information, Mechanical Comprehension, and Assembling Objects.

The toughest for me were Auto and Mechanical. They would show me pictures of objects I have never seen before in my life or use words that I have never heard in any life. My favorite sections were Mathematics, Word Knowledge and Assembling Objects. AO was really fun though difficult as well. Assembling Objects has you link objects together or put the pieces all together and you have to choose which one has the correct pieces. It reminded me of those old Highlights magazines that I would only ever see in the doctor’s office in which you had to find all the objects hidden in the picture.

When I was done, I had to take two more tests: TAPAS and some sort of computer literacy test. TAPAS stands for Tailored Adaptive Personality Assessment System. TAPAS is a personality test which gives you two statements and you have to choose the one more like you. It forced you think because sometimes neither statement was like you. I’ve tried to do some research on it, but I’m still not sure why it is used. Some say it can predict some personality disorders and others say it’s used to see who is motivated and responsible and who is not. I got my scores back from that but I don’t know what they mean other than one score is “can do” and the other is “will do”. As for the computer literacy test, it was a tough test asking all sorts of serious computer questions that I have no idea about. A couple of easy questions snuck in too.

After all this, I finally got my scores. I took the folded sheet, grabbed my coat and then called my recruiter. He asked me for my scores. He’s said “a 99 right?” I looked at my scores and yep, a perfect AFQT score, a 99. (The AFQT, Armed Forces Qualification Test, score is what is used for general purposes including enlistment eligibility. The other ASVAB scores are used for job specific purposes.) I admit I wasn’t quite expecting due to all the difficult questions I was sure I had missed. Then I looked at the rest of my scores. Perfect or near perfect in all categories except for Auto which was still a really good score. Weird. My recruiter was quite pleased. He arranged for someone to pick me up and take me back to the office.

The recruiter who came and got me was clearly not relishing his recruiter position. He didn’t want to do it, but had to do it for career advancement. I mean when you’ve been in Germany and Korea for the past ten years I can’t blame ya. Actually it was funny how much the recruiters opened up to me. I think they were just glad I wasn’t a young teenage tool with no common sense or respect.

Back at the office the First Sergeant, the head guy there, worked on getting me the job I wanted. When only three jobs showed up (compared to the fifteen for the guy who got a 50 on his AFQT and no college degree) the Sergeant called up I guess recruiting headquarters and talked/flirted with the woman. So everything’s great, right? Excellent scores. No legal, drug, or medical problems. College degree. Perfect age. Perfect recruit. Except for one thing... I’m female. The sergeant found that apparently there are no jobs available in the entire medical field except for men currently. Whoops.

I was disappointed. He tried to explain this last ditch thing we could try, but it seemed like it fell under the miracle category. He told me to consider my other options and floated the Linguist job. It’s a great job. Loan repayment. Easy switch to the civilian world and making the big bucks. Even a 22,000 signing bonus. One problem with that: I hate languages. That’s my father’s thing, my brother’s thing. It’s not mine. I could do it, but I really really rather not. The sergeant sent me home to think about it and to look at some other jobs.

So I left feeling pissed that with my perfect scores and experience, it all came down to availability and I could nothing to change that. Also I knew I wanted nothing but medical. There are a lot of great jobs in the military, but they’re not for me. I’d rather opt out and apply to D.O. school and hope I can get by than do a job for two/three years that I don't want to do in the Army.

Then ten minutes after I left I get a call. It’s my recruiter (who had been busy so he wasn’t the one to go over job selection with me). He says not to worry, that he and the First Sergeant talked to their boss and that they’re going to try everything to get me medical. He asked if I could come tomorrow early morning, bring my college diploma, sign my packet and something confusing including circumventing the normal job selection process and exceptions…I don’t know. But he said not to worry and that he would everything he could including finding the right person to beat up to get me medical.

So I might get it? I will know more tomorrow. After looking at all the jobs again, the only ones that interest me aren’t available to me as a woman, so it’s medical or not enlisting.

(In a side note I got accosted by my minister because she had heard about my military intentions from others and demanded a sit down next week. Hey, if she asked I would have told her. The other minister asked, so I told her. It’s simple really.)

The Recruitment Experience

2011-01-20T08:53:00.000-08:00

I walked into the recruitment office with my roommate as moral support. I told her she didn’t have to come, but she was curious about the process. As soon as we walked in a recruiter ushered us to the back room.

He sat me and my roommate down and asked me a lot of questions. Active versus Reserve? Field of interest? Educational experience? Married? Kids? Any medical issues? Legal issues? Issue issues? When he was satisfied, he answered my questions. With a college degree what level would I be entering at? E-4. What about the loan repayment program? Availability depends on the MOS (Military Occupational Specialty or Job). How long is the wait between MEPS (Military Entrance Processing Station – where you get your physical, job counseling, and take the oath of enlistment) and Basic? Anywhere from a couple of weeks to 3-5 months. Depends on your MOS.

He was surprised to hear I haven’t gotten a speeding ticket. I wasn’t. When you don’t own a car or drive, it’s hard to get speeding tickets. He also asked me in a whisper (so quiet that I had to ask him to repeat his question) when the last time I smoked weed was. I told him never, which is true. I’m pretty straight laced. (It made me wonder what he would say if you did smoke weed. MEPS can read drugs in your urine up to 45 days. So I guess he would delay the MEPS visit until your urine was clean if he was a nice guy or hard up for recruits.) I asked him how many women he saw in ratio to men. He said about 1:10, or 1:15. Though “more women are coming in lately”. The last thing I wondered, to myself, was how colorful everyone’s language was. I mean I get it. Military folk equals colorful language, but in a recruiter’s office I guess I expected everyone to be on their best behavior. They were extremely polite otherwise.

I told him I wanted to become a combat medic. Apparently everyone and their age appropriate buff grandfathers either want medical field or military police right now. They guarantee jobs to recruits based on ASVAB scores, passing the physical, but most importantly availability. The recruiter’s next step was to have me take a practice ASVAB test, which had four sections: word knowledge, arithmetic reasoning, paragraph comprehension, and mathematics knowledge. (The actual test has nine sections.) A couple of the arithmetic reasoning questions gave me pause since they’re basically math word problems, but I ended up with a 96 out of 99. Potential recruits usually score within 5 points of the practice. My recruiter said he thought I might get a 99 on the real thing.

The recruiter said they don’t often see such a high score. To be able to enlist you just need a 31, but it’s good I had a strong score. When jobs are as popular as the one I want to do, having a high ASVAB score gives me a better chance at getting that job. Also my recruiter says he “has the hook up” on job selection, so that seems promising. He said if he couldn’t get me that one, he would try for “bigger and better things” such as the really competitive medical jobs. The whole point of this is to get real life medical experience and training, so if I don’t get one of three jobs I’m out. Luckily I have that option.

The next step after the practice test was to put me into the system and fill out some paper work. He tried to look for jobs for me, but the system was being screwy so he’s going to have to try again later. I gave him the important papers I brought: social security card, birth certificate, driver’s license, and he’s going to have my college fax over my transcript. He also needs my high school diploma which I just found under my bed. So that’s good.

The plan is to take the official ASVAB test tomorrow. Then armed with that score, my recruiter can go after the job I want. Once he books me a job I have seven days to go to MEPS and enlist. After that there’s the wait until I ship off to basic. I’m not nervous about the test tomorrow, but I am about the physical. I’ve never had any health problems, but the way the recruiter made the MEPS doctors out to be, it seems like they’re dead set on disqualifying every soldier that walks in. I mean I have a couple of scars, but people have scars right? Shit happen. Scars happen. Whatever, I have nothing to hide. Doesn’t help the nerves so much though.

And because you were just dying to know this (or my roommate thinks you all are) I enjoyed a hearty fist bump with my recruiter.

QBP: "The medic takes not his courage from anger. He runs the same or greater risks of death and injury, but he, or she, is given over on the battlefield not to Thanatos and anger, but to kindness and Eros." -Lt. Col. Dave Grossman

Line dancing – the L is for Lesbians

2011-01-18T13:37:00.000-08:00

The other night I went out to a gay club with Non-lesbian (her idea). Last time I went to this club it was fun, though there was a claustrophobic abundance of gay men. I had seen a scattering of lesbians on that night out and around the city, but I have never quite figured out where the lesbians hang out (couldn’t even find any at the roller derby…THE ROLLER DERBY!)

But I digress. While Non-lesbian and I were searching for friends at the club we ended up in a room I had never been in before and lo and behold! Twenty/Thirty lesbians line dancing. It was a truly wondrous sight to behold. I even got to see a pocket drag king in a cowboy hat! He was awesome.

Though I had a lot of fun, I had a few caveats about the night. The lesbian crowd in the club was mostly older. I felt like such a child. I ask my question again, but now I have to modify it. Where are all the lesbians my age? Even still I’m trying to convince my gay friend, B, to go to the line dancing for beginners nights. The line dancing looked like serious fun.

As for Non-lesbian, I feel perhaps she is getting over her crush on me. She went out on a date with this guy (from her recent forays into online dating) before we went out to the club. (Is it suspicious to make plans with your friend right after a date? I mean wouldn’t you want to at least give yourself the possibility that the date might go really well?) Besides commenting on how she really liked how I looked in my outfit (I was looking super fly), she didn’t give me any indication of her inclinations toward me.

QBP: "There is a bit of insanity in dancing that does everybody a great deal of good." -Edwin Denby

pic source

Lesbian Terminology: The Masculine of Center Edition*

2011-01-13T11:22:00.000-08:00

Andro- Stands for Androgynous. They are men or women who choose to embrace both masculine and feminine characteristics and styles, such that they are at the center of the male/female spectrum.

Tomboy- As a kid, they’re the girls who enjoy playing with the boys, rejecting typical girly tropes. As a teenager or adult they are the straight or gay women who still love sports, baseball caps and hanging with the guys.

Boi- Typically a trendy and dapper lesbian in her late teens, early twenties who likes to dress like a teenage guy. Check out boimeetsplay.com.

Soft Butch- Also known as a “Chapstick Lesbian”. Think Ellen. Soft Butches are lesbians who dress more masculine than tomboys, and act more masculine. They are the in between, between Andro and Butch.

Butch- Lesbians who embrace their masculinity. They may act more like men and dress like men. They also may take the dominant role in relationships. Though as with most of these terms, the most important factor is that they self-identify as Butch.

Stone Butch- A Butch who follows the adage, “to give is better than to receive” when it comes to sex. They’d rather take care of their partner’s needs and are satisfied with that.

Stud- These are butches that have a lot of concern for appearances and "looking good". They sometimes take on the look and mannerisms of a "gangsta" or "thug". Usually younger, masculine behaviors usually similar to that of a teenage or early 20's guy.

AG- Aggressive Girl. AGs are part of a subculture in cities. Typically women of color in their twenties, they are tough, gangsta homosexual women.

Genderqueer- Dressing or acting in a manner that is not typically seen as mainstream or what society deems as “traditional” or “normal”.

FTM- Female to Male. A female that is in the process of transitioning to be a man. Involves hormones (testosterone), and sexual reassignment surgery. Often, breasts are removed, hysterectomies are performed, and name changes are done. These people live as men.

*Disclaimer* - Other interpretations may apply.

QBP: "I am a rare species, not a stereotype."-Ivan E. Coyote (check the vid below)

Drastic Life Decision Made

2011-01-12T12:33:00.000-08:00

Welp, the decision I've been waiting on has been made...sort of. The medical school I interviewed at months ago finally viewed my application and put me on hold status. Which means they can make a decision (to accept, to reject) before March 31st. After that they have to either reject me or put me on the waitlist.

Here's what I have to say to that: Fuck it. I'm not going to wait around anymore in the hopes that I'll get accepted. I'm joining the military. I plan on visiting a recruitment office next week and I'll go from there. I'll keep you all updated as I go through the process.

Masculine Mannerisms

2011-01-11T16:37:00.000-08:00

(A couple notes before I begin. First, this is strictly about mannerisms. I may cover actions, habits, and vocal patterns at a later date. Second, I’m an advocate of everyone just being themselves no matter their mannerisms. This isn’t a how to guide, but simply observations I’ve had as well as others. Thirdly, not every man has these mannerisms, just a slight majority.)

This all started with beer. Or actually it started with me looking at how this guy held his beer. He probably didn’t even realize, but how he held his beer told everyone in the bar: I am masculine. Curious, I decided to investigate masculine mannerisms. Some of these are obvious and others less so.

Sitting:

As a general rule, men like to take up space. In chairs they tend to slouch more, and spread out with their legs and arms. They keep their legs apart, and employ the ankle resting on the leg method of crossing their legs.

Additionally I’ve commonly noticed men slouch down in their chair and then stick their feet straight out crossing their feet at the ankle.

General observation for mimicry: Arrange yourself as though you had no bones in your body. Drape yourself over the couch or chair or against the wall like you are all floppy, and don't worry about personal space.

Walking:

When women walk they do this one-foot-after-the-other-in-a-line walk (think balance beam). Men on the other hand walk with their feet apart and side by side (following two parallel lines) and surprise surprise they don’t sway/switch their hips. Additionally a guy's heel is the first thing to touch the ground, and his toes generally stay up longer than a woman's. (Women, used to heels, will touch down first with the ball of their foot.) They walk heavy, with purpose, confidence. Some might refer to a masculine swagger, but I have yet to figure out a swagger which doesn’t make me look like an spaz or like a cocky something or other.

Standing:

Unlike women who may put more weight on one leg, men will stand with equal weight distribution on both feet. When a guy feels threatened, he'll get "bigger" to try and scare the threat, as opposed to women who generally get smaller as to not be noticed. Lean. Lean against walls, door frames, vehicles (make sure they’re not moving when you do this).

Hands:

Women tend to emphasize their points with their hands, men tend not to. Men keep their hands down and low. They stick their hands in their pockets, but to do that you need pockets you can actually fit your hands into…stupid girl jeans. In an interview with Felicity Huffman when she was playing in Transamerica, she said she moved her hands like she was underwater, which made them seem bigger and more mannish. Avoid hands at hips at all times, unless you are David Caruso…who you are not.

Men aren’t as careful when they hold things, so many men (and a few women I’ve noticed) hold their beer bottles by the neck with a few fingers, when they’re taking sips. For larger gulps, they hold their bottles in a typical position at the label.

Face:

Smirking, it’s not just for lesbians! When guys smile their grin is a bit asymmetrical, sort of almost lopsided. Men tend to be more cheeky with their smiling than women, and typically don’t react as “large” as women do. They want to seem unfazed and in control of everything happening around them.

They’ll crane their head up in response of a threat or acknowledgment and use more non-verbal communication than women. Men clench their jaws when doing manly things.

Guys look confident. They don't look apologetic, hesitant or shy. Even reserved guys tend to have an air of self assurance.

They aren't too emotionally expressive most of the time, but when they are, they wave their hands and arms around a lot (dynamically, not girlishly. They don't keep their hands close to their body---men fling them out.) They don't try to be contained or quiet about it---upset/excited guys get very demonstrative.

Additional:

We could get into the cruder aspects, like “package” adjustment, or scratching, but oh hey I just did!

The Summary:

Take up space. Be less expressive.

QBP: "When women are depressed, they eat or go shopping. Men invade another country. It's a whole different way of thinking." -Elayne Boosler

I observed a lot of these mannerisms and got the rest from this site.

Repairing what has been broken

2011-01-06T10:35:00.000-08:00

Recently a seminary student who attends my church started up a new ministry. A ministry specifically for gay people. The goal of the ministry: to help those who have been wounded by the hate “Christians” have inflicted upon them. It’s also a place where gay people in the church and in the outside world are welcome to enjoy community.

The first meeting of the ministry was this past Sunday. Though the invitation to the meeting was extended to all regardless of sexual orientation, I was the only one there who was not openly gay. One of my church friends was there and I think he assumed I was there because of my brother being gay. That’s half the reason why I attended. I want to help young and older gay people know that God loves them, and that they are loved. I want them to know that the loudest voices in their lives aren’t the only ones.

I wanted to tell my story, my brother’s story. But I wasn’t ready. I’m the type who has to think before she speaks. However my thoughts weren’t cooperating. My mind was jumble of words and feelings. So instead I listened to the stories of the others.

Most of them grew up in conservative churches. They knew they were gay from a young age, but feared coming out. For good reason. Several were socially isolated when they came out, or forced to go to reparative therapy if they wished to continue attending. All these people who loved and supported them were gone in a single instant.

One gay man was planning on becoming a youth minister, but when his home church found out he was barred from ever working with youth again. Another had his mother go ballistic and said every mean thing you should never say to your son. Each story more powerful than the last. Haters make me insane sometimes. Why break down, when you can build up?

When the time came for prayer requests I put forth my baby brother’s name. I know he doesn’t think much of prayer. Sometimes I too debate its efficacy, but he should know that even though these people don’t know him like I know him, that they care.

The next meeting is next month. There I will tell my story. I will come out, and be brave, because my brother is brave every day. Every day that he has to walk the halls of his high school, he is brave. I will tell his story, so that they understand the importance of such a group like this. So that maybe, just maybe we can save young gay lives like my brother's.

QBP: "Dear, America. When you tell Gay Americans that they can’t serve their country openly, or marry the person that they love, you're telling that to kids too. Don’t be fuckin shocked and wonder where all these bullies are coming from that are torching young kids and driving them to kill themselves because they’re different. They learned it from watching you." -Sarah Silverman

pic source

When the $#!^ gets Real

2011-01-04T10:13:00.000-08:00

Several months ago I got a call from my brother and panicked. My brothers never call me unless something horrible has happened/is happening. My baby brother, his young voice breaking, said, “I need to tell you something.” “Of course, anything,” I replied. “I think I’m gay.” I about burst out laughing, but stop myself. I didn’t want to be insensitive. I had been expecting something dire, and instead it was something wonderful.

Here was my youngest brother figuring out and owning something ten years earlier than myself. I thought of all the wonderful experiences that awaited my brother, now that he was armed with that knowledge. Of course as brave as he was I had to tell him I shared similar feelings, which came as a bit of a shock, but he took it in stride.

The people who know me could tell you one thing for certain about me. The most important people in my life are my brothers. Particularly my baby brother who I raised when my parents decided they were too burdened with their own life issues to do it themselves. I am fiercely protective of him.

Anyways flash forward to the beginning of last month. I get a call late at night from my brothers. They’re in tears, which freaked me out. My older younger brother never cries. Some family shit was going down, and all I could do from several states away was try comforting them. Offer platitudes. Tell them I love them. All this emotion brought something out in my baby brother. He had something else to tell me. He admitted to attempting suicide.

I don’t think I’ve ever felt as hurt as I did right then. Sure I followed the gay teen suicides, but for whatever reason I felt my baby brother was safe. He had my other brother; he had me. He wasn’t even out at his high school. He didn’t read as gay. He’d be safe from the bullying. I can’t believe I was that stupid to think that way. He is surrounded by bullying. He’s not deaf. He hears all the unkind things said and hate spewed. He isn’t going to a liberal high school up north like I did. He’s deep in hate territory, where he doesn’t need to be open about being gay to feel hated. Add to that all the family crap, and the fact that he’s a teenager and damn.

This hate…it needs to stop now. I don’t know how I’m going to make it better. I don’t know if I can. But I have to try. Even the threat of losing my brother devastates me. I can’t imagine how all the families of suicide victims feel.

I feel my anger rising and I can’t even think straight anymore, so angry am I at “Christians” who spread such a message of hate and inequality. How dare they invoke the name of God and Jesus in their vile filth! I have to end this post now for fear of losing it.

Party time with Non-Lesbian

2010-12-17T07:39:00.000-08:00

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

2010-12-16T11:07:00.000-08:00

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

2010-12-16T10:51:00.000-08:00

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

2010-11-23T10:44:00.000-08:00

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

2010-11-22T16:14:00.000-08:00

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

2010-11-19T02:48:00.000-08:00

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?”

2010-11-18T09:59:00.000-08:00

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

2010-11-17T10:49:00.000-08:00

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…

2010-11-16T08:03:00.000-08:00

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?

2010-11-15T08:09:00.000-08:00

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

2010-11-12T07:58:00.000-08:00

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

2010-11-11T06:15:00.000-08:00

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

Celebrity Crushes

2010-11-10T05:54:00.000-08:00

You know you’re gay when you have a file on your computer which is full of pictures of hot women and when the list includes pics of Lucy Lawless, Ellen Page, and Kate Moennig. Also my list includes Kristen Stewart (K-Stew for short), Kaya Scodelario, Jordana Brewster (particulary from D.E.B.S. and Annapolis), Evangeline Lilly, Katee Sackhoff, Sarah Shahi, Bridget Regan (though her boobs are a bit big for my personal tastes), Holly Marie Combs (so hot without even trying), Keira Knightley (only in men’s or sporty wear), Liv Tyler, Missy Peregrym, and most of the women from Glee. Faberry and Brittana forevs!!!

Upon analysis of my collection which has only been amassed in the course of the last year, it seems like I am attracted to the dark headed beauties mostly who play tough women. Additionally none of the women in my collection are wearing dresses or skirts in their pictures. I’m simply not into it. I think that’s part of the reason it took me a bit of time to figure out I was gay. It’s tough to find tough, slightly masculine women in high school and on TV where they are often forced to dress up like feminine women.

Who are your celeb crushes?

(Though he isn’t in my collection, I always have had an attraction to Matt Damon. I don’t think I want to have sex with him, but be his best buddy. Regardless there is no shame in being a lesbian having male celeb crushes. I mean even straight women tend to have that “one celeb she’s go gay for”™ .)

Now if we're talking fictional characters there's always Hermione...and on that note...here's a ridiculous Ginny/Hermione fanfic from the creative mind at QC.

Hermione and Ginny vs the Space Wizards

Retreat: Beatitudes for Today’s World

2010-11-09T05:33:00.000-08:00

Religious post! I know how much you guys love these, but the blog is called "A Lesbian Christian". God's got to show up sometimes. Here are a few Beatitudes I came up with.

Blessed are the poor,

for they are rich in the Kingdom of Heaven.

Blessed are the oppressed,

for the doors of Heaven open up to them.

Blessed are the downtrodden, the despairing,

for they will be granted God’s eternal grace.

Blessed are the protectors of the innocent,

for they will be under God’s protection.

Blessed are those who do good works,

for their need will be met by others.

Blessed are those who love their neighbor,

for only they can understand God’s unconditional love.

QBP: "The Lord is my Shepard and he knows I'm gay." -Rev.Troy Perry

In a closet, it's dark and quiet in here

2010-11-08T10:45:00.000-08:00

Very few gay folks are open from the time they realize they’re gay. Thanks to the world we live in we keep our same sex desires a secret, whether it is due to fear of persecution from strangers or loved ones, or because our religion makes us feel guilty or wrong for having these feelings or various other reasons.

Luckily we have progressed overall as a people and it’s easier to be open about being gay than it ever has been. That being said, even in the most gay friendly places coming out is always difficult, just for the sheer fact that being gay is “out of the norm/not of the mainstream”. Witness the suicides of the past month, some happening even with loving people supporting them.

I am in the closet except to a handful of close friends and my brothers. I finally accepted I was gay at the beginning of this year. I told my friends and they were extremely supportive though my best gay pal said he never thought I was gay, straight, maybe, asexual, even more so, but gay? Nope. Everyone has been immensely supportive, but it was weird hanging out with them at first. They included me in their conversations about cute women and the gay community. It made me feel weird. They were more accepting than I was. At that time in my head I was simultaneously coming to terms with being gay and trying to prove I wasn't.

I fully acknowledge my big fat gayness now. I feel comfortable being gay and dressing in a more butch manner around my friends that know. However I am in the closet to everyone else. The main reason why is that I’m planning on joining the military (if I get into medical school, and even if I do not). With DADT still hanging on and a Republican majority soon taking over the House, it’s easier to stay in the closet. But even this is a bit of an excuse.

Truth is I’m scared.

I’m not an overly open person, particularly not when it comes to the important stuff. I’m quiet and stoic except with my closest friends. I wish I could tell my church friends. My church is very open to gays and lesbians. And at a progressive church, my church friends make up the most liberal part. Included in my group is a bisexual (now more into men), a committed gay couple, and staunch gay rights supporters. Yet even as my appearance gets more alternative, I maintain my straight-ness. I am coward, letting my fears dictate my actions or lack there-of. Why?

The closet is comforting. Sure it’s lonely, but it keeps me safe from bigots and prejudice. And from relationships I might actually lose myself in. I am a control freak. Love is unrestrained and I am so entirely restrained it’s ridiculous. Don’t get me wrong I’m laid back, and mostly easy going when it comes to others, but I am restrained. That surrender of self is terrifying. I see myself in lesbian characters such as Naomi, Shane, and the Shane clone, Frankie, (from the new BBC series Lip Service) in that I am afraid of love. However I know this and I want to change.

QBP: "The one permanent emotion of the inferior man is fear - fear of the unknown, the complex, the inexplicable. What he wants above everything else is safety." -Henry Louis Mencken

Blast from the Past: Kissing you

2010-11-05T08:16:00.000-07:00

Today is Friday. Woo! On Fridays I'm going to have a series, Blast from the Past, mainly so I don't have to write anything new. However, it could be interesting tracing someone's first inklings of *gasp* the Gay *ungasp*. Anyways here is the first installment written about M!

October 02, 2008

I think of kissing you. How would I feel? Would it just be the dull feeling? Would it be an explosion of sexual energy? You bitch about life and I think it's cute. I love being alone with you. I love making you laugh. I want to spend all my time with you. Am I in love with you? But here you are with a fiancé. Will your marriage be successful? I can tell we wouldn't be good in a relationship, but still I can't keep from thinking what it would be like to kiss you. I think about hugging you, your warmth. I spend all this time wondering. And I will forever wonder until I find another man. Will I accept marriage like my father did only to lead to the unhappiness of my spouse? For now I live in a limbo, not knowing. You'll never know how I felt about you. I love you. You make me question who I am.

QBP: "I am the love that dare not speak its name." -Lord Alfred Douglas

Retreat: The Catholic Way

2010-11-04T08:00:00.000-07:00

Being raised from birth to college as a Lutheran, I am no stranger to a ritual heavy worship service. People connect to God through all sorts of interesting and odd ways: drugs, snakes, flagellation. Those are things I know don’t connect me personally to God. My list also includes ritual.

Ritual leads to familiarity which leads to acting without thinking. I cannot connect to God if I am not thinking. The phrase “going through the motions” should never apply to one’s relationship with God. (Well not if they want to continue that relationship.)

Everyone of course has their own way to God.

I say all this to give you background before I talk about the Catholic services I attended at the monastery. I’ll get all the lauding out first. The main cathedral was gorgeous, beautiful and vast with plenty of statues, stained glass windows and amazing, striking paintings. The pipe organ was the largest I’ve seen in person. The monks were very monky in their somber black habits. The acoustics in the cathedral gave the monks’ monophonic chanting a haunting reverberating feel.

Now the bad, well not bad, but awkward and disconnecting, as an non-Catholic I was struck by how much previous knowledge you needed to feel comfortable at the service: when to kneel, bow, cross yourself, how to pronounce the Latin correctly.

The service made me feel like an outsider and I feel religion should be welcoming. So not only did I not get on board with the ritual, I felt the service was like a dumb blonde: very pretty, but not much substance. (I'm well aware this is harsh, but it's how I see the Catholic church in my mind. I'm also acutely aware that the Catholic church does wonders for some (though mostly not the gay folk) people. I am not one of those people.)

Again this is my opinion as it applies to how I interact with God and perceive the Catholic service. The pomp and circumstance of various entrances of the monks and priests made it very clear who was holier. Additionally it struck me that in this huge cathedral, that there is so little seating. Isn’t the point of religious homes to give places to the worshippers? The cathedral seemed rather empty, particularly with high vaulted ceilings. Seems ironic that of all places a monastery be home to such a lavish cathedral and grounds.

And the rules. One of my fellow retreat goers got schooled because he was seen eating an apple before mass, and you cannot eat or drink anything an hour before you receive communion. It’s my feeling that such rules (and the strictness of them) alienate people more than they bring people closer to God. Does God really find it necessary to adhere to all these rules that aren’t in the Bible and yet be okay with all the various rules in Leviticus that get conveniently forgotten (except that one they can't seem to forget Lev 18:22)?

All this leads to a question: are all those trappings necessary? Short answer: no. Don’t get me wrong, I like a church that’s easy on the eyes. But I see those great cathedrals in Europe more so as historical pieces, than active places for worship. I’m the type of person who needs a close and personal relationship with God. There were so many distractions (the pretty, the ritual, the confusion) that I felt further from God than when I came in.

But then again I’m the type to more likely to find God in nature, music and love, so that’s me.

QBP: "The Bible contains six admonishments to homosexuals and 362 admonishments to heterosexuals. That doesn't mean God doesn't love heterosexuals. It's just that they need more supervision." -Lynn Lavner

Everyone has their own way to God. Here we see Pink's.

Non-lesbian is not a lesbian (and she wants everyone to know )

2010-11-03T07:19:00.000-07:00

Previously I went out on a date with a girl, A, who claims not to be a lesbian. Since then we’ve hung out a couple times, and went for a few walks. This week she asked me if I wanted to hang out, and I agreed. We went to this pub we’ve been to a couple times. What followed is the most awkward friend date I’ve ever been on.

First of all she couldn’t help but say very often, about how she hates men. (Now I personally like men; I just don’t want to sleep with them.) She went on to say how various members of her family think she’s a lesbian, including her grandmother. To add to this, she told me about this women's studies course she took in college. Even I haven’t taken a women’s studies course! (Update: When a mutual gay friend of ours asked why Tegan and Sarah were so popular in lesbian circles, non-lesbian, A, was very quick to say "they're lesbians!"...I just can't figure her out.)

The most awkward moment was when she said if she was a lesbian she would want someone who wasn’t interested in feminine things. Then she added she guessed that’s why she likes men. I point out there are women who aren’t interested in feminine things (like myself as she very well knows) and then, a pregnant pause. I felt bad for some reason and quickly changed the subject.

To add to the confusion of the night she kept on emphasizing this date she went on with her very male ex and how the kiss they had at the end of the night was just so amazing. But that going on a date with an ex was a “bad plan”. Also she implied she’s never had sex, because she’s waiting for marriage. Well I’ve never had sex either, but I’m waiting for women.

She befuddles me. Being gay is confusing sometimes.

QBP: “I’m not gay!” -Naomi Skins

.....................................................

No, you're not gay...

For those ALC virgins out there

2010-11-02T09:07:00.000-07:00

A short post since I posted twice (and both of them long) yesterday.

I'm starting to feel more comfortable in my blog writing. I feel like I'm figuring out what I want to address and what I want to focus on. And now that I've found my voice I'm trying to spread the word out about this blog. So if you're new to the blog I am an admittedly young closested lesbian. The overarching purpose of this blog is to help show that one can be gay and be tight with the big guy in the sky. But as is the case there are other interesting aspects to lives and I want to talk about those too. So I complied a list of focuses (foci?).

- Bringing Gay and God together

- The journey to figure out what Butch means to me and how I can abide by that

- Questioning sexuality and what's it like when you don't know your whole life

- My love life (or more likely lack of)

- What it's like being closeted particularly as I embrace my Butch identity

- If things go according to plan, my entrance into the military and as a result DADT

- Perhaps some fiction and other forms of revelry

- And most importantly having fun and trying not to be too serious

Quotation of the Blog Post (QBP): "For a long time I thought I wanted to be a nun. Then I realized that what I really wanted to be was a lesbian." -Mabel Maney

Fiction/Fantasy

2010-11-01T16:27:00.000-07:00

As I lay in my bed I looked at the face of my love while she slept. Her breathing was slowed and deep, her dark hair cascading down her naked shoulders. I smiled as I remembered last night and how she made me laugh, and how I had never felt so happy in my life. It was as if I was living a half life and only with her could it be finally complete. I gently stroked my fingers through her hair. I loved her with my whole heart, more than anyone I have ever met. How could such a love be wrong? How could it be unnatural? I have never had anything come more naturally to me than this, than her.

     I remembered when I was hurt and determined to forge on. She stopped me and took care of me. I was so used to taking care of myself that I forgot what it was like to be taken care of. I used to think that if you let others take care of you that meant you were weak. She showed me the strength of relying on another. She loved me, which seemed nearly impossible to me. I never saw what she saw in me. I never understood why she loved me, put up with me. But I guess that is what love is.
     I had spent so much time refusing to accept who I was. When I kissed the many men who had loved me I had felt nothing. Of course I blamed it on the men. For surely God wouldn’t have made me wrong in that way. So I ignored what I was. I chose celibacy over love, because I was afraid. I was afraid of being different, of persecution. I just wanted to live the normal life society told me to live. But even I knew I would never be happy living that way.
     Then one day I finally stopped pretending I was something I’m not. The internal struggle that raged on for years finally ended. I wish I could say that I was the cause of this acceptance, but I’m afraid I wasn’t. No. My salvation came in the form of a beautiful woman with long dark hair. She was everything I wasn’t. We started out as acquaintances, but soon a great friendship was formed. But I had had friends before, even really close friends. I thought nothing more about our relationship.
     One night she was listening to me talk about my day when she reached out her hand and held my face tenderly. For once in my life, I did not pull away. I was confused. The warmth from her hand seemed to be warming my entire body and suddenly all I wanted to be was in her arms. I had never felt this way with a man. I finally had my answer to why that was. I took her hand off my face and looked down at it, almost expecting the reason for the curious warmth it brought to be on its surface. The implications of that warmth both scared and excited me. I brushed the lines of her palm with a light finger. She did not speak. She kept her eyes on me as I kept them on her palm, unsure as to what I would do if I looked back.

QBP: "My theory is that the hardest work anyone does in life is to appear normal." EdTV

A Lesbian Christian: My Life of Contradictions

Three months later...

So I Came Out

This Past Month and To Come Out or Not to Come Out?

The NREMT Exam

Taking the NREMT Exam Friday

I'm back!

Why I Struggle with the Idea of Heaven

Butch Symposium Round Up #2: Butch Stereotypes and Misconceptions

My month long absence

Back when I was homophobic

My Lenten Promise

Butch Symposium: Butch Stereotypes

Bought my first pair of men’s pants today

So...

Placeholder

Enlisting Update #2

Coming Out to My Church Friends

God and the Gay

How my roommate has made me a better woman, a better butch

Gay does not mean Stupid, Stupid

Dancing to our own beat

Enlisting Update

My First MEPS Experience and How Stupid I Was

Off to MEPS and Hoping for the Best

The ASVAB, TAPAS, and why being a girl sucks right now

The Recruitment Experience

Line dancing – the L is for Lesbians

Lesbian Terminology: The Masculine of Center Edition*

Drastic Life Decision Made

Masculine Mannerisms

Repairing what has been broken

When the $#!^ gets Real

Party time with Non-Lesbian

Launching of Butch Lab: Symposium #1

Decisions and DADT in December

Working with your hands *No homo*

A coward lives here today

Blast from the Past: Snippets

“Anything for you sir?”

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

I wore a tie to church Sunday…

Butch Symposium: What is Butch?

Blast from the Past: A flash of blue

Formal wear

Celebrity Crushes

Retreat: Beatitudes for Today’s World

In a closet, it's dark and quiet in here

Blast from the Past: Kissing you

Retreat: The Catholic Way

Non-lesbian is not a lesbian (and she wants everyone to know )

For those ALC virgins out there

Fiction/Fantasy

Working with your hands No homo