I'm back!

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!

When the $#!^ gets Real

     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.

Decisions and DADT in December

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

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  If I end up enlisting and DADT gets repealed, it’s not as if I’m going to broadcast my sexual orientation to the masses.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

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

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

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

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

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

Formal wear

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

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

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

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

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

The suit I wore to the interview

The other outfit

Soft butch

     Ever since I can remember and photos proving from even before I can remember I have been a tomboy (I shunned the color pink and dresses from the age of three).  Many girls are tomboys, but the difference between so many and myself is the fact that I didn’t outgrow my tomboy phase.  In fact if you looked at my room currently you’d think it belonged to a twelve year old boy.  A punching bag, pull up bar, non-descript couch, bed with blue sheets, video game posters, and plastic furniture make not for the room of a 20-something year old girl.

     Other examples of my not-girlyness include how I treat people and act.  I always hold doors for people, even men.  I jump to help others out particularly if there is heavy lifting involved.  When I helped my current roommate move out of her old apartment, I carried the heavier boxes out and when she called me a “beast” my chest swelled with pride.  I much rather take care of others than be taken care of and my natural tendency towards silence gives me that mysterious quiet thing some males have.  When I sit I hate crossing my leg over another preferring to the male resting an ankle of one leg on the thigh of the other.  I also generally slouch and take up space when I sit. 

     I’d much rather be viewed as masculine than feminine, and not because I see femininity as inferior.  In fact I am envious of those women who wield their femininity with such grace, skill and expertise.  On occasion I have tried to be feminine, but even if I looked the part I never felt it.  I always have felt powerless in dresses, which is why I own only two and zero skirts and one pair of feminine flats.  I own only about four pairs of shoes: running shoes, dress flats, a set of sandals, and a pair of everyday sneakers.

     But all in all as my lovely roommate has pointed out, I dress a lot more feminine than I act.  My typical wardrobe is a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, but as I have come to figure out that liking menswear wasn’t a bad thing, I have added more a few more men’s or more accurately boy’s pieces to my plastic set of drawers.  This goes along with my getting my hair cut short (not being brave enough to get a super short butch cut I got a short cut in a woman’s style) and buying wife beaters and boxers for the first time.  Lucky for me I am friends with a lesbian couple who helped me with my clothing choices.

     I love the way I feel in the apparel.  When I tried a tie on for the first time I felt powerful and slightly asphyxiated (also a bit clunky, my body type requires a skinnier tie).   I’d like to dress more masculine and cut my hair real short, but I admit I’m too scared to do so.  As I dress and look now I am perceived as slightly andro, yet still straight.  Even though subconsciously they have an inkling.  Since I’ve cut my hair men see me as their genderless buddy and the women talk about lesbians and bisexuality a lot more when I’m in their company.  Interesting. 

     When I was in second grade, a friend told me I’d wear a tuxedo to my wedding if I could.  For years I denied that, but as I grow the thought becomes more and more appealing.

     (This doesn’t stop my relatives from buying me gifts to “help me get back on track”.  A Southern Belle Aunt of mine bought me a purse, which I wasn’t excited about until I found twenty bucks inside.  When I joined a sorority this same aunt was so ecstatic she sent me a bunch of sorority apparel, even though it wasn’t her sorority.  And my mother who didn’t care about my tomboy phase until I didn’t grow out of it in college got me expensive makeup knowing I never use makeup, and I about cried over the uselessness of the gift.  Two Christmases later I got a screwdriver from her and was infinitely happier.)

QBP: "It's a helluva start, being able to recognize what makes you happy."  -Lucille Ball

The quite wonderful Rachel Maddow