OWWWWWW!!
Sometimes at the end of the day I get sick and tired of sitting face-forward in my office chair so if I'm sort of checked out by 4, I spin my chair around and kneel on the seat, elbows on my desk. It makes my back and legs and shoulders feel better, and while it inhibits my typing mobility, I find myself in this position at least three times a week.
All of my weight rests on the back of the chair, which has to be the perfect distance away from the desk in order to be properly supported by the edge of the desk while I maneuver some weird alien typing position. If the phone rings there is balancing and leaning and all kinds of acrobatics necessary to not have the entire ridiculous system go flying into the air in an eruption of phone, arms, pencils, feet, and keyboard. I've been working for a long time to achieve this balance.
Today I was in my usual position when I moved my hand to do something on my desk. Without realizing it, this set in motion a very painful lesson for me. As I reached out for whatever it was I wanted, I managed to push the chair back out of balance, hurtling it towards the desk's edge. Normally, this would not be an issue, but since I was reaching, the planets aligned to place perfectly that tender tag of skin, nerves, and tissue that adorns my breast between the edge of the desk and the chair, in perfect position for my chairback closing in for a good hard pinch, then squeeze, then crush.
I screamed, "OWWWW!" but could accept no sympathies because I didn't want to explain what I had done! I quickly lifted my body weight off of the chair and had to actually check for (1) continued connectedness and (2) blood. It was a horrible, horrible low, and while things are not bleeding and still connected, I hope my hypothetical baby doesn't mind always being stuck on the one working side that's left. I think the other side has been pinched off and sealed for good.
Monday, August 29, 2005
Tuesday, August 23, 2005
And the theme of the weekend is...
Well, it's not chicken.
I'm back at work after several glorious days of hanging out with Sarah, Doug, and monsterHarrison. It was a wonderful visit, though all too brief, but we did a lot together this weekend, including a trip to the farm, an outing at the park, going to church together, and spending lots of time lounging about, chasing Harrison around, and visiting. Oh, and zombies. There were zombies, too. And, um, some x-rated infantile searches on Google.
I got to put Harrison down for bed both nights, which is just an incredible experience. I loved snuggling him with his freshly shampooed yummy smelling hair while he picked through each book he wanted read and drank his milk. He roamed around the bed, jumping on and off and explored things in room. He chatted with himself and told me unintelligible things about what he was finding, then he'd climb back up into my lap and we'd read another book together. It was simultaneously the most intimate and most uncomplicated experience of my life, to sit with him, fully trusting, enthusiastic, loving and curious. I loved hearing him squeak and grunt as we learned about Mr. Brown's sounds and as we read Goodnight Moon. I loved lying him down in his crib, watching him prop his butt up in the air, snuggle his blanket, and quickly quiet himself down to sleep. I loved catching him 40 minutes later thumbing through Tara's Beginning Chinese books, the only books he could reach from the crib.
I loved being with family, and playing cards, and watching movies. I loved chasing Harrison around everywhere, and watching Sarah and Doug parent him together. I loved pushing Harrison in the swing, seeing Tara hold him, and watching him laugh as I tickled his tummy. I loved seeing how much he develops in the six week gap between times that I see him. I loved laughing so hard I cried with Sarah, Doug, and Tara, the kind of laugh you only have with your most intimate friends. I loved the endless debate of tandal, and pony.
I will post pictures of Bub in the Tub when I download them from home. Until then, goodnight, moon.
I'm back at work after several glorious days of hanging out with Sarah, Doug, and monsterHarrison. It was a wonderful visit, though all too brief, but we did a lot together this weekend, including a trip to the farm, an outing at the park, going to church together, and spending lots of time lounging about, chasing Harrison around, and visiting. Oh, and zombies. There were zombies, too. And, um, some x-rated infantile searches on Google.
I got to put Harrison down for bed both nights, which is just an incredible experience. I loved snuggling him with his freshly shampooed yummy smelling hair while he picked through each book he wanted read and drank his milk. He roamed around the bed, jumping on and off and explored things in room. He chatted with himself and told me unintelligible things about what he was finding, then he'd climb back up into my lap and we'd read another book together. It was simultaneously the most intimate and most uncomplicated experience of my life, to sit with him, fully trusting, enthusiastic, loving and curious. I loved hearing him squeak and grunt as we learned about Mr. Brown's sounds and as we read Goodnight Moon. I loved lying him down in his crib, watching him prop his butt up in the air, snuggle his blanket, and quickly quiet himself down to sleep. I loved catching him 40 minutes later thumbing through Tara's Beginning Chinese books, the only books he could reach from the crib.
I loved being with family, and playing cards, and watching movies. I loved chasing Harrison around everywhere, and watching Sarah and Doug parent him together. I loved pushing Harrison in the swing, seeing Tara hold him, and watching him laugh as I tickled his tummy. I loved seeing how much he develops in the six week gap between times that I see him. I loved laughing so hard I cried with Sarah, Doug, and Tara, the kind of laugh you only have with your most intimate friends. I loved the endless debate of tandal, and pony.
I will post pictures of Bub in the Tub when I download them from home. Until then, goodnight, moon.
Friday, August 19, 2005
"Woof! Woof!" means "Stupid humans!"
Gaylen has been studying a lot lately, not really able to pay a whole lot of attention to Tucker.
This morning she came home from her exam and he had removed a book from the bookshelf. He tore out every single page and piece and ripped all of it to shreds.
The book?
"What is Your Dog Thinking?" addressing behavior analysis of canines.
This morning she came home from her exam and he had removed a book from the bookshelf. He tore out every single page and piece and ripped all of it to shreds.
The book?
"What is Your Dog Thinking?" addressing behavior analysis of canines.
Wednesday, August 17, 2005
Wedding bliss
As we plan the reception, Sarah continues to suggest this idea for a centerpiece that she found on the web. Really, you can't make this shit up:
Here's a unique centerpiece idea. Clean beer bottles thoroughly and
remove the labels. Spray paint the bottles with a glitter spray (silver,
gold or in your wedding colors). Tie a matching or contrasting ribbon
around the neck of the bottle with ribbon streamers hanging down. Place
either a candle in the top or fill with water and insert flowers.
On what planet, people?! Beer bottles?!
Here's a unique centerpiece idea. Clean beer bottles thoroughly and
remove the labels. Spray paint the bottles with a glitter spray (silver,
gold or in your wedding colors). Tie a matching or contrasting ribbon
around the neck of the bottle with ribbon streamers hanging down. Place
either a candle in the top or fill with water and insert flowers.
On what planet, people?! Beer bottles?!
Wednesday, August 10, 2005
Texas has a whorehouse in it!
That's why I'm going there...tomorrow! I'll post when I get back!
(I'll take you to lunch if you can tell me where this post's title comes from!)
(I'll take you to lunch if you can tell me where this post's title comes from!)
Sunday, August 07, 2005
At last, the Nova Scotia Post
Well, let's start backwards, only because starting backwards explains why this post took one week to appear. That means we must start with Saturday, July 30. Saturday July 30 marked the day we had to leave Peggy's Cove, NS and head back home. It was the day we were going to visit Prince Edward Island. It was the day we were going to stay in Bangor, Maine, and, in fact, the day we made the worst decision of our lives: to drive straight home to Northampton. Oh, and I'm the only driver. Oh, and we didn't leave PEI until 6:15. PM. Yeah, and you thought I was smart! Needless to say, the last week has been spent sleeping in every free moment and digging out at home from mail, cleaning, kitty snuggling, etc. We both worked all week, and the church opens next weekend, so we've been there every other moment of the day. Literally every moment of the last week has been occupied with something.
The drive through Mass., New Hampshire, Maine and New Brunswick at the start of our trip was relatively uneventful. If you've ever seen the northern seacoast of main or been in southern New Hampshire, you know exactly how uneventful it can be. But on day 2 of the trip we arrived at the Bay of Fundy. The Bay was beautiful and fantastic. The water in the bay rises 17 meters during its six hour tide cycle, making it the highest rising tide in the world. We spent a couple of hours there, and even got to walk on some of the mudflats that remain once the tide starts to go out. We had a beautiful day, and a long, long drive.
Sunday, Monday, and Tuesday we spent most of the time walking around town, sitting by the ocean, enjoying the cool weather and watching a lot of movies and reading a lot! Monday was our one year wedding anniversary, and we celebrated by going out to a nice dinner in Halifax. Can you say brie-stuffed almond crusted chicken with raspberry sauce? MMMM. We also went on a long, 10-mile cruise out into the Northern Atlantic, during which we saw seals, a leatherback turtle, and many, many puffins. They were pretty rough seas, and we were soaked when we got back, but we had a fantastic time. Puffins are pretty freakin' cute. Or, if you like Battlestar Gallactica, FRACKIN'.
On Wednesday we took a 750 mile tour of Nova Scotia, driving to the easternmost tip to Cape Breton island and National Park. This area, filled with Acadian and Scots-Gaelic cultures, was truly fascinating and beautiful. We drove and took pictures, hiked a little, and stopped on the way home at the only college in North America dedicated to teaching Celtic art. Fascinating.
Each morning for the rest of the week, we woke to the bagpiper playing away at the lighthouse, and spent more of our time reading, sunning, relaxing and walking around. If you're ever in Peggy's Cove, get the Nova Scotia Five-Berry ice cream served in a homemade waffle cone. It's five bucks (Canadian), but you will know heaven. HEAVEN.
Finally Saturday came, and we headed out to Prince Edward Island. We enjoyed the red, rust-oxide dyed beaches, and the warmest water north of South Carolina (along with some jellyfish). We pigged out at an all-you-can-eat-PEI-mussles lobster dinner, and then made el decision stupido mentioned above. It was a very relaxing vacation, and though I thought being that isolated would get to me, I'd pay a lot of money to be right back there at this moment.
Some things I learned in Canada:
1) Canadians love their flag. More than Americans, and more specifically, more than Texans. The Canadian flag is everywhere. EVERYWHERE.
2) Grocery stores are not open on Sunday.
3) Sharp cheddar cheese, regularly available in the US, is called Old Cheese in Canada. Mild is called Regular. Extra sharp, you ask? Well, duh: EXTRA OLD CHEESE.
4) Gas in Canada is expensive. It's about 99 cents per liter, and there are about 3.75 liters in a gallon.
5) I'm sad American English has abandoned the following spelling: colour, centre, litre, cancelling, behaviour. I am not sad we don't spell it yogOurt.
6) Beteen Tara and I, we can eat three buckets of mussels. Eww and yummy all at the same time.
7) Measuring distance in KM makes driving 750 miles go much faster. You just feel more productive.
8) The "Caution: Deer Crossing" signs in Nova Scotia depict the least graceful most freaked out deer running across the road I've ever seen indicated in a street sign anywhere ever.
9) I will voluntarily wake up earlier than I get up by force with an alarm clock when I have to get up for work.
10) The National Park system is very well executed with wonderful attractions, friendly staff, and clean washrooms. It also only costs six bucks (Canadian) to get in. NP in the US cost more than the gas it takes to get there.
The drive through Mass., New Hampshire, Maine and New Brunswick at the start of our trip was relatively uneventful. If you've ever seen the northern seacoast of main or been in southern New Hampshire, you know exactly how uneventful it can be. But on day 2 of the trip we arrived at the Bay of Fundy. The Bay was beautiful and fantastic. The water in the bay rises 17 meters during its six hour tide cycle, making it the highest rising tide in the world. We spent a couple of hours there, and even got to walk on some of the mudflats that remain once the tide starts to go out. We had a beautiful day, and a long, long drive.
Sunday, Monday, and Tuesday we spent most of the time walking around town, sitting by the ocean, enjoying the cool weather and watching a lot of movies and reading a lot! Monday was our one year wedding anniversary, and we celebrated by going out to a nice dinner in Halifax. Can you say brie-stuffed almond crusted chicken with raspberry sauce? MMMM. We also went on a long, 10-mile cruise out into the Northern Atlantic, during which we saw seals, a leatherback turtle, and many, many puffins. They were pretty rough seas, and we were soaked when we got back, but we had a fantastic time. Puffins are pretty freakin' cute. Or, if you like Battlestar Gallactica, FRACKIN'.
On Wednesday we took a 750 mile tour of Nova Scotia, driving to the easternmost tip to Cape Breton island and National Park. This area, filled with Acadian and Scots-Gaelic cultures, was truly fascinating and beautiful. We drove and took pictures, hiked a little, and stopped on the way home at the only college in North America dedicated to teaching Celtic art. Fascinating.
Each morning for the rest of the week, we woke to the bagpiper playing away at the lighthouse, and spent more of our time reading, sunning, relaxing and walking around. If you're ever in Peggy's Cove, get the Nova Scotia Five-Berry ice cream served in a homemade waffle cone. It's five bucks (Canadian), but you will know heaven. HEAVEN.
Finally Saturday came, and we headed out to Prince Edward Island. We enjoyed the red, rust-oxide dyed beaches, and the warmest water north of South Carolina (along with some jellyfish). We pigged out at an all-you-can-eat-PEI-mussles lobster dinner, and then made el decision stupido mentioned above. It was a very relaxing vacation, and though I thought being that isolated would get to me, I'd pay a lot of money to be right back there at this moment.
Some things I learned in Canada:
1) Canadians love their flag. More than Americans, and more specifically, more than Texans. The Canadian flag is everywhere. EVERYWHERE.
2) Grocery stores are not open on Sunday.
3) Sharp cheddar cheese, regularly available in the US, is called Old Cheese in Canada. Mild is called Regular. Extra sharp, you ask? Well, duh: EXTRA OLD CHEESE.
4) Gas in Canada is expensive. It's about 99 cents per liter, and there are about 3.75 liters in a gallon.
5) I'm sad American English has abandoned the following spelling: colour, centre, litre, cancelling, behaviour. I am not sad we don't spell it yogOurt.
6) Beteen Tara and I, we can eat three buckets of mussels. Eww and yummy all at the same time.
7) Measuring distance in KM makes driving 750 miles go much faster. You just feel more productive.
8) The "Caution: Deer Crossing" signs in Nova Scotia depict the least graceful most freaked out deer running across the road I've ever seen indicated in a street sign anywhere ever.
9) I will voluntarily wake up earlier than I get up by force with an alarm clock when I have to get up for work.
10) The National Park system is very well executed with wonderful attractions, friendly staff, and clean washrooms. It also only costs six bucks (Canadian) to get in. NP in the US cost more than the gas it takes to get there.
Saturday, July 23, 2005
Bangor? I don't even know her!
We have arrived for our first night in lovely Bangor, ME. The whole visit to lovely Bangor, ME will be less than nine hours, which is fine, because there's no way we could see all of the thriving metropolis that is Bangor, ME in less than three days, at least.
We're out the door to press on in 3...2...1...
Peace.
We're out the door to press on in 3...2...1...
Peace.
Thursday, July 21, 2005
Flower Power
When I was a kid my grandmother’s house was my safe space. It was there that I learned to explore my creativity and open my heart to whatever ideas and thoughts I had, or dared to have. Gram was like that little packet of nutrients you put in cut flowers when you get them: I was already a bloom, but she helped me be stronger, more vibrant, vital, and fortified. She nourished my whole being, and I think often about how she would help me solve a problem if I was able to ask her for advice now.
After Tara and I were married almost a year ago, I started learning about my spiritual life in a new way. The day we were married was a day that changed me forever. Yes, because I entered into this partnership with an amazing woman who supports me, loves me, and nurtures me like no other, but also because I gleaned a new relationship with God that day. In the middle of the outdoors, standing in a brilliant, blooming garden, with our closest family and friends present, the sun shining down more beautifully than I had ever imagined, I was reborn.
Bogged down with all of the legal and state issues of the year before, I was beginning to feel run down with all the resulting pain and anger from the ongoing argument. Tara and I watched, every night sometimes, people debate the validity of our existence, our morality, and our love. Senators, Representatives, and even Presidents (gasp!) would say some of the most cruel and most horrible things I’ve ever heard, and all in the name of God. And despite my Roman Catholic upbringing, I have yet to see evidence that God wants us to hate anyone.
It was that day, in that garden, that I felt God’s presence truly with me. It was a feeling that the most powerful thing in the entire world was God’s grace bringing that group of people together and harnessing the awesome power that comes from collective love. Throughout the ceremony I was overwhelmed and started to cry. Part of me was crying because I was moved by the words I said to make this awesome commitment to my love. The other part was the feeling of being so deeply moved, fortified, and nourished by Gods love at that exact moment that I could no longer hold it together. God brought these people to my life. God strengthened us to persevere through the mangling of Christ’s teachings. God stands allied with love, not with hatred.
The minister who married us recently left the chapel where we worshipped with her. She has been called to preach at a huge old church about 7 miles from where we live, and we will follow her there to worship. This building has loads of deferred maintenance, paint peeling and falling from the ceiling, and lots of cleanup. At base, it is a stunning 200 year old church which needs some love and care. The waning congregation of only 15 people needs some revitalization. In the two months since Andrea was named pastor, the congregation has doubled, the ceiling is in the process of being repainted (with LOADS of volunteers and donations to make it possible), and we have forged new relationships between the newcomers and the folks who have attended church there their entire lives. In this transformation, I have found a new safe space in the church and with Rev. Andrea. I have learned to question and think and explore. I have learned that believing in God means asking questions, and that often those questions don’t have answers.
Wednesday, July 20, 2005
Sunday, July 17, 2005
I'm against dirty!
Tara and I have made the switch in our household to using mostly earth-friendly, biodegradble products. We are trying to eat organic and/or local when we can, and recycling like banshees. Well, we've always been really good recyclers, but...do banshees recycle? I'm not sure. But if they did, I bet you they would be great at it!
Our first foray into earth friendly home products was Seventh Generation laundry detergent scented with natural citrus oils. It did a great job, but is very expensive. We got ours on half off sale! It lasts forever, and cleans clothes better than any product I've used before. AND, it does not pollute the environment one bit.
Since that ran out, we decided to try the next candidate: Method Home. We also purchased biodegrading bathroom wipes, dish soap, and hand soap. I have never felt more enthusiast:ic about a product in my entire life. Seriously. Well, maybe when O.B. started making applicator tampons, but other than that, not really. (O.B. has since STOPPED MAKING THEM.) Our bathroom has never been cleaner, more cucumber smelling, or had less residue ever. The dish soap we purchased two months ago is still 3/4 full. The laundry soap, fabric softener, and dryer sheets leave our clothes smelling so fresh
(Insert motion of me stepping on soapbox.)
Did you know:
If every household in the
Every year over 400 million gallons of water are wasted to dilute laundry detergents. More water means more plastic wasted on giant plastic bottles that eventually find their way to landfills. At least, how much would you give NOT to have to lug that unwieldy 150 oz. laundry detergent bottle from the store to your house?
There are a few very simple things we can do to make our imprint on the earth a little less severe. You can find Seventh Generation in many more grocery stores and in specialty stores. Target carries the full Method Home line in such succulent scents at Magnolia, Cucumber, Pink Grapefruit, and Pomegranate. It’s important that you at least check it out. After all, you are against dirty, aren’t you?
Thursday, July 14, 2005
Brain Twin
Like Sarah, I often play over and over in head what I was doing this time last year, last month, yesterday. It's particularly bad when I've just gotten back from vacation, beause I the first week back at work is usually filled with, "A day ago I was sitting on the beach," or "Three days ago I slept until 10 am." I usually get jealous of myself. Is that possible? Don't wish away your days, lady.
A year ago I had just finished a week-long babysitting adventure with my dear Harrison. It was during this visit that Sarah and Doug found out about his cyst, and all the suspicions about cranial surgery came true. We were all worried, scared, and tearful, and thank our beautiful God that everything was resolved. After many tears and loads and loads (and loads) of worrying, he is the most super-wonderful-magnificent 15 month old to walk (very quickly and sometimes into things) the Earth. I have love in my heart for that boy like I never could have imagined having for anyone.
Five years ago, I had just finished a 3,500 mile drive cross-country with my father. I moved all the shit I could carry in my little hoopty Neon and averaged about 600 miles a day, cruising through all parts of the midwest, Rockies states, and the Pacific Northwest. I was starting a new part of my life in Oregon, and was in for more intense life-lessons that I could have imagined. I got to know my father more during that journey that I ever expected, and wouldn't replace any of those memories with him for the world. I learned all about his days in the Army, how he met mom, why he named me Val, and many other random bits of information that are crammed into his oversized brain.
Next week, Tara and I will celebrate our one year anniversary of being married. Everyone always remarks that it must feel funny to be married only a year, but in reality, we are cruising smoothly through our sixth year together. True this year has involved some new adventures for us, but really it's just one more year of learning more about each other, living together, and making our lives together. The only thing I regret about anything in the last year with Tara is that I can't do it all over again.
Three years ago (plus a couple of months) I came out to my parents. Three years ago we met Gaylen. Three years ago we moved in together. Four years ago I adopted Bob. Next year, I will celebrate (?) my ten year high school reunion.
I am blown away to think about how much my life has changed in the last year, nevermind the last ten years. I am blown away by the ways in which I have seen Jenna change in the last three years, to see Sarah become a mother, to see my mother and father fortify their relationship as newly alone partners. I am patient and eager to see how much things will change in the coming years, to see Harrison grow older, to see what Tara's and my children will look like, to see where we will make a home.
I am anxious, but eager and patient -- knowing that ten years ago, I couldn't have imagine this charmed life that I lead now.
A year ago I had just finished a week-long babysitting adventure with my dear Harrison. It was during this visit that Sarah and Doug found out about his cyst, and all the suspicions about cranial surgery came true. We were all worried, scared, and tearful, and thank our beautiful God that everything was resolved. After many tears and loads and loads (and loads) of worrying, he is the most super-wonderful-magnificent 15 month old to walk (very quickly and sometimes into things) the Earth. I have love in my heart for that boy like I never could have imagined having for anyone.
Five years ago, I had just finished a 3,500 mile drive cross-country with my father. I moved all the shit I could carry in my little hoopty Neon and averaged about 600 miles a day, cruising through all parts of the midwest, Rockies states, and the Pacific Northwest. I was starting a new part of my life in Oregon, and was in for more intense life-lessons that I could have imagined. I got to know my father more during that journey that I ever expected, and wouldn't replace any of those memories with him for the world. I learned all about his days in the Army, how he met mom, why he named me Val, and many other random bits of information that are crammed into his oversized brain.
Next week, Tara and I will celebrate our one year anniversary of being married. Everyone always remarks that it must feel funny to be married only a year, but in reality, we are cruising smoothly through our sixth year together. True this year has involved some new adventures for us, but really it's just one more year of learning more about each other, living together, and making our lives together. The only thing I regret about anything in the last year with Tara is that I can't do it all over again.
Three years ago (plus a couple of months) I came out to my parents. Three years ago we met Gaylen. Three years ago we moved in together. Four years ago I adopted Bob. Next year, I will celebrate (?) my ten year high school reunion.
I am blown away to think about how much my life has changed in the last year, nevermind the last ten years. I am blown away by the ways in which I have seen Jenna change in the last three years, to see Sarah become a mother, to see my mother and father fortify their relationship as newly alone partners. I am patient and eager to see how much things will change in the coming years, to see Harrison grow older, to see what Tara's and my children will look like, to see where we will make a home.
I am anxious, but eager and patient -- knowing that ten years ago, I couldn't have imagine this charmed life that I lead now.
Monday, July 11, 2005
Bone
In solidarity with me ole wifey
Wednesday, July 06, 2005
Thursday, June 30, 2005
Wednesday, June 29, 2005
Tuesday, June 28, 2005
Go, Army!
Normally I'm not a huge fan of just unabashed swearing, but in this particular case, let me just say:
FUCK YOU, MIKE.
Gaylen, my former roommate, just started Med. School in Maine last month. She's gotten to know a lot of different people, and in keeping with the 10% rule, has also met some very lovely queers since she arrived. In particular, she has befriended a classmate whose partner also moved here while Hayden, Gaylen's friend, gets her degree. Hayden and her partner originated in North Carolina, and made a particular point to move someplace where the could be out and proud and whatever they wanted wherever they were. North Carolina was a 53,281 square mile closet, and they wanted to get the hell out of there, literally.
So, they trek northward, moving there entire lives 1,015 miles to Portland, hoping that with each longitudinal degree northward they would encounter less homophobia, more inclusion, and maybe, for once in their lives, feel safe enough to walk down the street holding each other's hands. They had a plan to be out, for the first time in their lives, to everyone.
During an exercise last week in one of their classes, the professor instructed people to get into pairs, take histories, and then practice reporting back to the larger group. One of the members of Gaylen's class, Mike, has been a jerk since the beginning. He's a former Army officer and just loves to hear himself talk, interjecting and interupting even the professor with Chem7-this and blood panel-that, even when it isn't relevant or correct. He's an arrogant bastard with little room to hear what anyone else has to say. Gaylen told me one day, when discussing the difference in cultural boundaries that might affect how you care for someone's health, he contributed, "Well, these people, aren't they in our country?! And shouldn't they be concerned with familiarizing themselves with our cultures, instead of us, theirs?!" Yeah, well, you get the picture.
So Hayden's partner reports back to the class what she's said word for word, using her phrases, etc., stating that she was nervous about coming to Maine and New England and that she was nervous about coming out too soon to the rest of the class for fear of being the Big Fat Lesbian on campus. He reported that she feels like being a lesbian is just one part of her life, and while it is an important part, it is not the sum of her being. In general, he did a fair and nice job, and it was well received by the others in the class.
After class, Hayden is going to her car. Enter Mike stage left, in his car, pulling up along side Hayden. The rest goes something like this:
Mike, in an accusatory tone: Hey! Big FAT LESBIAN!!
Hayden, cautiously: Um, yes, Mike?
Mike: Yeah, you know, you and your girlfriend should come over sometime, I might have some questions for you.
Hayden: Yeah, like what?
Mike: Well, I'm wondering if maybe I can show you something, you know, maybe show you a trick or two.
Hayden: I'm not sure what you mean.
Mike: I thought I could, you know, be of service, show you that there might not be something so wrong with a little d!ck.
Hayden, trying to maintain her composure: Yeah, I don't think that's going to happen.
Mike: Yeah, well you let me know. It might be a good idea.
Mike drives off. Hayden tries to keep from barfing.
So, not only was this a sexually harassing act, it was also obscene and grossly homophobic. Hayden is trying to figure out now what to do about, if to speak to anyone about it, and to whom, if she decides to move forward. The kicker of it all is that this jerk off is running for class president. CLASS PRESIDENT.
This incident has made me think and rethink the Don't Ask Don't Tell policy of Mr. Clinton Disappointment of 1996 I need to get re-elected pants. It reminded me of how dangerous it is to instruct people to be ashamed of themselves, to hide parts about themselves that are true and honest and rooted in love. It reminded me of the contradiction between instructing Hayden to keep her mouth shut about her life, and allowing Mike to open his freely. It reminded me of the immense pain of being in the closet, the desperation you feel while trying to claw out, and the anger and shame when someone slams you violently, unwillingly back in. It reminds me that even in the Blue State safe areas, there is no guard against some creep sneaking in. It reminds me that there is so much work left to do, and that remaining steadfast, and out, and proud and active are the only things that may keep that situation from ever happening to anyone again.
FUCK YOU, MIKE.
Gaylen, my former roommate, just started Med. School in Maine last month. She's gotten to know a lot of different people, and in keeping with the 10% rule, has also met some very lovely queers since she arrived. In particular, she has befriended a classmate whose partner also moved here while Hayden, Gaylen's friend, gets her degree. Hayden and her partner originated in North Carolina, and made a particular point to move someplace where the could be out and proud and whatever they wanted wherever they were. North Carolina was a 53,281 square mile closet, and they wanted to get the hell out of there, literally.
So, they trek northward, moving there entire lives 1,015 miles to Portland, hoping that with each longitudinal degree northward they would encounter less homophobia, more inclusion, and maybe, for once in their lives, feel safe enough to walk down the street holding each other's hands. They had a plan to be out, for the first time in their lives, to everyone.
During an exercise last week in one of their classes, the professor instructed people to get into pairs, take histories, and then practice reporting back to the larger group. One of the members of Gaylen's class, Mike, has been a jerk since the beginning. He's a former Army officer and just loves to hear himself talk, interjecting and interupting even the professor with Chem7-this and blood panel-that, even when it isn't relevant or correct. He's an arrogant bastard with little room to hear what anyone else has to say. Gaylen told me one day, when discussing the difference in cultural boundaries that might affect how you care for someone's health, he contributed, "Well, these people, aren't they in our country?! And shouldn't they be concerned with familiarizing themselves with our cultures, instead of us, theirs?!" Yeah, well, you get the picture.
So Hayden's partner reports back to the class what she's said word for word, using her phrases, etc., stating that she was nervous about coming to Maine and New England and that she was nervous about coming out too soon to the rest of the class for fear of being the Big Fat Lesbian on campus. He reported that she feels like being a lesbian is just one part of her life, and while it is an important part, it is not the sum of her being. In general, he did a fair and nice job, and it was well received by the others in the class.
After class, Hayden is going to her car. Enter Mike stage left, in his car, pulling up along side Hayden. The rest goes something like this:
Mike, in an accusatory tone: Hey! Big FAT LESBIAN!!
Hayden, cautiously: Um, yes, Mike?
Mike: Yeah, you know, you and your girlfriend should come over sometime, I might have some questions for you.
Hayden: Yeah, like what?
Mike: Well, I'm wondering if maybe I can show you something, you know, maybe show you a trick or two.
Hayden: I'm not sure what you mean.
Mike: I thought I could, you know, be of service, show you that there might not be something so wrong with a little d!ck.
Hayden, trying to maintain her composure: Yeah, I don't think that's going to happen.
Mike: Yeah, well you let me know. It might be a good idea.
Mike drives off. Hayden tries to keep from barfing.
So, not only was this a sexually harassing act, it was also obscene and grossly homophobic. Hayden is trying to figure out now what to do about, if to speak to anyone about it, and to whom, if she decides to move forward. The kicker of it all is that this jerk off is running for class president. CLASS PRESIDENT.
This incident has made me think and rethink the Don't Ask Don't Tell policy of Mr. Clinton Disappointment of 1996 I need to get re-elected pants. It reminded me of how dangerous it is to instruct people to be ashamed of themselves, to hide parts about themselves that are true and honest and rooted in love. It reminded me of the contradiction between instructing Hayden to keep her mouth shut about her life, and allowing Mike to open his freely. It reminded me of the immense pain of being in the closet, the desperation you feel while trying to claw out, and the anger and shame when someone slams you violently, unwillingly back in. It reminds me that even in the Blue State safe areas, there is no guard against some creep sneaking in. It reminds me that there is so much work left to do, and that remaining steadfast, and out, and proud and active are the only things that may keep that situation from ever happening to anyone again.
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