Thursday, October 7, 2010
When I last wrote I was down in West Palm Beach, visiting my mother for about 5 months. I didn't intend to be visiting for that long, but I did, and I'm glad I did. I needed the time away, and Korah (my daughter - for anyone who just happened upon this blog) progressed a lot in her development during that time, and I think it was mostly due to being in a "happier" environment. Since then, I've returned to Fernandina Beach, FL, and shortly after that, moved up to Woodstock, GA. I'm settling in, and I'll be writing about that at a later date. My husband is currently gathering, packing and cleaning, and will join me in a couple weeks. I think.
On a related note, I'll be starting a new blog that'll be solely about my family, family life and family related...stuff. I know, I know, I'm not doing such a great job at keeping this blog going, but I think I'll find myself updating that more. Why not just include those things in this blog? Because this blog is about me, and all the things that are going on in my head and in my life, separate from my family life. I see myself as a big strong, beautiful tree; (no, I couldn't just a be a regular ol' tree!) and my family is just a branch of the tree. A very important, large branch, mind you. :o)
So, what's been going on since I last wrote, other than my daughter turning 2 ::sniffle sniffle::, a move from FL to GA, Sookie finally kickin' Bill to the curb, summer's over and autumn's arrived, and a bunch of other stuff that I've been too busy to take notice of, I'm not too sure. One thing that I have taken notice of, however, is the recent suicides of gay teens due to bullying. ::sigh::
It's hard to think that there are still so many issues based in pure ignorance that exist in 2010. 2010!
I grew up in Miami, FL. Most people think that's a great thing since the city is known for its diversity. You often here, "Oh you're from Miami, there's a bit of everything there." Yes, that's true, but "like also sticks to like" in many areas down there. Me? It was hard for me to fit in anywhere. (Still is, really.) I was born a black girl (eff all that politically correct stuff, I don't know a damn person in my family or history that's from Africa!), and in my younger years I was raised in Liberty City, FL. Which, if you know anything about Miami, you know that's the "hood", I mean, true "hood". Demographically, it's like 95% black, 3% Hispanic, and I guess 2% white. I'm guessing they're counting that old white couple that stayed in the neighborhood and refused to leave. :o) I grew up there, but I wasn't like the people there. I talked differently, walked differently, dressed differently, thought differently. I left that neighborhood after kindergarten and moved with my mom to a more diverse neighborhood with better schools and such. (I was living with my grandmother, grandfather, aunt, uncle, sister, and cousin) However, neighborhoods like that are everywhere, and a lot of magnet schools are in those areas, and by fifth grade I was a magnet student. I didn't call it bullying then, but I guess that's what it would be considered today. I got made fun of. Other black students would say, "Why you talk like that?" I guess proper use of grammar and sentence structure was not how I was "supposed" to speak. Even some of my own family kinda picked on me, and to make matters worse, I had no ass! I mean literally, a black girl with no badonk! What kind of joke is that, God!? I was too "white" for the black students, and too "black" for the white students, with a flat behind. Where then, did I belong? I'm a pretty strong and smart chick though, and I managed to fit in. OK, so I was kinda known as the "weird" one, but I wasn't hiding in a corner alone, or being beat up. I think I just let the kids get to know me. Yeah, I might be a little different than what you expect, but I'm still cool people. I adapted to them, they adapted to me. I fit in, in my own way. That was part of elementary.
(I didn't fit in with my Girl Scout troop. I hated my girl scout troop. Buncha' ghetto ass mofos, always pickin' on me. One nearly drowned me! I wonder where they are now, probably all have 5 babies with 6 baby daddies...bitches!)
Excuse me! Sorry. Rant over. I must have been harvesting that for some time.
I was raised in a very strict Baptist household. My gosh, everything was a sin! And I come from one of those really old fashioned black Baptist families where you have to go outside and get a switch off the tree and then get a beating by the syllable. No, I didn't say spanking. Spanking is what you saw on tv sometimes when little Timmy strayed too far from the house and let the dog fall in the well. Anywho, one of the biggest sins was girls being with girls and boys being with boys. Such relationships and feelings were wrong. "God didn't make Adam & Steve..." You know the saying. So from a very early age, I was confused about who I was, who I should be, because I liked girls. I liked girls in the way that other girls liked boys. I knew I had those feelings, and they were supposed to be wrong, but there was no one in my family I could talk to about it. I'd overhear one of them talk about this "dyke" or that "fag" with disgust; or maybe not so much disgust as incomprehension. It wasn't until middle school that I really realized those feelings wouldn't go away. Middle school is bad enough. For part of middle school I was still in the magnet program, and us art students were known as weird anyway, so that was a good fit. There was a girl or two I liked, and even one boy (he was kinda weird too), but when I went to a "regular" jr. high...::sigh:: I don't even like thinking back. Still too white for the black students, and didn't quite fit with the white students, but luckily I found my place with others who didn't quite fit in either. Actually I'm still friends with them today. :o) There was a time where I really felt like being more my true self, but then the rumors started to surface that I liked girls, and I didn't like that attention, so I ran back into the closet of my own secret thoughts. (which included a major crush on this girl named Sandy) :o) Middle school was really tough, and I'll admit there were times when I contemplated suicide. Some days it just seemed like it would be better alternative than to endure another day of the crap you can go through. I was just never like the other kids, but in my own way, I fit in. It was hard, but I did it.
I'm bisexual. I hate saying that because it's always sounded like I'm confused, like I couldn't make up my mind which way to go, and so I chose to go both ways. Ugh. I hate that. "I go both ways." One of the most annoying phrases I hate to hear. To me it just sounds promiscuous. And I am neither confused, nor promiscuous. I was born with an attraction, physically/mentally/emotionally to women, and men. Do I lean more one way than the other, yes. I lean more toward an attraction to women. However, there are certain men (Viggo Mortensen, Alexander Skarsgård (as Eric Northman), Robert Pattinson, Jonny Depp...) that would make my head turn in a sex. I mean sec. They would make my head turn, in a second. However, all of those men do seem slightly effeminate. (sorry guys!) :o) This is who I am, what I am, it's the way that I was born, it's the way my brain works. I offer no apologies, neither to myself nor the world for who I am. Not anymore I don't.
High school seems like a flashback of the 70's, even though it was the 90's. I wore tie-dye shirts, Birkenstock sandals (the official sandal of lesbians), and at the time, obnoxiously wide legged jeans were in (for the "rockers", which I associated more with). Today I think I'd be "emo"? Hippy-emo? Empy? I don't know. There was a tree where all the pot smokers hung out, the "tree people". For some reason, high school was a lot more tolerable. (Not just because I skipped half of it) I was pretty comfortable with not being "normal" and I could take most things in stride. My friends were among the geeks, dorks, International Baccalaureate (IB), and "tree people". I had random friends all over the school, and for some reason I was pretty well known. I still haven't figured that out yet. I was a member of our high school GLBT "support group", which all schools should have. They should have groups for everyone, because in high school, no matter what you're going through, you often feel alone in it. Usually there's at least one other person that knows exactly what you're going through, usually more than one. :o) For me, there were still comments, or "jokes" or whatever you want to call it, because I was different, and even though I still didn't quite fit in, I kinda did. :o) Even though I climbed a tree barefoot and ate my lunch in the tree.
College is a little different in that the people that are there actually want to be there. OK, not all of them, but most of them. You still have your jerks, of both genders and every ethnicity. But what I've come to realize over the years, after going through those school days, and teaching adolescents, is that...kids are assholes! More specifically, teenage kids. Between 13 and say, 20, some sort of biological asshole trait comes out and kids can be pricks. But, it does get better. As long as you hang in there, and stay true to who you are, you wade through all the crap and come out on the other side. You look back, and you say, "I got through that." And you just keep on treading. And it's a better road.
Bullying doesn't just occur to GLBTs of our communities, it happens to the white-black girls, and the black-white girls, the little Asian kids whose parents push them to do well in school, the Middle Eastern kids, the emos, and WOW addicts; that kid who got a lifetime worth of acne in one year, that girl who happens to grow just a bit more body hair than what's considered attractive by American standards, that girl whose glasses are just a little too big and her braces a little too...showy. Even the head "jock" can get bullied by his teammates, or the head cheerleader, or that girl who really just wants to be a girl but has a woman's body. It happens, it's sad, and as has been proven over and over through the years, whether in the form of suicide, or acts like that at Columbine, it can be deadly. We have to teach those that do the bullying, teasing, joking, whatever you want to call it, that It Is Not OK! And to the victims of such, It Does Get Better! :o)
So, that's me. Bisexual, purple-headed, no booty havin' black chick (that "talks white"). I didn't really fit in back then and I don't really fit in now. But I'm here. And I'm livin'. As the great Einstein once said (he didn't exactly fit in either!) "Learn from yesterday, live for today, hope for tomorrow."
I'm not sure who will read this, if anyone reads it at all. But maybe someone who's feeling bullied, or simply "lost" amongst their peers, will stumble upon this and be reminded that "It does get better."
Well, that's it for now, folks. Until next writing. :o)
“We are all in the gutter, but some of us are looking at the stars.” -Oscar Wilde.
Friday, July 2, 2010
I don't think this blog is going to have a particular "theme", as some do. This isn't dedicated to my life as a mother and the time that I spend with our daughter and family. This isn't dedicated to my writing or art projects. I think it'll simply be a crockpot of crap digested from my head. :o) Appetizing, eh?
So, as to what I'm writing today. Even before I got married, even in previous relationships, I've referred to "The Husband Handbook", which is a book that has existed only in my mind, a rough guide to the do's and don't's of a relationship for men. For example, I might ask "Do I look fat in this?" and he might answer "Well, that shirt does look a little snug." And I would respond with, "You haven't read your 'Husband Handbook' have you?" Well, I started to actually write this little guide a couple of years ago, though it's never been a serious project. However, if it's well-received, I may do some real work on it. So, here's a little piece (or, pieces, rather). Share your opinions (as long as they agree with mine!) :o) (You'll understand that in a few.)
WARNING: The following blog is intended for entertainment purposes only. (Not.) If you are easily offended or otherwise just very sensitive to the battles between the sexes, or have no sense of humor, you should not continue reading. I make no apologies for the ridiculousness that swirls around in my head.
No, I am not a feminist.
No, I do not dislike men.
No, I am not a lesbian. Well, not completely...
(Disclaimer: All text appearing on the a-Typical blog, at the web address: http://a-typical-blog.blogspot.com/ are protected by copyright. Redistribution or commercial use is prohibited without express written permission.)
Chapter I: I Do! (and you do too!)
Many times, my husband has said or done something he should know better than to do, or say. He's not in “boyfriend” territory anymore, where he can get away with doing certain things (that even then he should know better than to do, or say). He's enlisted into the partnership (Ruler-ship? Dictatorship?) called “Marriage”. :o) Upon enlisting, he should have received his handbook, but didn't. So many haven't. Tsk, tsk. And so I am presenting them with one. :o)
I Do. (And you do too!)
Dear, dear, husbands, there are certain unwritten rules you must learn if you are to have a successful marriage. If you happen to believe in the theory that man (and woman) were created by God, then surely you must have figured out that you were the prototype, and women were the perfected creations. Everything revolves around us, women, and the sooner you come to terms with this, the happier your lives will be. That is not to say that we place ourselves on high thrones (that would take up way too much space in the living room), or think of ourselves as goddesses or queens (at least we won't openly admit that we do). But, you should treat us as such. Think of your woman as queen, and she will think of you as her king, I assure you. Try it.
For those that have taken the leap and vowed yourselves to a lifetime with one mate, 'til death parts you, you should know what it really means to say, “I do”.
- You're Entitled to Your Own Opinion. (As long as it's the same as mine)
Most couples who choose to marry one another have already gone through the courting and dating process. It's in this time that you test the waters of compatibility. Most couples tend to share the same opinion on big issues, such as religion, political views, and family views; but, oh husbands, it's the smaller points that you must share as well.
It's all really a matter of “right” and “wrong”. When you don't share our opinions, this implies that you are right, and we are wrong. And this simply cannot be, for the wife is always right. That's a nice little rhyme to commit to memory, “The wife is always right, the wife is always right, hi, ho the dairy-o, the wife is always right.”
Here's a very minor scenario:
A husband and wife walk into a rug store to get a new area rug for their new living room. The wife spots a nice, colorful piece that allows them to choose any number of colors as accents for the room. She looks at her husband and says, “What do you think about this one?”
Her husband eyes the rug and replies, “I think it has a little too much red.”
She looks again. “Hmm...no, I don't think it does.”
He looks again, “Hmm...I do.” <------ This is not the correct response.
Let's try this again:
...She looks again. “Hmm...no, I don't think it does.”
He looks again. “I suppose you're right, do you want to get this one?”
She smiles, says yes, and gives him a hug and light kiss, thinking about the wonderful future they're going to have, living together, having a family, growing old and gray, blah blah blah. :o)
Now, let's just throw in another element to this scenario, just for deeper understanding:
The rug, does, in fact, have too much red, the wife realizes as it's laid out in their new living room.
She steps back, takes a long look at the rug and says, “Honey, I think there's a little too much red in it.”
Husband doesn't even look and says, “I told you.” <----Not the right response.
Wife frowns. Husband won't be getting any tonight.
Let's try that again:
“Honey, I think there's a little too much red in it.”
He looks at the rug again, knowing it did in the first place, but says, “You really think so?”
“Yeah...I guess you were right.” (score 1 for hubby)
“We can return it and get another if you'd like.” (Notice hubby doesn't outwardly recognize her admission of being wrong, but does a tiny dance in his head)
“Yes, I'd like that.” Wife smiles. Husband gets some later that night.
Now guys, you might think this is demeaning, deferring to your wife. This is absolutely not the case! (Yes, it is, but I think it's rude to openly say so.)
- She does, You don't.
There are certain things that we (women/wives) are allowed to do, that you simply cannot. I'm not gonna lie, it's not fair, but these are the rules we live by.
Do you remember the episode of Friends where Ross and Rachel made their “ freebie list”? The “Freebie list” is the list of 5 celebrities that you can sleep with (should the opportunity present itself) and your partner can't get mad. Well, I think it's a bit silly and a little inappropriate and disrespectful to even make such a list. So, I won't share mine. :o) But, it's even more silly, inappropriate, and disrespectful for our husband's to make such a list. Why? Because no one could ever be as beautiful and desirable than your own wife. :o) So, even though I might daydream, or fantasize (or dedicate a locked room with plastered posters all over the walls and ceiling) of Viggo Mortensen or Robert Pattinson, hubby simply isn't allowed to do the same with any female, celebrity or otherwise. :o)
We (women/wives) are allowed to have male friends. They are only friends. Believe me, if we wanted them to be something more, we wouldn't be married to you. However, your having female friends is permissible only on a case-by-case basis. We have to meet them, converse with them, alone, get inside their heads, observe them in a crowd of men, and come to our own conclusions as to whether they can be in your (and our) life or not. This has nothing to do with jealousy, possessiveness, or control. This has nothing to do with a lack of trust on your part, but an uncertainty on theirs. Consider it a compliment. There may be plenty of fish in the sea, but most of them are throw-backs. I'm awesome, we're awesome, each individual woman, and the fact that we chose you (our spouses) as a life-partner is enough to make any single (or unhappily married/committed) female attracted to you. :o)
We (women/wives) are allowed to forget important dates, you aren't. Though it doesn't happen very often (as it's scientifically proven that females are better multi-taskers), we can occasionally forget something important, like a birthday or anniversary. This is because we have so much on our plates. Yes, we know you do too, but we have more. If it should happen that we forget an important date, we will make it up to you, possibly for the next year until that date comes around again. We will make it up in ways you could only imagine, so go ahead, imagine away. However, you cannot forget important dates because though we are strong, resilient, goddess-like creatures, we are still quite fragile. (I will never openly admit that again, so soak it up) You can make it up all year, but we will never forget the time you forgot.
This is not the entire list, of course, but only a taste of we are allowed to do and you aren't. Now, some might say that these are simply double standards, to which I say, "WHAT!? No, they aren't." And you really shouldn't argue with me because, "The wife is always right." :o)
The list really isn't that long, and it's only there because we have only your best interests in mind. If any ladies, or men for that matter, would like to contribute to the list, please feel free to do so. This also isn't the completed chapter, but a sample of chapter one.
OK, well, I'm tired now. Until next post...adieu. :o)
Saturday, June 19, 2010
(click to enlarge)
I was a-typical teen.
I'm a girl of many talents, and many faces. I like to write. I'm working on children's books and possible (one day) novels.
Check in every so often, 'cause who knows what I'm going to write about on this blog!? I sure don't. :o)