Friday, September 10, 2010

Just a reminder...

No matter what these idiots shout at funerals...

No matter how anyone may have misinterpreted the words of the bible...

No matter what anyone writes on their hate-filled & madness-driven picket signs...

Please, please know that you are loved. If God exists, then God loves you. In your heart of hearts, you know that anything else would be unfathomable. Why, WHY would any creator create all this, if not out of unconditional, rapturous love?

Feel the love. It's there for you. It's everywhere for you. I promise.

Friday, July 30, 2010

Get out of my head
I've been trying for years
There's too little to cling to and there's so much unsaid
and the way you look right through me..
I never said I loved you but you're probably the closest in my thoughts
to that faraway image of me being happy with someone as perfect as you
but you look right through me and you'll never come back again so get out get out get out gey out get out
get out of my head.

Wednesday, July 14, 2010

Guess That Orientation!

A girl is riding down a busy street on a beaten-up turquoise bike that belongs in a scrap heap. She has short, androgynous hair hiding under a big awkward blue helmet and a canvas bag wrapped around the handle-bars. She is wearing mascara, an old Tegan and Sara shirt and tight black capri pants. She has girly leather shoes with small heels. A ring shaped like a knut around her thumb.

So here's the question:
Is this girl a) a femme on the down-low b) butch forced by crazy parents to get girly shoes c) a baby dyke not yet sure of how to look gay.

Okay, that was easy, how about this:

Tara likes coffee. She gets her coffee everyday from Real Dykes Drink Diesel, a local coffee shop. Tara has been stalking the barista, Kelli, for months. She is afraid to ask Kelli out, for fear that Kelli is not gay and would ban Tara from the coffee shop. Tara needs to know if Kelli is gay before she makes her move.
Kelli has: long hair, short nails, glasses, no tattoos, a lip ring, wears pink, and carries a purse.
If we take into consideration the fact that lots of straight girls work in gay coffee houses,

Aaaand lastly,

This girl is smart. Like, top grade of the entire school smart. She has long hair with bangs and glasses that are a bit geeky. She is always talking about existentialist theories and Virginia Woolf. She wears her hair back all the time and wears corduroy pants. Her nails are short, but she also plays guitar and the banjo. She's best friends with a lesbian. She has been known to wear dresses but never anything distinctly boyish, save for shoes that belong on an old man.
Guess her number on the Kinsey scale.

ps. if you don't know the Kinsey scale shame on you.

pps. if you know me and you know who any of these people are, sorry, I didn't mean offense. I just tweaked. I picked them because they were hard to guess.

Tuesday, July 13, 2010

a dream

I dreamed I was working at a café/bookstore, as were mom & dad. _____ came to visit me as I was closing up for the evening. We were casually talking, & as I was reading things on the bulletin board, she wrapped her arms around me from behind & very sensually kissed my shoulderblade. We proceeded to physically flirt all the way to the park, where they were holding a grotesque, humongous pig-eating contest. I said hi to Charlotte, & told her I liked her suit, which was striped white & pale orange. Zoe was there, flirting with a boy named Charlie. ______ & I held hands as we walked over to see Kaiya & Olga, but I woke up before we got there.

Monday, June 28, 2010

I miss that goddamn nuisance.

WARNING: This post contains information about menstruation (GASP!), so if you are not into that, leave now, rather than writing me rude comments later. Thanks.

I have an ovarian cyst.
This means I only have about six periods each year, on average.
Right now it's June & I haven't had one since February.

For me, there is a certain amount of shame associated with telling other girls & women about this - not because I'm embarrassed about my physical condition, but because their immediate reaction is almost always, "You haven't had a period in ____ months? You're so lucky!!"

Here are three reasons my ovarian cyst does not, in fact, make me "lucky":

1. At any moment, it could be twisting around my ovary on the slow path to an explosive medical mishap that would land me a spot in the emergency room. The only way to monitor the cyst is to do these incredibly aggravating pelvic ultrasounds every once in a while. Let me tell you, one pelvic ultrasound is one too many.

2. When I do menstruate, it tends to be heavy (2 or 3 DivaCups' worth each day), last a long time (my record is 14 days; the average is about 6), & be riddled with cramps & emotional imbalance.

3. When it's been a long time since I've bled, I actually start to miss it. I feel like I'm missing out on a key part of my femininity by menstruating so rarely. I feel disconnected from my pure, primal womanhood, like I'm not really a member of the club, not really a strong, beautiful, healthy, sexy woman. Not to mention, I love my DivaCup & it bums me out that I don't have even more opportunities to use it to do good for the environment & for my body!

So no, I'm not "lucky" just because I menstruate less often than you. Stop making me feel like a spoiled brat for having a legitimate medical problem. If you're determined to be jealous of me, I'm sure you can find better, less offensive reasons! ;P

Saturday, May 29, 2010

Insubstantial Voice

Here's the problem:
My voice doesn't suit my needs
I need to be loud, to be heard
People need to see when I'm angry
but it you heard my voice you'd ignore me in a second.
I'm tired of having an insubstantial voice
I don't even recognoze it
I've spent my life with this voice and I still can't recognize when it's me talking.
The first thing she told me was that my voice was unexpected
and she never listened to me when I tried to say
it's over, insubstantial voice.
I'll sew a trumpet to my face instead.

Saturday, March 13, 2010


fuck commitmentphobes.

you're not scared to touch me;
you're just scared to say you love me.
you're just slightly like my father
& you wonder why this bugs me?

it takes guts to say "i like you"
but i do it every day.
do you notice? 'course you notice!
it's just not a game you're brave enough to play.

i bought you flowers, tokens
of this irritating attraction
but you stared over my shoulder,
pumping your veins with liquid distraction.
probably on purpose,
to elicit my reaction.
you probably thought i'd leave,
but if you'd think for just a fraction
of a second, you would see
that this is not my kind of action.

fuck commitmentphobes
& your slippery slimy hands.
i never liked your stupid moustache.
never liked your emo bands.
fuck the way you're like an ostrich,
head submerged beneath the sand.
fuck the way you run away from all uncharted lands.

here's a newsflash, honey:
hard-to-get's not sexy.
no, it's not your face that's funny -
it's your distance that's perplexed me.

relationships are one plus one
plus sharing. talking. bonding. freeing.
when your gaze glazes over
i wish i knew what you were seeing.

i KNOW i'm great. i KNOW i'm hot.
i KNOW that's not the issue, lover.
it took a lot of pondering,
but the problem, i've discovered,
is that you are insecure.
you think a better life will tempt me.
so you drift away, more each day -
you think it's better to pre-empt me.

here's another newsflash:
i don't leave if i feel loved
& closeness makes me want to stay.
& if it's what you want to hear,
i'll say again what i say every day:
i really, truly like you, okay?!

no, maybe it's not okay.

'cause i deserve better
than someone who'll make me feel alone,
& i deserve so much better
than someone who refuses to think of me as home.
or someone who calls me too clingy
if i pick up a phone.
or someone who doesn't wanna hear who i am,
just wants to hear me moan.

fuck commitmentphobes.
fuck your whole species.
if this is your thesis,
then kindly release me.

i'm done trying to act like i'm "cool."
i've never wanted to be "cool."
i want to care, i want to fall open
but i can't with a lover who's romantically frozen.

you thought i'd leave you for someone better?
i'm leaving 'cause alone feels better than together.
i'd rather date myself - just me.
god knows i make better company.
's'that jealousy i hear? you jealous of me?
i guess you shoulda taken better care of me.

yeah, fuck you, commitmentphobe
for being so distant.
this boat is damn fine but you've gone & missed it.
this girl is damn fine but you ditched & you dissed it.
this story's the truth so don't try & twist it:
from the moment you saw this & wanted to kiss it,
we both needed risk but you're too chicken to risk it.

Monday, February 15, 2010

a messy manifesto of my romantic future

Romantic confessions. Letters sealed with kisses & spritzed with perfume. Heart-shaped jewelry.
Big bouquets of colorful flowers. Boys with glasses & tattoos. Midnight picnics. Sunny days.
Endless snuggles. Being the little spoon. Borrowing his clothes.
Big pink lips just ripe for the kissin'.
"I like you so much."
Virgo boys. Soft, touchable hair. Improv shows.
All-night-long phone conversations. Journals full of just one person. Declarations of love.
Fidelity. Trust. Honesty to the point of dorkiness.
Objects with sentimental value. Movie theatres. Coffee shops. Breakfast in bed. Purple hair. Labret piercings. Leather jackets. Fauxhawks. Bedhead. Big toothy grins.
Hands on hips. Hands on waists. Hands in my pockets. Holding hands.
Writing love songs. Streetcar rides. Leaning my head on his shoulder.
Truth or dare. Hickeys. Learning to please.
Introducing him to my family. Meeting his family.
Accidental discoveries of eccentric erogenous zones. Relentless giggling. Private-ish nooks.
Lingerie. Short fingernails. Crunchy tongues. Leather boots. Whirlwind romances.
Quirks. Board games. "You're my favorite."
Gross coupley photobooth strips. All-nighters. Dinner parties.
Androgyny. Acceptance. Nerding out. Adorably bad drawings. Getting dolled up. A duel of wits.
"I'm so in love with you."
Massages. Slow-dancing. Falling asleep in his arms. Warmth. Joy.

Wednesday, January 27, 2010

writer's block & comfort food

if you wanted to inspire
cataclysmic creation, the kind of which i know
i'm capable, you should've stuck it out
a little longer, let the love well up a little louder,
get a bit bigger & brighter before you
broke all the borders &
let it all loose.

the love was half-baked,
all creamy & goopy & not fully-formed,
not yet, then, now, ever.
premature evaporation:
the mortal enemy of all
angsty adolescent artists.

now there's nothing good to write or
paint or sing, just a flop & a mess
covering everything.

Wednesday, January 20, 2010

stay golden

if you don't wanna hurt me, then don't
if you don't wanna cheat, then stay faithful
if you'd rather avoid causing damage
then avoid it as best as you're able
stay golden

if you don't wanna bruise me, then stay away
but do it in your most affectionate way
stay golden

if you don't wanna make me pine for you
then tell me you'll always be mine like it's true
stay golden

imagine how different your life would be if you'd stayed
how different the lovers you always leave naked & splayed
go over the doubts, the what-ifs, & the weary if-only
& realize: if you destroy all your friends, you'll be lonely

if the apocalypse comes in a week
then you'll be left mumbling & meek
stay golden

& meet some new people but see
that they're not a replacement for me
stay golden

open your mind to the chance that you'll be changed
open your mind & let your silly self be rearranged
stop expecting love to make you feel small
you might even find you like it after all
stay golden