Nobody said it was easy...

I think I'm sick of people trying to own "hard". I mean, everyone in the world knows hard. At some point, every.single.one of us has thought that life, and whatever particular experience we were dealing with in that moment, was hard. You know what? We were right. Every time we felt that or thought that, we were right. Regardless of  what it was we were dealing with, and regardless of how it stacked up to someone else's hard, in that moment we felt that way, life was hard and we were right. It is. Life is hard.

People tell me their hard a lot. And I mean "THEIR hard" not "THEY'RE hard". Though I am getting a lot more people telling me they're hard now that I've been sporting highlights on the regular. But like certain hams, I'm off the bone, so telling me *that* does nothing but make me giggle. And look to see if a tent is being pitched. Anyboner, people tell me about their hard, and I'm glad I can be someone that they feel they can trust with it. I like to think I'm not the kind of person that would follow up listening to their hard by saying "You think that's bad..." and launching into one of my hards, or even someone else's hard. I hate it when people do that to me, so I try not to do that to anyone else. I really try not to do that. When someone is going through something, and they've *trusted me* enough to bring it to me, share it with me, release some of the pressure of it to me, they deserve nothing but my sympathy for *their* situation, even though I've had hard, I know hard, and I know other people with hard. In those moments, one hard does not trump another hard, because we ALL have hard.

I'm not stupid, I know that there are people who have experienced things that I can't even imagine, have stood tall through some of the worst sh*t I could think of, and through stuff I might not even be able to think of because it's so horrible. I know that. I'm glad that so far, the hard that I've had hasn't destroyed me. So far, it hasn't been unimaginable. And maybe there is someone out there who, if they ever heard my hard, might find it a little unimaginable. But to me, it's not unimaginable, the hard that I've had to deal with. There are people whose lives I cannot imagine. But I get to decide that for myself, I shouldn't have to hear from someone else "you think what you're going through is bad...". None of us should have to hear that. Because it's not a contest. We have to stop making it a contest.

I talk about the luck in my life a lot. Like, a lot a lot. I bet it's probably annoying for some, and if you're one of those that gets annoyed by it, well stop stalking my blog, you twatbonnet! It's not that I've had an extremely easy life, it's just that every time something has been hard for me, I've made it through. Every.time. Even when I didn't want to, or shouldn't have, I've made it. And maybe I'm lucky because a lot of my hard stuff happened when I was younger, a late teen/early 20's-aged person. So these days, now that I've given myself a voice, it's easier to talk about the luck since the hard is farther away. When I think about my hard, which I do frequently, the luck is never far behind.

I'm not going to rattle off a list of all the hard in my life, because that's not really my style. I talk about that stuff when it seems appropriate, believe me, but laundry lists of negativity ain't my thing. Positivity, yes. Negativity, no. I'm just following the rules of basic English really. But for almost every "f*ck you, world!" moment that I've had, there is something good that I attach to it. For every decision that cost me something, there's one that gave me something else. I can't say for sure what the hardest moment in my life was, because I try not to make it a contest within myself either. I do want to give an example though, and if I'm giving an example, the one that really stands out for me is when 2 of my closest friends killed themselves my senior year of high school. They killed themselves and it set off a chain reaction in my life that could have gone way south, and very nearly did. I stopped going to school, failed or got an incomplete in all my classes that semester, which left me short on graduation credits, so I did not graduate with my friends, my peers, my class...class of '94 what what!!! So...drop out and f*ck school, or deal with the embarrassment of being a 5th year senior, and just f*cking do it? I just f*cking did it. I ended up making amazing friends, friends that I adore to this very day. I finally had a positive high school experience that involved actual schooling. And I ended up having great relationships with teachers, which was f*cking foreign to me back then(shout out to Ms Levine!!!). That year, which could have been, should have been embarrassing and f*cking horrible, ended up being one of the best years I've had. You take the good, you take the bad, you take them both and there you have the Facts of Life, the Facts of Life...

Great. Now I'm thinking about Blair. Which is not the point. The point is, I'd rather spend more time thinking about the good that came out of everything hard. I do spend time thinking about the hard, I like to remember the people I've lost, and appreciate the experiences I've had. But I choose to spend more time thinking about the good, the luck. Out of this tremendously hard thing came this realization, or this friendship, or this overwhelming feeling of support. I let myself think about the hard things, but I make a *choice* to focus on the other stuff, the good stuff that came of it, the luck.

So if I seem happy to you, if you know people who seem happy a lot of the time, it's not because life has been easy, breezy, beautiful, Cover Girl, it's because of what we're choosing to focus on in those moments. Hell, we could be going through something hard right before your eyes, but our focus is on something good. And maybe that good is as simple as being in the presence of a friend. I know for me that's usually all it takes. I have my moments, we all have our moments. Sadly for some, their whole life is their moment, and what a miserable way to be. I'm a mostly happy person, mostly, but that's a choice I make every day. That's a choice. That I make. Every day. Because life is hard, I know hard, we all know hard. But we're all still here, aren't we? So why not make the most of it...

Pride (In the Name of Love)...

For the first time since I was 21 years old, I will not be attending Chicago's Pride Parade. Holy fucking shit. I feel like I just got kicked in the crotch, and not in a good way. I mean, I'm missing it for a completely valid, and completely debaucherous reason, I'm off to Las Vegas with 8 buxom.......men. That's right, I will be playing with the boys in LV during Pride Weekend, and don't ask me how that happened, but no doubt it will be epic. But I still kind of can't believe I'm missing the Pride Parade, my gay bread & butter.

I know I've talked extensively about my parents and their support of me and my fellow gays. I know I've told the story about my first Pride Parade, how my parents surprised me by walking in the parade with PFLAG, causing me cry uncontrollably, and when the people around us realized I had no idea they'd be there, they lost it too. I know I've talked about how my parents have walked with PFLAG almost every year since then. I know I've talked about how my mom is the president of the local chapter, my dad is a member, and they've attended endless conferences, meetings, traveled to Springfield multiple, all in support of the gay cause. I know I've talked about this. But I would like to take today to talk about someone who I haven't personally thanked, even though she has been there for 31 years of my life, and was my backbone the entire time I was coming out, and has continued that support ever since. My sister.

I don't know how I've never singled Emily out before now when writing one of my Bartles & James "Thanks for your support" blogs. I've thanked my parents, I've thanked my friends, and obviously, Emily is one of my friends, but she's so much more than that. Emily was the one by my side when I told my parents I was gay. Maybe not literally, I can't remember if she was in the room because I was practically blacked out with fear. But she was by my side. She was by my side when I started coming out to our friends, I can remember Christmas Eve that year, being in Keldra's bedroom with a few girls, telling them...Emily was by my side. She was by my side when I came out to my whole giant family, the silent support that I ALWAYS felt, have felt ever since. She was by my side when my parents came walking up to me during that first Pride Parade, she knew they would be there, she didn't say anything, but she knew she had to be there, she wanted to be there...for me...just like she always had been. She has been by my side at almost every Pride Parade since, wanting to be there for me, and wanting to be there for our other gay friends. She was by my side the day The Joyous One proposed to me, she helped set up the surprise, then gathered our friends at a bar to celebrate it afterwards. She was by my side when I "married" The Joyous One 8 years ago, she was with me all day, was with me all the days before that, she wrote and read an incredible speech for us. She was by my side the day The Joyous One and I got our legal civil union papers, and she stayed by my side for our day-long celebration. She was by my side the day my dad signed our papers and made us legal. She will be by my side this Sunday, even though neither of us will be at the Pride Parade...we'll both be thinking about it, and she will be by my side. And someday, when The Joyous One and I get legally married on a federal level, my sister Emily will be by my side. By my side, she is always by my side, no matter physically or not, she's always by my side.

I cannot begin to thank you, Emily. You have been the strength that holds my head up, the support that has let me to be myself, and the love that has allowed me to have no fear. You're the best "side dish" a sister could ever ask for.

Innie or outie?

And no, I'm not talking about belly buttons. Although maybe I should. I can fit a short stack of dimes into my belly button. I probably could do pennies, but it felt like a tight squeeze when I was testing coins. I was ambitious, I tried a quarter first because I figured my button was probably pretty stretchy, but alas, not stretchy enough for a quarter...or a nickel...and the penny was iffy. But the dime, well the dime was a good fit. Like the glass slipper to Cinderella's foot. Only more like a dime to a belly button. So yeah, I can fit dimes in my belly button. But that's not the main point of this...anymore.

Yesterday, Jim Parsons declared his membership to my church. A few days before that, Jillian Michaels had her membership confirmed, which lez-be-honest, was fantastic to hear, because although she has gay-face, she has fucking hot as hell gay-face, and our congregation could use some more caramel-y goodness. My god, the shine of her hair, the rasp of her voice, the ripple of her muscles, the throbbing of my...I mean, her um, veins. What I wouldn't give to lick her abs, among other...crap, I just blacked out. Sorry. So...what? Oh yeah, Jim and Jill, out of les closet.

The best part about this news, besides the hotness of Jillian, was that it...wasn't really news. At least not huge news, or mind blowing news. In fact, if you read the People article too fast, you wouldn't have even noticed the mention of Jillian's partner, some bitch named Heidi, who I'm sure is perfectly lovely, but Jillian's hair and muscles and hot face would go so much better with my curls and softness and cartoony looks...I LOVE YOU JILLIAN!!! Okay, I just splashed some water on my face, I'm fine. Anymuscle, the news wasn't earth shattering, it was more matter-of-fact than anything, and THAT'S the huge news.

I've long been a believer in the need for being "out". And by "long" I mean I decided this like, 3 years ago, and ever since then I talk about it a lot and I'm sure I've written about it before. Whatever. Harvey Milk has been my inspiration in this. He said "If they know us, they can't vote against us" and I absolutely believe this to be the truth. Coming out is the only way they'll know us. It's a terrifying process initially, and one that never truly ends, but my Gaga, it gets easier each time. There was one group of girls in particular who were older than me, and pretty, and fun, and just...they made me a little nervous. We became friends when I was just a puppy-queer, and I was terrified about being gay in front of them. But you know what? They could not have been more amazing to me. They could not have treated me with more kindness. And we could not have had more of a fahckin ball together. And I was out and gay the whole time we were friends. Any time I get nervous now, I think about those girls and that time in my life and I know it'll be gravy. Fahck, gravy...on Jillan's abs. It'd have to be low fat gravy, naturally, but still, lickin gravy off Jillian's abs. Abtastic. I need more water...

The more out we are, the less scary and hard it becomes, and the less "news" it will make when someone famous joins our congregation. I'm hopeful that down the line, it won't even be news, it will just be. Gay will be the new normal. I mean, if 70 can be the new 30, then gay can be the new normal. Fahck, maybe someday, coming out as straight will be news...because you know me, I think everyone is queer and bisexual and unfortunately, society needs to see sexuality as something that is black and white when really, it's the grayest fucking thing in the world, but that's a rant for a different time. Catch me after a few whiskeys, that's the perfect time(insert wink here).

"If they know us, they can't vote against us"...come on queers, let's introduce ourselves.


Oh, and I love you, Jillian.

TGI...shut the f*ck up

I hate the expression "TGIF", and I use it all the time. I used it just this morning, when greeting my friend Beth on IM. First f*cking thing out of my mouth. Not "good morning", not "hi", not "Community was hilarious last night!", I led with "TGIF". I'm fairly certain I lead with this word-wedgie in at least one cyber-conversation every.single.f*cking.Friday. TGIF.

I blame ABC for pounding that phrase into my brain back in the 90's, when shows like Full House, Just the Ten Of Us, and Boy Meets World ruled Friday nights. I can remember being excited about TGIF, not because I was Thanking God It was Friday, but because I couldn't wait to see what sort of pickle DJ Tanner might get into. Oh hell naw, I think I may have even sung along with the TGIF theme song! That makes me sad.

Nowadays, we beleaguered working stiffs TGIF every Friday, don't we? We look forward to Friday night every Monday morning. All day Sunday, I can see The Joyous One slipping into her Sunday night depression. It's a sad time, the end of the weekend. A sad, sad time. We see things as the end of something, and are not able to see past it. I mean, thousands of people have said this, this sentiment is echoed on t-shirts, quote walls, quote websites, all over the place, but I think I'm just starting to get it now. Without ends, there are no beginnings, we need ends so that something new can start. Circle of life, Hakuna Matata, and all that shit. My god I hate the Lion King. Anymustafa, I'm all for allowing myself a little sadness at the end of stuff, like a hot dog for example. But I need to be getting more excited about the end signifying the start of something else, like a Choco Taco. The end of my hot dog means I get to start on a Choco Taco...the end of my Choco Taco means the start of my Sleepytime Waltz...the end of my Sleepytime Waltz means the beginning of actual sleep...the end of my sleep means the beginning of a new day...etc etc etc. You get my point...which is Choco Tacos are awesome. Or something.

My wonderful friend Jessica always encourages me to look forward to something every day. She'll ask "what are you looking forward to today?", and it gives me pause. It forces me to think about my day, my night, my life, dissect it, examine it, poke it, shake it, and find something, anything, to be excited about, and every day I do, even if it's just going home from work. But that's okay because somedays, that's all that it takes. I've often been told I get excited by the little things, but the truth is, in my world, nothing is little. This is where my childlike exuberance, my refusal to grow up(read:immaturity), has served me well.

So TGIF, f*ck you. I'm not going to Thank God for *just* you anymore. I'm going to keep finding ways to make every day a day to TG for. I'm going to take walks, read books, listen to music, scratch my back, go out for dinner, hit golf balls, see movies, wash sheets, call friends, visit my niece, use my All-Clad frying pan, go home from work, greet birds, look around, laugh about farts, eat Choco Tacos, I'm gonna fill my weeks up with things to look forward to, no matter what they are, and every day...every day, I'ma Thank God It's Today...TGIT...which of course I read as "TIT"...aaaaaand scene.

Soft Cell...

Crap, I'm sensitive. I have known this for awhile, but I've had one of those weeks where it feels like a spotlight is being shown right on that ripple in my force field. I say that as if I don't have thousands of ripples in my force field, because...literally, there has to be thousands of ripples. In my force field. The way I'm saying this has me wondering what I'm actually talking about when I say "ripples in my force field", and my God, the word "ripples" makes me think of both Kelly Ripa and nipples. What am I talking about? I was going to use the term "chink in my armor", but after that Jeremy Lin-cident, where that sportswriter was fired because he used the headline "Chink in the Armor" when referencing a bad game by Mr. Lin, who just happens to be Chinese, and woops! racist...I'm never using that statement again. Except for when talking about that sportswriter who got fired for using "Chink in the Armor" for his story about Jeremy Lin. So yeah, my sensitivity: it is a huge ripple in my force field. Kelly Ripa. Nipples.


I wonder why I feel this way. Why I feel like it's a weakness in my otherwise super human bulletproof hard candy shell. I mean, where do I get off thinking I have a super human bulletproof hard candy shell? Seriously? Where did this idea, this notion, come from? I'm a hard ass? Really? I don't think so. I don't think I ever have been like, a "for real" hard ass. Not ever in my life. Now that I'm thinking about it, I think it's my face! I think I have a snotty face when it's in it's normal position, therefore making me seem like I'm some sort of badass. Or making me seem "hard".


To be fair, there was a period of time through high school where I was an absolutely horrible piece of shit. My parents, sister, teachers, strangers who I threw eggs at, they all can attest to this. I was miserable for a lovely stretch of time that must have felt like an eternity to some people. And yes, I admittedly did not care about much, I lied, I did unspeakable things, I was mean...let's be honest, I was a true c*nt. But I think when you average it all out, my childhood, teen years, twenties, and now...I'm more sensitive than anything, and I always have been.


I've had a few friends tell me that before they met me, they thought I was mean, and were maybe a little scared of me. While this did puff up my already sizeable chest, it didn't take long for them to realize that I'm pretty much cotton candy. Soft, sugary, I dissolve in water, and make children crazy. On the real though, I'm soft as shit. Or cotton candy. While shit is in fact soft, it does not smell pleasant, and I'm one of those people who smells awesome most of the time. I lost myself again...


Right, I'm sensitive. How does one change that trait about oneself? Is "oneself" a real word? I don't mind that I cry at everything, tearing up happens on the regular with me, and I'm fine with it. I actually like crying. I think it's healthy. But maybe I'm too sensitive. I've seen that it can lead to a certain...ugliness in me. An ugliness tainted with insecurity, and snottiness, because what you just said hurt me, but you didn't mean for it to hurt me, but it did, probably because I'm sensitive, and that's weak, right? And I feel it happening, I feel the words bubbling up in me that I know are the wrong words to say, I know this, and they won't help anything, and FAHCK! I just said them, and now I can't take them back, and I'm wounded, scrambling, cursing myself because I know what I've done and why, and FAHCK! this hurts, and how do I explain why it hurts, because now I'm not being talked to, or I'm angry, and I don't want to talk, and I'm angry with myself because again, I know, I did this, I know, and I'm hurt, I'm hurt, I'm hurt, and I'm hurt because I'm too fucking sensitive, and I've just essentially diarrhea'd on myself and am standing alone in a mess not knowing how to clean it.


Maybe I take things too personally. Am I sensitive, or do I take things too personally? Or is it both? I'm not looking for answers(unless, of course, you've got some), I just...guess I needed to write this. I cry a lot. I like to be held, either by a person, or by words, it doesn't matter, I like to be held. I'm sensitive to a lot of things, and to a lot of things that don't have *anything* to do with me. Which means I take things personally. And I shouldn't. But I do. And those two things, sensitivity and TIP(taking it personally), are like, beer before liquor, they make me sick, and ugly with puke face. And I'm sorry to those of you who have been caught in that with me, and...it's Thursday, May 3rd. And this is how I feel today.

Time won't give me time...

I've been thinking a lot about time lately. Time. It's our most precious commodity. It's one of, if not the greatest gift we have to give, and the greatest gift we can get. We always wish we had more of it. We crave time. I'm starting to think if I could hoard anything, it would be time. Time has become my drug. I get all crazy when I don't have it, lash out if I feel it's been wasted, cry when I wish I had more. I'd like to shoot up some time, inject it right into my veins, into my loved ones veins, then we could sit around in a huge, comfy, multi-room house getting high on time with each other. Time. I want more of it.

Time is the best thing anyone could ever give me. I think it's all I really want from anyone. I just want time with you. A cup of coffee. A beer. A walk down the street. I just want time. A laugh or two. A quick hug. An hour if you've got it. Just time. An afternoon at the zoo. A concert. A honk and a wave. Please, sir, can you spare me some time? A shared meal. A sleepover. A lifetime of friendship. Time is all I could ever need, or hope for.

I hope I can stop thinking of time as "wasted". It's not "wasted" if I listen to a new song, or make up a joke, or think about someone I love. It's only "wasted" if I sit in anger with it. I can't begin to express how grateful I am for the time that has been given to me, the time that has been spent with me. I hope that I've given time as greatly as I've gotten it.


Now that you've read this, you've just given me your time, which is all I could ever need, or hope for, from you. And I don't know how to thank you for that.

This has got to stop...

So last month I saw a movie called "Bullied". It was about a boy who was tormented, tortured, and bullied throughout his junior high and high school career. He was called names like "faggot" and "queer", he was beaten, teased, tortured, all because of the assumption that he was gay. He went to his administrators and was told on both the junior high and high school level that maybe if he didn't act so gay he wouldn't get picked on. He was also told that "boys will be boys".

After the movie, there was a discussion in which I found out that a boy at Julian Jr. High recently was pushed down a flight of stairs by someone who had been bullying him, also under the assumption that he was gay. He was hospitalized for a week. I'm not sure how he is now, his parents were at the screening of the movie, and at the time said he was doing okay, so I hope that still is the case. But this boy, teased and called "faggot" and "queer" and pushed down a flight of stairs because people think he's gay, does not even identify as homosexual. In fact, most people bullied for supposedly being "faggots" or "queers" in junior high and high school don't identify as homosexual later in life. They simply are smaller than the other boys, or they like doing theater, or they might not like wearing dresses like the other girls, or they like playing sports, so the assumption is that they are gay. And the answer to that is to bully them, beat them up, spit on them, call them names, and push them down flights of stairs. What are we teaching our children? Cuz from here, it doesn't look like we're teaching them enough.

These words can be poison, and they are infecting the lives of innocent kids every.single.day. Bullying doesn't "build character", it kills potential, and it kills people. The next time you're at a sporting event, and you feel the urge to call a player, or a ref, or a fan of the opposite team a "faggot", think about your son being called that as he's cornered by a group of kids knocking his books on the floor and kicking him as he goes to get them. The next time you want to call something "gay" because you feel it's stupid, or it didn't work out in your favor, think about your child seeing that written on their locker and all the kids pointing and laughing at them. The next time you feel yourself wanting to kid around with you pals, and call each other "queers", "homos" and "fags", think about your kid being called those same things, but being surrounded by kids who aren't saying it "all in good fun". The next time you want to ask the girl who is wearing a sweater vest in the bathroom of the Cubby Bear if she's a "fucking dyke or something", think about your daughter being asked that while spit on as she walks through the lunchroom.

I'm not innocent in any of this. I've used these words "all in good fun", and even in anger. But it starts with us, it has to, and we have to change this. We have to be aware of what we're saying and how we're acting in front of our kids. Bullying isn't natural, kids learn it from what they see in their adults. If they see you bullying, they will bully. If they see you standing up to bullying, they will stand up. "Monkey see monkey do" is the most true statement of all time.

I hope someday these words can be empowering. I hope one day to take these words back. I hope to be called "gay" because it's related to awesome things, not stupid things. I hope that someday, every one of my queer brothers and sisters will be as proud of being called a "queer" as I am. I hope that your kids don't ever get called these names in any way other than positive. I hope that if they see someone saying these words with venom that they stand up and say "no". I hope that if you see someone saying these words with venom, you will stand up and say "no". We have to be better monkeys to our kids.

I urge you to find out if the schools around you have a bullying policy, and if not, that you force them to come up with one. Tell the kids in your life that there is NOTHING wrong with being gay, that it is just as natural as anything else, if you need help getting the point across, or want to do some dancing while you tell them, put on "Born This Way". And if you believe that there is something wrong with being gay, then get the f*ck off my blog and out of my life.



**I know there are kids who are bullied for other reasons, being gay is just something I happen to know about and therefore something I feel confident speaking about.