Also

Chelsea Clinton correctly used who/whom and whoever/whomever. That earned her points.

I'm in a better mood because I love my Women's Center staff soooooooooooooo much.

Three cheers for grammar and staff meetings!

Even performed privilege is real

I got mad at a friend for not understanding what trust looks like from me until I realized it meant she doesn't know I trust her, or how much.

I had a bad dream when I tried to nap on Saturday afternoon. I haven't really slept since. Last night I dreamed I had just given birth, and I was still on the table with my legs up, and I was holding my baby, but it was only his spirit, and he was starting to disappear. For a second I saw the real him, in the hands of the doctors, and I tried to yell out and scream "stop shaking him, stop shaking him" but I couldn't get it out. And then the ghost/spirit/soul version of him in my hands just vanished, and he was dead.

I don't know what it means. I don't think I want to figure it out. I'm tired.

Expectations are upon me again, but in a very different way.

I wonder about standing up for myself, because I do. And I don't. The problems come in not realizing when I'm not.

We had an amazing show on Friday night. I'm proud of who I am, and my life. I'm proud of my friends and my students and my colleagues. It's nice to be proud.

I saw Chelsea Clinton speak this morning. She was kinda boring, had a good answer to the LGBT question, and mainly I just wished she hadn't have dyed her hair. Why can't everyone know that they're beautiful just the way they are? And, of course, I support Obama. It was nice to hear her speak though. I didn't realize she was only 27.

I'm so tired. I just haven't been able to sleep since that one stupid dream while napping. Just more bad dreams have come. And the oh so familiar laying awake in bed. I hate how things are so good and the lack of sleep interrupts absolutely everything.

I also hate complaining about being tired, so I came here to do it. Now, back to work. There's a lot to do.

I'd Like To

Life feels full.

Y'know that feeling when you eat too much and you reach uncomfortably full? Then an hour or two later, you're no longer that feeling of discomfort, but you're not quite comfortable yet either. You know it's gonna be okay, you can see it in the future, but it's not there yet.

Dear Friends, I've taken off again. I'm trying to find ways to come back to you, and your love. I've written many of you emails that, in the end, I've given up and sent to myself. To even more of you I've started emails and simply deleted them.

We exist in a world where we're hyper aware of appropriateness. The downside: I always think I'm being inappropriate. I think a lot of us do.

It's cold here. When I stand outside for any length of time, I start crying. It's that kind of eye-watering cold.

School starts next week. Work's super stressful, but I'm happy for my students to be back. ("My" not "The".)

There have been birthdays this week. I left my phone charger in Texas so I haven't been able to call or talk for any length of time, but Happy Birthday my dear, dear friends. How lost I would be in this world without each of you. I'm glad you were born. I'm glad our lives crossed paths, and hope they will continue to, forever. I can almost believe they will, with both of you. That's big, and feels big in a good way.

I spent 12 days with the family this Winter. 12 days. I feel so determinedly alone when thinking of them. It's a relief to give up on desiring understanding.

The days get longer, and nights shorter, with each time the sun shows her face. I need the light. I think we're all on the up and up.

Life's very full. Good and bad. And more and less and around and in between. Expectations have the power to destroy me, and I often let them get close. Oops.

Happy three day weekend. Hey. Take some actual time to remember the real Martin Luther King Jr. Stand up. Revolt. Peacefully. And stay warm. Each day gets brighter. For all of us.

This Is Who I Am

"I think that how you make a cup of coffee, use a bowl, or blow your nose
is how you live your life"
- Dave Cotter

On trash night, I spent more time at the door figuring out how to carry it all in one load than it would have taken to just make two loads. Then I organized it on the curb for ease of pick-up.

Said lists and numbers

I told some of you of my brilliant plan to just turn the trip into a giant zine. Well, I lost steam. But here's one of the lists I made:

12/24/07
# of minutes before I had a drink in my hand after arriving from the airport: approx 15
# of drinks I had: 5 or 6 (?)
vodka tonic
champagne
at least 2 glasses of good red wine
more and better champagne
more good red wine
Food I consumed:
Appetizers: pears, grapes and bleucheese
variety of crackers with alouette cheese and foie gras
goldfish crackers
seasoned cashews
Meal: A big, fancy roast, lil bloody in the middle, with horseradish
corn souffle
spinach souffle
mashed potatoes
roll w/ butter
salad w/ avocado and pomegranate seeds
Dessert: yule log cake
caffeinated coffee my aunt served as decaf (!)
Roll Call: Mer, Debs, Kent, Dad, Mom, Dennis, Claudia, Luca, Shirley, 3 dogs (Lulu, Huxley, Trixy), me
Names I Was Called: Kathy, Kath, Bopper, Struby, Mary the K, Dolly, Dolly Bird, Dolly Bop
What I Wore: brown cords, brown boaty shoes (what's that pattern called?), brown and white striped button up, blue V-Neck
Where I slept: love seat pull out twin bed couch thing at Mer's/Debs and Kent's; I could hear the ocean; their grandfather clock rang every hour and half hour; I woke constantly
# of conversations I had to exit: incalculable
# of lesbian jokes made at dinner table by mildly homophobic uncle: 1
# of people who overheard my under-the-breath comment afterwards: 2
# of times I managed to mention that gender is a social construct: 3!
# of things I did and wouldn't have if I wasn't drunk: 1 (show my bike accident hip scar)
# of rounds I made my bet at the Oh Hell game: 12
# of rounds I didn't: 1
# of points I finished with: 122
Place it got me: 1st (over Kent by 14! ha!)
Highlight: Playing Oh Hell and joking with Mer

2008: Last Year? Weather...

I'm back from the family trip. Here's what I'll say: complicated. I knew what was coming. I wrote this other long, mountain metaphor on the plane ride there too:

Is my goal, my therapy goal, my pinnacle on a mountain of happy life, to simply endure the pain? To find lists and numbers and poems and friends with whom to laugh through the tears, because maybe Dolly's been right all along; or is it to not feel hurt anymore? To reach the top of this painful mountain, the height of which squeezes air out of my lungs and sense out of my brain, chapping my body in the wind, to make it down the other side to a first aid tent full of familiar faces?

As always, I know it's both. Not always that I've known, no, that's come recently and will change again, but always that both and more answers are correct. I've climbed some mountains, summitted, set up camp to live on the hardest or easiest or between part, and climbed or fallen back down the other side. I've jumped from mountain to mountain, bouncing off Solitude simply to get lost in the cold expanse of Heartache. I've traversed up and down Healing: conquering, slipping, simply surviving.

I walk on. I skin my knees, or crack the surface of a bone, even break one--but only kinda. I feel the sun warm my face and only enjoy the run because it's raining.

I don't know if I'll laugh or cry this trip: I expect both.


Blah blah. It gets a little melodramatic, but whatev. I love me some extended metaphors.