| Rules of engagement |
[01 May 2003|01:50pm] |
|
I've now been in a relationship with one of my lovers for two
years, and the other for a bit more than one year. During that
time there have been a lot of rocky moments, tearful discussions
and realizations. We've all talked a lot about what sort of
relationship we have, but it's becoming apparent that even though
we've talked about it, we've each come to slightly different
conclusions. In an effort to prevent further misunderstandings,
I'm going to try to write down my understanding of what we've
either agreed upon or I feel is reasonable . I expect their views
on this will be different than mine, but perhaps we can
eventually come to a single agreement on things.
The three of us are in an open polyamorous primary relationship.
This seems to call for defining some terms:
- Open
This relationship is not exclusive. We can, and do, have
relationships (and I'm not talking about just sex) with other
people.
- Polyamorous
There are more than two people in this relationship.
- Primary
Personally I'm beginning to find what I call "hierarchical
polyamory" (no, I'm not going to define it) objectionable, but
given our current situation and the people in it, this seems to
be the best model for our situation.
This is the most important relationship in each of our lives
and, as a result, puts limits on all other relationships that
we might find ourselves in.
I'd like to think that we can all agree on these things. Most of
the rest of what we need to lay out is what limits and
responsibilities the "primariness" of this relationship involves:
- Sex and Intimacy
This is not a safe sex document. Suffice to say here that sex
does occur inside and outside of our primary relationship. The
bigger issue here is physical intimacy. I know we each have
different definitions of sex and intimacy, so I'm just going to
list things that I think belong here:
- Kissing in a passionate fashion. (no, I don't want to define
passionate)
- Most forms of non-public nudity
- Sleeping in the same bed
- Erotic touch
- Phone sex
- Erotic email
- BDSM
- Anything else leading towards sexual arousal/pleasure
The important thing here is as much the spirit as the letter.
If we start to get legalistic about this ("but that wasn't on
the list"), then we've all lost.
None of this stuff should occur without prior notice and
discussion. This could be as simple as a phone call saying "I
would like to X with Y tonight, are you okay with that?" It'd
be nice if there was a bit more time to think and talk about it
though.
Personally I prefer that sex occur within the context of a
healthy relationship. I make some exceptions for parties, but
there are a lot of times when I think sex, at the very least,
adds to the confusion.
I'll freely admit that I think casual sex, or sex with friends
that you see just occasionally is a bit strange and I'm
uncomfortable with it. I'm willing to discuss this.
- Secondaries
Secondary relationships are relationships that, by definition,
take a back seat to the primary relationship. No secondary
relationship should be started without a great deal of
discussion.
- Scheduling
I'll admit that we haven't done a bang up job of this in the
past. Primary partners should know what is happening in each
other's lives, and should also have something resembling "right
of first refusal" on vacant nights. This doesn't mean that we
should all be busy all the time. I, for one, like a vacant
night now and again.
Regardless, secondaries and potential secondaries shouldn't
slip into the schedule without discussion. It's not that
secondaries should just get the leftovers, but there should be
some agreement on how much time they do get.
- Other Primaries
I don't believe that any of us can have other primary
relationships without devaluing the relationship that we have.
If we come to a point where we have other relationships that
are as important as this one, I think we actually need to
address whether this is really the primary relationship.
- The Veto
I think the veto exists, but there's a difference between a
veto and saying "I'm uncomfortable with X". I also think that
falling to use a veto when you believe one is necessary is a
mistake, and that if we ever come to a situation where a veto
is more than a rare occurrence, that there is something basic
going wrong with the relationship and that it should be
discussed.
A lot of what this boils down to is the three most important
rules of polyamory (Communicate, Communicate, Communicate) and
that these rules should be obeyed before things happen rather
than afterwards.
|
|
| Clueless guys. |
[24 Apr 2003|05:00pm] |
I always leave my chat client on, and I have a nice picture on Yahoo along with a profile that says that I'm only interested in dating women. It's not, strictly speaking, true. Once or twice a day, a clueless guy tries to chat me up. This was the log of one of the latest.
I'm beginning to think if someone can't type a full sentence, they're not worth the effort. But then, this guy wasn't worth the effort anyway.
( The conversation... )
|
|
| Dropping things. |
[22 Apr 2003|11:17am] |
|
I'm dropping a few folks off my "friends" list. It's not that I don't like you it's that I can't keep up. Please don't take it personally!
|
|
| Catching Up |
[20 Apr 2003|09:59pm] |
It's Sunday night, I'm exhausted, and I feel like sleeping. I almost dozed off a couple hours ago, but I decided to try to catch up my journal instead. It's been months, I know. A lot has changed, almost all for the better, but I've been insanely busy and insanely stressed. Everything's finally settling down, so I'm writing now.
First off, I'm "engaged" -- as much as two women, one of whom is still married, and both of whom are closely involved with a third woman can be engaged. It happened the day after Valentine's day. It might have happened on V day itself, but I was spending time with B that evening. The fifteenth was a saturday and I'd swear I actually got out and did some skydiving that day. LWSRN carted us both up to the city for an overnight in a hotel and dinner at Millenium, where we'd had our first date together a couple years ago.
We stopped at the hotel before dinner. It was one of those lovely old hotels that dot San Francisco that have tiny rooms with high ceilings. I'm a bit fuzzy on the order of things. I'd had at least one drink, but I remember taking a shower and starting to get dressed. I think I'd just dried my hair and come out of the bathroom. The bed was strewn with rose petals. She took me over to the edge of the bed, sat me down, got down on her knees and started groping under the bed for something.
I had a pretty clear idea what she was intending, and said "oh no you don't!" over and over, but I didn't mean it. I'll admit I'm still gleeful over it. She'd tried to propose a couple times last year, but I'd turned her down. Last August (at least I think it was August), when we were in Las Vegas, I told her if she ever tried again that I'd accept. I'd pretty much decided she was never going to do it again, but she did.
In the time since we bought our house together, I've sold my cozy little house in the hills. I miss it, but the new house feels like home. We'd been looking at houses off and on for months, but decided it was too soon. I don't remember what got into me, but one day I suggested we look at a particular house, and LWSRN just took off and ran with it. We looked at far too many houses. We had money constraints. We had geographical constraints, and we had space constraints. All in all it looked like it wasn't going to happen, but eventually the right house just kind of fell into our laps.
Buying a house can be traumatic. Selling a house can be traumatic. Moving can be traumatic. All three, plus an added bonus move, plus dealing with two houses worth of stuff has been a bit much. I think we got a bit snappish towards the end, but we've been moved and settled for a couple months now, and I think everyone's calmed down.
There was also the breakup between LWSRN and B. They've reconciled, but even so at first it looked like she wouldn't be comfy having B in her house as often as B visited me. Then she got a bit resentful of B as a presumed visiting princess (with no obligations). In practice, B just came visiting and pitched in to help around the house, and didn't push LWSRN out of my bed -- it's a bit cosy for three, but we've gotten used to it. The only remaining issue is the amount of noise B and I can sometimes make when we're having private bedroom time. We're considering replacing the bedroom doors with something a little more solid and soundproof.
Recently the tables have turned a bit. I've had my round of troubles with B and LWSRN has been supporting her and pushing for B and I to salvage things. I thing B and I have things worked out. At least we've started to work things out. I think we probably need to write down some of our assumptions about how our relationship works. We've now made it past the one year mark. That's a positive sign. Very few people have managed to put up with me for quite so long.
The remaning stresses in life are work related. Doing software for a startup gets that way sometimes. I used to tell folks that I wasn't paid to take the kind of crap that comes up, but I've discovered, much to my chagrin, that these days I am. It beats the alternatives, I guess.
So what with selling my house and paying half a mortgage rather than a whole one, my expenses are down, and debt I expected to to take five years to pay off has vanished. I'm debtless, have a lovely home for me and my cats, get to spend more time with LWSRN and have gotten closer to B. Life seems to be slowing down and looking up.
Now if I could just find more time for writing and skydiving...
|
|
| Quick Update |
[24 Jan 2003|03:49pm] |
Sometimes things change fast. Too fast. Fast enough to make my head spin. And it's still spinning. LWSRN and B are no longer seeing each other, and LWSRN and I just bought a house together. A very strange combination of affairs. I'm still trying to figure out how much impact one event will have on the other.
I have tried to stay out of the middle of the break up, but it's been difficult, since I am a confidant of both of them. They both read my journal too, so I'm not sure how much I should say. It's evident to me that they still have a relationship with each other, and that they still care deeply for each other. I don't really understand what all the noise and fuss is about. Maybe it's about the sex -- there isn't any. The only other thing it could be about is labels. I'm coming to the conclusion that when each of them uses some words (like "relationship") that they don't always know what the word means to the other person. It's quite frustrating to watch, but I'm guessing that it would be more frustrating if I tried to wade in and do something about it.
Now I'm seeing both of them, but they are no longer seeing each other. In a month or so LWSRN and I will be sharing a house, and I will, no doubt, bring B home on occassion. Peachy. I had some worries about this, but LWSRN seems to have had some sort of epiphany about the strength of our relationship and has stopped worrying quite so much.
The house is lovely. We had to bid for it and came out on top by just a few thousand dollars. The house seems a bit small, but it's been very well taken care of. Virtually every sort of upgrade we could think of has already been done, though the ceiling fans have just got to go. Some of the wall paper is a bit to country cute too, but that's a real easy fix. Oh, and we have to rip the carpet out of the bedrooms -- carpet collects cat hair and is a maintenance problem... and the "popcorn ceilings" haveto go. Okay, maybe there's a bit of work, but it's all simple stuff.
Now it's just a matter of getting cats, clocks (I collect them), and personal possessions all organized for moving. I'm not looking forward to the next few weeks.
|
|
| Christmas |
[03 Jan 2003|04:23pm] |
It's the start of a new year, but I'm still exhausted from December. I didn't really get any journaling done, but that doesn't mean it was uneventful. In many ways the month has just left me speechless.
First off, I did see the gastroenterologist. He basically told me not to worry too much about the tummy pain I've been having. He made a really mundane guess as to what the real problem was, and I'm almost embarrassed to admit he was right. I've had two close relatives with colon
cancer in the past few years -- one of whom died. Can you blame me for a bit of paranoia?
I've been off work for the past couple weeks. You'd think I'd have had plenty of time to relax, but things have just been non-stop. Perhaps it's a case of Christmas interruptis.
Christmas Eve was a big production for LWSRN and B (formerly R) and me. LWSRN decided that B would have lamb for dinner and asked me to pick up a rack of lamb. I bitched a bit about this, partially because I'm vegetarian myself, and partially because a rack is such a pain. I suggested she try a leg instead. I guess she didn't have any idea how much meat she was asking for in the first place. B and I took care of making dinner and LWSRN didn't see the leg until I pulled it out of the
oven. She was shocked. It turns out she hadn't intended to have any of the lamb herself and we were just cooking for B. In the end, B took the whole thing home with her. I just had ravioli, which was a luxury for me, since I usually stay away from starch of any sort.
It was a quiet night, both their daughters were off with their fathers, and we'd all decided to put off our real Christmas until New Years Eve. LWSRN spent the night and Christmas morning was one of those weird experiences for me. There was a tremendous amount of dissonance. The two
of us just treated it like any other morning, and it seemed so wrong.
We spent a bit of the afternoon with L's family and sat on the edge of the vast sea of presents that they always exchange. We brought a few gifts and received a few gifts, but as much as L's family is still mine, they're not really, and this still wasn't Christmas. We escaped and visited a few friends of LWSRN's who were having a party that evening. We sat and talked and drank a bit until people started to leave. It was nice, but the day was not what I'm used to for Christmas.
The next day we took a quick run down to Monterey to visit other friends of hers who were visiting from Europe. Maybe we should have stayed longer -- overnight just made the whole thing seem so busy, and didn't give us any time to ourselves.
"Christmas" itself didn't arrive for a few more days. The morning of New Year's Eve just kind of snuck up on me. I think by the time it happened that I'd been waiting for so long that the excitement had just drained out of me. Of course, that also meant folding the whole New Years Eve
thing in to the same day.
Ah well. The past couple days have been the first one's I've had to myself. I can't say I've done much with them, but maybe that's the point.
|
|
| Donut Eats Woman |
[12 Dec 2002|08:55pm] |
A few weeks ago I was dealing with some pretty nasty abdominal pain. It went on day and night and by Friday evening LWSRN and B were almost begging me to go to the emergency room. I can't remember what time I got there, but they let me go at about 4:30 in the morning. While I was there they gave me an IV with something for the pain (and gods know what else), and took some blood tests.
The final diagnosis was "colitis" which, best I can tell, means "your abdomen hurts and we don't know why." Between the pain killers and other things, I was able to sleep, and though my tummy was sensitive for days, the pain went away. The did notice that my "liver functions" were abnormal, alarmingly so, and suggested I get to my doctor as soon as possible.
Which I did. We had a nice little hepatitis scare, but it was all a false alarm. I am getting vaccinated for Hep A and B, but only because I'm in a high risk group -- I'm not monogamous. Anyway, at first I thought the tummy troubles were gone. But I've had several shorter recurring bouts over the past month.
I saw Dr. M again yesterday and told him about it. I expected a short appointment. I planned to go back to work afterwards. He poked and prodded and wasn't quite sure of what he found. He called over to the to the other medical building and found the cat scanner had a vacant slot. Right about the time I was planning to get back to the office, I found myself drinking about a liter of "contrast" and getting into a hospital gown.
I had a cat scan of my neck years ago. It was a simple procedure on a small machine. I was not ready for a huge metal donut about the size of my living room. Nor was I ready for the articulated arm that hung out of the ceiling looking like an alien laser, or the ... bag.
The odd arm ended up being the strangest IV I've ever had, and the bag, well, you know. I laid down on the bed and it levered me up and into the donut. My first thought was "Donut eats woman." There was a little window in the thing so I could watch as the magnets spun around in side and the whole machine gently rocked back and forth. It was unnerving.
They didn't find anything out of place. You might think that's good news, and maybe it is, but next week I've got an appointment with a gastroenterologist with a camera on a very long cord. Let's hope he doesn't find anything unexpected either.
|
|
| Last Wednesday |
[13 Nov 2002|09:30pm] |
Last Wednesday R tried to commit suicide. This wasn't a feeble cry for help, this was a full on attempt -- the sort you don't wake up from. Usually there are warning signs. Things you can look back on and say "Why didn't I notice?" But not this time; not with her.
LWSRN had been going on recently about how well R had been doing. I sensed that she was hiding some portion of her life from me, but I hadn't a clue what it was. I knew that she'd stopped talking about her relationship, however distant, with K. I knew that she'd been hiding her emotional state from me -- A gate had come down somewhere, but that was almost old news.
We'd had problems the night before. We'd gone out with her daughter, V, and I'd been very irritable. Sometimes a 6 year old in public is more than I can deal with. I have no children of my own, but I have rather strong opinions about how they should be handled. R has opinions too, and they are different. I felt myself getting irrationally angry, and I decided to cancel the rest of the evening. I tried to say as little as possible about it, because V was in the car with us, and I really didn't want to lay it all on her -- my anger, my problem.
R didn't take this well. She spent most of the evening on the phone with LWSRN, I think. Eventually I called her, and it just made things worse. She pushed me to talk and every difficulty I have with her came spilling out. We hung up eventually, without solving a thing. We exchanged several long, rational, and thoughtful letters the next day. I haven't a clue what I said or what she said, but I was comfortable with the interchange. It did not feel like the world was ending.
But it must have, to her. If I've heard right, she spent about 6 hours on the phone with K that night. Sometime during that she took a couple hundred pills -- Tylenol, aspirin, some pain killers I gave her for her occasional migraine, and half a bottle of Jack Daniels. She stumbled around her studio apartment knocking things over and waking V, who just watched. At some point she collapsed naked in a pool of her own vomit on the bathroom floor.
I knew none of this. LWSRN was spending the night with me and a call at 11:30 woke us out of a sound sleep. I was groggy, waking up is kind of hard for me. S was on the phone (K's partner), she was telling me that R had taken a lot of pills. I have no idea how S got my number, she must have gone through the phone listings for all the towns near San Francisco to track me down. She and K live on the east coast. Somehow the next step had escaped her. LWSRN called 911, and we both threw on clothes and ran out the door for the 35 minute drive to R's.
We double parked behind the three police cruisers, the fire engine and the ambulance.The paramedics were in the process of carrying her down the stairs from her apartment. Grey green vomit was smeared across her face. She was not conscious. No one was saying things like "she'll be okay..." They all looked grim.
Calling R's living space an apartment is overstating things. It's a closet with a stove and a toilet. Into this space she'd shoved two beds and all the bits of her life and her daughter's. It was cramped. There were still several policemen wandering around. V was still sitting in the middle of her bed, not making a sound. I sat with V while LWSRN tried to gather everything that might be needed from the apartment. We both talked to the police.
The doctors tell us that it was the Jack Daniels that saved her. She'd drunk enough that she vomited up some of the pills. Even so, they wouldn't tell us that she was going to make it for about 12 hours. The Tylenol could have easily destroyed her liver -- it took days for it all to get out of her system.
R tells me "It wasn't supposed to be this way," and I wonder just how was it supposed to be. I ask her about her daughter. V was awake for the whole thing. Her mom stumbling around the room woke her. V was there when she passed out on the floor, and was there when the police tore the door off its hinges. This is going to be hard for her. It would have been harder if R hadn't lived. R doesn't seem concerned, telling me that V had "her own path to follow" -- whatever that means.
It's not over. I'm not convinced that she won't try again. She was pretty honest about her feelings on the matter, though once the psychiatrists got involved, she started singing a different tune. It looks like she's going to be in for "observation" for a couple weeks. What happens after that is anyone's guess.
I don't know what I should do. I feel blackmailed by the whole thing. She left a note, saying it wasn't my fault. I know it wasn't, but this has certainly messed with my head. It's been a week and I'm still numb, but it's starting to turn into anger.
|
|
| Not quite working... |
[31 Oct 2002|03:45pm] |
So I should probably be working right now. But I'm not, or at least not working much. It's been one hell of a month and has included a nasty little ER visit and the occasional bits of drama. I don't much feel like writing, but I wanted to let you all know that I haven't forgotten you (or my journal).
I just came back from taking a couple days off -- a 'nice' four day weekend. It was forced time off, since my company has discovered that having a lot of PTO on the books is a liability. Everyone in the company had to take four days off during the quarter, and I only got two in. Rather than losing them, I took them on really short notice and didn't have any special plans.
The weekend started with the ER trip. I'd been having bad pains in my stomach for a few days, and it got to the point where I couldn't deal. I paged my doctor in the middle of the night and he sent me off to the ER. They put me on an IV, pumped me full of morphine and such and did some blood tests. The morphine was very welcome. First time in days that I hadn't been in pain. The diagnosis was colitis, which sounds a lot like "we don't know" to me, but the pain was gone. They put me on clear liquids for a couple days and everything went back to normal.
The blood tests weren't quite so good though. They said I had "elevated liver functions" and should see my doctor right away. I haven't seen him yet -- that's next week. But it's frightening. It could be several things, some worse than others. It could be the low carbohydrate diet that I've been following for a couple years (I've stopped it now). It could be the never ending hormone therapy I'm on, or it could be the guy with Hepatitis C that I saw for a little while... I hope it's not the Hep C; it's about as curable as AIDS, though not quite so lethal. So I'm on pins and needles, so to speak, for a bit until I find out.
The rest of life is quiet at the moment. R and LWSRN were having a bit of trouble recently. I'd wondered if they were going to stop seeing one another. It would have made my life rather difficult, but such things happen. It may have been adding a bit to my stress level. It might still be, since I'm not clear if they've really resolved everything. My depression has kind of leveled out. It's not great, but it's not that bad. With a bit more sleep it might improve -- who knows?
Feeling bad usually keeps me from getting things done, but the time off was pretty productive. Without plans, I didn't have much to do, so I focused on the house for the first time in a long while. I never really fully moved in last year, and LWSRN actually did a large chunk of what moving in there was. The garage was still full of boxes, which is unfortunate, because there's still a storage locker full of stuff of mine and L's sitting waiting to be unloaded (and costing L money). Now there's someplace to put it all.
I also did a lot of cleaning and moved the TV out of the bedroom. I bought a nice table to put it on in the living room. It makes more sense to have it in the living room, but it's a small space and that just makes it look smaller. I really have to move the bookcases, but that means moving some of the antique clocks and the buffet, and... well it's just a cascading situation. I may actually own too much furniture for the house. Or the wrong furniture. I still don't have tables for a few of the lamps to sit on.
|
|
| Geeking |
[04 Oct 2002|12:19pm] |
It's been a month. Lots of things have happened. My emotional stability has been up and down. Right now it's up. My doctor tweaked my medication, and now I feel pretty good about things. It's sad to depend on medicine for my emotional stability, but it beats the alternatives.
Last night was a good example of how much better I am. I'm getting things done. Two weeks ago my web server crashed. It's nothing special in terms of web servers, but Bigrock's been on the air since 1996 -- before most people even knew the internet existed. Until two weeks ago, it had been in it's second hardware incarnation. Now it's on it's third.
It seems that the transition always happens in crisis. In both cases, the hardware was old and slow and the hard disk was failing. This time I tried to prepare. I'd been building it's replacement. Slowly getting the parts and putting them together to make sure they worked. Bigrock got the best of me though, and ate it's hard disk about a week before I was ready.
What followed was about 3 days of hell -- trying to salvage the hard disk and set up the new configuration in a way that would work. Two weeks later I'm still tweaking it, but I'm happy with the way it's working. Bigrock's always run some flavor of Linux, but this time I built it up from scratch rather than using someone else's. It's not the sort of thing anyone but another geek would understand, but I'm quite proud of it.
In the process of putting things back together, I've been pulling a "Six Million Dollar Man" -- I've been rebuilding it better than before. It now has a big hard disk, big enough for all the MP3 files that I've been ripping from my CDs. I've also finally gotten around to hooking up my ancient laser printer.
Hooking up the printer should have been easy, but it turned into a three hour long marathon. First I installed networking software to allow the computer to share its printer, and then I tried to print a test page. No dice. I tried just about every variation of the configuration before I got it to work. It was a loose cable. *sigh*
I've been pretty immersed in getting things running and haven't paid much attention to anything else, including writing, but I think I'm just about done. Tomorrow we're having a "10 way speedstar" competition at the drop zone. We're shooting for second to last place, being mostly newcomers.
Anyway, enough of the geeking.
|
|
| Talk about stress |
[04 Sep 2002|08:34pm] |
|
Sometimes the pressure wont let up. Sometimes it seems like it wont ever
let up. Sometimes that seems like an optimistic attitude.
LWSRN and I went to Las Vegas to visit my grandmother a couple weeks ago.
We had a lovely time. We saw the Blue Man Group at the Luxor -- she was
sure I was laughing so hard that i was going to fall out of my chair. We
got a bit of sight seeing in, and we even found the local bar for
women. I went to high school in Las Vegas, and after I got out of
college, worked there for ten years. After a while it loses its glitter,
and it's growing at such a rate, but I still know my way around... sort
of.
Work was on overload when I came back. It's been whacked for weeks. I'm
project lead this time around, and everyone's been so vocal about the
importance of this project. You'd think that they want it to succeed,
wouldn't you? Then why do they keep changing things? How can you hit a
target that keeps moving? This is the soul of stress. I've been on
medicine for depression for a few months now, but it's all leaking
through and I feel like a zombie most of the time. But I'm still working,
and that matters right now. It'll be over soon, it has to be.
And then I got this email. From my sister. You know, the one I haven't
talked to in years and tried to start a dialog with? It had been a month
since I wrote to her, and I was pretty sure I'd just been blown off.
She'd written to tell me my grandmother had taken an emergency ride to
the hospital. Of my family, only my grandmother had my phone number, and
I think the only way anyone would have had to contact me was via the US
Postal Service... except I wrote that letter.
My father's girlfriend, E, still had L's phone number, and called her the
next day. Even though L had to move when we sold the house, she got to
keep her phone number (but it's been a year). E had to tell L that she
and my father weren't avoiding me and the lack of contact had nothing to
do with what's happened in my life. I believe her. I've had so little
contact with my father over the last 25 years that there's nothing to
wonder about. I did think it was interesting that even though she had my
phone number after that call that she still followed up with L.
But I did find out, and I talked to my grandmother, and even at the
glorious old age of 93, she had surgery and survived. I talked with her
often, and some how, even though my father was in town taking care of
her, he was never around. I'm not sure, but I think I might have been
relieved by that fact.
Through all of this LWSRN and I have been trying to find a house to buy.
We're going to move in together. Nevermind that she's still in the middle
of a horrendously messy divorce, and I'll need to sell my beloved house
to make this happen. We're certain.
|
|
| Skydiving's Ruined Me |
[13 Aug 2002|12:59pm] |
|
It has, really. I spent the weekend down in Santa Cruz with LWSRN, and we
went to the board walk. I haven't been on a roller coaster for years and
she made a bee line for the biggest one there. Now I haven't been on one
in years, and the last time I was on one was nearly a disaster -- I'd
been on medication that was making me dizzy, and my lunch nearly had an
out of body experience.
When I was a kid, they terrified me. Screaming terrified. I wanted to go
on the little kids' roller coasters, even years after I was tall enough
for the big ones. My mother and stepfather teased and cajoled, not quite
forcing me to go, but embarrassing the hell out of me. It was not a good
experience.
As an adult I avoided them. Then one year in my mid 20's, I was at a
computer convention, and they'd gotten us night passes to Disneyland. I
really don't know what got into me. I know their coasters are mild, but I
went and rode all of them. That's all I did. Then I went home and bragged
to Chris, who was kind of peeved at not having been there when it
happened.
I started hunting them out at amusement parks, because I knew I could
ride them. But I was always somewhat stiff and rigid during the ride. So
stiff I couldn't have screamed if I'd wanted. Okay, maybe I didn't really
enjoy them, but I could ride them. Then, with the medication, I had to
stop. It took the joy out of amusement parks. I haven't had to deal with
meds like that for about three years now and have wondered if I'd get
queasy-dizzy if I tried again. But I've been skydiving for a year and a
half, and I just haven't had the time.
So there we were on this big old wooden roller coaster. LWSRN gripping
the bar tight and me just casually leaning back. The sudden turns were a
bit annoying, but it has nothing on falling out of a plane and swooping
into a formation of skydivers, or on landing under a couple hundred
square feet of nylon.
Since I wasn't panicked or even excited by the whole thing, I took the
time to tease LWSRN through the ride. She had a death grip on the bar,
and was screaming -- it didn't look completely like enjoyment, but when
it was over, we did it again, and again.
Some of you've noticed that I'm not writing as often as I used to.
There's a reason for it -- I've been fighting a bout of depression
recently. It's something I've lived with my whole life and I've
discovered that talking about it is just not the best thing. So I get
quiet instead. Anyway, the nice doctors have me on happy drugs again, and
I'm feeling more myself, and life's beginning to go on. Never be afraid
to ask for help. Never be afraid to take it.
This weekend I'm off for Las Vegas. It's a family thing -- I'll tell you
all about it when I get back
|
|
| My Sister |
[25 Jul 2002|08:25pm] |
My sister's birthday is Saturday. We haven't lived in the same house now for 25 years, since she was 12 and I was 14. It was, an awkward time for us to go our separate ways -- that age when siblings are probably at their worst to each other. I don't think we ever got along. Oh, it was never anything big, just the usual things between brother and sister.
Brother and sister -- that seems so odd now, but I was raised as a boy. Who knew differently? I always felt that she lured me into trouble, and I'm sure she always felt I was bullying her. I don't really know, though; we've never talked about it. Even at that age I was sunk into depression, and to my eyes, she was wrapped up in trying to express herself.
It's possible my memories of life with our father are warped by the depression and anger that surrounded me then, but I don't think so. We lived with alone with him. He was often gone for a good portion of the weekend and always seemed to be angry when he was home. The only times I remember him being kind where those rare occasions when he wasn't seeing anyone and was drunk (which was not so rare).
He expected the two of us to take care of the house on our own, and cook for him. This had gone one since we "moved in" with him at the ages of 10 and 11. That's a story in itself. We were living with our mother in another state. She'd had a horrible accident, which left us and our stepfather coping on our own. Our father's mother came out to help. I'm really unclear on this, but I remember our mother and stepfather insisting to the school on an earlier visit that that was not allowed to pick us up alone.
With reason it seems. These days there's a great deal of uproar over "Interstate Child Abduction" by non-custodial parents. Back then, no one noticed. She took us to her son, and helped him with us a bit, and then went back to her husband, who was very sick himself. I'm convinced our father never really wanted us there. He's said the courts in his state had awarded him custody, and the state that our mother lived in was not honoring that. That may be the case. I don't know the details, but it all seemed like spite. He had money and she didn't. It was never disputed. But she was also half dead in a hospital bed the last time we saw her.
My sister wanted to run back to our mother, who couldn't even recognize us through the trauma of the car accident when we were spirited away. She convinced me to help her, and we took what money we could find, and left together one night. We got half a mile or so before my fear got the better of me, and I talked her into turning around. She was so very good at getting what she wanted, but this time she didn't.
It was probably for the best too. We were being raised in poverty. The chances of either of us getting anywhere in life were so slim, and years later she told me of things that happened between our stepfather and her. (It's another story, but 15 years after we were taken, I served him his divorce papers. Things might have been different if I'd known then.)
When I was 14, I was sent off rather suddenly to live with my grandmother. Neither my sister nor I got along well with my father, and it had come to a critical point with me. The state was becoming involved, and it was very convenient for me to be living elsewhere. Suddenly. Without notice. I think I was given an hour or two to pack. A period where the phones in the house suddenly stopped working.
And I was gone. I saw her briefly when I came back months later for the rest of my stuff. Neither of us had any urge to write, and we'd never really learned to talk to each other, so the phone was pointless. We went through high school apart, and then college. At holidays, when our grandmother would talk to our father by phone, we'd talk a little. The only meaningful thing that went between us was her letting me know just how little he thought of me. I think I remember her visiting just once while we were in high school. I tried to set her up with a friend. A mistake, but a small one.
After I was married, I visited her once. She was living with her husband-to-be by then. It was interesting to discover that our musical tastes had merged and we seemed to have more in common than we had before, but it was transitory, and I didn't see them again until their wedding.
And then there's a gap of years. About 9 years ago, our grandmother started trying to hold "family Christmases" every couple years. I arrived early and had lunch with my sister. We actually shared our lives. I was divorced by then, she was enmeshed in a busy life of our own, but we talked about feelings, and hopes, and dreams. Things we'd never talked about. And when I left, we didn't talk for another couple years.
It's been like that. I was one of the first people to know she was pregnant, but only because she discovered this during Christmas when we were all together. Our grandmother's given me regular updates over the years, and I'm sure she gives my sister updates as well. During another Christmas we shared a bit about mutual battles with depression, a bonding moment, but one that was never followed up on.
Recently my "changes" have given her a bit of trouble, I think. Her husband has taken it well, but he and I have always gotten along. The last time I had any contact with her was her birthday last year. I sat down and wrote, by hand, a long letter. A chatty letter. A letter talking about what was going on in my life. I know she appreciated it -- our grandmother told me she did.
This year, though I'm already late for the mail, I think I'm going to do more than that. She's going to get a letter, all right, but she's also going to get an email address, and a request for further contact. Our grandmother will not always be there. If we're not going to drift off our separate ways, it's going to be because we've tried.
|
|
| Moulin Rouge |
[15 Jul 2002|09:09pm] |
Friday night R, LWSRN and I went to a special showing of Moulin Rouge at the Castro Theater in San Francisco. I left work a tiny bit early and LWSRN met me at my house and we went together to R's new apartment in San Francisco. She'd prodded us to dress up for the event and I wore a little black dress and spike heels. I got changed before we drove up, LWSRN waited to change at R's.
I was a bit punchy and depressed. I haven't been getting enough sleep lately and that always makes depression worse. We were going to have dinner with R and a friend of hers. Her friend had to work late and decided to meet us at the theater. R was too stressed out to eat, so LWSRN and I had a nice salad that R'd put together and a glass of wine while she and R got dressed. D put on a tux shirt I'd lent her, and some nice black slacks. R wore a lovely red dress that was half transparent and sparkled all over. She also wore some full length red PVC gloves.
We drove over to the Castro theater about 45 minutes before the show and LWSRN gallantly decided to drop us off and park the car. R and I stood in the first of two lines (tickets and then door). Lines and spike heels just don't mix. My feet ached. It was cold, but at least I'd expected that and was wearing my leather top coat. I think we were probably in the lines for 40 minutes. R's friend was held up further and we were in the theater sitting before she arrived.
I'd never been in the Castro theater before. Never mind that I've been in the area for 12 years now, I just never got there. It's a marvelous place. There was a huge organ playing when we first sat down, and the theater was downright baroque in its magnificence. But by then, I was a bit out of it. Tired, very tired, and sore too.
Eventually the movie started. I'd never seen Moulin Rouge before. It was distorted, choppy, and the sound was out of sequence, almost like being on drugs. But then I felt almost drugged before it started. It'd been running for about 15 minutes before they stopped the film. It seemed that there'd been a silent film festival that afternoon, and they hadn't gotten the projector adjusted right. They started the film over about 15 minutes later.
I'm not sure what I was expecting, but it was not what I got. Snatches of modern song woven together against a century old backdrop, pounding base beats, and at times percussion almost worthy of the industrial music I love. Mind you, I like many sorts of music. It was entrancing. The photography had an almost fairy tale look to it, and the scenes moved as dreams do.
I want to put this aside for a moment. I've mentioned my depression a number of times. I don't get suicidal any longer, that passed one night about a decade ago when I got close enough to it to think about some of the consequences and realize that no matter how desperate life got, the alternative wasn't worth considering. Even so, when I get depressed, two things happen: I get clumsy and have weird accidents, and I keep having these mental flashes of hurting myself. They're more irritating than anything else. They give me some idea of the shape I'm in emotionally.
Anyway, here we were, in the middle of this movie, and the zooming of the camera between scenes was mesmerizing, and all of the sudden I have this flash of being in a skydive and not opening my parachute. Just this experience of rushing towards the ground, like the camera was rushing towards a building. It gave me pause. It scared me. The first thing I did was ask myself if I needed to stop skydiving.
But I remembered some of the other little flashes I get. When I'm driving and going over one of the arching curved freeway overpasses they're fond of here, I get flashes of not turning with the curve of the road and just going out over the edge. But I never do. This couldn't be any worse than that, could it?
I was a bit nervous for the rest of the film. I love it and want to get a copy for myself. The music is still rolling through my head days later -- do I need the sound track as well?
Saturday came too early, and I always jump Saturday. I got to the dropzone very late, because I'd had to turn around once to get LWSRN's spare car keys to her. She'd left her keys at R's apartment the night before and there's no longer reasonable mass transit on the weekends on the San Francisco peninsula. It was getting close to noon by the time I was ready to jump. I checked everything twice, and asked for a recheck by other divers. I kept having those little flashes, but I jumped, I pulled, and everything was fine.
I wonder what it's like to not feel depressed. To feel normal. To not have to watch my every move...
|
|
| Pussycat, pussycat, where have you been? |
[01 Jul 2002|04:29pm] |
I'd planned on making a journal post to explain my absence last Thursday, but I never quite found the time before I left town. I took my computer with me to Lake Tahoe so I could do a journal entry in my spare time, but there wasn't any.
For the most part, I haven't been posting lately because I've been depressed. Fifteen years ago I was diagnosed with Chronic Major Depression. It'd been going on then for almost fifteen years, and I'm only 39 years old. I think it's safe to say that depression's been a major force in my life. It comes and goes these days, I'd been off medication for a couple years and was coping pretty well, but it hit with a vengeance about two months ago. I struggled for a bit with it, but eventually my lovers (both worried) convinced me I needed to Do Something about it.
So last week I went to the doctor who's handled my anti-depressants in the past and we worked out just what I'd be taking. You might wonder why I'm going directly for the drugs -- I've had a lot of therapy, and though it's done wonders for me in some areas, it doesn't seem to do much for my depression. So my doctor loaded me up with enough Wellbutrin samples to keep me going for a few weeks, and we'll see what happens.
One thing that's happened is I've got jitters like I've had ten cups of coffee. Well, at least the laundry's getting folded now. And I've got this strange urge to clean out the garage (yeah, I should go lay down until it goes away...).
But that's not what I wanted to write about. I spent most of the last decade living with L -- it would have been ten years this coming October 11th. We stopped viewing ourselves as a couple two years ago, shortly after my final gender related surgery. It's no coincidence, though friends have always teased her about her sort of passive bisexuality, she's straight, and I'm a girl now. Last summer we sold the house and with a promise to stay in touch, went our separate ways. We did keep in touch, after a fashion. Originally the idea was to have a "movie night" or something once a week. We never quite got to movies, but we did have dinner. Once a week became more than her schedule could handle and we dropped back to once every couple of weeks, and then "tax season" happened (she's an accountant), and she ran out of time all together.
We never did quite manage to put things back together. Tax season's been over a couple months, and it's been about half a year since we'd even managed to have dinner together. Two years ago, we went to Lake Tahoe to try to figure out how things were going to go. She'd been having problems with our relationship, I'd volunteered to shelve anything sexual a couple months before, and we were going to take the weekend and have a good time. We'd crossed wires somewhere and she'd though that this meant trying the whole sexual end of things again -- something she initiated, much to my surprise.
It went badly. She was all kinds of stressed over it, and I had to stop things so we could talk after a little bit. This was the end of our Relationship (with a capital 'R'). We were both polyamorous and had some fantasies about keeping things going without a sexual connection. We shared a house, and shared many parts of our lives, and we were mostly comfortable with this.
In the end this was Not To Be, as the man she was seeing -- J -- slowly took center stage and eventually moved in with us. I think J had issues with me. I know he never saw me as a woman (he's said so). On top of that, I think he's always worried that L might change her mind about me. I know that he's jealous of the small amounts of time she has spent with me. Anyway, the three of us in a house together was not a recipe for success, and eventually we sold it.
So L and I just went up to Tahoe to spend the weekend again. It was light, and pleasant. She's not one for words on most occasions, and certainly doesn't want to analyze her feelings, but we hit on a few highlights of our relationship and how we got where we are. For me there was a bit of melancholy. We've certainly both changed. We seem to be great company for each other too, but we've lost the bits of what was between us that we were trying to save. I think or feelings for each other could best be described as "sisterly" at this point.
On the way back to drop her off, we stopped at her office so she could pick some things up. I sat with her while she gathered everything. I looked at the certificates on the walls, the clutter of a successful accountant and I was sad. I put her through college -- she was managing a theater when we met. I teasingly called her my retirement plan, because she was going to be a success. Well she is one. And I'm not in her life. At least much.
We probably talk more about each other than to each other, but we made noises about spending more time together as we parted. She can't spare the time to visit me, but she's open to me visiting her new house. When she mentioned all this to J, the look on his face was... well, it wasn't amused. We'll see what happens.
|
|
| Long weekend |
[17 Jun 2002|12:33pm] |
Gods, I feel like I've been away from the office for months. I'm utterly out of sync. Perhaps it's just that I relaxed for a few days, but maybe I'm just noticing something that's been there for a while...
Thursday night I went, with a lover, to a gathering for a personals site I belong to. I'm not sure quite why I was going. I'm not sure why I check into their chat room either. One of my lover's has observed that the more turmoil there is in my relationships (good or bad), the more time I spend in dating chatrooms. I'm not allergic to finding a date, but I can't say I'm really looking. As it was, there were a number of folks who wanted to meet me, and I just wanted to get out.
I took the lover-who-shall-remain-nameless (it's so awkward talking about my life and not mentioning some people) with me and we ended up at a restaurant in Sunnyvale. There were several huge tables of people in the bar, some of whom I had already met. Nothing clicked. Nothing. Nil. Zip. Nada. Gods, that was so depressing. We took seats at the end of one of the tables, I ordered the most disappointing martini I've ever had in a bar (Note to Self: Never order a martini in a Mexican restaurant), and she ordered a margarita that was a bit stiff. We ordered food and sat and people watched.
This went on for about fifteen minutes. We had occasional small talk and introductions to others from the group when the most amazing couple walked in. I don't know which of us spotted them first, but they were both mouth watering. And here we were, dressed like a couple suburban women who just got off work. LWSRN nagged me a bit for not dressing for the event -- I'm not sure whether she had the motorcycle leathers or the corsets in mind, but either would have been a bit more impressive than the whatever-is-clean outfit I was wearing.
As luck would have it, they sat down right across from us. LWSRN started whispering to me about how uninteresting we must appear in an rather ironic way. This was kind of disappointing to me. Even though I wasn't overtly looking for new partners, they were quite interesting. Okay, I just imagined they were interesting. We hadn't actually talked. We did eventually start talking (damn my shyness with strangers), and it seemed to me that there was a bit of spark there, especially with Z (the male half of this not-quite couple). Enough of a spark that I got his contact information and wrote him later. What fun! He's written back and we're discussing things, though I'm not clear on just what he might be interested in.
That was just Thursday night. Friday, Saturday, and Sunday were spent at the Loving More conference up at Harbin Hot Springs. It's the third year I've done the conference. The first year I brought L, even though we were no longer intimate. We were still sharing a home and wondering if we could make it work (we couldn't). Last year I went alone, though I'd just started dating LWSRN. This year, I brought my triad. Three years, three relationship configurations. I hope that isn't an indication of what next year will bring.
LWSRN is new to all this, and both R and I hoped she'd get something out of the weekend. I think she did. There was lots of talking about communicating within a relationship, and lots of examples of what relationships can look like. We cut quite a swath, I think. Same sex triads seem to be rather rare, and cuddly affectionate ones even more so. A number of people just had to tell us how wonderful we were.
Well, we're back, we're exhausted, and this isn't much of a journal entry. I'll have more yummy stuff later. B and I have a date tonight...
|
|
| Tea |
[05 Jun 2002|09:21pm] |
I didn't start out a tea drinker. I started out with coffee. I remember being about 11 years old, living in a trailer in a trailer park in Kansas with my mom. One afternoon all the adults were having coffee and I wanted some too. I guess it was more about being an adult than anything else. She let me have a cup of coffee and I put a lot of that powdered faux cream stuff in it. The results were so sickening that I really don't remember having coffee again until I was in my early 20's.
But there was tea. At first there there was only your standard american tea. It always described itself as "orange pekoe and pekoe cut tea" -- no matter who made it. When we went to restaurants, which was rarely, I'd always order ice tea, because I knew that it would get refilled. When it was cold, or I was spending time with my grandmother, there'd always be hot tea with lemon. Always that orange stuff though, though the tea looked this wondrous shade of reddish brown.
When I was twelve, through a series of rather painful events, my sister and I went back to live with my father. He lived in Boulder, Colorado, the home of "Celestial Seasonings". This was the mid 70's, and the company was just hitting its stride. I have no idea how far they were distributing their teas, but they seemed to be endemic in Boulder. I still liked iced tea a lot, but now, more often than not (at least at my friend's house) it was "Red Zinger". Wow, what a wonderful spin on tea.
So, let's fast forward to the mid 80's. I was just leaving college... Okay, they kicked me out, but I got a decent job anyway. Office life was a rude awakening. After years as a college student, drinking the sorts of things a college student drinks, I was stuck in an office with coffee and water. Yuck! There wasn't much choice, I learned to drink coffee. It took me a while to get used to it though. I tried to be macho and drank it black. I remember getting the shakes from it and not knowing quite why.
I think I spent the next six or seven years bingeing on coffee. You know, getting to the point where I couldn't get work done without it. It got worse when my father for some unknown reason sent me a coffee grinder and some coffee beans for Christmas. (that meant I had to buy a coffee maker, which I'd been avoiding up until then). After a few years of way too much caffeine, I went cold turkey on the coffee and then watched it slowly creep back into my life over the following months.
Shortly after I moved to northern California in the early 90's, I was introduced to Chamomile tea. This was in between coffee binges. It's still my favorite herb tea, and something I'm fond of drinking when I want a hot drink that's not going to get me wired. It's just so relaxing.
And then I discovered espresso. I guess I developed some sort of immunity to the effects of the caffeine. I could sit down and have a couple of "quad" espressos in an evening and have no trouble sleeping at all. Chamomile tea was a rare interlude. I had my fancy espresso machine and I just about ran on the stuff. I also had a cupboard full of teas that I wasn't drinking. Not sure why I kept buying the stuff, but I did.
At some point I got stuck at Harbin Hot Springs on a weekend when their espresso machine was not working. I had a Chai Latte instead. It was the drink of the gods. Rich, creamy, and spicy in ways that made my tongue tingle. Good stuff. Months later I tried to find some of it in a store. It seems to be impossible to find, at least in its raw tea and spices condition. Eventually I came up with a container of "Empire Chai". I bought it and discovered it was bulk tea (and then had to go looking for a "tea ball"). It wasn't quite the same, but it worked. When the light dawned and I started adding cream (not milk) to my tea, it was even better, but still....
Last fall I visited friends outside of Seattle. If you've never been there, it's reputation is completely warranted. It is cold, and it is wet, and it's also the coffee capital of the west. But my friends were tea drinkers. Their house, like (I presume) most houses in Seattle, was cold and just a bit damp. They had this lovely electric tea kettle and it was the easiest thing you could imagine. The wheels in my head started turning and I searched for a nice electric kettle of my own. It sits next to the espresso machine now, which gets used for guests.
I started drinking more and more tea, and slowly rationing out the chai. I discovered a great variation on earl grey that had extra bergamot in it. Mellow, flowery, and quite nice, but not chai. Before the chai was quite gone, I found some "Stash" chai. This was the stuff. It had absolutely perfect flavors. And it looked like I could get it on a regular basis. I bought one box, and I drank it all up.
So today I went back to the store to stock up. I was going to get some for the house and some for work (it's so much better than the earl grey), only to find nothing. Not even a hole where it should have been. And no Empire chai either. I went to another store, nothing there either. Lots of too-sweet bottled chai drink, but no tea. Dammit.
I'm sure it's out there, and when I find it, I'm going to stock up this time. I can't remember the last time I had coffee of any sort, earl grey will do in a pinch, but I'm getting desperate. Tonight after going through the store I came back home and made a nice omelette with Gloucester cheese (the tastiest cheese I can imagine) and Kalamata olives, with Ginger Ale. Sigh
|
|
| Now, where was I? |
[02 Jun 2002|08:59pm] |
It's been a bit of time since I last posted. I've been very busy, and it seems that so many things have been happening that I don't quite know what to write about. The first of them was going to a skydiving boogie out in Lodi for 4 days over the Memorial Day weekend. I stayed in my friend K's motel room while I was out there (she was visiting from Houston). I usually skydive at Lodi, but I always drive home at night. It's 100 miles one way, but when you make the trip only once or twice a week, it's not so big a thing. I've always been suspicious that I miss a lot of fun at the dropzone when I'm not there in the evening. I think that's the cost of having a life.
All I know is I had a grand old time while I was out there. Friday night a bunch of us had a "girls' night out" and found a high class burger joint with a dance floor and a decent bar. We were in luck. It was "$2.00 martini night" and I think we all got a little blitzed. We were kind of surprised at how strong the drinks were. K and I went back to the motel and talked for about an hour before we crashed.
We were up bright and early Saturday, had a nice breakfast and got to the dropzone in time for the second jump. K doesn't actually jump. She tried it for a bit, but it seems to disagree with her sinuses. I jumped all day Saturday, including a rather interesting jump with someone who'd lost the use of his legs. Saturday night we had the bonfire -- a yearly ritual. The beer was flowing, and I ended up flashing several people. It's an old tradition, and I wasn't the only one. I think I surprised a few people though, including my old friend D (not my lover) who K'd come out to see and my rigger (the guy who maintains my gear and packs my reserve parachute). Great fun was had by all, it seems.
Sunday I did a dive with Jan's sister. She's not a skydiver, but she's done a few tandem jumps. She did one with D and he let me and another of Jan's friends join in and we made a little formation for the cameraman who was filming the whole thing. I think D was being brave in doing all that. On paper, I'm not nearly skilled enough to be jumping with a tandem (but, in practice it seems, I am). That was the big fun for the day. A bunch of us went off for dinner at a local Mexican place, and for the third night in the row I had a tiny bit too much to drink and headed off for bed.
I'm talking about drinking a lot here, but I don't want you to get the wrong idea. Three drinks is about my limit and I do it rarely enough that I might walk up a little woozy after that. Drinking and skydiving mix somewhat more poorly than drinking and driving, and I'm really careful about it. On the other hand, skydivers have enough of a reputation that I saw a t-shirt that said "My drinking club has a skydiving party"....
Monday I was a bit grumpy and ended up leaving in the middle of the afternoon. I think I was tired enough from the skydiving that I was beginning to get as bit sloppy and my dives were not going well. That's always a good time to stop. I said my goodbyes and left rather quietly.
The following week has been a bit difficult for me and I really don't want to say much about it. D&R and I have been going through a bit of difficulty. We're working on it and it's all looking promising, but I think it's been painful for us all. Things are changing and I don't really know what they're going to look like from here on out. I know what I want, but I don't know if we can get there Here's to hope.
This weekend's been pretty relaxing. I did some jumps on Saturday. I had a near malfunction that damaged my parachute and hurt my neck a bit. I've had worse, and it feels like I'll recover quickly from this. Other than that, I've just gone to a couple birthday parties with D. R's been away for a pagan ritual. I just spoke with her a bit ago, and she sounds good. But she also sounds a bit further away than she's been. We'll just have to see.
|
|
| I'm a Porn Star |
[23 May 2002|04:36pm] |
Sort of.
It happened Sunday. Life's been a bit busy of late between work and relationships, and this is the first time I've been able to sit down and write about it. SD's been after me to pose since he ran into me at a party last spring. I wasn't interested in putting out much effort at first, but I've kind of warmed up to the idea over the past couple months.
So we got it all planned, and then SD canceled. After the second cancellation, I'd pretty much written it all off. We rescheduled again, and what do you know, it happened.
R and I headed into the city to drop her daughter off with a friend. We were supposed to get there at noon, but it was raining and the traffic was awful. We ended up cutting across town trying to beat the freeway problems and were half an hour late. What a start! Fortunately it didn't really matter, R had planned enough slack into the schedule that it wasn't an issue.
We had another hour and a half of stop and go traffic before we got to the studio though. It's a bit out of the area in a small town, and wouldn't you know that I got lost on the way too? Not too lost, just took a wrong turn when I got off
the freeway and paid attention to the signs rather than the directions.
We ended up in a warehouse district. One chunk of one building had been turned into an informal studio. They pulled out a model release for me to sign and I proceeded to do a bit of editing on the parts that I didn't like. It was a stock release and they didn't have any real attachment to a lot of the clauses. R proofed it to make sure I wasn't doing something disastrous.
R did my makeup. Gack! Lots of makeup. They say everything gets washed out under the photographer's lights. It all felt a bit clownish. I'd been asked to bring
along "fetish wear". What exactly is that, anyway? I know some folks who get off on business suits. Does that make them fetish wear? I also know someone who's go this thing for flannel shirts...
Anyway, I got dressed, and then undressed for the camera. I was a bit stiff and
uptight at first, but I relaxed as time went on. It's amazing how important that camera becomes -- one big black eye staring at you. I did have a few laughs at
SD's expense. Being a digital camera (even if it was a high end model), it had to stop every once in a while to store things on it's memory card. After a while
I could tell when this happened and would try to get a silly face in or an especially good pose.
We spent about four and a half hours taking pictures. The next morning I was sore from all the posing. Actually, I think I'm still sore four days later. I got copies of the pictures via email yesterday. On the whole I'm favorably impressed. I need to lose a few pounds, and I'm almost 40, but we didn't do too badly. We'll probably do more of these, though SD does seem a bit disorganized. My contract says I get 50% of what we make on them. Honestly, I'm not really expecting much, but you never know...
And no, I'm not going to tell you where to find them. So there.
|
|
| Closets |
[14 May 2002|04:22pm] |
I've been meaning to write this for a long time. It's the reason my journal exists in the first place. You see, I've been in the closet. Reading through my journal, that might be a little hard to believe, but it's true.
I've admitted to being bisexual (and preferring women). I've admitted to being polyamorous. I've admitted to a less than stellar childhood, and I've probably even admitted to having a few issues around co-dependence and abandonment. The thing I haven't talked about in my journal is that I am a transsexual. Or was. I'm not really clear on that. I mean, I've had surgery and all, and have been living a gender-harmonious life for a few years now. I don't have any gender issues left, so am I?
Well, I may not have issues with my gender, but it's been my experience that a lot of other people do. I knew this wouldn't be easy, and it hasn't been. In my day to day life, it's not much of an issue though. I am a woman, I look like any other woman, and there's nothing about me that gives folks pause -- I mean, other than being six feet tall. ("Mommy, look at that tall lady!" "Did you play basketball in college?")
But when it comes to my personal life, things are a bit different. A lot of transsexuals lose their family or jobs in coming out. I was blessed, and managed to avoid all that. I even managed to keep most of my friends, not that there were many to begin with. But when it comes to more intimate interactions, all bets are off.
I'm not sure what it is about men, but I'd swear they see a transsexual as an affront to their masculinity -- especially if they've had amorous thoughts. People like me are assaulted a lot more frequently as a result. I just short circuit the whole thing by admitting my "gender history" at the first opportunity. Sometimes men are polite and say "thank you for being honest" before they run off. Sometimes they're not polite at all. But generally, the ones I have to worry about are the ones who don't run off -- most of them seem to have some sort of weird kink around transsexuals. Generally they disappear when they realize I'm pretty much just like any other girl. Nothing special.
Women are generally worse. I've been on the edge of the women's community in San Francisco for years. I've had several women get "warned" about me, and at least one was pressured into breaking things off by her friends. I pretty much gave up on the whole "community" thing. It just wasn't working. I guess it's not surprising that people who identify as bisexual seem to have the fewest problems with me. Gender must be less of an issue for them.
All this sounds like I'm lonely and complaining. I'm not lonely, I have two wonderful girlfriends and I occasionally see an old male friend as well (I was one of his groomsmen years ago). I am complaining though. It's not pleasant to be insulted, and even assaulted for being who you are. The further I get from the west coast, the more I have to worry for my safety (though I understand there are areas that are pretty accepting on the east coast too). Fortunately, the further I get from home, the less likely it is that anyone will figure out that I'm different.
Sometimes I think about moving a long way from here where no one knows me, and the only reason they even know the word "transsexual" is the Jerry Springer show. Move and just not say anything about it. Lead a quiet life, and just hope this all goes away.
But I can't. I'm too honest. I also have a bit of an ego. I have made a success of my life in spite of it all, and I think people need a good example. When they think of transsexuals, I'd prefer they think of someone like me -- a (nearly) middle aged suburban home owner, and not a dolled up "she-male" working in the sex trade.
I'm not going away; is acceptance too much to ask?
|
|
| navigation |
| [ |
viewing |
| |
most recent entries |
] |
| [ |
go |
| |
earlier |
] |
|
|
|
|
![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small}
mrciealana's journal