Of marriage-gay, straight, or otherwise

I rarely keep track of the news these days, but it floated across my radar that Illinois approved gay marriage yesterday making them the 15th state to do so. Georgia will likely be 48th out of 50 to approve gay marriage with only Alabama and Mississippi trailing behind. We aren’t exactly known for our liberal leanings. The irony is the Atlanta metro area has one of the largest gay populations per capita. Most of the boys I truly got along with in middle school and high school ended up coming out. My very first boyfriend came out shortly after we both graduated high school. I’m sure it wasn’t easy for them going to Catholic school and getting all the negative messages about going to hell for something they can’t control.

When this country was founded, it was founded on the principle that we have no national religion and the separation of church and state. We’re a republic, not a theocracy. The churches aren’t supposed to interfere with government affairs and vice versa. If a particular faith disagrees with homosexuality and refuses to marry a gay couple, that’s cool. But keep your nose out of the state’s business. The only reason the church got control of marriage in the first place was because priests were the only ones who could read and keep records at the time. I’ve heard many a talking head spout how the founding fathers would be horribly offended by the fact that gay people can get married. Sorry guys, the founding fathers were deists. God created the world and then unassed the place. Religious beliefs weren’t their thing. Of course, that’s also assuming the talking heads passed history class in high school. Most people can’t completely compartmentalize, but put your religious stick down for a second and consider the legal ramifications of your stance. To paraphrase Justice Sotomayor, if the purpose of marriage is to produce children (a very popular argument for most of these dickbags), then what happens to a couple in their 50s wanting to get married? Or a couple where one person is infertile? There’s no picking and choosing just because you don’t like gay people. You either support it all or none of it. /historian rant

I’ve never had an issue with gay relationships. Who cares? It’s none of my business who you have sex with or who you marry if everyone is a consenting adult. I was introduced to the concept of drag queens and gay relationships early in life. Hell, my ambition in life was to become a drag queen before my parents had to explain to me that wasn’t how it worked. The Birdcage was in regular rotation at our house when I was growing up. There’s a scene where Nathan Lane storms out, saying he’s going to a place that only has a cemetery. Robin Williams catches up with him at a bus stop. He tells Nathan Lane how he bought plots at a much nicer cemetery for them so that he can make Robin Williams laugh forever. Then he hands him an agreement making them legal partners in everything. I was 11 years old at the time and I remember thinking “that’s love”. And it was between two men. I’ve carried that belief with me ever since. I’ll marry a man eventually. I self identify as (mostly) straight. I’m very flattered when a lesbian tells me she finds me attractive. I’ve experimented, as one does, and I know which way is my path. I’m not going to tell someone else they can’t commit their life to the person they love just because they happen to have the same plumbing.

There are many quotes floating around the Internet relating to gay marriage. Two of my favorites are:

“Straight men are homophobic because the fear a gay man will treat them the way they treat a woman”.

“Saying you’re against gay marriage when you’re straight is like blaming someone for eating a doughnut around you when you’re on a diet”.

I hope one day we’ll all be sitting around saying “Hey, remember when gay marriage wasn’t legal?” and our children look at us like we’re crazy. All the states will come around sooner or later, hopefully sooner rather than later. And that’s my political opinion / rant for the next year.

XOXO!

Of the world not revolving around me and seeing the good in the world

My boss said something this morning that finally clicked in my head. I was getting the “tone down the sarcasm” speech again. I bungled a situation with my coworker because I wasn’t sure how to approach it. I don’t mean to come across as condescending or mean. It’s just how I talk. I’m not about sugar coating or “How are your feelings?”. I want the facts and I don’t really care about the details. As I was walking out of his office, I said the bitchiness gets worse when I’m tired. He replied “you act like you’re the only one who’s tired”. *lightbulb goes off*

Copernicus called. The world doesn’t revolve around me. I get wrapped up in my problems, not being able to drive, feeling like dead weight, and this, that, and the other. I forget that other people have issues that maybe aren’t apparent on the surface. I’m a very open person (quel surprise). I don’t really care who knows what and why. I’m terrible at keeping secrets. If you don’t want the world to know, don’t tell me. I don’t really understand secretive people. I used to think it was because they were hiding something or being otherwise shifty. That isn’t necessarily (and probably rarely) the case. Some people just don’t put things out there the way I do. That doesn’t make it wrong. They’re just different. I know my coworker has been having issues with her health, her daughter’s father, and her car. Who knows what else is going on that she hasn’t shared. Just because someone doesn’t look sick or stressed doesn’t mean they aren’t. It would serve me well to keep that in mind. 

Boy is a prime example (sorry dear, but you’re useful in making my point). I know him the best of anyone in the world. Even then, it takes him a long time to work up to telling me things; good, bad, or indifferent. I used to get upset because I felt like he was hiding our relationship. In reality, that’s just how he rolls. He’s not ashamed of me or intentionally hiding our relationship. He operates on “don’t ask, don’t tell”. After all this NSA business, he’s put all kinds of locks and stops on his online life. It’s not like he’s a CIA operative with sensitive information. He just doesn’t want anything available for public consumption. He’s the kind of person who doesn’t want people knowing about his birthday because he wants it to float by unnoticed. His worst nightmare would be a surprise party where he’s the center of attention. I’m the exact opposite. I love making a big deal of my birthday. I enjoy being the center of attention. I’m comfortable with that. He’s not. That doesn’t mean either of us is wrong. In fact, we balance each other out nicely. It’s easy to get wrapped up in your own little world. It’s easy to forget that other people have their own struggles and burdens. Mine is more out in the open because I have to constantly ask people for rides, adjust my plans based on who can take me where, and the like. Most issues are quieter and less obvious. People have their reasons for not putting things out in the world. It’s not my place to judge.

I’m dealing with a temporary inconvenience. I’ll be able to drive again in less than 4 months. I’ll have the epilepsy the rest of my life, but the meds are doing a good job of keeping it under control (though I about gave myself a heart attack in Starbucks this morning, but that’s another story for another time). A few doctors’ appointments a year, especially with the new insurance, aren’t a big deal. My family and friends are healthy. I live comfortably in a first world country. I don’t wonder where my next meal is going to come from. I’m not tied to someone I strongly dislike because we had a child together. I have a wonderful, happy, loving relationship with someone I would do anything for. And he would do the same for me. Other than the epilepsy, I’m healthy. All my other vitals are perfect. I get to watch my friends become parents and my surrogate nieces and nephews grow up. I have the benefit of learning from them before I embark on parenthood. I know myself well enough to know I’m completely unprepared to be a parent at this stage in my life. I’m content with my job. I don’t dread getting up and going to work every morning. I have a boss who isn’t afraid to be honest with me, positive or negative. I make a good living. I’ve made mistakes along the way, as has every person, but I learned from them. I keep picking myself up. The only true failure is to give up completely. I have no idea what tomorrow brings, but I know my attitude will account for a lot of it.

Here’s to being a little kinder to those around me. I don’t know what they’re carrying around. At least I won’t pile on top of it.

XOXO!

Of being a slave to inanimate objects and ridiculous schedules

It’s exhausting and irritating as all hell to have my life dictated by a chronic condition.

For the record, I despise the mail order pharmacy that’s associated with my health plan. They’re the only game in town unless I want to have an HMO plan which is totally impractical given my condition. First they screwed up my paperwork and said they never got it. Then I had to have my doctor fax my prescription over twice. The mail order company are big fans of sending threatening letters telling me I’ll have to give them my left kidney or first born child should I refill my prescriptions more than 3 times at a normal pharmacy. Finally they got their shit together and mailed out the prescriptions. I’m fine on the Lamictal (the one that works really well for me), but I’m down to less than a week of the Keppra (the one that works less well). Which one arrives first and I just refilled a week ago? The Lamictal. Though they claimed they mailed both at the same time, the Keppra isn’t supposed to arrive until Tuesday. Which is the day I’ll run out. So instead of bouncing along on my merry way and going to ballet, I have to wait around until that stupid prescription arrives. Couple that with 3 of the 4 people who usually drive me around having different schedules this week and I’m about ready to crawl in a hole and be left alone. It feels like I’m constantly scrambling to get things in place without relying on any one person too frequently, especially in the mornings. At least eventually I’ll get the driving back, but I know I’ll run into situations where my medication gets screwed up for the rest of my life. Meh.

On a happier note, one of the other couples hosted a hybrid Halloween / game night. It was nice to get together and see people we don’t normally see regularly. And get rid of the beer Boy didn’t like. We also got doughnuts from the gourmet doughnut place yesterday. They’ve forever ruined Dunkin Donuts for me because they’re about a million times better. Today may very well be a lay around half watching TV and take a nap day. Thank you, time change. I’ll definitely need my Starbucks fix tomorrow morning.

Since everyone likes to do the 30 days of gratitude in November (which I do pretty much every day anyway), I’ll knock out a few positives to wrap this up:

*Having a very productive conversation with Boy yesterday and sorting out what’s a big deal to the other person.

*Doughnuts!

*My nail polish still looking good after a week

*Having people who can drive me around and I’m not SOL for 6 months

*62 days seizure free

*Rainbow striped knee socks

*Being able to go back to bed and proverbially crawl in a hole and be left alone

*Circus classes

*Ballet

XOXO!

Of work, play and priorites

My dad and I got on the topic of work this morning.

I’m really glad I’m not emotionally invested in my job. I love my boss, I love the work environment, but I’m not all gung ho about getting out of bed and going to work every day. I do my job. I do it well. They pay me. Everyone’s happy. I could make a lot more money somewhere else, but I’m not willing to sacrifice the work environment. I’d have to cover my tattoos every day and play by much more strict rules. Not my bag. I like the structure that comes with an office job. I like the set goals and I know the consequences if I don’t meet them. I know when and where I’m expected to be somewhere.  It’s why I don’t get too wrapped over not getting a promotion or a raise other than with an annual review. I’ll do my work, I’ll do it well, and sooner or later I’ll get the reward. I’m not going to skip through life expecting something to be handed to me just because I have a college degree. I worked hard for my licenses. I’ll never have to worry about finding a job because they’re so rare. That works for me. Honestly, I don’t think I could work in a field that overlaps with my hobbies. I like writing, but I couldn’t be paid to do it. I like dance, but I wouldn’t want to be a professional dancer or costumer. I like circus arts, specifically contortion, but I wouldn’t run off and join the circus. I like learning new languages, but I wouldn’t want to be a translator. My job allows me to finance all of those and I’m happy with that. What I like about my hobbies is I can walk away from them. There are no consequences. I can come and go as I please or as life allows. I stick to them because I love them, much like I stick to relationships, romantic and otherwise. I could never be one of these bloggers who makes money off their blog. I’d go nuts after a few weeks of sitting around in my pajamas and lacking social interaction.

On a related note, I read an article recently about how my generation is unhappy because we’ve been set up with unrealistic expectations of how the world really works. This was predicated on the idea that my generation were raised by hippies. My parents were the exact opposite. My dad was in the military and my mom was a teacher and guidance counselor. I never got the “You’re special. You get an award for just showing up” speeches. I got the “work for it and you’ll be rewarded for it” speech. I have above average intelligence, but I never viewed that as “special”. I’m unique, but so is everyone else on the planet. That’s just a fact of biology. My boss has flat out said that he knows he’s not as smart as I am. However, he has 20+ years of experience under his belt. Brains are only part of it. I was rewarded for good grades while I was in school. “Good” was very clearly defined. There was a sliding scale based on the grades. I only ever got one C in high school. It was first semester of my senior year in Physics. The following semester with a different teacher, I got an A-. They let that one slide because it was obvious the teacher was the issue, not me. I was never the kid who was doing her homework at the last minute. The rules were very clear. You get your homework done first, then you can go to dance. If you stay home sick, you can’t go to dance. I knew the consequences and what would happen. If I ever have children, I’ll probably do something similar.

Generally, I’m pretty happy with my life as it stands. Of course there are things that are sucky and frustrating, but they’re largely external. I can’t control driving laws. I can’t control the fact I have epilepsy. I just have to take my pills and wait it out. I can’t control other peoples’ actions. I can control how I react to them. I could control the fact I got a DUI. I couldn’t control the consequences that went along with it. So I got most of it together, presented myself well when I got into that courtroom and I was rewarded for it. As I get older, I’m learning how to not get so wrapped up in little things. I’m learning which battles to pick and which ones to leave alone. I won’t always get it right and I won’t always get it right when I’m in my 50s. I place value on the people I love, the things I love, and taking care of my needs. My 30s are less than 2 years away and I fully intend to make that the start to the best era of my life. The 20s are highly overrated. It’s a time of huge change and maturity that might take a little while to catch up. Everyone says your 20s are the best years of your life. I’m calling shenanigans on that. I’ve been saying it for years. I’m going to make my 30s something my 20s weren’t. I have a greater appreciation of the world, my life, and how far I’ve come. Unlike some people, I’m excited to see my next decade. And I have 2 more years to wrap up my 20s better than I started them.

XOXO!