Random Statement

I never thought I would complain about having an apartment built on a lake... But the ducks quaking non-frickin-stop at six in the morning have caused me to change my mind.

Anyway, this weekend has ended up being consumed by unpacking, but once I get everything settled Monday, I'll start posting some more. I promise. I also have a chapter for There's Always Tomorrow to be posted as well.

Finally

Finally, I am here. Boxes are in the apartment, though not unpacked, but I am here. Officially moved in.

However, three things crossed my mind today:

1) Holy freaking hell. I forgot how hot it gets down south.

2) I don't remember packing that many boxes.

3) Why, oh why did we have to have an apartment on the second floor?

But anyway. My time of neglecting this blog and my writing has come to an end. I've stumbled across some old journals filled with random scribbles of thoughts and poems that I will be posting. I've also got some stories to type up and some questions to get to later on. I'm hoping to have lots of time on my hands so I can form a schedule so to speak and keep everything moving. I'll be posting again soon!

Question: What kind of a student were you?

Question: What kind of a student were you?

Answer:

That depends on what you are referring to. If you are referring to grades, I was a great student, graduating with honors and a 3.9 GPA, ranked in the top 10% of my class, in the National Honors Society for all four years...

But if you are asking as in my day to day school life... that may be a little bit different of an answer. You see, on my official transcripts, it says that my senior year I only missed eight days of school all year. Yeah... right... I think that if I was to tally up the days that I actually went to every class for the full amount of time, it might equal eight. How did I manage to pull that off? With the help of my best friend.

We were skipping our third block class one day and decided to visit the Principal. Yes, while skipping class we willingly went to the Principal's office. Why? Because he had buckets of candy in his office. So we were sitting there, chilling, talking about sports and events going on in town, munching on gumdrops and sour worms, then we said our goodbyes and left. On our way out we had to walk through the attendance office. I know... not only are we skipping and being seen by the Principal, but the attendance officer as well. But on our way out my friend turns around and tells the attendance officer that one of our teachers ran out of hall passes and needed some more. The woman smiled and said 'Okay. Here are two pads of them. Can you take them to him?'

Sure! So we are now in possession of two stacks of hall passes, ready to be used at our will. But half the time we didn't even need them. I had made an agreement with my pre-calc teacher that I would stay in class long enough to do the three daily problems he put on the board and then I could leave, only needing to come back for tests and quizzes (leaving right after them as well).

I took an art class my senior year and when I completed my first project on the third day of the semester, I asked the teacher if I could leave, she said sure. When I came back the next day, she asked me why I was there. I looked at her funny and asked if that meant I could leave again. She again asked me why I was there. So I asked her what about tomorrow. She said as far as the attendance book indicated, I was always in class and on time. Sweet!

Then there was my favorite teacher, the one I told you about a few posts back that kicked me out of class for getting an A on a test. Yeah. That would go down like this:

Me: (poking my head in the door and waving my hand) Hi Mac!

Teacher: What do you want?

Me: Just making sure you saw that I was here today.

Teacher: I see you.

Me: Okay. I'm going to go now.

Teacher: Whatever. (returns his attention to his newspaper)

Then there were the really weird days where our audio/visual tech needed something from a store across town and unlocked the gates so my friend and I could drive to go get it, giving us his credit card to do so. Did I mention this 'town' was Daytona Beach. I guess I should use the term city next time. We also had a different teacher give us his debit card and pin number so we could pull money out of his bank account buy him and ourselves lunch... allowing us to skip class in order to do it as well.

So, to answer your question, on paper, I was an excellent student. In reality... eh, not so much.

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Just thought I'd sneak this one in here since I had some extra time. Also, I will be getting back to writing 'There's Always Tomorrow', but I found myself having to reread BWYDT to find out what exactly I had already written about Adrianne's family. So I've been stuck on that story until I finished it up. I only have a few chapters to go so I should be posting again on that any day. I'm so sorry that I have left you all hanging as long as I have. But BWYDT is just so frickin long!

Mom's... well it's my Mom so you know what that means

The day after Thanksgiving my mother, father, sister, and I were siting around the table eating. During the flowing discussion, my mother was relaying events that unfolded on a TV show, House Hunters International to be exact. As she talked about the show, she hesitated mid-sentence and then continued on. However, that hesitation caught my attention for one undeniable reason.

Me: Did you just say 'cock'?
Mom: No.

Danielle: I thought I hear that too.

Dad: I wasn't going to say anything but I saw Brandi catch it as well.

Mom: I did not say that.

All of us: Yes you did.

Mom: Why are you picking on me?

Me: We aren't picking on you. We're just trying to figure out how the word 'cock' fits into anything you were saying.

Mom: It doesn't. That's why I didn't say it.

Then the next day at breakfast the same topic came up and my mother's denial continued, except this time... she gave us an excuse:

Danielle: No. You said cock.

Mom: I did not. I was in the middle of saying a word and stopped. That's what you heard.

Me: If so, you would have been in the middle of saying the word 'country'. Then you would have said 'cunt', not 'cock'.

Dad: (yells from a distant room in the house) That's right!

Mom: I didn't say cock!

Me and Danielle: Yes you did!

Mom: No I didn't! Now stop talking about it or I'm going to wash all of your mouths out with soap.

Question: How/why Glee/Faberry?

I'm combining a few different questions I have received through emails or comments about how and why I started writing about the show Glee and that particular pairing. First, I'm going to start with my whole thought process on the show, because I have to admit that when I first heard about it... I wasn't interested at all. Well, I shouldn't say that. I should say that I wasn't interested enough to watch the premiere but was interested enough to click on an episode when there was nothing else on to watch. I didn't start watching it until the first thirteen episodes were available on DVD. But let me go over the very first time I actually decided that it might be a show I would be interested in.

I was flipping though channels, looking for pretty much anything to watch, when I stumbled upon Glee during a marathon showing. The episode? Preggers. The scene? When Mr. Schue gives Rachel's solo to Tina and she is ranting about how it's her solo and that everything from West Side Story is to go to her. -First thought on the show: "Man, she's a bitch." Changed the channel.

Still nothing on so I ended up back on Glee when Kurt approached Finn and stated he wasn't gay. -Second thought on the show: "Someone is in serious denial." Left the room and came back in.

Glee was still on when Rachel started singing 'Taking Chances'. -Third reaction on the show: "Holy shit... she can actually sing. Give her the damn solo." (Sits down in the chair and watches the rest of the show... and the next... and the next.)

I've always been a musical person so I was interested in the show in that aspect. However, I feared that it would end up being 'high school musical' just for a different network so I never took the time to sit down and watch it. Once I did, I was hooked. The underdog message was something everyone could relate to, but the thing I loved the most was the humor. It was quick and sarcastic. Just the way I like it.
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Why write for Glee and not another, more extablished show?

I could relate to the character's on Glee more. It was easier for me to put myself in their shows and write a story around how I thought they would react. I felt very attached to the characters in most the same ways everyone else does.
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Why Faberry pairing?

I LOVE the dynamics of the characters. They are enemies without any real cause for it. I have always loved the idea of two people disliking each other and after being put in a position to get to know each other, they realize that they are alike, or can relate to one another. The fact that they're both absolutely beautiful didn't really hurt either.

Now I pose a question: Why Glee/Faberry for you? Same reasons or something different?

The Photo Challenge

I was challenged via email to go through my pictures on my computer and post 10 random photos (not of myself). I have accepted said challenge and now present you with those random photos. I will be getting back to your questions this week. I have several lined up including how/why Glee/Faberry, some more about school, and some other random ones. I haven't forgotten them. I promise.

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Losing Battles

Laws and rules with strict laid guides

accumulate and pile high.

Each for freedom, to lift old thought,

but now in new webs we are caught.

To rally the idealist,

We abandon the content

and place him in the spot

which the past we have spent.

So justice lays shifted, but still undone.

And so rages the war with battles left unwon.

Moving

There are certain things you realize when you are moving.

Firstly, you begin to question just how you manged to accumulate so much stuff. Secondly, your sentimental attachment to said 'stuff' diminishes by about the third box you pack. That then causes you to begin to wonder if the energy and space it would take to pack each object outweighs what it would cost to replace it once you got to wherever it is that you are going. Next, you have a gradual realization of what controls your life as you put off packing anything dealing with your computer. You need your connection to the outside world because a TV just doesn't do it anymore. And as the boxes pile up, you begin to wonder if the moving day will ever get here or if you will be packing for the rest of your life, yet when it does come, you are left trying to figure out how it came so quickly. I have moved 11 times now. With each time I have moved, I have found that I get to the various steps much quicker than I use to.

My Mother: Yes, she is for real

I am in the back seat of my parent's minivan on our way up to Tennessee. We're driving through the back roads in the middle of the country around lunch time. I'm talking open fields, horses, cows, hay barrels. All that good stuff. I'm having a nice conversation with my father about something completely normal when this happens.

Dad: My truck even tells me when I need to change the oil. It has a computer that does some sort of calculations and it tells me.

Me: That's cool. Be nice if mine told me. I always forget about changing the oil.

Dad: That's not good.

Me: I-

Mom: (gasping dramatically and pointing out the window) is that a UFO?

Me and Dad: ...

Mom: Oh, it's just a water tower. Never mind.

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Really?

Something Special To Share

I just got home from work and decided to check my other email account. I usually don't because most everything is sent to the one that I use for this blog, yet I decided to anyway. I had one unread message and I will post it now:
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I have been following your blog since you started it and am very impressed with the scope of your phenomenal writing talent (skills is not a descriptive enough word, it falls short by miles). The pride I have in you now will be minuscule compared to what I know I will have in you later in life as you  expand beyond a blog and your fanfic endeavors.

There have been a few inaccuracies in some of your postings and being the perfectionist that you and your fans know I am, it has been difficult for me to not correct them but they are in your world so I will leave them alone. Except for one.

I will admit that I have not reacted to your "coming out" in any way. That is because there is nothing to react to.  You are still my daughter and I love you just as much now as I did before and as much before as I do now. You are also still just as aggravating.

What you need to remember and always keep in the back of your mind is that your mother and I grew up in a totally different time. Try as you might you cannot fully comprehend or grasp the full scope of that difference.  As a male of the human species I grew up learning to be strong and in control of my emotions and even though today it might not be unmanly to display your emotions to the world, I find it almost impossible to do so. Keeping everything inside is just part of me

As for your mother, she has no problem displaying her emotions. She is old school just like I am except her upbringing programmed he to be a wife and mother. That includes visualizing life down the road of her children doing the same thing. From the time she was a little girl she has practiced "family stuff" and that is a part of who she is. Nothing will ever change that.  The difference between us is that being female and Italian on top of that your mother has no problem being dramatic and vocal about her feelings.  Do not for an instant equate this with loving you any less because it wont happen.

I think I will stop at this point but I am reserving the option to comment later if the mood or uncontrollable urge strikes me.  Feel free to share this with your fans if you want or to keep it to yourself or to ignore it if that suits you.

Your loving Dad

P.S.  Your sister got her hazel eyes from me. My eyes were brown/green when I was younger just like hers are.  It even stated such on my Wisconsin drivers license.

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I have since spoken with my father and thanked him for opening up as much as he did. It was more than I could have ever imagined coming from him (a man of few words).

And while I want to take all of what was said to heart, and I mostly do, I still have issues with my mother's reaction. I understand that having a gay daughter is not something someone from her generation ever expects. I get that. I understand that it's not something easy to accept. My issues with her reaction is primarily with the fact that she taught us to accept differences, to embrace them, to celebrate them even, be proud of who you are if you're different. But when given the opportunity to do so, she did the opposite on multiple occasions.

I'm not saying that she loves me any less. I guess I just feel that she let me down as a role model. We hold our parents to be the prime example of what we are suppose to strive to be and take their advice to heart, whether we follow it or not. And to believe something about someone for so long only to have it be proven incorrect when you are depending on it most... it hurts. I know my mother still loves me and I love her regardless of the things she says, but that doesn't stop them from hurting and I just wish that she would see that.

My Confession

I have a confession to make. I, am a dork. In many ways but those other ones don't really matter. The reason I am referring to at the moment is my love for museums and aquariums. I can't exactly explain what it is about them that draws me in and keeps my mind happy, but it works every time. I love museums and aquariums so much, that they would actually be an ideal date for me (something to keep you talking as well as dim lighting should you two already be familiar with each other). Especially the aquarium my parents and I visited on our last family vacation in Chattanooga, Tennessee. I could have spent hours in there.

This aquarium actually has two separate buildings. One focusing on river life and the second focusing on ocean life. Here are some pictures I took during our visit. As always, click to see them larger.



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Going through all of these photos reminded me of a few stories to share so I will be getting to those tomorrow. I will also get back to some of your questions.

Questions

Firstly, thank you all for your kind comments. I truly was not expecting them. Between all the comments and the emails I received, I was blown away. But this is that little family I was talking about when I mentioned the importance of sharing coming out stories. Though we may seem alone, we aren't. So if there are anymore questions regarding that topic or if you just want to share your own thoughts, I will gladly listen and try to answer. Now that I've gotten it out there, I'm not as scared to get into the details if need be. But again, thank you for your support.

On to several questions:

The Question: What state do I live in that would have a school near a beach?

The Answer:

I have lived most of my life in various parts of Florida. But I went to high school in Daytona Beach. Loved the area. Miss the area. Miss the events, the beach, even the birds... (here is a picture of the school to give you an idea)

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The Question: How did I get into the medical field?

The Answer:

It found me. No, um... my father is a laboratory technologist and when I graduated from high school, I needed a job. We had just moved to this lovely... small... country town and there wasn't much more than doctor's offices, car dealerships, and Walmart. So, I got a job working as a phlebotomist, drawing people's blood. I should probably address a common misconception. I am not a lab tech. My dad is and I just work in the lab, forming a close relationship with the lab techs that I work with. I'm currently the phlebotomy supervisor while I figure out if/when/why I will go back to school.

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The Question: What color eyes does your sister have?

The Answer:

LOL. Yeah, I knew it was a little hard to see in that picture. Her eyes are usually brown, but they are known for turning a bit green with those golden bursts. So they are usually brown but better classified as brown/green hazel. Which in itself is interesting seeing as I have blue eyes, while my father's are plain brown and my mother's are a blue/brown hazel.

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Keep the questions coming. I still have some that were emailed to me that I will answer, but next... I think I might do some pictures from a recent vacation since you all want pictures as well. I might throw a poem in there as well. Sotries too... that's a lot of stuff... Keep coming back and I will get to it all.

Question: I am a lesbian. How did I realize it/come out?

Question: I am a lesbian. How did I realize it/come out?

Answer:

This is a good question for me to answer. I’m not normally the type to be out in the open like this, but I think that there is something special about coming out stories that just bonds people together who already feel pretty alone. Some of you might be able to relate to me and others might take this as something to consider if they are still currently hiding. This answer might get a little long because I will be breaking it down into parts. Three to be exact. I will refer to them as “When I Knew”, “When I Accepted”, and “When I Came Out”.

When I knew:

I know a lot of people who say they always knew they were gay or always felt that they were different in some way. I would have been one of those who always knew they were different in some way. It’s actually a little challenging to explain the fact that I always knew, but never accepted it. So let me try and simplify it as much as possible (while possibly embarrassing myself pretty badly). I always knew I was different in the fact that when I was younger and watched Power Rangers (the original), I liked the pink ranger. Not because I wanted to be like her because she was the pretty or popular one, but because I thought she was cute. I knew I wasn’t suppose to tell anyone I thought she was cute because she was a girl, but the fact that I thought it nonetheless didn’t really register to me as meaning I was gay. Just that it wasn’t normal.

Some people, primarily my mother, would say that that fact doesn’t make you gay. Okay. Fair enough. Thinking a girl is cute doesn’t make you gay. But having crushes on some of your female teachers since third grade may be pushing you in that direction. So, yeah. All of those crushes always made me feel that I was different than everyone else. Most girls in my classes loved to pine over the boys. I wanted to be part of the crowd, so I did to. Of course once I got said boy… I didn’t really know what to do with him. Well, I knew, but I really had no interest.

When I accepted:

This took some time. For several reasons. I am a firm believer that you cannot pressure someone into feeling it is the right time to accept their sexuality. Every time someone told me it was okay if I told them, or just asked me if I was, I would be that much more determined to hold fast to my ‘straightness’. I always have been a bit of a tomboy, or as my sister recently dubbed me “a soft butch” because I don’t feel comfortable in dresses but rather jeans and a tee-shirt. I wear minimal makeup and hate clothes shopping. Which are apparently signs of a ‘normal’ female. But with my preferred manner of dress, I seemed to give off a lot of gay vibes in high school. My best friends asked me quite often if I was and I would always deny it. It’s not that I saw myself as straight, wanting to settle down with a husband or anything, but I just wasn’t ready to admit to myself that I was gay.

I can go into a great amount of detail with that but I will move on to explain the biggest reason why I didn’t even admit my sexuality to myself. Most can understand keeping it from friends, but maybe not from denying it completely to yourself. But here is how it happened for me. This… this is probably the hardest thing for me to share because I know more than just my emotions are involved in it. But when I was still in high school, my sister (5 years older and already moved out at the time) decided to come out to my mother as a bisexual. I had known for awhile that she was so it was no surprise. What I wasn’t expecting was my mother’s reaction.

We had been raised to believe that everyone is equal and deserves to be treated with respect. We were raised to know that just because someone thinks or feels differently, doesn’t make them any less of a human being nor gives you the right to treat them with disrespect. With that being said, my mother’s reaction shocked me, hurt me, and pushed me further into denial.

I came home from school one day and my mother was sitting on the couch crying uncontrollably. She had tears just pouring down her face and was sobbing. Before I could even step into the house and shut the door, she turned to me and in the harshest tone I had ever heard her use asked “Are you a dyke too?”. I remember pausing because I had the wind knocked out of me. This was the woman who taught me to be accepting and yet she was… I just… Anyway. Once I could speak again, I said no. I wasn’t. And left it at that, continuing to listen as she told me of the ‘shit’ that my sister was putting her through. My denial lasted for another five years after that.

When I came out:

Honestly, the first person I ever confirmed my sexuality to will probably read this on here. Writing actually gave me the courage to accept it for myself and this little on-line family that has emerged from BWYDT made me feel comfortable enough to come out online. While my acceptance took years (over a decade actually), my coming out really only took a few weeks. I came out (in person) to my sister first. The night before I got my tattoo just so you all know. She was supportive, of course. Then I ended up coming out to my mother a week later, which I hadn’t actually planned on doing at all.

It was rough for the main reason of when I was going to confess that I got a tattoo, she was terrified that I was actually coming out. When I told her that wasn’t what I wanted to tell her, she stated that she could take the knife out of her chest then… Yeah. That’s encouragement to tell someone something right there. But that statement had bothered me a great deal and I brought it up to her a few days latter. Conversation ensued and I came out. She laughed, asked if I was joking, and then spent the next thirty minutes dissecting my previous relationships with guys trying to convince me that I wasn’t gay. She called my dad at work and told him. All I could think of was “Surprise! Now try and finish your shift.”

That was a few weeks ago and neither of them have brought it up since. It’s as if nothing was ever said. Now they just don’t ask me when I’m going to bring a boyfriend home for them to meet anymore. Okay, so you asked and I answered, even managing to keep it shorter than my other post. (But only by 100 words or so) Keep the questions coming and I will work on answering them. I might combine a few of the shorter responses together, but I will try and get to all of them.

Just found an old memory card from my camera and discovered one of my new favorite photos. This is of my sister's eye and if you look closely you can actually see me in the reflexion her eyes.

As always, click on it to make it larger. Much larger in this case.