Downers.
A few days ago, I told my most recently-acquired lover my very last secret. I always feel exposed and very vulnerable every time I do this, perhaps because it's the last thing about my past that I'm still embarrassed/furious about. Things I was horrified to tell a few years ago- like my bestiality story, for instance- I now tell when I'm drunk and I don't regret it the next morning. Not this thing- this I can count the number of people who know about on one hand. But also, being my last secret, I always feel very very jittery. All my cards are on the table. There's nothing more about me to know- just anecdotes, little likes and dislikes and a few stray personal philosophies. As Mika (my favourite Maori Drag Queen) sings, Do You Like What You See?
His response was the same one he gives when he hears any of my past miseries. He laughed. It's OK, it's his way, not to be qualified as a rejection. He laughed the same laugh when I (finally) first told him I loved him. Then he said something about love being only another word for "want to sleep with" or something. I don't really remember, I was too baffled to absorb it.
This time, his usual laugh was a little harder to push aside. I hope he reads this and gives me some assurance when I see him next.
In other news, two nights ago another friend bit my head off via email. Again. With barely any provocation. And then her Good Twin sent a chipper "everything's hunky-dory" email the very next morning. The two emails read like they came from completely different people, with no reference to each other. I think I'm going to stay away from her until she sends me only her Good Twin on a semi-regular basis.
Except I'll get nothing but the Bad Twin for quite awhile now, as a result of telling things to the Whole World (the few people who read my LiveJournal) before telling her. How dare I excercise my freedom of expression (such as it currently is) the way that I want to? I'm so evil!
Eminem the Wily said it well:
I'd yank my fuckin' teeth before I'd ever bite my tongue
I'd slice my gums, get struck by fuckin' lighting twice at once
And die and come back as Vanilla Ice's son.
But all this isn't why I'm down. Melancholy struck like an arrow late this afternoon. I just burst out crying at my desk. (I was thankful that I had my own office. I've slowly accepted crying as an emotional outburst not all that different from laughing, but that still doesn't mean I like to do it in front of other people.) My parents leave tomorrow morning to visit my brother, sister-in-law and my twin nephews. My mom's gotten to see them maybe a dozen times since they were born, a year and a half ago. I've seen them twice. I was supposed to first see them when they were under four months old, but their mother decided to take them with her to Laguna Beach- after I had already made my reservation. The last time I saw them, they could only hold their heads up for a few moments, and with great effort. Now they're walking, talking, toothy-grinned creatures. And I'm missing it! They'll never be four months old again. They'll never be just a year old again, looking suspiciously at their birthday cupcakes. I've missed it! I'm missing it all! I only know them through pictures and the occasional phone call, though they don't say much yet. "We'll take pictures for you and Grandma," said mom. My poverty (and my brother's poverty) has forced me to see my nephews only one time more than a womyn far too fragile to travel cross-country. I want so much to be involved in their lives, to see them 3 or 4 times a year and watch them grow in small hops, not these giant leaps. What nobody seems to realize is that these are the closest things to my own (human) children I'll ever have. Really. Nobody believes me when I say that, just like nobody believed me when I said (ever since I was 12 or 13) that I would change my name someday. My surgery list is two items long: nose surgery for Julius, to allow him to breathe more freely, and to get my tubes tied. I'd have them rip out my whole uterus, except that I'd be unable to produce my own lubrication if they did that. I think I was 8 or 9 when we got our first microwave. My father gave me a careful lecture about not standing in front of the microwave when it was on, since it might damage my developing eggs. (I swear, that's what he said: mathmaticians are weirdos, every one.) From that day forward, I would only use the microwave when I was alone, so that I could touch my pelvis to it in hopes of becoming infertile. I stopped only when I learned about that "cancer" thing that my mom was always getting.
Anyway- I was supposed to see my nephews next weekend, but I sooooooo can't afford two tickets, even with the current sales. I can't afford even one. I can't afford a fucking bus ticket, never mind that nothing on Earth could force me to do a cross-country trip on a bus. I miss them and it's making me awfully melancholy.
Well, I'm going to a birthday party tonight, and another on Sunday. Those should both be pretty cool. I hope I cried out all my tears on this subject while writing this. I'll see my adorable nephews in person just as soon as I am able.
His response was the same one he gives when he hears any of my past miseries. He laughed. It's OK, it's his way, not to be qualified as a rejection. He laughed the same laugh when I (finally) first told him I loved him. Then he said something about love being only another word for "want to sleep with" or something. I don't really remember, I was too baffled to absorb it.
This time, his usual laugh was a little harder to push aside. I hope he reads this and gives me some assurance when I see him next.
In other news, two nights ago another friend bit my head off via email. Again. With barely any provocation. And then her Good Twin sent a chipper "everything's hunky-dory" email the very next morning. The two emails read like they came from completely different people, with no reference to each other. I think I'm going to stay away from her until she sends me only her Good Twin on a semi-regular basis.
Except I'll get nothing but the Bad Twin for quite awhile now, as a result of telling things to the Whole World (the few people who read my LiveJournal) before telling her. How dare I excercise my freedom of expression (such as it currently is) the way that I want to? I'm so evil!
Eminem the Wily said it well:
I'd yank my fuckin' teeth before I'd ever bite my tongue
I'd slice my gums, get struck by fuckin' lighting twice at once
And die and come back as Vanilla Ice's son.
But all this isn't why I'm down. Melancholy struck like an arrow late this afternoon. I just burst out crying at my desk. (I was thankful that I had my own office. I've slowly accepted crying as an emotional outburst not all that different from laughing, but that still doesn't mean I like to do it in front of other people.) My parents leave tomorrow morning to visit my brother, sister-in-law and my twin nephews. My mom's gotten to see them maybe a dozen times since they were born, a year and a half ago. I've seen them twice. I was supposed to first see them when they were under four months old, but their mother decided to take them with her to Laguna Beach- after I had already made my reservation. The last time I saw them, they could only hold their heads up for a few moments, and with great effort. Now they're walking, talking, toothy-grinned creatures. And I'm missing it! They'll never be four months old again. They'll never be just a year old again, looking suspiciously at their birthday cupcakes. I've missed it! I'm missing it all! I only know them through pictures and the occasional phone call, though they don't say much yet. "We'll take pictures for you and Grandma," said mom. My poverty (and my brother's poverty) has forced me to see my nephews only one time more than a womyn far too fragile to travel cross-country. I want so much to be involved in their lives, to see them 3 or 4 times a year and watch them grow in small hops, not these giant leaps. What nobody seems to realize is that these are the closest things to my own (human) children I'll ever have. Really. Nobody believes me when I say that, just like nobody believed me when I said (ever since I was 12 or 13) that I would change my name someday. My surgery list is two items long: nose surgery for Julius, to allow him to breathe more freely, and to get my tubes tied. I'd have them rip out my whole uterus, except that I'd be unable to produce my own lubrication if they did that. I think I was 8 or 9 when we got our first microwave. My father gave me a careful lecture about not standing in front of the microwave when it was on, since it might damage my developing eggs. (I swear, that's what he said: mathmaticians are weirdos, every one.) From that day forward, I would only use the microwave when I was alone, so that I could touch my pelvis to it in hopes of becoming infertile. I stopped only when I learned about that "cancer" thing that my mom was always getting.
Anyway- I was supposed to see my nephews next weekend, but I sooooooo can't afford two tickets, even with the current sales. I can't afford even one. I can't afford a fucking bus ticket, never mind that nothing on Earth could force me to do a cross-country trip on a bus. I miss them and it's making me awfully melancholy.
Well, I'm going to a birthday party tonight, and another on Sunday. Those should both be pretty cool. I hope I cried out all my tears on this subject while writing this. I'll see my adorable nephews in person just as soon as I am able.