we were born and raised in the summer haze

i think i thought that if i just made it through the first year after mom died, it would mean success. everyone talked about the first year.

so, it was 10 days after the year anniversary that i started setting things on fire.

i would tell you that i hadn't begun to grieve this loss. i would tell you that i didn't begin to understand what it means. to lose my mom. to lose so many things i held true, that i don't know what is and what isn't. but that somewhere in there, i stopped trusting everything. absolutely everything. not really. but close.

and, i guess that means that i have begun. i just can't touch it.

one night this week, i got a flood of emails from my mom. it must have been my dad. or suzanne, who was visiting. sending from her address. each email with a picture from her camera. for the first time since before she left, i see each of us so clearly in those pictures. mike- happy and gregarious. dad, happy just to be with us. me, boyish and shy, wanting to be recognized. i see that she was leaving. she had that ethereal look.

everyday, i think about not saying goodbye to her. everyday, i wonder where she is. does she still know us?

i think everyday of how much i want her to still be around. i think about summer's idea of afterlife. that because we raise her spirit, she is still here. but i want more.

we gotta give them hope

In the last twoa weeks, we've learned of five more teenagers who were being bullied and took their own lives: Cody Barker, age 17, of Shiocton, Wisconsin; Asher Brown, age 13, of Houston, Texas; Seth Walsh, age 13, of Tehachapi, California; Tyler Clementi, age 18, the Rutgers University student who jumped off the George Washington Bridge; and Raymond Chase, age 19, a student in Providence, Rhode Island. Their deaths come after the suicides of Justin Aaberg, age 15, of Anoka, Minnesota, and Billy Lucas, age 15, of Greensburg, Indiana. -Dan Savage

i loved high school. i loved my friends. i loved my family. my growing up was good.

i grew up in a moderately conservative home and a traditional, but liberal, church. i did most of my growing up in arkansas, the buckle of the bible belt.

i grew up believing that my straight peers would grow up, get married, have kids, and eventually go to heaven. i grew up believing that none of those things would happen for me. when i started coming out to friends the summer i turned 17, i was pretty consistently met with, 'i still love you, but your choice is wrong... not natural... an abomination... and don't you want to go to heaven?'

it was always the 'don't you want to go to heaven' question that tortured me. for a long time, i actually believed the bible condemned queer life in the same way it condemned murder. it doesn't.

i grew up in an amazing church community- trinity episcopal church in searcy, arkansas. it's amazing for many reasons. it's a small church, in a small town. the population of the church ranged from very conservative to very liberal. the priest i grew up with, is the man who gave me hope. in a world where i felt i wrong and guilty and deserving of every bad thing that could happen to me, it was father gary who gave me hope that none of that was true. that i deserved love, and peace, and faith, and hope. as much as the person sitting next to me, who happened to be my twin brother. mike is my favorite person ever, but it could be hard growing up next to him sometimes. he is smart, and funny, and gregarious, and charming, and the boy next door, but better. i'm awkward, and quiet, and so, so queer. and have always been those things.

as far as school went, i was called names, i had shitty notes left in my locker and on my car. it felt awful. it reinforced all of my fears for my life.

and i had allies. i wasn't ready to come out until i went to college. so, while i came out to a few people that summer i turned 17, it was just a few people, and no one i went to school with. so, while i hadn't told anyone at school, i have always been easily identified as queer. and every single time someone called me a name, there was someone there to tell them to stop, put their arm around me, and walk me to my classroom. every time a shitty note fell out of my locker or off my car, there was a friend to tear it apart. and talk to the person who left it. without any words from me. i know i was lucky. i know other kids in my school got beat, and tormented every day. and they didn't have anyone taking care of it for them, including me.

i thought i got out of high school pretty unscathed. until i recently realized that i still don't always know that i deserve the same rights as my brother. last year, my mom convinced me that i deserved the right to get married, and have kids, be safe and happy, and go to heaven, just like my brother.

i don't have any physical scars from high school, but i struggled with depression, and wondering if i deserved to live, much less deserved to live my life the way i was. i wasn't a 'late bloomer' because i didn't know who i was and how i wanted to live my life, but because i felt ashamed. that's not unscathed.

to my family, and the other people in my life as i was growing up, who knew i was queer, and gave me hope and safety, thank you. to my family now, who are mostly still pretty conservative, but who give me hope about the possibility of marriage equality because they support it, if only for my sake, and stopped throwing around the words 'gay' and 'fag' as an insult, because it bullying behavior, even if they didn't mean it that way, thank you.

to all of us, we have to give lgbt kids hope. part of that is giving the lgbt community equality. i'm sick of DADT, and marriage equality debates, and bullying conversations. stop it. give us equality and safety.

whether it is visible to you or not, you know someone who is lgbt.

give them hope.

we are near mid-term elections. please keep these kids in mind when you make your voting decisions.

let's get married- more thoughts on why you need my equality

back in the middle of october, i wrote a note. about why you need my equality, and asking the voters of washington state to approve ref 71- the 'everything but marriage' referendum. my friends shared that note. their friends shared it. social networking took it's course and that note literally got sent around the world. i still get messages froam people asking me what happened on 11/3, election day.

i wrote that note for my mom, and posted it here on facebook, never thinking anything would happen with it. within 24 hours of posting, i was getting messages from people i'd never met, all across the world, lending their support. i was inspired. uplifted. motivated.

three days after posting the note, out of the blue, my mom suffered a brain aneurysm. i forgot about the note. weeks later, on 11/3, election day, i remember sitting in my parent's living room in las vegas, watching the news, and hearing that ref 71 had passed. i was surrounded by family, because it was also the day my mom died.

i haven't answered any of the messages i got from people about ref 71. while i'm thrilled for the success, and inspired by the power of social networking, that day meant something else for me.

when i came out to my mom, she cried because she would never be part of a traditional wedding of mine. it wasn't a loss for me. since i'd always known i was queer, i'd always known i couldn't get married. years later, it was my mom who opened the door for me to consider marriage. while she couldn't wrap her head around it the day i accidentally came out to her, it was my mom who came around and gave me the challenge to believe i deserved to get married, just like my twin brother. who would have ever known my mom would become a more progressive queer rights activist than me, the kid she sent through grad school for gender studies?

recently, i've been coming out of the haze of losing my mom. i haven't really known what to do with myself. my first thoughts- what was i doing before mom died? i should pick up there.

before she died, i was thinking about love. and marriage. and equality. i had decided, after a lot of thought, that i wanted to become a marriage officiant.

so, yesterday, i did. it doesn't take much. literally, filling out a form. online.

since then, i've had questions from friends- why would i officiate straight marriage, when i can't get married? and when i believe that marriage as an institution is problematic.

a few reasons.

yep, marriage as in institution is problematic. that's a whole other discussion.

for starters, i rarely see two people, who have the legal right to get married, effect change by not getting married. neither the federal government, nor their community, care that they are not benefiting from the rights of marriage. and, i rarely see those couples taking opportunities within their communities to effect change by saying, 'we're not getting married until the queer folk can get married, so what are you doing to make that happen?'

i've seen more change effected by couples who have gotten married, and said, ' you know, if you we hadn't gotten married, we wouldn't have gotten gifts, so please make donations to your local marriage equality initiative in lieu of a gift' or some other acknowledgement.

i've seen more conversation about marriage equality happen around marriages than around couples who have the right to marry protesting by not getting married. i've seen more community work around marriages, than couples who have the right to marry protesting by not getting married.

and, mostly, this is what i want for myself-

(from "why you need my equality") when i recently realized i wanted to get married, i started taking dance lessons. i don't even have someone in mind to marry. but i want to be ready. i want to dance at my wedding. give me the opportunity to dance at my wedding. locally, with all of my family and friends and community to bear witness.

so, i want this for others as well. i don't want to take away. i want to add. i still believe in the words of the prime minister of spain. when Spain legalized gay marriage Spain's Prime Minister Jose Luis Rodriguez Zapatero said, "...We are enlarging the opportunity for happiness to our neighbors, our co-workers, our friends and, our families: at the same time we are making a more decent society, because a decent society is one that does not humiliate its members."

and, most of all, i believe in love. i believe in commitment. and i believe in community. particularly, in community bearing witness.

so, let's get married. legally, and non-legally. any proceeds from legal marriages i officiate will go directly to marriage equality initiatives.

let's keep working on that more decent society. there's still a lot to be done.

do not wait for an election day to get motivated.
start today.
right now.
this moment.
what will you do?

shellac

i didn't pick up the call that day. the evening class was just about to start, and it was a bad time to start a conversation. he went to voicemail. i usually let it go, but i felt that nag to pick it up. i asked jake to finish prepping the room, and i hit the buttons. i didn't call him back, but called the number he instructed. she answered. and told me not to worry. not to come. she was being taken to the procedure room as we spoke. that started the first telephone effect.

i was on a plane the next morning. everything fell into place. and i glided through.

i'm still gliding. it's as quiet as the flights i took as a kid in my grandfather's WWII glider. the breath patterns the same- nothing at release, then slowly again.

i'm just beginning to feel the gasp for air. i'm just beginning to hear the sound of the ground.

i'm back to real life, seeing it around me. this weekend i was supposed to be paying attention to my date. we were instructed to go set up space in the corner, where we would see the most action. instead, i stared at the back of your sweatshirt, only realizing after you turned around, i was waiting to see you. we looked each other over, and i haven't looked someone in the eye that much since my flight took off six months ago. maybe next time we'll actually meet.

emanon

i've thought about that feeling when her arm is around my waist, and that moment where you know you're right, and whether i would resist it next time, or give in, and the tap tap tap of the beat beat beat of something in my head that matches up with something in my chest that moves outside without thought.

i've thought about my thumb running across the line of your jaw.

i've thought about my tongue running across your teeth. to the top of your mouth.

and those words that keep falling out my mouth mostly to my surprise, sometimes pleasant, mostly foreign. dropping loneliness is like dropping morphine, with the shakes and trembles and spinning thoughts, but this time i know there's another side. so, i talk about what's easy, and i hope you know the rest by heart. because every time i've taken your hand i've been trying to tell you.

i've thought about walls, and hands and pressure and body against body, and the feel of your voice in my ear, and the taste of your smell on my lips, and i hope this drink lasts a very long time.

i believe in standing back up

after years of cynicism, here's what i found out- i believe in love. and hope. and compassion. and faith. and falling down. and standing back up. and laughing. and tears. and devotion. and listening. and changing my mind. i believe in community. i believe in respecting and guarding some boundaries. and i believe in crossing others. i believe in holding hands. a lot. i believe in that a lot.

i wrote that a few years ago. i've been thinking about it a lot lately. about the standing back up part. it took me so long to realize that was the difference for me. and that standing back up didn't have to mean standing apart.

lately, i've also been thinking about the holding hands part. in my mission to find love in all the nooks and crannies of life, i forgot that love can be bigger than the nooks and crannies, sometimes it's the whole world breaking open. right in front of me. and sometimes it's in between those two extremes. i also set a goal to be more independent. i've met that goal, a little too well, i've forgotten to hold hands.

so, standing back up and holding hands, these are my prayers. they're not so far off from courage and grace.

looking forward

one month later, and i haven't cried on the commute since that post. i still cry when i talk to mike, or suzanne, or dad. it's one of those things where we all know our lives have changed, but we also know that we don't really know how yet.

maybe it's the change in weather, and days getting longer. or maybe it's that four months have passed, and it's just time to look forward. maybe i really believe the dream about mom, that i'm comfortable with love. that i've been ready, i just didn't realize it. something changed when mom died. my heart didn't just break, it broke open. i knew that even as i was visiting her in the hospital.

since that night, of the dream, i've let people back in, farther than before. i'm realizing how jaded i've been. and how much it no longer serves me.

i'm looking forward, and making plans, and it doesn't feel like going through the motions, or inappropriate while grieving.

it feels like living.

it feels like intention.

i'm going to run to her

i woke up at 1:28 am. i think i had been sleeping soundly, but i woke in tears. i woke with that pressure in my chest, like i had been sobbing.

work is long right now. it is both my favorite part of the job, and the hardest. this is my first real go live with epic and this agency, and i still have a learning curve.

i still cry often on my hour and half commute. usually more in the mornings. i have it down to which exit i need to start cleaning myself up at, so i'm not red and puffy walking into the office.

i've been dreaming about mom. the first time- she was across the street from me. i saw her, stopped what i was doing, and told her i wasn't ready yet. but i loved her. and thanks for stopping by. she said she knew. that was why she was on the other side of the street. she would be around when i was ready. and not to worry when i saw her. i had my space.

about a week later, i had a dream i was sick in a hospital. mike and dad were there. mike was sad as he told me my time was limited. he asked if i was scared. i said i really wasn't, but i would miss them. he told me i would see mom, and if it would be bittersweet to see her. and i said, happily, but matter of factly, 'no, i'm going to run to her.'

while i adore them, i have a tendency to hold my family at arm's length. i guess i do this with everyone i love. every time my mom hugged me, i tried to make it brief. it wasn't that i didn't want her love, or care, but i didn't know how to hold onto it for long.

ever since i had that dream, where i told my brother i would run to mom, and i knew i would be comfortable with her, i've felt some sort of peace, that maybe i'm leaning toward a different kind of comfort with those i love.

of course, i also felt guilt, that i can't just relax with love.

out of the blue, without mentioning any of this, i was working with someone i know, but not well, and she looked at me today and said, 'there's a reason they call it sweet sorrow.'

i guess she's right.

how do i love this moment?

several months ago, i was out dancing with friends. i was two-stepping badly, but having a great time.

one of my friends commented she was too timid to get on the floor for the lesson. i looked at her and said, "when i get nervous, or anxious, or any number of other debilitating feelings i ask myself, 'how do i love this moment?' and most of time, the answer comes pretty quick."

i've spent a lot of time being stuck in my head. i've spent a lot of time being angry. i've spent a lot of time being sad.

i'm not sure what happened, what triggered it, but a few years ago, i started to wonder what it would be like if i tried to love everything.

while i don't remember why, i do remember when. i was lying on a traction table. for two years, i spent about an hour three times a week lying on a traction table, repairing damage from being assaulted. i was in pain, and angry, and i had managed to close off from almost everyone.

i have always admired my twin brother mike. growing up, superman was mike's superhero. and mike was mine. one of the things i admire most about him is his ability to love everything, even things he doesn't like. mike can find joy in anything.

i couldn't talk while in traction. literally, my mouth was held shut. so, i had a lot of time to think. the first year, i was sad. the next six months, i was angry. then, i started to think about love.

and somewhere in there i realized that love takes work. it takes intent. and understanding. and sometimes, a willing suspension of disbelief. love is an action.

all i could think, 'how do i love this moment?' how could i possibly love this moment? my friends were at happy hour. i was hooked up to weights and straps, gritting my teeth in pain, fixing something someone else did.

i thought about this one question for weeks. gradually, it came to me. i could love that moment. for so many reasons. because i was there at all, because i was fixing myself, because i saw love all around me, i just had to choose it. it took time, but i started to love those moments.

i started asking myself that question anytime i was stressed, or sad, or angry. it didn't distract me from those emotions, it helped me figure them out. what i realized is that love isn't always about joy, though joy is generally just around the corner from love. love is an action. and it's stronger than most other things.

the past week, i have been miserably sad. and angry. and i feel myself closing off from those around me. i am stuck in my head a lot. all of this is stressing my relationship.

as i was walking into work today, one of co-workers asked about my mom. a lot of folks knew mom got sick. but somehow the news that she died didn't get around. i am asked at least three times a week about my mom while i am at work. i have trouble saying the words, 'thank you for asking, but she died.' mom died on 11/3, the day my project has been marching to since it's inception, the day of our first go live. i've had 11/3 circled and marked on all of my calendars for six months, never knowing how significant a day it would actually be. i'm not sure why, but today, right after being asked, i remembered that question, 'how do i love this moment?'

how do i possibly love these moments that i'm grieving the loss of mom? i am angry, and sad, a little lost. i thought about mike over the holidays. he was funny, and joyful, and loving, and moving forward, even while mourning the same loss. i admire him more than ever. even though i know he's has his own battles with pushing away in the past two months.

i have moments where i can't breathe. i feel panicked. i cry, but don't make sound because the sob is so deep down.

how do i love these moments?

right now, i don't know. but it will come to me. love is all around me. i just have to choose it. i have to move towards it. love is stronger than most other things.

delay

i'm sitting in the airport. the last time i was here was six weeks ago, and while i knew that my mom had died, i got the official news while i was waiting in this concourse. just a matter of feet from where i'm sitting now.

that flight was delayed. so is tonight's flight. mike and jim and i arrived that day within minutes of each other, though we could not have been more spread out across the country. it felt like coming into formation.

the past year of my life has been about recognizing lessons and gifts in my life. even when at times, i was on delay.

shortly before mom got sick, i met kate. it's been a strange combination to lose my mom so suddenly, and fall in love. i'm grateful i met kate first. i trust our path.

i've spent four years working on trusting my steps. and i do.

this past two months has been a mix of hello and goodbye. all stunning.

and with almost every step i recognize some experiences, most of them recent, that make me feel more ready for all of it.

and while recognition does feel a little on delay, i still readily recognize it's a very charmed life i'm leading.

#37

i flew into las vegas the day after mom's aneurysm.

it was life interrupted in the house. her purse was on the kitchen table, her lipstick out.

she wasn't planning on never coming home.

mom was planning the first christmas that suzanne & ben would be joining us. she had a three page to-do list.

each item was numbered. each item made sense, like 'pressure wash the deck.'

except #37.

'#37- mail molly's package. '

no one knows anything about the package.

i feel like the kid from 'extremely loud and incredibly close' searching for the lock to go to his father's key.

late at night, tonight, i'm thinking about #37.

courage and grace, these are my prayers

mom died on 11/3. it's been almost three weeks.

i am tired and sad. most of the time right now. i am in touch with dad, and suzanne and mike and jim. but, it was better when we were in person. somehow, the five of us together, at home, kept her close. i feel far away now that i am back in my own home.

it's been three weeks, and i should be finishing up thank you notes, but i haven't even started them. this is mostly because i just haven't gotten to them, i don't know what to say. i am so grateful for everyone, more than i have ever been. i am so blessed. but, then, i realized that mom ordered all the stationery for all of us. and i have run out of mine. one of the last things i asked her for was more, even though i know the order by heart.

while i am tired and sad, i still find love all around me. maybe even more so than before.

i will continue to work towards courage and grace.

grace

my mom suffered an aneurysm in her anterior communicating artery on wednesday.

anyone who knows me, knows how much my family means to me. while we live far apart, family is the most important thing in my life.

my mom is alive, and alert, and speaking. the doctors refer to her survival as a miracle.

my emotional crutch is studying. i have searched the internet for information, there is no good news. the odds for short-term survival are bad. the odds for long-term survival are worse.

i want to be grateful for each extra moment i have with mom, but i find myself falling into grief.

for the first 48 hours, i couldn't pray. i felt spiritually mute.

then, i tried to pray, but everything was selfish.

then, the lord's prayer came to me. and then it came to me- grace. i need to pray for grace for us all. that my mom has grace through this process, whether it means life or death.

i think the hardest part for me right now is that everyone else is so grateful that's she here, and stable. and i'm just pissed, and sad, and not ready to let her go.

dad is so confident that everything is going to be alright. and i wish i had that.

i don't know how to be with mom right now. she's aware, but not clear on how serious this is.

i don't know how to not be selfish right now, so i sneak in when she's not awake, and leave as quickly as possible when she is. i don't know how to not need her.

i will keep praying for grace.

why you need my equality

an open letter to my community,

i'm tired of chanting at rallies. i don't want to talk about what i want today. i don't want to talk religion or politics today, though know that i welcome both of those conversations. for right now, let's talk about why you need my equality, as two people who share a community.

you need my equality. i'm tired of telling people what i want. and when i want it. it's not about me, what i want, or when. it's about us, and you. and you need my equality. i'm not shouting this, i'm not asking you, for the first time in my life, i feel confident and steady enough to talk to you as my equal. because we are. and legally, we should be.

i've built my adult life around queer politics and culture. it has made me a better community member. i've also spent a certain amount of my life in grief and mourning. because being queer meant a loss for me. a loss of safety, a loss of approval, a loss of options.

i've been jaded. for a long time. from a very young age, i knew i was queer. even from that very young age, i equated being queer with those losses. i knew that at some point i would have to tell my mom she would never be the mother of a bride because that's what my being queer meant. when i came out to her, the only thing she cried about was that she wouldn't be the mother of a bride.

being queer has meant a number of other things as well. at times, it has meant a certain kind of fraternity and community that otherwise would not have been available to me. at times, it has meant shame, it has meant violence, it has meant the expectation of disapproval during the most mundane and taken for granted activities of life. like, having coffee with my partner and her son we were raising together.

i didn't know until recently that i wanted to get married. i have a strong faith in god. let me and god and my church work out my ability to marry in the eyes of god. i trust that we will.

you and i should work out my ability to marry in the eyes of the state.

i have a strong faith in love. still, somewhere in my heart, i believed that i didn't deserve to get married. i bought into that. i don't believe that anymore. and civil partnerships are a consolation prize that offer me little comfort.

i have been grieving this loss since i was five years old. i wanted to marry my best friend, and registered that i would never i would never be able to marry who i wanted. i have been in mourning for 28 years. where else could my time, and energy, and talent be spent? how much better would our community be if i loved another joyfully without shame, without fear, without this grief?

when i realized i wanted to get married, i started taking dancing lessons. i want to dance at my wedding. give me the opportunity to dance at my wedding. locally, with all of my family and friends and community to bear witness. granted, i have to find someone to marry, but i'll work on that part.

when Spain legalized gay marriage Spain's Prime Minister Jose Luis Rodriguez Zapatero said, "...We are enlarging the opportunity for happiness to our neighbors, our co-workers, our friends and, our families: at the same time we are making a more decent society, because a decent society is one that does not humiliate its members."

enlarge our opportunities for happiness. make a more decent society.

you need my equality. you need it now. because a decent society is one that does not humiliate its members.

for those of us in washington state, please vote yes on referendum 71.

all about love

i have a tendency to be objective based. wandering can be nice, but i do better with a purpose, even if not always a destination.

since i was a kid, i have always had working missions. they've evolved from learning to fly as a kid, to creating queer spaces as an adult. though, i have an itch to fly again. when i was a kid, i raced hot air balloons. races require a minimum of three people in a basket. this is usually comprised of one adult and two kids, to keep weight at a minimum. my dad and grandfather were pilots. i grew up around flight. my favorite kind of flights were hot air balloons and gliders. i had a thing for no engines.

in the past year, i adopted a mission to find love. in all it's forms. i wanted to stretch my definition of love past the limited romantic boundaries i had set around it. i loved my parents, i loved my friends. but somehow, that didn't count for me as love. only romantic-in-love-love counted as love. it was, in fact, a kind of score sheet i kept.

i had been mostly single for three years already. i had dated a little. had a couple of girlfriends. but no one who required a conversation prior to making choices like, buying a car.

i had been cutting down on my love addiction for a few years. i wasn't ready to go cold turkey, but i wasn't going on any benders, either.

next step- really get to know love. how it works. why it works. know where i could find it, even the surprising places. start seeing it for more than what i held it to be.

in order to do that, i decided to start dating as a way of getting to know people. rather than as a way to start a relationship. i even made a surrender pact with a friend. i would surrender to the universe. if someone asked me on a date, as long it didn't cross any of my actual boundaries, i had to say yes. i couldn't hem and haw and flake out. and i did give in to it. it was good.

i wrote a relationship manifesto. i wrote choose your own adventure posts on craigslist and called them writing assignments. i dated. i really liked everyone i dated. but no girlfriends. i began to think i would never choose a girlfriend. that being said, i did get a little flakey on the surrender front when work picked up.

but another funny thing happened. i began thinking about love when i was happy. when i was angry. when i was lonely. it started as a word, and then it grew. to a concept. to a philosophy. to a feeling. to a commitment. i found myself taking care of things. in a joyful way. i got to know people. in ways i never had before. and i loved them the more i got to know them, especially when realizing our differences. and i stopped listening to jawbreaker so much. well, at least i cut down considerably. and ryan adams was out.

the funny thing- i found myself thankful for so many things. i found myself breathing more. deeper. i found myself calmer. and happier. i found myself doing more. for myself. for others. for my community. i found myself less scared. i stopped holding my breath when i walked past the parking lot where i was assaulted four years ago. i started laughing more. from my core. how was i possibly falling in love for so long without laughing and breathing?

i found myself expecting great things. and they happened. and they keep happening. i wanna do cartwheels in the street most days. i want to dance.

i find love everywhere. my heart throws sparks most of the time.

part of this mission to find love meant separating myself from my bender romantic notions. i miss them, i do.

and sometimes i'm still lonely. part of that love business meant being on my own more.

of course i haven't given up on the deeper than the river, dancing in the kitchen at the end of the night love. one of these days, i'm going to find myself laughing and breathing and surrendering in just the right ways to that slow, steady, even though i may have had a clue at first glance romantic love. with maybe a few big nights on the town, but no more love benders or hangovers. i really do believe i will find not a girl, but the right girl. just not tomorrow. i'm not naive enough to think i've got all the answers. in many ways, falling in love will be a completely new exercise for me. it will challenge me in ways i never before recognized. but as jess put it, 'doyle, you're smart enough to know it's worth the work. and you'll know when it's right." and he's right.

we'll see what happens. but i'm expecting great things. and anyway, i found more love than i even know what to do with most days. which gives me a lot of work to do. i've barely scratched the surface of this love business.

unstoppable forces

my heart breaks a little today. so, i'm meditating on this speech.

July 01, 2005 By Jose Luis Rodriguez Zapatero

[When the Spanish parliament yesterday took its historic vote legalizing both gay marriage and adoption of children by gay couples, Socialist Prime Minister Jose Luis Rodriguez Zapatero -- who put the full prestige of his office and party behind passage of the gay human rights legislation -- made one of the most remarkable speeches in favor of full equality for those with same-sex hearts ever delivered by a head of government anywhere. Here are excerpts from Zapatero's speech -- Doug Ireland]



"We are not legislating, honorable members, for people far away and not known by us. We are enlarging the opportunity for happiness to our neighbors, our co-workers, our friends and, our families: at the same time we are making a more decent society, because a decent society is one that does not humiliate its members.



"In the poem 'The Family,' our [gay] poet Luis Cernuda was sorry because, 'How does man live in denial in vain/by giving rules that prohibit and condemn?' Today, the Spanish society answers to a group of people who, during many years have, been humiliated, whose rights have been ignored, whose dignity has been offended, their identity denied, and their liberty oppressed. Today the Spanish society grants them the respect they deserve, recognizes their rights, restores their dignity, affirms their identity, and restores their liberty.



"It is true that they are only a minority, but their triumph is everyone's triumph. It is also the triumph of those who oppose this law, even though they do not know this yet: because it is the triumph of Liberty. Their victory makes all of us (even those who oppose the law) better people, it makes our society better. Honorable members, There is no damage to marriage or to the concept of family in allowing two people of the same sex to get married. To the contrary, what happens is this class of Spanish citizens get the potential to organize their lives with the rights and privileges of marriage and family. There is no danger to the institution of marriage, but precisely the opposite: this law enhances and respects marriage.



"Today, conscious that some people and institutions are in a profound disagreement with this change in our civil law, I wish to express that, like other reforms to the marriage code that preceded this one, this law will generate no evil, that its only consequence will be the avoiding of senseless suffering of decent human beings. A society that avoids senseless suffering of decent human beings is a better society.



"With the approval of this Bill, our country takes another step in the path of liberty and tolerance that was begun by the democratic change of government. Our children will look at us incredulously if we tell them that many years ago, our mothers had less rights than our fathers, or if we tell them that people had to stay married against their will even though they were unable to share their lives. Today we can offer them a beautiful lesson: every right gained, each access to liberty has been the result of the struggle and sacrifice of many people that deserve our recognition and praise.



"Today we demonstrate with this Bill that societies can better themselves and can cross barriers and create tolerance by putting a stop to the unhappiness and humiliation of some of our citizens. Today, for many of our countrymen, comes the day predicted by Kavafis [the great Greek gay poet] one century ago: 'Later 'twas said of the most perfect society/someone else, made like me/certainly will come out and act freely.'"



[Thanks to valiant gay journalist Rex Wockner for providing this translation.]

watermelon on salad

things went upside down a couple of months ago. six months into my technical training position at providence, i was promoted. six months into that, i was laid off after our census dropped by almost 50%. this busted my hopes of re-financing my home, as my mortgage adjusts relatively soon. i'm trying to remain hopeful, but i also need to realize that i could lose my home in the next year.

a lot of us were laid off at hospice of seattle. another position came open, and i am now in accounting. the 40% pay cut could still leave me out of reach of a safe mortgage. i appreciate them retaining me.

but i feel lost. i have a masters in gender studies, but lack formal training in technology. the job market is awful, and i should be happy i have a job. and a workplace that loves and supports me.

my goal for the past two years has been to becoome a corporate trainer, and move into a quality and operational excellence track. or, i want to go back to school and become an arnp. this is a long and expensive proposition. i'd rather be a trainer. but these are tough jobs to come by.

a relatively new person in my life took me out for drinks and dinner this week. and to talk jobs. i appreciate her help. i like her. i'm glad we're connected. i started to breathe deep for the first time in a while as we hung out. my friend summer turns 30 tomorrow. her birthday celebration was this weekend. about twelve of us rallied up at a cabin on the sound. i met up with them late, since i worked yesterday. driving out there, i was thinking about how i isolate myself when i'm nervous. i've been nervous for a while. i needed to connect with my folks this weekend. and i love how solid they are. i can move in and out, and they remain steady, always welcoming.

i got there in time for dessert. summer and pat made sure i got some dinner first. there was salad with watermelon. it was amazing. and it was the first thing i've tasted in months. it warmed me up. i played ping pong, soaked in the hot tub, made plans, and felt at home. i love these people more than i can say most days.

i don't know what's going to happen. i'm going to expect great things on the job front. i'm going to find my way. i'm going to breathe, and fish, and play catch, and love these folks in my life. i'm going to focus, and keep warm. and be grateful for these folks that keep me warm.

knitting while champagne jamming

note to self-

do not knit while drinking champagne with friends on sundays.

just sayin'.

pretty good year

i should quit eating cheeseburgers. but i really like cheeseburgers. i refuse to make a resolution about this. but i will think about it.

someone asked me about resolutions on new years. i told her i don't make resolutions anymore. sometimes i make intentions.

my intentions for last year-

find a job i love
date casually, no more of this rush or run thing
invest more time, love, energy into my home
grow an amazing garden
compost
run, walk, cycle
support my community
make decisions and stick to them
more joy, less shame

i found a job i do cartwheels for. i planted an amazing garden, though the job distracted me from the harvest. i dated. casually, and some crash and burns. the house got painted, new floors, new shower/bath. and feels like home. i'm just now getting to composting. the city of olympia has done a fantastic job of making it too easy to not do. i ran three times. i walked a few more. actually, a lot more. and did not cycle. annie's not a good cycle companion. i worked a lot on the community center. it's in a holding pattern now. both of my jobs support my community in ways i love. i'm getting better at making decisions and sticking to them, but really, it takes practice. there was far more joy, and far less shame this year. again, these things take practice.

my intentions for this year-

give annie some manners, and maybe a brother, but manners first
plant, tend, and harvest an amazing garden
continue to love and invest in my home
learn to live with someone after living alone for three years
dance more
run, walk, cycle
invest in my family and friends
be excellent in my work

i'll let you how it goes. as i go along. and a wrap up in a year.

be well. be love. be intentional.

twenty minutes

i'm working a lot. it's not a complaint. i'm grateful for work. and work i love.

the past few days, my resistance is wearing. i'm tired. my learning curve still feels steep at times.

i used to have a lot of headaches. i would take tylenol. or advil. and start the clock for twenty minutes. it took twenty minutes to feel relief. if, at nineteen minutes, i was still in pain, i would still hold out for that last minute. that last minute would make all the difference.

twenty minutes became a marker for me. if something wasn't going right, i'd start the clock for twenty minutes. everything could change in twenty minutes.

recently, without every mentioning my twenty minute theory, a new friend said to me, 'you never know what could happen in twenty minutes. the love of your life could walk right in.'

i beamed at her.

twenty minutes. everything could change in twenty minutes.

and it will.