Vignette

This is my favorite time of day.  The sun is streaming in through my crappy aluminum blinds and heating up the apartment.  Baloo's eyes are amber in the light and she alternates between resting her head on the window sill and napping in a sun pool on the carpet.  The end of the couch is bathed in light and when I lay my head there, it's like taking a nap on a quiet leather sunny beach.

What I would tell me

If you haven't seen it, the premise of this show is to go through a box of the guest's mementos from childhood.  It's interesting, sometimes insightful, and completely relatable as we've all been there.  Most times near the end of the interview the host hands the guest a childhood photo and asks what they would want to tell the kid or young adult in that photo.  I found the clip above to be particularly touching.

I would tell past me nothing.  That girl had to be who she was and struggle with life a little so I could be who I am today.  If you've got halfway decent parents with even an 'nth of perspective, they are telling you the same things the future you would tell you about how there will be other boys, new friends, bigger things, a bigger world than the one you occupy as a child and young adult.  That everything will be ok because everything you are worrying about then will be okay by the time you are 30.  A lot of those things will be ok 30-45 seconds after high school and/or college graduation. That's the moment when you are dipping your first toe into the current that will carry you so rapidly to 35 you'll feel like you were pining to be 25 so you could rent a car on your own the day before yesterday.

I'm not sure I would have made it if I told that girl what was in store.  That girl imagined the fairy tale as her destination; having children, making a home, going to church on Sunday, being a kick-ass mom, writing bad poetry.  What I'm doing now would not seem cool to her at all.  And it's not cool really.  It's just interesting enough to keep me showing up for a paycheck and give me something to care about to break up the time I would otherwise be completely absorbed in me.

I'd like to talk to future me instead.  I would tell her that I can't believe what we've made of this.  Whatever it is, I feel fairly certain it will exceed my current imagination since everything up until now has.  I'd like to tell her that I think that means good things but I guess there have been some incredibly bad and low times too I never imagined so I would congratulate her for weathering those storms.  It's good that we can remember but somehow still forget enough to not be in a constant state of terror or mourning.  I would tell her I think she should always have a dog and that I cried about Baloo 10 years before because I knew she wasn't forever and 10 years after.  Damn dog.

I hope future me still has Soul Twin and if we haven't bought that piece of land and settled into our non-lesbian lives together then I hope we still empty the dishwasher together from 2000 or 20 miles away, consult each other on random purchases, counsel each other though minor meltdowns due to poorly timed romantic comedy viewings or bad dates, and unscrew each other from the ceiling as needed.  Maybe we won't get our happy ending in love but at least we have something to look forward to if it doesn't work out.

I hope future me is an aunt and that my brother and sister find good souls to build lives with.  I hope my nieces and/or nephews really get to know their grandparents because those are some great people to know.  I hope to hold babies in my arms and then give them back to their parents.  I would tell me to keep investing in myself, whether it is a personal trainer or a monthly massage because I deserve a treat for putting up with myself 24/7.  I also hope future me gets to a HBCU to see one of these in person:



and one of these (go 'head Becky's! that routine was awesome)



and this



and isn't this adorable?



But seriously, none of those can top this.

Really?

What is it like to be asexual?

By Lucy WallisBBC News

Jenni is in a relationship with Tim, who is not asexual

Continue reading the main story

Twenty-one-year-old Jenni Goodchild does not experience sexual attraction, but in an increasingly sexualised society what is it like to be asexual?

If I were a stand up comedian, I would have a field day with this. This is group of self-identified people who define not having sex as something other than celibacy, chastity, whatever. They have a sub-categories, romantic and aromantic which means exactly what you think it does. They also have gay and lesbian asexuals. I can barely type for the number of times my eyes are rolling back up in my head with bemused annoyance. The young lady featured above is 21, barely old enough to pick a career and clearly not yet committed to a hair color but she's going on the record as asexual. I think she could safely describe herself as a virgin or celibate since "It is not known whether asexuality is something a person experiences for their entire life or for a period of time." I don't know, I'm guessing we don't know because being asexual is not a real thing. It's just called not having sex. But maybe I'm wrong. I just thought I just wasn't having sex but maybe I'm asexual. If there is some kind of additional sub-category of minority I can fit in by claiming that label, I'm in, at least long enough to get some scholarships or something.

Just to be clear, I don't have anything against people not having sex for whatever reason; faith, lack of interest, discipline, safety. But to make not having sex into a group of people akin to hetero and homosexuals, that's just horse squeeze to me. Rainbow Bright had this to say regarding how she could know she was asexual when she had never had sex: "Well if you're straight have you tried having sex with somebody you know of the same sex as you? How do you know you wouldn't enjoy that? You just know that if you're not interested in it, you're not interested in it, regardless of having tried it or not."

Fair enough, I feel the same way about brussel sprouts. But I wouldn't start or join a group of people who don't like brussel sprouts and create awareness of our community of people who are doing nothing but not eating brussel sprouts, being in relationships with people who do. This is a group of people NOT doing something. What. the. fuck.

But I'm all for the bandwagon. Let's catalog the human condition until everyone has a group, especially if you are a group of people who are *not* doing something. I think the following things should become defined groups with forums, lawyers on retainer to file discrimination suits, and advocacy/awareness activities.

*Kids and adults who don't do their homework (I suggest ADHD and non-ADHD chapters)

*People who insist on driving in the left lane with cruise control no more than 3 miles above the posted speed limit and very often at least five miles *under* the speed limit. Their voices must be heard and the discrimination, middle fingers, curses on their family, and abrupt cutting off to make them have to tap their breaks and reset their cruise control just has to stop.

*People who don't pick up after their dogs

*People who don't watch popular movies until at least a year after everyone stops talking about them and often not at all

*People who have never seen Casablanca and have no interest in doing so

*People who don't wear makeup

*People who don't like socializing but don't consider it a disorder and are perfectly ok with it

*People who don't collect stamps/beanie babies/antiques

*People who don't bathe (this is a group with possibilities, I've smelled them everywhere)

*People who don't kill other people (a silent majority whose time has come to have a voice)

A federal holiday wouldn't hurt either. We've got some room between March and May that could use some paid breaks. Also, here is my new dating profile:

I'm asexual because that is a thing you can be now. I want to get to know you and spend time cuddling and kissing you if the asexual chemistry is there. I think you people call it dating but look it up, it's a thing now.

PSA: Stay home if you have really bad gas

I think if you have terrible gas, you should be allowed to take a sick day.  You don't have to have food poisoning.  Everyone knows sometimes there's a disagreement, it's perfectly natural. But we can smell it and we're really conflicted about pretending we don't.  And to the person who lights up the elevator--that is some bold shit.  You make everyone who rides that elevator until the smell clears culpable for that smell to everyone that gets in the elevator after them.  Just wrong.

What is Love

I know I can't define it or even really describe it but I've been marinating in romantic comedies the last few days and with each formulaic ending, I get sucked deeper into the quicksand of thinking about what fantasy fuels the plots of all these movies and how it influences our expectations in relationships. I don't know anyone whose romance resembles any movie I've ever seen about love. When it does, we swoon. And you know what? Without exception the guys with swoon-y gestures and beautiful prose didn't work out. I don't know if that is a phase with guys where they see if they can be that guy or if they use it as a means to an end because women love living in love like the movies. The only woman I've seen on television whose romantic life I even remotely identify with is the Liz Lemon character on 30 Rock (*moment to non-lesbian girl crush on Tina Fey*)

What people need from love is less individual than fingerprints but more specific than one size fits most. There is something in most of us (men and women), deeply encoded and constantly running in the background, that wants to couple. Be it for sex, company, material wealth, most of us would like to get the best two out of three combo we can manage and get off the dating grid. I don't think people hate dating because dating is bad. Dating just takes a lot of energy and resources and for whatever you are in it for (sex, company, money...etc), it has a low return on investment. Locking it down with a nice guy/girl and not telling the story of your life for the 90th time makes sense for most people.

Sooo.....

We meet someone. Of all the random strangers we've both encountered, we forge some kind of connection. That counts for something with me because we beat the odds already. I can't help but find magic in the things that have to work in harmony for two people to meet and actually become a significant part of one another's life. I even feel that way about my friends. I am very sentimental about how and when we met. It's the part of the movie where you know these two people are going to be very important to one another but they don't know it yet.

We're dating, it's a bona fide relationship of some kind. Neither of us are scanning the horizon but at least one of us is end gaming the relationship, trying to figure out if they can identify the things that will bother them in 10 years and whether the things they love about you/us right now will offset those things. Fine, we all do that. The biggest mind screw to me when it doesn't work out though is 'I love you but I'm not in love with you.' Love can not even be defined but there is some nuance in our expectations that makes a distinction between loving someone and being in love with them. I think anyone who feels that way is really saying, "I love that you love me, that is my favorite thing about you. I do not feel the same way but I really love being loved. That is what I mean when I say I love you; I love you loving me." Any romantic comedy that uses this plot device (e.g. You've Got Mail) shows a perfectly normal and loving person who dagnabit, is just *boooring*.  The person they can't get out of their head is usually someone who is different, gets under their skin, brings upheaval but somehow *gets* them in a way their wonderful dependable boring significant other doesn't.  So according to the movies, I should go for a guy who deceives me, buys out my business, but really means well.

What is so unappealing about being with someone compatible?  What is wrong with the relationships where someone is more demonstrably emotionally invested than the other? Why do we tell the devote they deserve to be with someone as into them as they are into you? Why do we think that is true? Being loved is powerful and assuming there is physical attraction, why would that be a bad life?  Just like I don't believe you can sleep with the same person without some kind of emotion creeping in, I don't think you can be loved by someone and not be changed or affected by it.  You may think you aren't into them but if they cut you off...I can't figure out if it's worse or the same as losing love outright.  I think it feels worse.

I think part of the dilemma in relationships is figuring out how we want love to feel, what love should and should not do to us and for us. Even when to make a declaration of love is a milestone. The postmortem on failed relationships often leads to a conclusion that what we called was love was something else altogether. Kind of useless to conclude a relationship was lacking love or "real love" simply because it didn't work out.  A car doesn't stop being a car simply because it won't start.  Just because English only has one word for it (love) doesn't mean the concept doesn't have the range to include our attempts at happily ever after.  How we test and measure love changes over time I think, as discernment drives us to consider how love is demonstrated instead of how it is expressed.  The purest, most emotionally consistent, and sometimes overwhelming love I have experienced is for my dog. My heart swells at how simply she makes me happy. Love that unfiltered and heart swelling I think is only for babies* and animals. Everyone else is a challenge.  I've answered no questions, but I think I have cleansed my brain.  Rom-Com break for sure.




*(making a very deliberate distinction between babies and children.  Children are short people who can and do get on your nerves and can be very challenging to love as they age)

Watching too much TV

Wondering if I can get away with not walking the dog tonight.  The way she is eyeballing me suggests I will be shagging my ass out the door in the near term.

I've decided the next time I feel bad about myself to watch TLC.  Is is just me or is that network becoming trainwreck central?  And do these people understand that they are not part of the joke, they are the joke?  Hoarders is jaw dropping-ly amazingly awful.  I don't claim to be an expert on the show but it certainly seems that hoarding is to white women what serial killing is to white men.  What. the. hell.  I can not do it justice so here's a clip from the episode I watched last night.



It was awful.  She was a trash hoarder.

A. trash. hoarder.

She hoarded *trash*.

Sorry, I just can't get my head around not throwing away trash.  There was a foot-and-a-half pile of used sanitary napkins in the bathroom.  There were roaches behind the pictures on the wall and *in* the refrigerator which was described by the exterminator as an "incubator."  They had pets, two teenagers and that woman living in the house.  Feeling a bit overwhelmed because those dishes from Monday are still in the sink and you are behind on laundry?  Watch an episode and you will feel like the most together person.  You'll look at your turd-free floor, roach free walls, floors, ceiling, and appliances and think, yea, I can work with this.

But I wasn't done feeling superior so I tuned into an episode of Toddlers and Tiaras.  I do not understand the stunning lack of self-awarness in so many of the parents on the pageant circuit.  I can not believe they sign releases.  This mom was even breeding multiple personalities for her 6 year daughter by encouraging her to leave her 'real' self in the car and keep her pageant alter-ego on deck for the duration of the competition.  Ho-ly crap.



And this girl needs her own show.  And someone to start a college fund for her.



Well Baloo just assumed her station directly in my line of sight so she can begin staring at me until I take her out.  She is brutal.

Peek-a-boo

'I'm really too old for this game', I thought this morning in the shower.  Things don't go away simply because I close my eyes or hold my hands in front of my face.  My backslide pattern is familiar to me now; staying up late doing nothing, insomnia, dread of the morning, fervent prayers for time travel to absolve for all the lost time doing the above, bargaining with the morning light, borrowing all day from the future where the unaccomplished are rearranged but not addressed.  I'm officially freaking out.  This will be the ebb and flow of 2012 I predict.  Upheaval of moving, personal and professional preparations for the same, random moody stuff, life.  I know everything is better with a good night's rest and an early wake up.  I know this.  But I still slide into the funk and let the weight of the undone insulate me from happiness.  I don't want to leave my house.  But I must and I shall.  Soon I will not have the luxury of time to fret so I don't worry really that I will be in this place long.  Still, I'm really too old to hide under the covers and wish the world away.