i'm going to take a brief break from my usual anti-romance writing and present to you things i do to make awkward situations all the more awkward.
but if you read the title, you probably already figured that out.
anyway.
1. walking in the rain back up to my internship office, i turned the corner and found myself face to face with a middle-aged man who was mid-swing in what looked like an umbrella-rain-dance-a-la-Gene-Kelly.
and instead of joining in [as i should've done, in retrospect], i stared for a few seconds before finally offering a friendly smile.
too late.
he took off without another word, ashamed.
2. i was eating breakfast in an elevator when i noticed yet another middle-aged man was watching me. mouth full of food, i tried to strain a smile.
it felt like a Grinch smile.
he looked away.
3. "I'm yoh mommy, I'm not gonna like any boys you girls bring home."
"Well, that's lucky for me!"
"GIRLS, TOO."
[this one wasn't actually entirely my fault, but it's fun to share.]
4. "You know, relationships and, uh, all that, that stuff that go with them, they're tough."
"...Yeah. I dunno, Daddy, I just don't know...what...to do...with girls."
"Me neither! I had no idea til the wedding night."
"...Gross."
5. [shortly after #4]
"I don't know how to go about being affectionate either."
"Okay."
"You know, haha, one day, I told your mom -- I was kidding around -- 'Wanna go upstairs, to our room?'"
"Um."
"And she said, haha, 'You gonna hap to seduce me first.' Hahahaha Of course, I didn't know how."
"Gross."
6. I drunkenly ran into a cute girl at a party. Didn't know how to carry on a conversation, as usual.
So, instead, I said, "Put your arms up like this!"
She did.
And I went in for a Sneak Hug.
7. I was 5, talking to my best friend.
"I'm not saying I LIKE girls, I'm just saying that if I was a boy I'd like Kate."
"Um..."
"So if YOU were a boy, which girl would YOU like?"
"...I don't know..."
"C'mon...you've never...thought about it?"
"No."
"C'mon! I won't tell anyone. This is just make-believe."
"...Vickie, I don't know."
"GAH! You're lame!"
8. playing Life with my sisters and my younger cousins, to whom I wasn't Out yet. it was my turn.
"'Stop. It's your wedding day!'"
"Okay, so you get to put someone else in your car."
"...Make it a pink one."
"...Why?"
"I dunno. My husband could like pink. Or maybe I don't want to get married. Maybe I just want to go through life with my best friend."
::silence::
"...Okay. Here's your pink piece."
[later, my turn again.]
"Yay! My...best friend...and I are adopting twins!"
9. [Someone tells a bad joke.]
Me: Bwahahahahahaha!
Cousin Angelina: You laugh too much.
Me: ...[internal suffering]...Bwahahahahaha...!
10. someone in my 12th grade English class told a bad joke about the book we were discussing.
having only gotten a few hours of sleep the night before, delirious, i replied, when the laughing stopped, "That was nerdy. We are nerds."
11. in my 10th grade English class, discussion turned to the topic of bullying.
i raised my hand.
and proceeded to go into a 10 minute tirade about the evils of bullying.
and started to cry.
a lot.
everyone was stunned and silent.
"I-I-I don't know hahaha why I'm crying hahahaha boohoohoooooooo! Hahaha! Boohoo! Haha! PMS! Boohoo!"
--
if there're more, you'll be the first to know.
Showing posts with label lesbian. Show all posts
Showing posts with label lesbian. Show all posts
Tuesday, April 5, 2011
Friday, February 18, 2011
38. whoa. that was stupid. [for those i've repelled with awkwardness.]
i don't pick up on signals.
whenever i privately fantasize about pseudo-romantic rendezvouses [haha the plural for rendezvous makes me laugh], i fancy myself the pursuer; but in real-life situations, whenever i decide to take a plunge into the murky depths of Romance and Lesbian Night-Clubs, i'm the wall-flower, praying to Jeebus that someone will pick up on the fact that i'm too terrified to make the first move.
Big Spoon dreams with Little Spoon attitude.
actually, not even Little Spoon attitude.
just Inexcusable Idiocy.
i have that special curse, sometimes gift, where months - years, even - after the fact, i can remember the smallest details of situations gone wrong.
maybe it's because i'm constantly blaming myself for my inability to "connect," and i feel the need to dissect events that haunt me with hopes of improving myself, guarding myself against future failures.
or maybe it's just because i'm well aware of the fact that God seems to have purposely and purposefully armed me with a talent for carrying out almost cinematically ridiculous acts for the entertainment of others, and i'd feel guilty if my hilarious pain wasn't offered up for someone else's joy.
anywho.
after reading a number of drunken journal entries (that are far too embarrassing to put up here, even for me), as well as bitterly looking back through a slightly more socially aware microscope, i've decided to address certain happenstances and apologize to those who have fallen victim to my debilitating social-ineptness.
and to help those of you who find yourselves in similar circumstances.
1. one night, i was in bed with someone i was actually beginning to like.
like, like-like.
meaning that i didn't know what the fuck to do about it. granted, we were, as i said, already in bed together, and, as such, you'd think that any awkward tension was obliterated; however, being that i was just waking up from a drunken stupor and was therefore once again aware of my own inhibitions, we were back at square one.
so when she started to shiver, while on her side, facing away from me, my first thought wasn't, Oh! She wants to cuddle! Thank God! as it should've been, because lord knows i would've jumped at the chance.
instead, i felt guilty that she was so cold even though she was already under the covers.
so as quietly as i could, i went and found another blanket and covered her with it.
genuinely thinking that this was the most thoughtful and correct course of action.
...yeah.
2. not too long after #1, in the same evening, that is [yes, i know, poor whoeversheis], i went to the bathroom, convinced she was still asleep. when i returned, she was almost entirely on my side of the bed.
i figured she just moved in her sleep, so i did my best to un-awkwardly maneuver myself so that i was at least partially on the mattress, still worried i might disturb her.
but she wasn't even completely asleep, and when she stirred a bit i hesitated before asking, as politely as possible, "Um...would you mind, like...moving over a little bit?"
and i discovered just a second later that there was no polite way to ask that.
and i realized several months later that it might have been another one of those signs.
3. the next morning ["Holy shit, Vickie, seriously?!"], when we were in front of her building, there was a brief, tense moment of silence. suddenly, she lunged at me with a kiss. i was so taken aback i only managed to summon enough consciousness to nervously laugh and say, "Okay. See you later!"
walking away, i was already slowly dying inside.
4. moving on to another unlucky lady:
out of the blue, she asked me out.
surprised and sincerely interested - being that this was the first time anyone had been forward enough to do so - i consented.
the date went well. very well.
but when i realized that i might actually really like her, in true Vickie form i retreated to my inner fortress and shut down.
so, at the end of the night, when i was dropping her off and she asked, so directly, if i wanted to kiss her, i was overcome with two thoughts: the first, Oh my God. She already knows me well enough to be this direct. I feel so exposed.; and the second, Uhhhhhhh...
unfortunately, the second thought found its way out, filled the air with unnecessary tension, and i convinced myself that i fucked things up and there was no way in hell she was still into me.
so no, we didn't kiss.
and yes, i do use, "Uhhh..." as a legitimate form of communication.
5. "I like you, Vickie."
"Aww. I like you, too!"
"Oh, man. 'Cos last year, when I told my friends about it, I finally decided to make a move on you at the next USC party, but you had just officially gotten with someone else."
beat.
"Oh! You meant that like!"
6. when a girl invited me over to her place for a night of SNL, i figured she just wanted to be friends.
i had only very recently Come Out, so i was desperate for comrades.
and when she inched so close to me on the couch, to the point where she was practically sitting on one of my arms, i wondered if that was just how lesbians bonded.
7. Text: I'm stuck in traffic - I could really use some entertainment ;P
My reply: Oh...that's unfortunate. I'm sorry. :/ LA traffic sucks.
8. "Oh, man, I really wanna dance right now!"
"Go for it - I can't really dance."
---
and this is just a small sampling, mind you. i have 3 journals worth of bitter introspection and regret.
it always amazes me just how wonderfully and relentlessly i fuck things up.
if you have been on the receiving end of my clueless anti-whims, please know how deeply sorry i am.
talking to people on a one-on-one basis has never been easy for me; that middleground, between acknowledging that i can be too guarded only to discover, in an effort to remedy that flaw, that i'm also susceptible to word vomit, is yet to be charted.
try as i might to prevent myself from putting up my walls, keeping a wary eye on myself more than on the situation at hand, i tend to grasp for any possible thought to keep things going. and more often than not, all i find is that no matter what, being myself around people who interest me is tough; i either don't open up enough, or i try to be so exposed that the words that fly out of my mouth, like shrapnel over a promising conversation, are false.
so, again, i'm sorry to those i may have hurt or deterred.
i can honestly say that it's not you, it's me.
Monday, January 31, 2011
37. don't put the cart before the horse. but here are some things i'm going to teach my kids or nieces and nephews [if they're ever to exist.].
i do a lot of wishful thinking.
like considering having kids someday.
even if i don't, and i commit myself to a life of hermithood, here are some things i might prioritize, based on observations and personal experiences/preferences:
1. the difference between "your" and "you're."
mama didn't [won't] raise no fool.
2. the differences between "their," "there," and "they're."
3. good storytelling, oral and written.
the written part of which will be enhanced by their knowledge of the aforementioned distinctions.
4. puns.
5. to take PepcidAC to avoid Asian Glow when drinking.
6. to not laugh like a monster, as my sister tells me i do.
(i.e. BWA-hahahaha)
7. rudimentary social skills.
the responsibility of which will be placed on their other mother's shoulders.
or, if i'm single, those of their aunts.
...better yet, family friends.
8. to be unafraid of telling bad jokes.
9. though i'd probably still prefer it if they mastered the art of joke-telling.
10. to recover after accidentally blurting out some unflattering detail about themselves.
or doing something stupid.
11. to actually not be afraid of doing something stupid in public, which will be aided by the Recovery Lesson.
12. Black, Yellow, Brown people are okay.
13. the White ones, too.
14. and Europeans.
15. foreigners and immigrants, in general.
16. it's okay to be straight.
and bi, trans, and, obviously, gay/lesbian.
17. eat whatever the hell you want.
there's nothing wrong with having more to love.
18. i'm probably going to be that annoying mother who tells their kids they're beautiful and amazing and that i love them on the daily.
even in front of their friends.
19. don't be afraid of grandma.
20. old school Nickelodeon was way better in my day.
you can watch my DVD collection instead of that new crap.
21. it's okay to cry during sports movies, no matter what Aunts Olivia and Annie say.
and mommy's friends.
22. it's okay to write cringeworthy journal entries.
in a few years you'll probably laugh at them/yourself and wear them as a badge of honor.
23. if you laugh first, no one else has the chance to laugh at you.
24. even your bad ideas are probably good ones if you're willing to laugh at yourself.
25. Harry Potter is a way of life.
26. don't be so afraid of your feelings for other people that Asian Glow comes out while you're un-inebriated.
or you run away.
and avoid them.
27. hugging/human contact can be a good thing.
28. in fact, most people would probably tell you that it IS a good thing.
29. having feelings isn't a bad thing, even if i sometimes make fun of you for it.
i only do it out of love.
30. don't be afraid of wishful thinking.
31. don't be ashamed of your taste in things.
even if no one else really understands why you love The Village so much.
--
and that's all for now.
i'll probably be working on this for the next 50-some-odd years.
like considering having kids someday.
even if i don't, and i commit myself to a life of hermithood, here are some things i might prioritize, based on observations and personal experiences/preferences:
1. the difference between "your" and "you're."
mama didn't [won't] raise no fool.
2. the differences between "their," "there," and "they're."
3. good storytelling, oral and written.
the written part of which will be enhanced by their knowledge of the aforementioned distinctions.
4. puns.
5. to take PepcidAC to avoid Asian Glow when drinking.
6. to not laugh like a monster, as my sister tells me i do.
(i.e. BWA-hahahaha)
7. rudimentary social skills.
the responsibility of which will be placed on their other mother's shoulders.
or, if i'm single, those of their aunts.
...better yet, family friends.
8. to be unafraid of telling bad jokes.
9. though i'd probably still prefer it if they mastered the art of joke-telling.
10. to recover after accidentally blurting out some unflattering detail about themselves.
or doing something stupid.
11. to actually not be afraid of doing something stupid in public, which will be aided by the Recovery Lesson.
12. Black, Yellow, Brown people are okay.
13. the White ones, too.
14. and Europeans.
15. foreigners and immigrants, in general.
16. it's okay to be straight.
and bi, trans, and, obviously, gay/lesbian.
17. eat whatever the hell you want.
there's nothing wrong with having more to love.
18. i'm probably going to be that annoying mother who tells their kids they're beautiful and amazing and that i love them on the daily.
even in front of their friends.
19. don't be afraid of grandma.
20. old school Nickelodeon was way better in my day.
you can watch my DVD collection instead of that new crap.
21. it's okay to cry during sports movies, no matter what Aunts Olivia and Annie say.
and mommy's friends.
22. it's okay to write cringeworthy journal entries.
in a few years you'll probably laugh at them/yourself and wear them as a badge of honor.
23. if you laugh first, no one else has the chance to laugh at you.
24. even your bad ideas are probably good ones if you're willing to laugh at yourself.
25. Harry Potter is a way of life.
26. don't be so afraid of your feelings for other people that Asian Glow comes out while you're un-inebriated.
or you run away.
and avoid them.
27. hugging/human contact can be a good thing.
28. in fact, most people would probably tell you that it IS a good thing.
29. having feelings isn't a bad thing, even if i sometimes make fun of you for it.
i only do it out of love.
30. don't be afraid of wishful thinking.
31. don't be ashamed of your taste in things.
even if no one else really understands why you love The Village so much.
--
and that's all for now.
i'll probably be working on this for the next 50-some-odd years.
Thursday, January 27, 2011
36. the world is a lonely place. and i hate emo, so don't worry. emo as in feely, not as in Korean aunt.
whether you're coming out as gay, nerdy, trendy, a Belieber, a knitter, etc., the world can and probably will be unkind.
it's amazing the lengths we're willing to go in order to find that sense of community, and how desperate we are when we're harboring so many secrets.
whenever i think back to my days in the Lesbian Closet, it's hard to believe that the person experiencing all those woes existed in the very same body that carries me today.
and some of the things i did to hide myself now strike me as ridiculous:
1. dating boys.
2. throwing on a parka after swim practice and sprinting through the locker room instead of lingering around to shower and change with my teammates.
because, well, girls made/make me uncomfortable.
3. when a girl i was deeply in love with at swim practice offered to let me touch her abs as she was laying down, and we were alone on the deck in just our swim suits, i panicked and blurted out that i had to use the bathroom.
4. telling my parents, at the age of 8, "I know everyone thinks I'm a lesbian, but I just want you to know that I'm NOT."
5. laughing and nodding a little too rigorously when friends commented on a boy's frumpiness.
6. blushing whenever someone asked me what boy i was crushing on.
which actually worked well, as everyone tended to misinterpret the reasons behind my shade.
7. reading Jane Austen novels.
--
and when i finally started to deal with the gay thing and decided to look into the larger community, as well as to more fully accept it, kind of:
1. i googled "gay nerds" and found a forum that featured topics like "Hott Spock" and "Willow, Will-WOW."
i felt "connected."
after watching episode after episode of The L Word, it was nice to see that not ALL lesbians were wildly attractive, articulate, well dressed women.
2. watching The L Word on mute on the basement TV when everyone was asleep.
3. i avoided that girl i liked all the more.
too many feelings to deal with.
4. watching Ellen.
5. looking at colleges that were as far away from home as possible.
as well as their respective LGBT resource centres.
6. hugging people more often.
this seems a little irrelevant, but lemme tell you: when you're so determined to keep that Gay Secret, somehow you irrationally believe that your gayness can be discovered through osmosis or something.
--
but now that the gay thing's all done and dealt with, i laugh, really, at how melodramatic i made everything seem.
my Coming Out process was really anti-climactic and unexpectedly funny.
awkward, yes, and painful at times, but still easier to cope with than anticipated.
so now i find myself finally dealing with all sorts of things that were kept on the backburner: my inability to open up; my overall awkwardness; my nerdiness; my addiction to food; my weird insecurities.
it's almost as if my bored subconscious is trying to refill the big Worry Void that Coming Out left in its wake with whatever it can find.
my biggest concern nowadays is coming to terms with my awkwardness/social skills.
Lesbianism is so passe.
it's amazing the lengths we're willing to go in order to find that sense of community, and how desperate we are when we're harboring so many secrets.
whenever i think back to my days in the Lesbian Closet, it's hard to believe that the person experiencing all those woes existed in the very same body that carries me today.
and some of the things i did to hide myself now strike me as ridiculous:
1. dating boys.
2. throwing on a parka after swim practice and sprinting through the locker room instead of lingering around to shower and change with my teammates.
because, well, girls made/make me uncomfortable.
3. when a girl i was deeply in love with at swim practice offered to let me touch her abs as she was laying down, and we were alone on the deck in just our swim suits, i panicked and blurted out that i had to use the bathroom.
4. telling my parents, at the age of 8, "I know everyone thinks I'm a lesbian, but I just want you to know that I'm NOT."
5. laughing and nodding a little too rigorously when friends commented on a boy's frumpiness.
6. blushing whenever someone asked me what boy i was crushing on.
which actually worked well, as everyone tended to misinterpret the reasons behind my shade.
7. reading Jane Austen novels.
--
and when i finally started to deal with the gay thing and decided to look into the larger community, as well as to more fully accept it, kind of:
1. i googled "gay nerds" and found a forum that featured topics like "Hott Spock" and "Willow, Will-WOW."
i felt "connected."
after watching episode after episode of The L Word, it was nice to see that not ALL lesbians were wildly attractive, articulate, well dressed women.
2. watching The L Word on mute on the basement TV when everyone was asleep.
3. i avoided that girl i liked all the more.
too many feelings to deal with.
4. watching Ellen.
5. looking at colleges that were as far away from home as possible.
as well as their respective LGBT resource centres.
6. hugging people more often.
this seems a little irrelevant, but lemme tell you: when you're so determined to keep that Gay Secret, somehow you irrationally believe that your gayness can be discovered through osmosis or something.
--
but now that the gay thing's all done and dealt with, i laugh, really, at how melodramatic i made everything seem.
my Coming Out process was really anti-climactic and unexpectedly funny.
awkward, yes, and painful at times, but still easier to cope with than anticipated.
so now i find myself finally dealing with all sorts of things that were kept on the backburner: my inability to open up; my overall awkwardness; my nerdiness; my addiction to food; my weird insecurities.
it's almost as if my bored subconscious is trying to refill the big Worry Void that Coming Out left in its wake with whatever it can find.
my biggest concern nowadays is coming to terms with my awkwardness/social skills.
Lesbianism is so passe.
Wednesday, January 26, 2011
35. friend-flirting vs. flirting-flirting. WHO WILL WIN?
if you've been following along with this blog, you're probably well acquainted with the fact that i'm kind of an idiot in matters of the heart.
not kind of.
...and not just of the heart.
if you're currently being Notes-to-Self-deflowered, well, i just told you.
you're welcome.
and now that that's established, and everyone's caught up, let's move on.
once, when i was complaining about the fact that i'm either the last to find out about other people's feelings towards me or i'm branded as the forever-friend and nothing more, my less-mushy/sympathetic sister told me two things: 1) "hahahahahaha Your love life makes me laugh"; 2) "Be wary of the difference between friend-flirting and flirting-flirting."
What the hell is "friend-flirting?" i wondered.
she told me that when someone wants to be friends with another - just friends - he/she takes an approach similar to the one they'd take if they wanted things to be romantic.
it's more toned-down, slightly less forward.
it's all about talking and getting to know someone.
hanging out, bonding, goofing off.
"So...what's flirting-flirting, then?"
my mind was blown.
"Well, I mean. If you just wanna be friends with someone, you're less likely to try so hard you make an ass of yourself, right? It's less forced. More natural."
no.
no, that's not the case.
unfortunately, for so long i was trapped in a shell that now, whenever i sense any inkling of a connection with someone, i become overzealous in my endeavours and end up making an ass of myself anyway.
in fact, i'd argue that when i first meet someone, any idea of possible romantic feelings is the farthest from my mind.
my primary goal when i meet someone is to be able to force myself to go beyond my shy borders, choke out any potential thoughts, feelings, and interests, rather than resort to my usual, safe, reserved nature.
to be friends.
apparently, this is the wrong way to go about things.
nobody else seems to feel this way.
which means that on more than one occasion, looking back, i'm sure i've come across as something of a creeper to a number of people.
or an asshole.
like that one time when a friend unwisely assigned me the role of her wingwoman, and, try as i might to encourage her target to hang out with us, my multiple texts/invitations/urgings probably only made it look as though i was the predator.
bad friend-flirting.
or that time at Game Stop when a friendly guy came up and struck up a conversation, and i thought it was perfectly acceptable to reciprocate, only to find out that he was hitting on me.
"Are you single?"
"Uhh," with sudden realization, "I am, but...I'm also a lesbian."
[i'm still not sure why i decided to let him know that i'm also a lesbian.]
more bad friend-flirting.
other examples include more times when i've inadvertently led someone on, only to upset them and burn bridges: bridges i didn't even know were burned til much later when a close friend chastises me for my foolishness.
there are times when, apparently, i'm too good at friend flirting.
or i'm bad at it, sometimes crossing that line.
...i'm not sure if that thought process was easy to follow.
oh, well.
in terms of flirting-flirting, well, i'm still working on this.
sadly, once i've decided that i've somewhat succeeded, in any small way, in friend-flirting, as well as the fact that i'm actually deeply attracted to whoever's fallen victim to my awkward friend-woos, things become more complicated.
not because i'm ambiguous or because i "play the game."
but because i do exactly the opposite of those things.
everyone's playing Halo.
i'm still stuck on Parcheesi.
while, apparently, i've been practicing my friend-flirting for a number of years, my flirting-flirting's been put on the backburner.
or i've just got a totally different perspective on how it should all play out.
i was raised in a Korean household, meaning i was always taught that people can and should be as blunt and unrelenting as my mother.
also, dating/flirting/extracurricular social life were all big no-nos in our house, so i didn't get much of a chance to get out there in the first place.
also, there was that whole Closet debaucle.
anywho.
whenever i try to flirt-flirt, i find myself battling inner-demons: those instincts of just throwing everything onto the table instead of showing my cards in moderation.
i blush, laugh too loudly, make awkward, sappy admissions.
basically, my wooing abilities carry with them the power to scare any lesbian away.
a true gift.
navigating that line between friend-flirting and flirting-flirting is hard.
impossible.
i either go too far, or not far enough, or too far without realizing it and regretting it later, or just make an ass of myself.
to those of you i might have frightened away - and what're the chances, really, of you completely avoiding me only to occasionally read my blog - i apologize.
i have the social skills of a very confused kindergartener.
creeping you out was never on my to-do list.
i should probably take to being clear in my intentions whenever i try to hang out with people.
"Hi, I'm Vickie! I'm not hitting on you right now, I just want to be friends."
or.
"Hi, I'm Vickie! I'm actually hitting on you right now, but please let me know if I go too far so I can make a note of it for future friend-deavours or girlfriend-deavours."
sad.
this is gonna be a long road.
not kind of.
...and not just of the heart.
if you're currently being Notes-to-Self-deflowered, well, i just told you.
you're welcome.
and now that that's established, and everyone's caught up, let's move on.
once, when i was complaining about the fact that i'm either the last to find out about other people's feelings towards me or i'm branded as the forever-friend and nothing more, my less-mushy/sympathetic sister told me two things: 1) "hahahahahaha Your love life makes me laugh"; 2) "Be wary of the difference between friend-flirting and flirting-flirting."
What the hell is "friend-flirting?" i wondered.
she told me that when someone wants to be friends with another - just friends - he/she takes an approach similar to the one they'd take if they wanted things to be romantic.
it's more toned-down, slightly less forward.
it's all about talking and getting to know someone.
hanging out, bonding, goofing off.
"So...what's flirting-flirting, then?"
my mind was blown.
"Well, I mean. If you just wanna be friends with someone, you're less likely to try so hard you make an ass of yourself, right? It's less forced. More natural."
no.
no, that's not the case.
unfortunately, for so long i was trapped in a shell that now, whenever i sense any inkling of a connection with someone, i become overzealous in my endeavours and end up making an ass of myself anyway.
in fact, i'd argue that when i first meet someone, any idea of possible romantic feelings is the farthest from my mind.
my primary goal when i meet someone is to be able to force myself to go beyond my shy borders, choke out any potential thoughts, feelings, and interests, rather than resort to my usual, safe, reserved nature.
to be friends.
apparently, this is the wrong way to go about things.
nobody else seems to feel this way.
which means that on more than one occasion, looking back, i'm sure i've come across as something of a creeper to a number of people.
or an asshole.
like that one time when a friend unwisely assigned me the role of her wingwoman, and, try as i might to encourage her target to hang out with us, my multiple texts/invitations/urgings probably only made it look as though i was the predator.
bad friend-flirting.
or that time at Game Stop when a friendly guy came up and struck up a conversation, and i thought it was perfectly acceptable to reciprocate, only to find out that he was hitting on me.
"Are you single?"
"Uhh," with sudden realization, "I am, but...I'm also a lesbian."
[i'm still not sure why i decided to let him know that i'm also a lesbian.]
more bad friend-flirting.
other examples include more times when i've inadvertently led someone on, only to upset them and burn bridges: bridges i didn't even know were burned til much later when a close friend chastises me for my foolishness.
there are times when, apparently, i'm too good at friend flirting.
or i'm bad at it, sometimes crossing that line.
...i'm not sure if that thought process was easy to follow.
oh, well.
in terms of flirting-flirting, well, i'm still working on this.
sadly, once i've decided that i've somewhat succeeded, in any small way, in friend-flirting, as well as the fact that i'm actually deeply attracted to whoever's fallen victim to my awkward friend-woos, things become more complicated.
not because i'm ambiguous or because i "play the game."
but because i do exactly the opposite of those things.
everyone's playing Halo.
i'm still stuck on Parcheesi.
while, apparently, i've been practicing my friend-flirting for a number of years, my flirting-flirting's been put on the backburner.
or i've just got a totally different perspective on how it should all play out.
i was raised in a Korean household, meaning i was always taught that people can and should be as blunt and unrelenting as my mother.
also, dating/flirting/extracurricular social life were all big no-nos in our house, so i didn't get much of a chance to get out there in the first place.
also, there was that whole Closet debaucle.
anywho.
whenever i try to flirt-flirt, i find myself battling inner-demons: those instincts of just throwing everything onto the table instead of showing my cards in moderation.
i blush, laugh too loudly, make awkward, sappy admissions.
basically, my wooing abilities carry with them the power to scare any lesbian away.
a true gift.
navigating that line between friend-flirting and flirting-flirting is hard.
impossible.
i either go too far, or not far enough, or too far without realizing it and regretting it later, or just make an ass of myself.
to those of you i might have frightened away - and what're the chances, really, of you completely avoiding me only to occasionally read my blog - i apologize.
i have the social skills of a very confused kindergartener.
creeping you out was never on my to-do list.
i should probably take to being clear in my intentions whenever i try to hang out with people.
"Hi, I'm Vickie! I'm not hitting on you right now, I just want to be friends."
or.
"Hi, I'm Vickie! I'm actually hitting on you right now, but please let me know if I go too far so I can make a note of it for future friend-deavours or girlfriend-deavours."
sad.
this is gonna be a long road.
Tuesday, January 18, 2011
33. hot damn i'm stupid.
I wouldn’t call myself a cuddle connoisseur.
Addict, yes, but my limited experiences don’t match up to those of my well handled utensil contemporaries.
But don’t worry: this isn’t going to be a too-long self-deprecating piece overridden with annoying insertions and lacking in embarrassingly silly and valuable learning-tidbits.
If anything, I’m proud of the progress I’ve managed to make over the past few years since my very first Spooning experience.
[Which was, I’ll say now, one of the most terrifying but enlightening experiences of my life.]
When I was in the process of sailing to the island of Lesbos, armed only with Birkenstocks and flannel - or the superficial knowledge of the lesbian being - sex was the last thing on my mind.
Raised in the clutches of a South Korean and a Dominican Army Colonel, who taught my sisters and me that handholding counts as a base and hugging leads to sex, zero attention was paid to the goings-on of my south of the border interests.
At the beginning of my sophomore year of college, the only thing I was concerned with was making my very first batch of gay friends.
So when a fellow, however more-experienced lesbian invited me over to her place to watch SNL instead of going partying with the other gays I met at one of my first-ever LGBT meetings, I didn’t take it to mean anything more than, “Yay! I have a new lesbian friend!”
When we got to her place, she switched the TV on, offered me a glass of wine, and told me to make myself at home on her 4-person couch.
Hospitable, I thought.
She sat at one end and I absentmindedly found myself at the exact opposite end.
As the show wore on, though, I noticed that the gap between us started shrinking.
Well, I guess that WAS an oddly huge space.
And when it got to the point where she was practically sitting on my right arm, and I awkwardly gripped onto the armrest with my left, I wondered if this was just how lesbians bonded.
After the show ended we talked a bit, but at 2am I felt that I’d intruded too long.
“Well, it’s getting pretty late...I should probably get out of your hair.”
“No, it’s too late for you to try to get home,” she said sweetly, “but you can sleep here.”
I hesitated before privately applauding her generosity.
She disappeared into her bedroom, and, assuming I was supposed to sleep on her couch, I made myself comfortable.
But, seconds later, she returned.
“No, no, you can sleep in my room.”
I hesitated again, an unfamiliar tingling going down my spine.
I ignored it.
...She probably has a futon.
And then it occurred to me that I might be sleeping in very close quarters to someone else for the first time.
Please, for the love of God, have a futon.
I followed her into her bedroom, which was devoid of futon; just a red sportscar bed, with high walls to prevent escape.
...Falling off.
I didn’t sleep that night, especially with her body pressed into my back.
Instead, I laid rigidly on my side, my nose touching the bed’s wall.
After, my friends abused me for my cluelessness and urged me to, “Go for it.”
Given that this was the very first time someone of the same-sex was showing interest in me, I was a little eager to see where it went.
The more Spooner and I talked, the more I appreciated her patience and intentions.
She was kind, knowledgeable, encouraging, and understanding.
I confessed things I’d never shared before, and found myself in the new position of wanting and being able to pursue a completely open and sincere relationship with someone, even in non-romantic terms.
Finally, a connection.
We hung out a couple more times, holding hands, me continuing to spout out awkward sappy lines and thoughts.
It was a nice, strange feeling, all those firsts.
Sharing firsts, hugging firsts, handholding firsts, flirting firsts.
Later, when she asked me what I was going to be up to over the weekend, I blurted out the fact that my roommates were all going out of town and I was probably just going to have quiet nights-in with some movies and food.
She said she wanted to keep me company and I, being slightly more savvy by this point, conceded.
When she arrived, I gave her my obscenely full binder of movies and told her that she could choose.
I didn’t expect her to pick the raciest movie in my collection, Y Tu Mama Tambien (which, if you haven’t seen it, is about 85% porn (but, of course, I only own it for its artistic value)).
But she did.
I put the movie on, we ate, and eventually we found ourselves on the couch.
It was my first intentionally-cuddling experience.
She laid across my lap, and the fact that this was physically the closest I’d ever been to someone didn’t escape me.
I relished it.
Though I still had no idea what I was doing.
My hand was around her waist at the beginning of the film, but as the minutes trickled by I noticed that, somehow, my hand was mysteriously finding its way further up her body.
And my heart was up in my throat.
I tested it, concentrating on my hand to make sure that I wasn’t the one responsible.
Sure enough, I was positive that it wasn’t me.
And I was positive that it wasn’t going to stop any time soon.
And, sure enough, I was very much aware that the latest part of the body that I was touching wasn’t flat like the rest.
Like some X-rated Ouiji board, my hand found its way to a new revelation: real-life second base.
I panicked.
My hand was as stiff as my back had been on our very first night together.
And it stayed that way all the way through the end of the credits.
Finally, we got up and moved, commented on how late it was, and agreed to get to bed.
Wait, MY bed?! I thought to myself, trying hard [and probably failing] at keeping my face neutral.
We went into my bedroom, and, unlike Spoon Mishap #1, I was very much aware of the event’s significance.
She climbed onto my too-high bed and I clumsily followed suit.
She laid down, fully relaxed, and I tried my best to do the same.
She was on her side, facing me, while I concentrated very deeply on the various cracks in my ceiling.
My heart rate accelerated; I could feel it fighting its way through my chest.
I couldn’t help thinking that she was quietly watching me.
So close.
This is it, a small voice told me.
Wait, what is “it?” a more urgent and anxious voice asked.
Desperate, I wracked my brains for the few potentially telling clues I picked up during the past few weeks.
Nothing came to me.
I decided to attempt to subtly watch Spooner for hints; maybe she knew what this was all about.
It was an impossible task, I discovered, as I slowly craned my neck as carefully as possible, trying to get a glimpse of her.
She caught me, though, and I knew it.
Tensed even more.
I thought I sensed her smiling.
I tried to breathe.
The jig was up; I surrendered and strained a smile at my own awkwardness before facing her.
A long pause.
This IS it.
“Here,” she whispered, placing a gentle hand on the back of my neck, pulling me towards her.
Closer.
Oh, God, I thought, and, Please don’t let me be bad at this.
I’m pretty sure I was, but I couldn’t have really cared less.
In a lot of ways, I was more preoccupied with the fact that it was happening, period.
Here it was: a testament to the progress I made in Coming Out of both my shell and the Closet.
Close.
I’m still very much an idiot when it comes to all matters of of showing affection; I’m either too timid to show the truth or I’m overzealous and end up mucking things up.
And now Spooner’s off to greener pastures, I’m sure, and I’m still navigating through this mess that is my timidness.
But I’m closer, I think, to figuring things out: laughing at my poor choices and learning from them.
At least, that’s what I’m starting to tell myself.
Every time I stay true to my cluelessness and muck things up.
::Sigh::
Addict, yes, but my limited experiences don’t match up to those of my well handled utensil contemporaries.
But don’t worry: this isn’t going to be a too-long self-deprecating piece overridden with annoying insertions and lacking in embarrassingly silly and valuable learning-tidbits.
If anything, I’m proud of the progress I’ve managed to make over the past few years since my very first Spooning experience.
[Which was, I’ll say now, one of the most terrifying but enlightening experiences of my life.]
When I was in the process of sailing to the island of Lesbos, armed only with Birkenstocks and flannel - or the superficial knowledge of the lesbian being - sex was the last thing on my mind.
Raised in the clutches of a South Korean and a Dominican Army Colonel, who taught my sisters and me that handholding counts as a base and hugging leads to sex, zero attention was paid to the goings-on of my south of the border interests.
At the beginning of my sophomore year of college, the only thing I was concerned with was making my very first batch of gay friends.
So when a fellow, however more-experienced lesbian invited me over to her place to watch SNL instead of going partying with the other gays I met at one of my first-ever LGBT meetings, I didn’t take it to mean anything more than, “Yay! I have a new lesbian friend!”
When we got to her place, she switched the TV on, offered me a glass of wine, and told me to make myself at home on her 4-person couch.
Hospitable, I thought.
She sat at one end and I absentmindedly found myself at the exact opposite end.
As the show wore on, though, I noticed that the gap between us started shrinking.
Well, I guess that WAS an oddly huge space.
And when it got to the point where she was practically sitting on my right arm, and I awkwardly gripped onto the armrest with my left, I wondered if this was just how lesbians bonded.
After the show ended we talked a bit, but at 2am I felt that I’d intruded too long.
“Well, it’s getting pretty late...I should probably get out of your hair.”
“No, it’s too late for you to try to get home,” she said sweetly, “but you can sleep here.”
I hesitated before privately applauding her generosity.
She disappeared into her bedroom, and, assuming I was supposed to sleep on her couch, I made myself comfortable.
But, seconds later, she returned.
“No, no, you can sleep in my room.”
I hesitated again, an unfamiliar tingling going down my spine.
I ignored it.
...She probably has a futon.
And then it occurred to me that I might be sleeping in very close quarters to someone else for the first time.
Please, for the love of God, have a futon.
I followed her into her bedroom, which was devoid of futon; just a red sportscar bed, with high walls to prevent escape.
...Falling off.
I didn’t sleep that night, especially with her body pressed into my back.
Instead, I laid rigidly on my side, my nose touching the bed’s wall.
After, my friends abused me for my cluelessness and urged me to, “Go for it.”
Given that this was the very first time someone of the same-sex was showing interest in me, I was a little eager to see where it went.
The more Spooner and I talked, the more I appreciated her patience and intentions.
She was kind, knowledgeable, encouraging, and understanding.
I confessed things I’d never shared before, and found myself in the new position of wanting and being able to pursue a completely open and sincere relationship with someone, even in non-romantic terms.
Finally, a connection.
We hung out a couple more times, holding hands, me continuing to spout out awkward sappy lines and thoughts.
It was a nice, strange feeling, all those firsts.
Sharing firsts, hugging firsts, handholding firsts, flirting firsts.
Later, when she asked me what I was going to be up to over the weekend, I blurted out the fact that my roommates were all going out of town and I was probably just going to have quiet nights-in with some movies and food.
She said she wanted to keep me company and I, being slightly more savvy by this point, conceded.
When she arrived, I gave her my obscenely full binder of movies and told her that she could choose.
I didn’t expect her to pick the raciest movie in my collection, Y Tu Mama Tambien (which, if you haven’t seen it, is about 85% porn (but, of course, I only own it for its artistic value)).
But she did.
I put the movie on, we ate, and eventually we found ourselves on the couch.
It was my first intentionally-cuddling experience.
She laid across my lap, and the fact that this was physically the closest I’d ever been to someone didn’t escape me.
I relished it.
Though I still had no idea what I was doing.
My hand was around her waist at the beginning of the film, but as the minutes trickled by I noticed that, somehow, my hand was mysteriously finding its way further up her body.
And my heart was up in my throat.
I tested it, concentrating on my hand to make sure that I wasn’t the one responsible.
Sure enough, I was positive that it wasn’t me.
And I was positive that it wasn’t going to stop any time soon.
And, sure enough, I was very much aware that the latest part of the body that I was touching wasn’t flat like the rest.
Like some X-rated Ouiji board, my hand found its way to a new revelation: real-life second base.
I panicked.
My hand was as stiff as my back had been on our very first night together.
And it stayed that way all the way through the end of the credits.
Finally, we got up and moved, commented on how late it was, and agreed to get to bed.
Wait, MY bed?! I thought to myself, trying hard [and probably failing] at keeping my face neutral.
We went into my bedroom, and, unlike Spoon Mishap #1, I was very much aware of the event’s significance.
She climbed onto my too-high bed and I clumsily followed suit.
She laid down, fully relaxed, and I tried my best to do the same.
She was on her side, facing me, while I concentrated very deeply on the various cracks in my ceiling.
My heart rate accelerated; I could feel it fighting its way through my chest.
I couldn’t help thinking that she was quietly watching me.
So close.
This is it, a small voice told me.
Wait, what is “it?” a more urgent and anxious voice asked.
Desperate, I wracked my brains for the few potentially telling clues I picked up during the past few weeks.
Nothing came to me.
I decided to attempt to subtly watch Spooner for hints; maybe she knew what this was all about.
It was an impossible task, I discovered, as I slowly craned my neck as carefully as possible, trying to get a glimpse of her.
She caught me, though, and I knew it.
Tensed even more.
I thought I sensed her smiling.
I tried to breathe.
The jig was up; I surrendered and strained a smile at my own awkwardness before facing her.
A long pause.
This IS it.
“Here,” she whispered, placing a gentle hand on the back of my neck, pulling me towards her.
Closer.
Oh, God, I thought, and, Please don’t let me be bad at this.
I’m pretty sure I was, but I couldn’t have really cared less.
In a lot of ways, I was more preoccupied with the fact that it was happening, period.
Here it was: a testament to the progress I made in Coming Out of both my shell and the Closet.
Close.
I’m still very much an idiot when it comes to all matters of of showing affection; I’m either too timid to show the truth or I’m overzealous and end up mucking things up.
And now Spooner’s off to greener pastures, I’m sure, and I’m still navigating through this mess that is my timidness.
But I’m closer, I think, to figuring things out: laughing at my poor choices and learning from them.
At least, that’s what I’m starting to tell myself.
Every time I stay true to my cluelessness and muck things up.
::Sigh::
Monday, January 3, 2011
32. Coming Out means you go through a second phase of adolescence. or my parents are just overcompensating.
before i Came Out, i seldom said a word about crushes.
or myself.
nobody - my parents, in particular - knew a thing about my taste in...anything.
i kept to myself, opted to impersonate my mother rather than offer up my own thoughts and feelings.
as such - that is, after shipping off to college and the island of Lesbos - after practicing trial-and-error for as long as i have (emphasis on the error), i'm realizing that these feelings of uncertainty and dumbassness and self-absorption in the context of relationships and self must be akin to those my hetero peers mucked around in several years ago.
after you Come Out of the Closet you Dive Blindly Into a Dark, Complicated, Terrifying Bedroom.
and, well, world, i guess.
if i was the kind to tap into that level of sappiness.
which i'm not.
aloud.
anywho.
my understanding of Involved Parenthood of Hetero Teenagers is that mom and dad are so nosy they can't help but say and do embarrassing things in the pursuit of buried, angsty feelings and preferences.
at least, that's how it goes in movies.
with the parents constantly making assumptions and causing their spawn to blush or throw unnecessarily emotional fits.
being that my parents were under the impression that they managed to raise three of the most a-sexual, pure young women imaginable, none of the Toro girls faced much interrogation growing up.
it was only when one of my sisters accidentally let some key piece of information slip that my parents became curious.
for me, that curiosity or concern for my love life didn't come about until i Came Out, and my parents were suddenly aware of the fact that, contrary to 18 some odd years of denial and silence, i actually DID have some kind of "drive."
so those cringeworthy conversations came about.
but instead of being completely agonizing, looking back i'm pretty sure it was all hilarious.
1. just months after i Came Out, my dad and i were at Borders partaking in some Daddy-Daughter Bonding Time [as he called it].
at one point, he called me over to the calendar rack - a crazy look in his eye.
"Pssst, Vickie! Hey, Vickie!"
"...Yes?"
"Come over here!"
"What is it?"
he pointed.
right at a Sports Illustrated calendar.
i blushed.
"Oh...um...great, dad. Awesome."
"You know what I JUST realized?" he asked, in one of those non-whispers-that-was-supposed-to-be-a-whisper.
"What?"
"When I say things about women, you could be thinking the SAME THING."
afterward, when i tried to change the conversation, my dad was determined to uncover my taste in women.
and was excited to find that i was, in fact, my father's daughter.
i was nauseous.
2. at Bath and Body Works, during yet another Daddy-Daughter outing, my dad caught me looking through some scents.
"Whacha got there?"
"Hm? I dunno. Nothing. Just looking."
he grabbed another bottle of the same scent and sprayed it.
sniffed it.
"Hm...Maybe not that one."
"Okay."
"'Cos you know, women like scents. If you wanna get girls, you have to have your own scent. So make it a really good one."
i stared.
"Here! This one's pretty good. I'll go pay for it."
3. my mother doesn't like too many people.
actually, for the longest time, i wasn't even sure if she liked me all that much.
but i digress.
one day, my oldest sister brought her boyfriend over for the holidays.
after, while my mom and i were in a car together, i asked her what she thought of him.
"Eh, I don't like him."
"Really?" i asked, "He's so nice, though! And Olivia likes him a lot."
"I know. But ugh. Beside, I'm yoh mommy. I'm gonna hate any boy you bring home."
"Ha! Well, that's lucky for me!"
at the red light, she stopped, looked me square in the eye.
"Girls, too."
and i knew that she was finally okay with my gayness.
4. i was lamenting the fact that i was single and clueless and hopeless.
my mother's words of comfort were a little uncouth.
"You know, iss actually kinda lucky you're a lesbian."
"...Why?"
"Women tend to like awkward, nerdy people better. Eben the pretty ones. Look at me and yoh daddy."
5. i told my dad that i'd drunkenly gotten a girl's number, but that i wasn't sure about giving her a call.
he was pumped that i shared this with him.
"Ha! You and I ARE alike!" he exclaimed, "When I was your age, and I'd get home from some party, I'd find girls' phone numbers IN MY CLOTHES. It was crazy, but I didn't know what it meant. My friends were like, 'Man, you should totally call her.' And I'd be like, '...Why?' It was hopeless. Ha! It's nice at least ONE of you girls took after me. Nice for me, not for you."
6. my mom told me she was a little surprised by my first girlfriend.
because she had always hoped i wouldn't pick someone like my mother.
i didn't see the resemblance til after that conversation.
and then it was all i saw.
7. the usual talks about how i'm a "wonderful girl, of whom no one is deserving."
gross.
and this is all i've got for now.
or myself.
nobody - my parents, in particular - knew a thing about my taste in...anything.
i kept to myself, opted to impersonate my mother rather than offer up my own thoughts and feelings.
as such - that is, after shipping off to college and the island of Lesbos - after practicing trial-and-error for as long as i have (emphasis on the error), i'm realizing that these feelings of uncertainty and dumbassness and self-absorption in the context of relationships and self must be akin to those my hetero peers mucked around in several years ago.
after you Come Out of the Closet you Dive Blindly Into a Dark, Complicated, Terrifying Bedroom.
and, well, world, i guess.
if i was the kind to tap into that level of sappiness.
which i'm not.
aloud.
anywho.
my understanding of Involved Parenthood of Hetero Teenagers is that mom and dad are so nosy they can't help but say and do embarrassing things in the pursuit of buried, angsty feelings and preferences.
at least, that's how it goes in movies.
with the parents constantly making assumptions and causing their spawn to blush or throw unnecessarily emotional fits.
being that my parents were under the impression that they managed to raise three of the most a-sexual, pure young women imaginable, none of the Toro girls faced much interrogation growing up.
it was only when one of my sisters accidentally let some key piece of information slip that my parents became curious.
for me, that curiosity or concern for my love life didn't come about until i Came Out, and my parents were suddenly aware of the fact that, contrary to 18 some odd years of denial and silence, i actually DID have some kind of "drive."
so those cringeworthy conversations came about.
but instead of being completely agonizing, looking back i'm pretty sure it was all hilarious.
1. just months after i Came Out, my dad and i were at Borders partaking in some Daddy-Daughter Bonding Time [as he called it].
at one point, he called me over to the calendar rack - a crazy look in his eye.
"Pssst, Vickie! Hey, Vickie!"
"...Yes?"
"Come over here!"
"What is it?"
he pointed.
right at a Sports Illustrated calendar.
i blushed.
"Oh...um...great, dad. Awesome."
"You know what I JUST realized?" he asked, in one of those non-whispers-that-was-supposed-to-be-a-whisper.
"What?"
"When I say things about women, you could be thinking the SAME THING."
afterward, when i tried to change the conversation, my dad was determined to uncover my taste in women.
and was excited to find that i was, in fact, my father's daughter.
i was nauseous.
2. at Bath and Body Works, during yet another Daddy-Daughter outing, my dad caught me looking through some scents.
"Whacha got there?"
"Hm? I dunno. Nothing. Just looking."
he grabbed another bottle of the same scent and sprayed it.
sniffed it.
"Hm...Maybe not that one."
"Okay."
"'Cos you know, women like scents. If you wanna get girls, you have to have your own scent. So make it a really good one."
i stared.
"Here! This one's pretty good. I'll go pay for it."
3. my mother doesn't like too many people.
actually, for the longest time, i wasn't even sure if she liked me all that much.
but i digress.
one day, my oldest sister brought her boyfriend over for the holidays.
after, while my mom and i were in a car together, i asked her what she thought of him.
"Eh, I don't like him."
"Really?" i asked, "He's so nice, though! And Olivia likes him a lot."
"I know. But ugh. Beside, I'm yoh mommy. I'm gonna hate any boy you bring home."
"Ha! Well, that's lucky for me!"
at the red light, she stopped, looked me square in the eye.
"Girls, too."
and i knew that she was finally okay with my gayness.
4. i was lamenting the fact that i was single and clueless and hopeless.
my mother's words of comfort were a little uncouth.
"You know, iss actually kinda lucky you're a lesbian."
"...Why?"
"Women tend to like awkward, nerdy people better. Eben the pretty ones. Look at me and yoh daddy."
5. i told my dad that i'd drunkenly gotten a girl's number, but that i wasn't sure about giving her a call.
he was pumped that i shared this with him.
"Ha! You and I ARE alike!" he exclaimed, "When I was your age, and I'd get home from some party, I'd find girls' phone numbers IN MY CLOTHES. It was crazy, but I didn't know what it meant. My friends were like, 'Man, you should totally call her.' And I'd be like, '...Why?' It was hopeless. Ha! It's nice at least ONE of you girls took after me. Nice for me, not for you."
6. my mom told me she was a little surprised by my first girlfriend.
because she had always hoped i wouldn't pick someone like my mother.
i didn't see the resemblance til after that conversation.
and then it was all i saw.
7. the usual talks about how i'm a "wonderful girl, of whom no one is deserving."
gross.
and this is all i've got for now.
Friday, December 3, 2010
25. i'm hotter than the platypus.
one of the meanest things anyone's ever told me was when my ex, during a talk about talking, said, "I don't think we need to talk. Just the physical stuff - being around each other - is enough."
i mean, knowing her, she meant it in a romantic kind of way, but for someone whose biggest fear is not being able to say the things that're on my mind without sounding stupid, for someone who wants to finally be able to open up and share things with someone who's more or less obligated to listen, that's a pretty crappy thing to hear.
it was weird when i found that out about myself.
i never really saw myself as the kind who would be the one in the relationship to want to talk.
the Little Spoon.
but throughout our relationship i found myself saying things like, "Don't you wanna talk about it?" and "We never talk! Let's share things!"
after a little while, hearing my echo, i realized, "Hot damn. I'm THAT lesbian. Crap."
i wasn't always like this, though.
when i was little, i was perfectly happy being the quiet kid.
i didn't know i was weird til my mother told me.
then again, she had my sisters first, so it wasn't a huge surprise to find that my shyness threw her off.
she was used to getting calls from elementary school teachers who explained, time and time again, that my sisters were way too chatty and knowledgeable for their own good (as they were both the kind to tell the others how babies were made and how babies were unmade. abortion. in the 2nd grade.).
when i came along, she was sure the calls would stop.
as a baby, i never so much as whimpered for food.
so one day, when i was in kindergarten, and a teacher actually did call home, my mother was taken aback.
she came into my room to talk to me.
"Beekie?" she said, sweetly.
"...Yes?" the unusual gentleness in her voice was a little unnerving.
"Ah you unhappy?"
"...No...I don't think so...why?"
"Yoh teacha call to tell me dat she's worried because uh you habn't said a word in 6 months."
Is that strange? i thought.
"Beekie," she started again, "You hap to staht talking, okay? Oddawise people gonna sink yoh weird. Nobody like shy people, okay? So work on dat."
i was horrified.
it didn't help that, as i was growing up, i had my sisters to compete with.
they were flippin' verbal beasts.
they've always had something witty or passionate or eloquent to say about anything you could think of.
they can make a flippin platypus sound poetic.
no offense to the platypus.
but i mean.
i'm hotter than the platypus.
on a scale of 1 to 10, 1 being the platypus and 10 being, like, Kate Winslet, i'm at least a bulldog.
like a 4.
but maybe i'm not giving bulldogs enough credit.
the way they walk.
always like they're headed someplace with a purpose.
doot-doot-doot-doot-doot-doot-doot.
my walk's a little less doot-doot-oriented.
for as long as i can remember, really, i've waddled.
less a doot-doot and more a whop-whop.
i don't hate my walk anymore, though.
not as much as i did when i was a kid, anyway.
little kids are ass-holes.
i used to get teased to no end.
kids'd follow me around the playground, mimicking my walk.
call me Waddles.
i'd always play and laugh along, like it didn't bother me, but Little Vickie had feelings, too.
once, when i was about 10, my dad noticed that i looked a little down.
"Whatsamatter, Vickie?"
"Oh, nothing," i sighed.
"C'mon, you can tell me."
"Well...I waddle."
"...And?"
i sighed in despair again.
"Go on," he added, hastily.
"The other kids tease me, but I can't help it."
"Oh, well, Vickie, that's no big deal. You know, one of the greatest comedians of all time waddled."
being that at this point i'd already been telling anyone who'd listen that i was going to grow up and be just like Ellen Degeneres, this was a pleasant surprise.
"Really?!"
"Yeah!"
he went out and rented Charlie Chaplin's The Gold Rush and watched it with me.
the second that little tramp waddled his way into frame, i knew i was in love.
that i'd found my kindred.
i was obsessed.
the following Halloween i dressed up as the tramp.
all of the kids in the neighborhood had no clue who i was, but the old people treated me special.
slipped me extra candy.
gave me high-fives.
greeted me with a, "Hey, Charlie!"
things were going great and my waddle was the last thing on my mind.
until i got to the last house.
the little old lady who lived there greeted me with a big smile and, like the others, several extra Snickers.
i was feeling good.
i turned and made my way down her path back to my parents.
"Hey!" she cried, suddenly.
i turned back around, expecting more praise.
"You even WALK like him!"
i don't think she knew it was unintentional.
for a second, my heart sank with the memories of my playground bullies, but then i remembered my Chaplin.
and waddled on.
i mean, knowing her, she meant it in a romantic kind of way, but for someone whose biggest fear is not being able to say the things that're on my mind without sounding stupid, for someone who wants to finally be able to open up and share things with someone who's more or less obligated to listen, that's a pretty crappy thing to hear.
it was weird when i found that out about myself.
i never really saw myself as the kind who would be the one in the relationship to want to talk.
the Little Spoon.
but throughout our relationship i found myself saying things like, "Don't you wanna talk about it?" and "We never talk! Let's share things!"
after a little while, hearing my echo, i realized, "Hot damn. I'm THAT lesbian. Crap."
i wasn't always like this, though.
when i was little, i was perfectly happy being the quiet kid.
i didn't know i was weird til my mother told me.
then again, she had my sisters first, so it wasn't a huge surprise to find that my shyness threw her off.
she was used to getting calls from elementary school teachers who explained, time and time again, that my sisters were way too chatty and knowledgeable for their own good (as they were both the kind to tell the others how babies were made and how babies were unmade. abortion. in the 2nd grade.).
when i came along, she was sure the calls would stop.
as a baby, i never so much as whimpered for food.
so one day, when i was in kindergarten, and a teacher actually did call home, my mother was taken aback.
she came into my room to talk to me.
"Beekie?" she said, sweetly.
"...Yes?" the unusual gentleness in her voice was a little unnerving.
"Ah you unhappy?"
"...No...I don't think so...why?"
"Yoh teacha call to tell me dat she's worried because uh you habn't said a word in 6 months."
Is that strange? i thought.
"Beekie," she started again, "You hap to staht talking, okay? Oddawise people gonna sink yoh weird. Nobody like shy people, okay? So work on dat."
i was horrified.
it didn't help that, as i was growing up, i had my sisters to compete with.
they were flippin' verbal beasts.
they've always had something witty or passionate or eloquent to say about anything you could think of.
they can make a flippin platypus sound poetic.
no offense to the platypus.
but i mean.
i'm hotter than the platypus.
on a scale of 1 to 10, 1 being the platypus and 10 being, like, Kate Winslet, i'm at least a bulldog.
like a 4.
but maybe i'm not giving bulldogs enough credit.
the way they walk.
always like they're headed someplace with a purpose.
doot-doot-doot-doot-doot-doot-doot.
my walk's a little less doot-doot-oriented.
for as long as i can remember, really, i've waddled.
less a doot-doot and more a whop-whop.
i don't hate my walk anymore, though.
not as much as i did when i was a kid, anyway.
little kids are ass-holes.
i used to get teased to no end.
kids'd follow me around the playground, mimicking my walk.
call me Waddles.
i'd always play and laugh along, like it didn't bother me, but Little Vickie had feelings, too.
once, when i was about 10, my dad noticed that i looked a little down.
"Whatsamatter, Vickie?"
"Oh, nothing," i sighed.
"C'mon, you can tell me."
"Well...I waddle."
"...And?"
i sighed in despair again.
"Go on," he added, hastily.
"The other kids tease me, but I can't help it."
"Oh, well, Vickie, that's no big deal. You know, one of the greatest comedians of all time waddled."
being that at this point i'd already been telling anyone who'd listen that i was going to grow up and be just like Ellen Degeneres, this was a pleasant surprise.
"Really?!"
"Yeah!"
he went out and rented Charlie Chaplin's The Gold Rush and watched it with me.
the second that little tramp waddled his way into frame, i knew i was in love.
that i'd found my kindred.
i was obsessed.
the following Halloween i dressed up as the tramp.
all of the kids in the neighborhood had no clue who i was, but the old people treated me special.
slipped me extra candy.
gave me high-fives.
greeted me with a, "Hey, Charlie!"
things were going great and my waddle was the last thing on my mind.
until i got to the last house.
the little old lady who lived there greeted me with a big smile and, like the others, several extra Snickers.
i was feeling good.
i turned and made my way down her path back to my parents.
"Hey!" she cried, suddenly.
i turned back around, expecting more praise.
"You even WALK like him!"
i don't think she knew it was unintentional.
for a second, my heart sank with the memories of my playground bullies, but then i remembered my Chaplin.
and waddled on.
Tuesday, September 28, 2010
22. sex is weird.
i'm actually not gonna start this post off with sex.
the title was just a ploy to reeeeeel you in.
and you see, it worked!
perv.
(fear not, though: awkward observations about sex are to come.
...hahahaha.
...gross.
sorry.)
anywho!
what i will start off with is the fact that my triple-threat status as an ethnic, queer woman gets a lot of weird reactions.
brown and yellow people take one look at my gayness and say, "eeeeeeesh."
gays/overly politically correct and activist lesbians take one look at my iffy hue and go, "oooooooo."
straight guys look at everything and say, "YESSSSSS."
hm.
i've never really understood that whole "straight guy fascination with lesbian sex" thing.
maybe it's because, for me, the mystery's gone.
er, actually, the mystery is still very much there, as the reality of the situation is that sex is downright confusing.
don't get me wrong, i hardly regret anything.
it's just.
hot damn.
my first time was...right.
we'd talked about it, prepared for it, we really cared about each other, we were sober...
it was right.
but holy Jeebus.
there were moments when i kind of wished i was at least a little drunk.
had some liquid courage.
didn't apologize every few seconds for being awkward or doing awkward things.
didn't make things more awkward than they needed to be by apologizing for being awkward.
straight guys/guys in general don't know how easy they have it.
lucky douches.
if there's one thing i've learned in the past year, it's that women are weird.
and complicated.
and the fact that i'm one of them doesn't make things any easier.
if anything, it's more terrifying to think that the other person might be able to read my thoughts or something.
or might know or understand something about me that i don't even know or understand.
women are weird and complicated and scary.
i would know: i come from a long line of them.
and i take after my dad.
[to be continued. sorry for the abrupt ending.
that's what he said!]
Tuesday, August 31, 2010
18. i am The Debauchatron.
i love Rush Limbaugh.
The Rush.
whenever he talks about my people(s) i get the feeling that i'm secretly in possession of awesome superpowers and unwavering perseverance.
as a triple minority - that's a queer, multi-racial woman - i'm also a triple threat.
quadruple, if you count the liberal thing.
apparently, the world is my baby seal and my penchants for women, racial ambiguity, and welfare make up a club of evil that's three times the size and weight of the usual brand.
who knows what kind of hijinks The Debauchatron can get the world into? says The Rush - the only man/superman with the ability to send my cohorts and me straight to Lim-baugh.
what with my superspeed and invisibility, not only can i infiltrate schools and brainwash children into queerness, but i can also run brown people across the border and into the workplace!
...or, at least, into obscure, menial jobs that go unseen to the untrained eye.
i should get a cape.
or at least lose the love-handles so i can fit into some spandex.
The Rush.
whenever he talks about my people(s) i get the feeling that i'm secretly in possession of awesome superpowers and unwavering perseverance.
as a triple minority - that's a queer, multi-racial woman - i'm also a triple threat.
quadruple, if you count the liberal thing.
apparently, the world is my baby seal and my penchants for women, racial ambiguity, and welfare make up a club of evil that's three times the size and weight of the usual brand.
who knows what kind of hijinks The Debauchatron can get the world into? says The Rush - the only man/superman with the ability to send my cohorts and me straight to Lim-baugh.
what with my superspeed and invisibility, not only can i infiltrate schools and brainwash children into queerness, but i can also run brown people across the border and into the workplace!
...or, at least, into obscure, menial jobs that go unseen to the untrained eye.
i should get a cape.
or at least lose the love-handles so i can fit into some spandex.
Monday, July 19, 2010
17. i come from a long line of terrifying women. and i take after my dad.
long time, no talk.
but excuses are like butts, and right now mine's hidden because of its recent descent into flabby unawesomeness, so i'll spare you.
anywho.
lately, i've been learning all sorts of fun facts about my family's history.
my Dominican side has ties to the assassination of Trujillo, and my Korean grandma broke all of the rules.
ALL of the rules.
apart from successfully escaping the clutches of her North Korean captors during the Korean War, she also managed to do much of the same from her adulterous husband.
apparently, my Korean grandpa was anything but faithful to her during their marriage.
he had affairs - Jeebus knows how many - and eventually, he managed to get a woman pregnant.
pissed, my grandmother had him and his mistress arrested - because adultery was against the law in those days - which was unheard of, as it was usually men who turned their adulterous wives in, while enjoying the company of as many women as they chose.
but my grandmother had him put into prison, divorced him, and bent his entire family to her will as she was the one with the money and the power.
"When he's released," she told him and his family, "I will help support him, but only because he can't support himself."
the family had no choice but to do whatever she asked.
so she was a war survivor and a divorcee.
and, on top of everything else, a successful Black Market saleswoman.
we still don't know the details.
all we know is that she also managed to raise my mother: a woman whose nickname in high school was Barracuda.
according to our aunt, my mother was the type who actively disliked just about every boy in school, which in turn only increased her appeal and made said boys want her love all the more.
nothing changed when she graduated and took a job at the US military base near her hometown.
indeed, she had been proposed to several times, and even found herself occasionally serenaded in the Officers Club and bars and the like.
she was the shit.
and, according to her, she knew it.
the only person who didn't seem to know it was, of course, my clueless dad.
"Uh, dat's where YOU get it from," she told me, mid-story.
anywho.
apparently, my mother was confused as to why this one man just didn't seem to like her as much as all the other men she met.
What's wrong with him? she wondered, and, What's wrong with me?
she had to get to the bottom of it and make him notice her.
she tried flirting.
"But he was stupid and didn't notice."
"...I really didn't..."
"So I had to try eben hahdah."
"Yep. She did."
and so she resorted to spreading rumors about how she had a crush on Andy Toro - a rumor she hoped would reach him.
and it did.
"But I didn't really believe it," my dad interjected, "The guys would say things like, 'Hey, man, I heard Ms. Kim wants to have a tour of your tank.' And I'd be like, '...So?'"
and my mom shook her head.
"Useless."
finally, my mom took a more direct approach.
"Andy?" she asked one day, when they ran into each other, "Would you mind teaching me Englishy? My Englishy is uh berry bad."
"Huh?" was all my dad could say, clearly confused, "Um...I guess..."
and after just a couple of sessions, my dad finally came to his senses.
finally, he asked her out.
"Okay," she told him, "But I just hab to uh tell my boypriend I can't see him anymoh."
"...Boyfriend?!" my dad exclaimed.
"...Boyfriend?!!!" i exclaimed, years later.
"Uh huh," my mom went on, "Foh a while I was dating dis man wis biiig glasses, berry tall, berry white, but berry nice. He wanted to get married, but he couldn't marry me while in his kind obah job, so he quit and said we could stay in uh Korea for a few moh years so I could learn better English befoh we go to dah States."
i stared.
"Yeah. I felt so bad when I broke up wis him. I couldn't eben look him in the face when I did it. But aptahword, when we left dah restaurant, I finally looked up at him, and his glasses were so foggy, and I felt so bad, so I just reached out my hand and gabe him a handshake and said, 'Okay! Bye!' And dat was it. Huh. I wondah where he is now?'"
my dad shook his head.
"Yep. And I bet you regretted it ever since."
"...Maybe. hahahaha."
knowing this doesn't make the fact that both of my parents are sure that i take after my dad at all comforting.
"But look at it dis way," my mother tried to console me, "It's actually lucky you're a lesbian."
"...Why?"
"Girls like nerdy, awkward, shy people moh. Look at me and yoh daddy."
but excuses are like butts, and right now mine's hidden because of its recent descent into flabby unawesomeness, so i'll spare you.
anywho.
lately, i've been learning all sorts of fun facts about my family's history.
my Dominican side has ties to the assassination of Trujillo, and my Korean grandma broke all of the rules.
ALL of the rules.
apart from successfully escaping the clutches of her North Korean captors during the Korean War, she also managed to do much of the same from her adulterous husband.
apparently, my Korean grandpa was anything but faithful to her during their marriage.
he had affairs - Jeebus knows how many - and eventually, he managed to get a woman pregnant.
pissed, my grandmother had him and his mistress arrested - because adultery was against the law in those days - which was unheard of, as it was usually men who turned their adulterous wives in, while enjoying the company of as many women as they chose.
but my grandmother had him put into prison, divorced him, and bent his entire family to her will as she was the one with the money and the power.
"When he's released," she told him and his family, "I will help support him, but only because he can't support himself."
the family had no choice but to do whatever she asked.
so she was a war survivor and a divorcee.
and, on top of everything else, a successful Black Market saleswoman.
we still don't know the details.
all we know is that she also managed to raise my mother: a woman whose nickname in high school was Barracuda.
according to our aunt, my mother was the type who actively disliked just about every boy in school, which in turn only increased her appeal and made said boys want her love all the more.
nothing changed when she graduated and took a job at the US military base near her hometown.
indeed, she had been proposed to several times, and even found herself occasionally serenaded in the Officers Club and bars and the like.
she was the shit.
and, according to her, she knew it.
the only person who didn't seem to know it was, of course, my clueless dad.
"Uh, dat's where YOU get it from," she told me, mid-story.
anywho.
apparently, my mother was confused as to why this one man just didn't seem to like her as much as all the other men she met.
What's wrong with him? she wondered, and, What's wrong with me?
she had to get to the bottom of it and make him notice her.
she tried flirting.
"But he was stupid and didn't notice."
"...I really didn't..."
"So I had to try eben hahdah."
"Yep. She did."
and so she resorted to spreading rumors about how she had a crush on Andy Toro - a rumor she hoped would reach him.
and it did.
"But I didn't really believe it," my dad interjected, "The guys would say things like, 'Hey, man, I heard Ms. Kim wants to have a tour of your tank.' And I'd be like, '...So?'"
and my mom shook her head.
"Useless."
finally, my mom took a more direct approach.
"Andy?" she asked one day, when they ran into each other, "Would you mind teaching me Englishy? My Englishy is uh berry bad."
"Huh?" was all my dad could say, clearly confused, "Um...I guess..."
and after just a couple of sessions, my dad finally came to his senses.
finally, he asked her out.
"Okay," she told him, "But I just hab to uh tell my boypriend I can't see him anymoh."
"...Boyfriend?!" my dad exclaimed.
"...Boyfriend?!!!" i exclaimed, years later.
"Uh huh," my mom went on, "Foh a while I was dating dis man wis biiig glasses, berry tall, berry white, but berry nice. He wanted to get married, but he couldn't marry me while in his kind obah job, so he quit and said we could stay in uh Korea for a few moh years so I could learn better English befoh we go to dah States."
i stared.
"Yeah. I felt so bad when I broke up wis him. I couldn't eben look him in the face when I did it. But aptahword, when we left dah restaurant, I finally looked up at him, and his glasses were so foggy, and I felt so bad, so I just reached out my hand and gabe him a handshake and said, 'Okay! Bye!' And dat was it. Huh. I wondah where he is now?'"
my dad shook his head.
"Yep. And I bet you regretted it ever since."
"...Maybe. hahahaha."
knowing this doesn't make the fact that both of my parents are sure that i take after my dad at all comforting.
"But look at it dis way," my mother tried to console me, "It's actually lucky you're a lesbian."
"...Why?"
"Girls like nerdy, awkward, shy people moh. Look at me and yoh daddy."
Wednesday, April 14, 2010
10. Beware of Working Gays.
a little while ago, Governor Bob McDonnell, of Virginia, passed a measure that excludes the LGBT community from an anti-discrimination law.
but be cool, my babies: surely there's a reasonable explanation for this.
several.
probably.
i mean, it's a law, right?
the thought process probably went something like this:
1. gayness is a choice.
2. gays make bad choices.
3. if they were smart, they'd wanna keep overpopulating the planet.
4. crazies.
5. crazies don't belong in the workplace.
6. they belong in asylums and closets.
7. gays look better in uniforms/suits/pantsuits.
8. it's harder to make hospital gowns as flattering as pantsuits/suits/uniforms.
9. lack of sunlight wouldn't do them any good, either.
10. they'd be pale.
11. and powerless.
12. unless they were vampires.
13. in which case, they'd just be pale.
14. then we'd know for sure that they were evil.
15. it's science.
16. God invented science.
17. but He didn't invent gayness.
18. they belong in asylums and closets.
19. plus, i'm pretty sure they'd be checking us out all the time.
20. distracting.
21. science.
Monday, April 12, 2010
9. Never Walk Alone. On a Playground. In Daylight.
seriously.
it's common sense.
and nobody had to really tell me about it.
i found out on my own.
once, when i was in second grade, my class was walking across campus to the PE building when i decided to lag behind a bit to stop at the water fountain.
i wasn't bothered when my class disappeared around the corner; honestly, what's the worst that can happen on a playground?
but as i drew back from the fountain and took just two steps, i found out exactly what.
in a flurry of hair, pink light-up sneakers, and frills, a mysterious force socked me right in the stomach and pushed me onto the ground.
for the first couple of seconds, i was sure only of two things:
1. i'm on the ground.
2. there is a weird hip thrust action going on.
and it was over as soon as it started.
briefly, i managed to catch a small glimpse of my attacker: a girl i only knew by face and reputation.
the second grade weirdo.
i laid there for a bit longer, trying to let the recent events register.
a third thought popped into my prematurely lesbian-aware mind: How did she KNOW?
slowly, i sat up, stood up, re-oriented myself, and made my way towards my PE class.
when i rounded the corner, my teacher ran up; suspicious, probably, because of the disheveled state of my hair and clothes, and the look of pure confusion and wonder on my face.
"Vickie!" she said, "What happened? Where were you?"
i looked up at her, speechless.
i wracked my brain for the right words.
i wasn't even sure if there were any words in the English language that could completely do the story justice.
and then i remembered the James Bond movies my sisters let me watch.
and the Dawson's Creek and Titanic.
i tapped into my no-no vocabulary.
i came to my senses.
"She," i started, still hesitating, still trying to fully register what had happened, "Sh-sh-sh..."
"...Yes?!"
"She...HUMPED me!"
she stared.
"She...what?" she whispered.
"HUMPED!" i repeated loudly.
"Shhhhhh" she said, urgently, "What do you mean by 'humped?'"
thinking that she wasn't quite on my level of vocabulary, i decided to help her out by demonstrating.
"Humped!" i said again, thrusting my hips, "HUMPED!"
she immediately grabbed my shoulder, "Stop that!"
i suddenly remembered why that word was in my no-no list.
i thought i was in trouble, or that no one would understand.
then, out of nowhere, a classmate of mine, a girl, came out from behind the teacher.
her face was streamed with tears and it was obvious that she had been listening the entire time.
my teacher and i considered her for a shocked moment before she finally managed to sob, "ME, TOOOOOOOOO!"
so, really, i learned two important lessons:
1. never walk alone.
2. i'm not the only secret lesbian in second grade.
Thursday, April 8, 2010
7. Nobody Likes Shy People.
my mom likes to give advice.
but she's crazy and Korean and mean.
sometimes not all three.
but always at least two.
from as far back as i can remember, the things that i've learned about myself and of the world came from the very skewed and altogether tainted perceptions of my mother.
for instance, the fact that i'm weird and awkward has been mentioned several times a year, by her, since i was the age of 4.
[more recently, she told me that, "It's lucky you're a lesbian becuzzah girl tend to like awkward people. Look at me and yoh Daddy."]
and i remember the first time.
as the youngest of three girls, my quietness was kind of a blessing.
i never cried when i was a baby, and if i did, it was easy to console me.
i hardly ever spoke.
i never really got into fights with my sisters.
and, unlike the older two, i wasn't nosy or hyperactive or overwhelmingly curious.
i just...was.
when the oldest, Olivia, was in kindergarten, her teacher would occasionally call home and complain about how much over-sharing Olivia would do.
...Olivia was the kid who would tell the other kids how babies were made.
or about abortion.
Annie would get calls home, too, because, being one of the smartest kids in class, she would finish her work early and prevent the others from doing their work by being too chatty.
when it was my turn to start kindergarten, my parents were sure they'd finally get a break.
5 or 6 months of bliss: not a peep from my teacher.
until one night, when they found out why.
i was sitting in my room, playing with my action figures, when my mother slowly and cautiously walked in.
she quietly watched me for several moments, like she was waiting for me to come clean or break into a fit of hysterics.
"Beekie?" she finally said.
i put my toys down and looked up at her.
"Ah you unhappy?"
"...Huh?"
"Yoh teachah just call. She asked ip you were unhappy."
i stared.
i didn't know what she was getting at, especially since she didn't seem angry.
i'd never seen her look just politely confused before.
"She says you habn't said a word to anyone in 5 months..."
i kept staring.
is that weird? i thought.
she took a seat next to me.
"Ah you unhappy?" she repeated.
as always, i just didn't know what to say.
i shrugged.
"I don't think so."
"Beekie-yah," she started, seriously, putting a hand on each of my shoulders. she sighed.
i was confused and worried.
her level of concern was new to me.
"Beekie-yah," she started again, "Nobody likes shy people."
i felt my eyes go wide.
my pulse quickened.
i panicked.
she read my face.
"No, really. Shy and quiet people make odah people peel uncomportable."
i thought back to all those times i didn't say anything.
unanswered waves.
awkward smiles.
how many people have i made uncomfortable?!
"So try to pix dat, okay? Odahwise, people gonna sink yoh weird."
she patted me on the head.
"Nobody likes shy people, okay?"
she left.
and i was scarred.
and i'm pretty sure i'm weirder than ever.
6. Confederates Need Remembering, Too.
recently, Governor McDonnell, of Virginia, declared the month of April "Confederate History Month."
this declaration comes not long after he and his attorney general's attempts to encourage discrimination against LGBT individuals in Virginia universities.
consequently, he's gotten quite a bit of flack for his radically conservative actions.
...the latest in these selective and conservative actions was the governor's decision to exclude any mention of slavery in his seven-paragraph Confederate History/proposal for the Month.
but really, Liberal-Minded Media?
what's the matter with polishing up some unpleasant, wishy-washy details, between friends?
you're all overreacting.
i mean, the Confederates deserve as much respect and remembrance as any other culturally/racially/socio-economically oppressed sect of society, right?
plus, Confederacy is so much fun!
i even googled/wikipedia'd it to make sure.
here's what McDonnell must've been thinking:
1. when else would i be able to wear my wizard hat?
2. slavery is soooo depressing.
3. plus, it got shiz done.
4. plus, it was ages ago.
5. let's face it, Lincoln was kind of a tool.
6. wizard hats > top hats.
7. i <3 secession.
8. equality is for pansies.
9. it never hurts to remind people of how white Virginia is.
10. and of God.
11. there are way too many heathens in Virginia these days.
12. gays, i mean.
13. gays and brown people are taking away the rights of good people.
14. er, straight people.
15. and Christians.
16. ...and white people.
17. right people.
18. they're everywhere now.
19. the wrong people, i mean.
20. er, "different" people.
21. people judge me if i hang up my Confederate flag.
22. or deny people equal rights.
23. sheesh.
24. i can't say anything anymore.
25. but maybe if i remind them of how important the Confederates were, They'll get off my back.
26. Confederate History Month.
---
it's okay, McDonnell: this multiracial, queer woman has your back.
no worries.
Wednesday, March 31, 2010
4. Get a Prescription for Ritalin.
a train of thought i recorded several days ago, when i was supposed to be studying. or weeks. i can't count.
1. McGonagall was Dumbledore's fruit fly.
2. ...Dumbledore was totally McGonagall's lesbro.
3. if the Three Broomsticks had a Witches' Night...
4. ...or a Wizards' night...
5. ...or if Hogwarts had a GSA.
6. if witches and wizards bother with practicing safe sex...
7. ...Protego!
8. why didn't Harry accio the golden egg?
9. why didn't Hermione ever bitch-slap Harry/Ron?
10. is transitioning for a witch-to-wizard or wizard-to-witch easier?
11. ...is there a spell for that?
12. what if you're a witch/wizard who identifies more as, say, a centaur?
13. why can't i get a degree in Witches Studies?
14. i don't know what to do with my life.
15. i can't even get this paper done without getting completely distracted.
16. is there a potion for ADD?
17. i bet i have undiagnosed ADD.
18. it'd explain a lot of things.
19. like that time i randomly blurted out the number 2 when, apparently, the professor had asked, "What percentage of the world is Asian?"
20. i wish i was more Asian.
21. only sometimes, though.
22. except when i'm applying for things.
23. i feel like people grade Asians harder.
24. it's lucky i have an ambiguous name, that leans a little more toward the brown side.
25. it actually sounds almost British, til you get to the last name.
26. i wish i was British.
27. i'd like to raise my kids in the UK, just so they'd speak in cute accents and call me "mum" or "mummy."
28. "mum" is probably one of my favorite words.
29. my second-favorite is "fancy."
30. my absolute-favorite is "douche."
31. "douche" is a magical word that i refuse to use too much, because i worry that i'll get tired of it.
32. it's a noun.
33. and an adjective.
34. onomatopoeia.
35. French.
36. i wanted to learn French more than i ever wanted to learn Spanish.
37. when i'm at a Mexican/Mexican-themed restaurant, where the menu items are Spanish-y, i have to pep myself up in order to say the name properly.
38. usually, i still panic when it's my turn to order and end up saying things with hard r's and a slight valley-girl accent.
39. whenever i think back to particularly embarrassing moments, my body literally convulses.
40. laughing out loud actually helps keep the convulsions under control.
41. so i sound crazy rather than look crazy.
42. i laugh in all situations.
43. it got me kicked out of a haunted trail once, because, when something jumped out at me, i jumped, panicked, and laughed long and hard out of anxiety.
44. i also stare at people uncomfortably when i'm feeling especially awkward.
45. or when i'm plucking up the courage to say something to them.
46. especially if they're very pretty, or at least interesting-looking.
47. one of the nicest compliments i've ever gotten is, "Vickie, you bring out the weird in people."
48. i still don't exactly understand what that means.
49. holy crap.
50. it's 2:23 in the morning.
1. McGonagall was Dumbledore's fruit fly.
2. ...Dumbledore was totally McGonagall's lesbro.
3. if the Three Broomsticks had a Witches' Night...
4. ...or a Wizards' night...
5. ...or if Hogwarts had a GSA.
6. if witches and wizards bother with practicing safe sex...
7. ...Protego!
8. why didn't Harry accio the golden egg?
9. why didn't Hermione ever bitch-slap Harry/Ron?
10. is transitioning for a witch-to-wizard or wizard-to-witch easier?
11. ...is there a spell for that?
12. what if you're a witch/wizard who identifies more as, say, a centaur?
13. why can't i get a degree in Witches Studies?
14. i don't know what to do with my life.
15. i can't even get this paper done without getting completely distracted.
16. is there a potion for ADD?
17. i bet i have undiagnosed ADD.
18. it'd explain a lot of things.
19. like that time i randomly blurted out the number 2 when, apparently, the professor had asked, "What percentage of the world is Asian?"
20. i wish i was more Asian.
21. only sometimes, though.
22. except when i'm applying for things.
23. i feel like people grade Asians harder.
24. it's lucky i have an ambiguous name, that leans a little more toward the brown side.
25. it actually sounds almost British, til you get to the last name.
26. i wish i was British.
27. i'd like to raise my kids in the UK, just so they'd speak in cute accents and call me "mum" or "mummy."
28. "mum" is probably one of my favorite words.
29. my second-favorite is "fancy."
30. my absolute-favorite is "douche."
31. "douche" is a magical word that i refuse to use too much, because i worry that i'll get tired of it.
32. it's a noun.
33. and an adjective.
34. onomatopoeia.
35. French.
36. i wanted to learn French more than i ever wanted to learn Spanish.
37. when i'm at a Mexican/Mexican-themed restaurant, where the menu items are Spanish-y, i have to pep myself up in order to say the name properly.
38. usually, i still panic when it's my turn to order and end up saying things with hard r's and a slight valley-girl accent.
39. whenever i think back to particularly embarrassing moments, my body literally convulses.
40. laughing out loud actually helps keep the convulsions under control.
41. so i sound crazy rather than look crazy.
42. i laugh in all situations.
43. it got me kicked out of a haunted trail once, because, when something jumped out at me, i jumped, panicked, and laughed long and hard out of anxiety.
44. i also stare at people uncomfortably when i'm feeling especially awkward.
45. or when i'm plucking up the courage to say something to them.
46. especially if they're very pretty, or at least interesting-looking.
47. one of the nicest compliments i've ever gotten is, "Vickie, you bring out the weird in people."
48. i still don't exactly understand what that means.
49. holy crap.
50. it's 2:23 in the morning.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)