reunion

I got together with some of my college roommates for lunch this weekend. There was the “what are you doing now?” talk, and “what has happened in your life that you never expected?” and inquiries about husbands and children and jobs. But to me, the most interesting topic was “What are they doing now?” We talked about other roommates, former boyfriends, crushes, and others who lived in our apartment complex. There was this certain apartment of boys who became good friends, and four of the six ended up choosing an alternate lifestyle. There was much discussion about this phenomenon—how we never would have suspected it back then, how homosexuality wasn’t talked about. But I suspected. I was not surprised by the news when I found some of these boys on Facebook.

I wondered, as we talked about them, what some people might have suspected about me. It was entertaining to be part of this conversation and imagine them talking about me in a similar way. I don’t consider myself a homosexual (which is the word one of them kept using). (I guess, technically, if I had to categorize myself, I’d be bisexual, because I am attracted to both genders, although I’m more comfortable with women.) But I imagined what that conversation might have been like if I had chosen a different path somewhere along the way. I also imagined what the conversation might be like ten years from now, depending what I choose to pursue in that time.

I can imagine a lot of things, but I really cannot imagine myself leaving the church. I think I would be so unhappy. Even if I found someone to love, and the life I chose to live with her was in opposition to the teachings of the gospel of Jesus Christ, I don’t think that would make me happy. In my mind, I don’t sacrifice what I truly want to stay in the church. If I left the church, I would be sacrificing what I love and what sustains me to satisfy a temporary appetite. That’s the way I really see it.

I have great respect for those who struggle and are tempted to stray but continue to be true to what they believe. I especially admire those who choose to be obedient even though they would really like to follow the desires of their heart, and what they want is contrary to their testimonies. In other words, I admire those who would normally choose a partner of the same gender, and yet they choose one of the opposite gender, not because they’re expected to, but because they have faith. And I’m sure they are richly blessed for that choice, even though it may not seem like it.

Ghost Whisperer

Sometime during its second season, MJ and I discovered the television show Ghost Whisperer. She liked death and watching Jennifer Love Hewitt cry; I liked ghost stories and being scared, and, well, I could relate to a character who had a secret she only felt like she could share with a chosen few. Since we came in during the middle, we decided to go back to season one and get caught up. It became a ritual. When the DVDs came in the mail, we’d gather in front of the TV and watch two or three episodes at a time. We’d forbid each other from watching current episodes on Friday nights, because we didn’t want to know what happened without watching the previous episodes. We ended up watching all of the show this way: avoiding Friday night airings and watching all of it on DVD.

I was pretty excited about season four being released last week. I hadn’t seen a single episode, and I was looking forward to it. So when I knew it was coming in the mail, I organized an evening. I chose a night and we were going to watch the first four episodes, one after the other. It would be a mini-marathon. Naturally I invited MJ. It had been something we liked to watch together. I was sure her feelings would be hurt if she found out we had watched it without her. We had been looking forward to it for more than a year.

We planned to start about 6:00 PM. When 6:45 rolled around and MJ had still not arrived, I became impatient and I sent her a text. She had forgotten. She was coming. That, I guess, was my first clue.

We finally started it about 7:00. Because we were watching it at my sister’s house, there were the typical interruptions, like people coming to the door, and the telephone ringing, and the baby crying, and the toddler wanting something to eat. It’s annoying, but that’s the way it is. My second clue was looking over at MJ during the show and finding her texting on her phone. More than once.

At the end of episode two, she was done. She stood up and announced that her attention had expired, and she left. Just like that. I tried to digest this, but it would not settle with me. My sister just shook her head. “I told you,” she said. “She’s done with us. She’s moved on.” She didn’t even want to hold the baby. Didn’t even greet the three year-old she had taught in nursery. “You need to let her go,” my sister said.

And she’s right. I guess watching Ghost Whisperer is just one more thing we used to like to do together, washed down the kitchen disposal like last week’s leftovers.

After she left, I sent her a text: “Are we still friends? Think about that before you answer.”

Her response came as I was going to bed.

MJ: Yes. Why wouldn’t we be? I don’t stop being a person’s friend.
me: I don’t either. But we don’t talk anymore. It feels like you have moved on, and you don’t need my friendship anymore.
MJ: I have moved on. Our friendship isn’t the same, but we are still friends. You can talk to me anytime. It goes both ways. This friendship makes us individuals, and that’s what I need.

She was right, of course. I do need to let her go. I need to quit holding on to the idea that she still cares about me, when I can see no evidence of it. I need to quit hoping that we’ll always be friends, when she no longer makes any effort to invest in the friendship. I suppose that as a friend, I served my purpose, and she no longer has a place for me in her life.

cat call

Question: How flattering is it to be watched by a nice-looking mom type whom you noticed before she noticed you?

Answer: It's quite near the top of all flattering things.

I don't know why she watched me. Maybe I had a sticky note on my backside.

scenario

I wonder, has a same-gender-attracted (SGA) female ever married an SGA male? And did it work? I could see how maybe the opposite characteristics might attract each other. I mean, look at MJ's parents.

lust

I have recently decided that when I feel like kissing a girl, it stems from some natural (or carnal), mortal appetite in my body. It's about lust, not love. When I'm feeling love for someone--that joyful, insatiable desire to just squeeze a person and have them know how much they mean to me, I have no such appetites for inappropriate intimacy. I just want to somehow communicate how much value I place on a particular person or relationship. It's interesting, as I consider certain relationships, how this information can change the way I view them.

For instance, there are certain people that just make me happy when I see them. I feel no inhibitions around them. I just want to run and hug them and find out how they're doing and bask in their smile. These individuals are "safe" for me. And then there are others that I feel cautious around. I sneak glances at them, I watch them for signs and for clues. I feel their hesitation toward me, instead of acceptance. I want to know them, want to feel comfortable and valued in their presence, but there is some barrier there. Whether the barrier is in me, or in them, I don't know. But these aren't safe people. They're probably people I should avoid. And yet, the mystery draws me to them. I get all wound up in analyzing my interactions with them, when I could just be at peace. I could just be hugging all the safe people and being a happy person all the time. But that's boring.

body

Saturday I was at the grocery store waiting to pick up my prescription, and there was this girl I was watching over at the bank teller machine. I had to watch, because she was just the type of girl who expects people to watch her. She had long, dark hair, a sleeveless black shirt, dark, fitted pants, like yoga pants, and running shoes. She was toned. That sleeveless shirt was obviously worn to show off the lean muscles of her arms. It was apparent that she was a gym rat, and her body had kindly obliged by making her very attractive. It was also apparent that she was very proud of that body. This was a girl who didn’t mind looking in the mirror, because she liked what she saw. She was happy with the way she looked.

As I thought about this, longing for that same firmness in my triceps and gluteus muscles, for that nice, flat tummy, I figured I could probably get that way if I worked as hard as she did. But I don’t. Obviously, she’s motivated and I am not. And why not? I can see the rewards to such devotion to the weight machines. I could feel better about myself, and maybe look in the mirror and be proud of what I see. But I’m not willing to do the work. And I don’t know why not.

this week's Glee

funny:
The Cheerios wear their cheerleading uniforms all.the.time.

lame:
Will's mother is an obvious drunk. And her name is Doodle.

funny:
The shop teacher is addicted to cough syrup, causing an accident that sawed off his thumbs.

lame:
Middle-aged men doing boy band hip-hop a capella.

funny: Mercedes' performance of "Bust Your Windows."

lame:
"I Wanna Sex You Up" as the Acafellas' number for the PTA meeting. And they clapped.

Favorite Lines

Emma
"They say it takes more certainty than talent to be a star. I mean, look at John Stamos."

Sandy
"I got him a job before we even had a shop class. I told [the principal] that you are going to have a school full of nancies unless you get some hot wood in those teenagers' hands."
"Josh [Groban] and I have become frequent pen pals since he accidentally friended me on MySpace."

Mercedes: "Have you ever kissed anybody?"
Kurt: "Yes--if by someone you mean the tender crook of my elbow."

Kurt:
"Every moment of your life is an opportunity for fashion."
"Come over! It's Liza Minelli week on AMC."

Sue:
"You know, the way you use your mental illness to help these kids is really inspiring. I'm shocked you're not married."

Spanish

Rachel is looking for ways to get me in trouble.

Is it bad to want to learn to speak Spanish because I really want to talk to a certain Hispanic girl? And no, she is not Brazilian.

favorite lines from Glee

Jane Lynch as Sue Sylvester
“Your resentment…is delicious.”
“I have a phoner in a minute—that’s an interview, on the telephone, with a major media outlet. I’ll probably do it on my iPhone.”
“I just blasted my hammies. Iron tablet?”
“I’m not sure there’s going to be anybody else who’s going to swim over to your island of misfit toys.”
“Let’s break it down: you want to be creative. You want to be in the spotlight. Face it, you want to be me.”
“Gay parents encourage rebellion. There are studies on this.”
“I resent being told to hold onto anything, William.”
“Lady Justice wept today.”
“My first thought was that your students should be put into foster care.”
“Cease fire on the waterworks. I don’t want to hear it. I don’t want to see it.”
“When I first laid eyes on you I was reminded of a young Sue Sylvester. Though you don’t have my bone structure.”

Chris Colfer as Kurt Hummel
“You need to call me before you dress yourself. You look like a Technicolor zebra.”

Lea Michelle as Rachel Berry
“Can I use the auditorium later to practice? Our neighbors are filing a lawsuit.”

random labor day thoughts

I love those times when seeing MJ show up unexpectedly doesn’t bother me. Especially since she had curled her hair and left it down (rare), and wore her scent (which I love) and her brown sweater (yes, in the summer). I should have been and usually would have been affected by that. But I wasn’t. And it was nice.

Why drive up into the mountains to inhale dust and cow manure and campfire smoke for a weenie roast when you have a perfectly functioning grill in your backyard that will cook the meat in half the time, access to all the water you need for washing and drinking, grassy places to sit, a practically insectless environment, and a place for children to play? I never understood camping. Modern conveniences are there for a reason. The next time such an activity is proposed, I will kindly and wisely decline.

Ikea disappointed me. I was reminded why I have taken to shopping almost completely online. I finally had a free afternoon to hit the great Swedish furniture giant. It’s no short jaunt uptown, either. I had plenty of time to listen to a few chapters of my audio book during the drive. I love wandering around in there, but on this particular visit, I went with a purpose. And I found what I wanted. And it was out of stock. Had I looked online beforehand, I would have discovered that before making that drive and then standing there looking blankly at row 24, bin 10, which was an empty shelf. And, blast those people because they don’t sell many of their products online.

It was nice to turn off my alarm on Monday morning and go back to sleep for an hour or so, then wake up and enjoy some exercise before starting the day. It was nice to get some cleaning in before my shower, which didn’t happen until 11:00. It was nice that I chose not to accompany the entire family to the toy store, where chaos undoubtedly ensued.

I like holidays when they don’t involve my mother.

what happened last night

Eleven year-old niece missing a day of medication + Alex nearing menstruation = disaster.

My sister's oldest child, currently 11 years old, is a lot like my mother. I may have mentioned before that the Child could easily pass for a clone of the woman who raised me. This is disturbing and difficult on many levels, since I currently live with the family.

I am left home with my nieces frequently. There hasn’t been an incident with this Child for many months now. I attribute that to the fact that she has been consistent with her medication. She’s been pleasant and helpful. But I’m told she skipped her morning pills on Wednesday.

Last night, my sister and brother-in-law went out to dinner and left me with the girls. I did not have a problem with it, except that the six month-old would cry when I put her down, so I had to hold her and carry her around, which was sort of frazzling my nerves because the three year-old wanted attention too. The eight year-old twins were playing together and the 10 year-old was watching television. The niece in question was supposed to be doing her homework, but had apparently been giving her mom some obstinence about it. I could tell she was going to be a problem. She seemed like a ticking bomb, and I’ve seen the bomb go off before.

Then twin #1 and the three year-old got into a fight over a toy, and the latter launched into a crying frenzy that lasted way too long. The eldest got involved, which was a bad choice on her part because she’s predisposed to take the three year-old's side, having a natural aversion (it seems) to this particular twin. Everyone was upstairs except for the baby and me. Then the twin started screaming, which to me meant one thing: her sister had hurt her. I can’t think of anything that makes me madder than the injustice this oldest girl rains on this particular twin. Just because she’s bigger and stronger, she thinks she can control her sisters by violent force and manipulation. I went upstairs, already mad, which was my first mistake. I told the bully to go downstairs, thereby separating herself from the situation, but she does not like to be told what to do, especially by me. So I gave her a push towards the stairway, which only enraged her, and when I use that word, it’s no exaggeration. She picked up the closest item she could find to threaten me with, which happened to be a rocking horse—a two-foot-long, pink, furry horse with rocking rails under its feet—not a lightweight object, and chucked it at me. I was holding the baby, and maybe that’s what quickened my reaction time. I caught the horse in my free hand by one of its rocking rails and dropped it behind me. It was rather superhero-ish on my part. I should have stopped there, but the combination of her being mean to her sister, her angry outburst, and her ignorant attempt to injure her baby sister, produced in me more emotion than I could handle. I grabbed her head and knocked it against the wall. Not very hard. Just hard enough to get her attention. That finally made her crumble, unbelieving. And then she ran.

I think the first thing she went for was a phone, to call her parents, or a friend, or whoever would listen to her, but unsuccessful in that attempt, she ran outside. I lost track of her. I was too busy dragging the hysterical three year-old to her room and closing the door so I didn’t have to listen to her anymore. When I looked outside, I didn’t see her, and none of the other girls seemed to know where she had gone, so I worked on getting the baby to quiet down by putting her in her chair and feeding her.

Soon the teenage girl next door came over for the Child’s homework. So I knew that 1) she was at the neighbor’s, and 2) she was doing her homework. These were good things to know. What I didn’t know was that she was fabricating a tale for these neighbors about how badly she is treated and about what had just happened. Apparently this neighbor of ours is a social worker of some kind. I don’t know her very well, except that she seems a little eccentric and dramatic. Turns out that’s not a very good combination of things to be when the drama queen runs to her for help. This woman felt it her duty to call the police and report the event, without even coming to me to find out what had really happened. I suppose she tried to call the house, because the phone was ringing off the hook, but between feeding the baby and changing her diaper and rocking her so she wouldn’t cry, I was not interested in answering the phone.

So I found out later that the police came to the house next door, and had a little chat with the Child and the woman who lives there. But not with me. A police report was filed—something that has never happened to me before—and I didn’t even get a say in the matter. This was upsetting. Also, my sister received several telephone calls—from this woman, her friends (one happens to be in our bishopric), and who knows who else, all because of an incident that was hardly worth talking about compared to things that have happened before. And now a number of people probably think I am a violent and abusive person. (And I am as violent as cookie dough compared to how my mother was as we were growing up.)

Thankfully, my sister and brother-in-law were not upset, except that their evening out was ruined by nonsense again. My sister was only upset that the Child had run next door and spilled her woes to the wrong neighbors, causing the police to be called, which she felt was unnecessary. Obviously these people are not familiar with the Child’s behavior enough to know what’s a big deal and what isn’t.

The Child came home repentant, realizing the danger she had put herself in. Her mother has warned her many times about telling people inflated stories of violence and abuse, because the state could easily relocate her to a foster family. She is now expecting another call from child protective services. And they’ll probably want to talk to me this time.

I am not a violent person. I’m sure there are many mothers out there who experience moments of violence when children push them to their limits. I am sorry that I lost control of myself and pushed her head against the wall, and she and I talked about it and I apologized to her. She was also sorry for any trouble she may have gotten me into. And I think we’re friends again. Which is good.

But now I'm not only a predator, I'm a child abuser. ;)