Sunday, February 28, 2010

Wish Me Luck

Today I am bringing my youngest to the apartment for lunch, and then we are going shopping at the Galleria. I am leaving ALL photos of Jand I out, including the Valentine photo that I made for J which has the lyrics to "Lady" written on it. I am leaving the champagne glasses from Vegas out and the Flamingo that everyone signed (even though it is way up on the top shelf). The only things I am putting away are magnets which have our names and wedding date on them.

Wish me luck. I am hoping that the photos of J and I in high school and college will start a conversation of some kind. I am not sure that she even knows we were together back when we were 16/17. I have kept my wedding ring on this year. So far no one has said anything.

It is way past time for things to move on in the coming out department with my kids.

Oh, by the way, the weight loss ticker hasn't moved. Actually, it should move down two pounds. I have gained two pounds. I am regrouping this week and trying to find out if it is my thyroid, food portions menopause, lack of water or what that has me at such a standstill after only a 12 lb weight loss. It the process I cheated and have gained 2. I ordered the Richard Simmons food mover to help me track my calories. This has helped me in the past, so wish me luck there, too. Now, if I could only drink some water!

"I never drink water because of the disgusting things fish do in it." - W. C. Fields

Thursday, February 18, 2010

You Should Be A Writer and Do You Believe in Ghosts

"You should be a writer." That was what my fourth grade teacher told me when she read some of my poetry.
The first thing I ever remember writing other than a report was a story about Smokey the Bear. Actually, I stole the story from a friend of mine. Shocker, I know. I read her story and loved it so much, that I memorized it, went home and re-wrote it on my parents' old manual typewriter. Pretty bad, huh?
Of course, those were the days when there was no backspace correction key. If you messed up, you had a pencil with an eraser on one end and a stiff brush on the other to wipe the eraser chunks away. If you used carbon paper, you had to erase that, too. I loved the way it felt to get to the end of a line of writing and push the metal bar to manually return the carriage. That in itself was a workout on your arms as those typewriter carriages were pretty heavy and bulky. I had to hold the typewriter down with one hand to keep it from sliding around on the desk while returning the carriage with the other.
The next thing I remember writing was a story about a toy drum at Christmas time, sitting on a shelf in a toy store, waiting to be purchased. "He" was bought, wrapped, and put under a Christmas tree with all of the other toy presents which would magically come out and play at night while the family was asleep. The drum's plan was to figure out how to get the family to go back to the toy store and rescue his toy friends who had been left behind for Christmas. Think "Island of Misfit Toys."
After that it was poetry, most of which was very dark, about running away. I wrote poetry because it was fast and easy for me. I didn't have to commit to a huge project. I have always been bad at beginning things and never finishing them.
After college I wrote some pretty amazing stuff if I do say so myself, about the abuse, mostly. I wish I had kept it. I probably chunked it all in one toss into a dumpster in a fit of anger. I regret it now. I had written a poem about my grandmother, asking her why she turned her head the other way. It was pages and pages long. I gave it to my therapist for safekeeping. The therapist left unannounced. When I finally tracked her down, she claimed that she had destroyed all of my records. I think she should have given me the chance to take all of my writings and drawings back before she left.
Around 1984 or '85, my paternal grandfather who had passed away in 1982 came into my bedroom, I kid you not, and dictated a poem to me that I was to write down and give to my brother. I have always wanted to ask him if he still has it. I doubt it because he and my grandfather were never close, which is what the poem was mainly about.
SUBJECT BREAK --- By the way, do YOU believe in ghosts? I do, but I really don't think of them as ghosts. "Ghost" has such a scary meaning to me. I guess what I believe in are "spirits." And I definitely believe in guardian angels. When I was a kid I swore I had a guardian angel and her name was Barrette. Don't know how she got that name, but that was before anyone ever told me there were guardian angels in the world. She was not an imaginary friend. I didn't sit and have conversations with her; I just always knew she was there. I have been having those same feelings lately. I haven't told J, but she will know now when she reads this.
Anyway, my biggest writing project I tackled was my novel "Reverse Skate" which is a whopping 118 pages long. I just can't seem to go back and work on it. For one thing, it has an EXTREMELY cheesy ending, which I hate. I want to change it and I know how to change it, but I am afraid to change it. Does that make sense? Sometimes things are better if you don't change them. But it is SO BAD!! And then there is the going back and adding details to make it longer, deeper, more cohesive. What I have can be more likely called an outline. My problem is this: do I go back and spend my time rehashing a story that, frankly, I have grown tired of, or move on to something else? It has been over two years since I even looked at it, but the thought of all that detail, ugh! It's exhausting just thinking about it.
I have always wanted to write mine and J's story, and I have written a lot of it here; but, really, you have to admit that there aren't many lesbian "love" stories out there that resemble ours. I haven't read any of the ones out on the market because there is so much sex in them, and I am just not into reading erotica. I like to make my own. LOL Seriously, our story is so much more than that, and that's what I want people to read. I would like to write a book that heterosexuals could read and feel like even they could relate to. Because, really, I didn't fall in love with J because she is a woman; I fell in love with her because she is J. And that is what I feel like a lot of the lesbian love stories seem to be missing. As I said, I haven't read any, but I have read blurbs on the back and inside covers and summaries in magazines or on websites, enough to tell me that they would not hold my interest.
I guess what I am saying is that I think I am starting to come out of a couple of years' worth of writer's block. I think I may be ready to get back on the horse. Just not sure where I am going to travel.

"A ghost is someone who hasn't made it - in other words, who died, and they don't know they're dead. So they keep walking around and thinking that you're inhabiting their - let's say, their domain. So they're aggravated with you." - Sylvia Browne

"This is the sixth book I've written, which isn't bad for a guy who's only read two." - George Burns

Sunday, February 7, 2010

I wanted to kiss her; I wanted to hold her more.

It had been about 10 yrs. since I had seen her beautiful face. We had been talking and texting for a couple of months. The day finally arrived for us to meet again. She was supposed to arrive at 5:00 p.m. I couldn't wait. I called her on the phone:

Me: I am closing the store at 2:00 p.m.

J: I am on my way

I didn't know that this had put a kink in J's plans. She had planned to stop by the hotel and put two roses on my pillow - one for the past, one for the future. I know I have probably told y'all this story many times, but I don't care. A while later my phone rang.

J: I'm in the parking lot. Nervous.

Me: I'm coming to the front door to let you in.

I couldn't get to the door fast enough. I couldn't get my key in the door fast enough. I wanted to see her beautiful face; I wanted to touch her.

There she was, standing at the door, looking like a nervous wreck, but gorgeous anyway. There were 15 floor to ceiling windows in the front. I couldn't kiss her there. I let her in and led her to the nearest classroom and closed the door. I wanted to kiss her. I SO WANTED TO KISS HER. But I wanted to hold her more. And I wanted her to hold me. I feel exactly the same way tonight.

Millions and millions of years would still not give me half enough time to describe that tiny instant of all eternity when you put your arms around me and I put my arms around you. - Jacquest Prevert

Friday, February 5, 2010

Some Days

Some days I feel like I am good at my job - today ain't one of them. I messed up big time this week. Everything turned out all right in the end, just as J said it would. Why don't I listen to her? Why can't I be like her and quit worrying and worrying when I do something wrong. Afraid I'm going to get caught, reprimanded. Wondering if I should try to cover up my mistakes or fess up to what I did.

My week ended well, though. A friend of mine who is the mom of a student I had in my class last year has been asking me to be her friend on Facebook. I have not confirmed her because I am not out to her or her sister who worked at the school. Finally today I e-mailed her and told her why. We had been trying to get together and I was going to tell her then, but we never have been able to. I didn't want her to log in on FB and see my profile without warning. So today I e-mailed her and told her I'm gay. If it mattered, I would not confirm her; If it didn't, I would. She called me about a half an hr. later and told me she could not believe that I had gone so long without telling her, that she loved me, and would always be my friend. Now, her sister may be a different story. She is more conservative. She is going to talk to her and see how she feels about it.

Anyway, I invited her to my birthday party, and she wants to come! And she said that J and I can come to her parties - she has a lot of get togethers! So, wow, that totally made my week end on a positive note. J said I have been chattering non-stop since I got home. And to make things even brighter, my youngest said she wants to come see the condo when she gets well (she has strep).

Question for those of you who still read me:

Has being gay ever been an issue for you when deciding to take a job? Once I was asked to teach at a small Christian school that my daughters were attending. The woman really wanted me there, was going to pay me a bunch of money and give me lots of responsibilities. I was soo excited because I was also going to be able to see my girls during the day. Well, all my references checked out, salary was set, everything except for signing the contract. I went into her office and looked at it. It was the longest contract I had ever seen. Toward the end there was a Bible verse. I had to initial and sign that I thought homosexuals were "perverted." Perverted. I almost died. She was talking about friends of mine; she was talking about me. I could not sign. I turned the job down.

Down 11 lbs. Boy, it is taking awhile, but I know that is a good thing. The longer it should stay off. Went to Jazzercise Wednesday night and walked 2 miles tonight.

Tomorrow I am going to eat at my grandmother's and take her on errands. Then do a little Valentine's Day shopping. Tomorrow night J is taking me to the symphony. I can't wait! I haven't been there since the fourth grade. I always thought symphonies were for intellectuals. LOL

I am going to start putting quotes at the end of each post. I used to do this on my old blog. I will try to put a quote that has something to do with the point of my post, if I have a point.

"Closets are for clothes." - Bumper Sticker

"A symphony is a stage play with the parts written for instruments instead of for actors." - Colin Henry Wilson