Monday, March 30, 2009

Lions, Tigers and Bears! Oh My!

While being home sick with the flu for the past couple of days, I’ve been thinking way too much and out loud in cyberspace. This is one of the few topics which Madelene highly disagrees with me on.

I’ve Twittering my thoughts like it’s nobody’s business. I have been in discussions regarding the coverage on 60 Minutes about how lions are being poisoned in Africa by the civilians. I highly disagree with 60 Minute’s stance on this, because these lions are killing the people’s cattle, which provide them money as well as food for themselves. So in return, when their cattle are mutilated beyond belief by lions, the civilians who live off their land purchase a bottle of poison for less than $2 bucks so they can survive.

"They're very unlikely to attack us," Cotterill explained. "There's been so many years of conflict with people in this area, it's almost hardwired into their systems to be terrified of people." --read more here.

They’re very unlikely to attack us? Let’s hear her say that when one of her family members are being served up in the lion's den as a small appetizer. These animals are dangerous to humans and their food supply. I’m almost positive, if we were to still have dinosaurs roaming around the earth, PETA and their followers would put a stop to their extinction, leaving us frightened in our own homes over whether or not that sound was “thunder” or some dinosaur taking a nice stroll in the neighborhood on a Sunday afternoon. I think the same concept regarding bears.

So my question is: how do lions, tigers and bears (oh my) affect our ecosystem? The only explanation about our ecosystem on 60 Minutes was referred to the money that comes in through tourism. Great. So we have people coming into Africa, treating it like a three ring circus and leaving their civilians in great danger. Which is more important: the value of the dollar or the value of human life? You choose.

Just as I would love to see bees extinct, because if I get stung, it means death-- I do not want them to be extinct because I know how important they are to our ecosystem. If there were no bees, there would be no humans left eventually.

I love animals just as much as the next person, but when does it come down to thoughts about pushing the king of the jungle out of its habitat and into extinction?

Saturday, March 28, 2009

Make Earth Hour Exciting!

*Turn off your lights and run around naked in your home. 
*Turn off your lights and get romantic with your sweetie.
*Turn off your lights and play hide and seek.
*Turn off your lights and play a murder mystery game with your friends.
*Turn off your lights and go outside to look at the stars.
*Turn off your lights and illuminate your home with candles like the Amish do.
*Turn off your lights and pinch somebody’s bum.
*Turn off your lights and run around your neighborhood with glow sticks around your body.
*Turn off your lights and watch everyone do the same.
*Turn off your lights and see what a difference one hour can make!

Friday, March 27, 2009

"I'm a Good Person"

I’m a “good person”, but sometimes I’ll curse you in order to defend myself.
I’m a “good person”, yet sometimes I get offended and lash out because I need to tell my side of the story.
I’m a “good person”, but I have suggested things to people with good intentions, and have yet to do them myself.
I’m a “good person”, but I’m imperfect and keep sinning over and over again.
I’m a “good person”, but there are people who refuse to forgive my wrongs.
I’m a “good person”, however I keep plotting schemes to get my way.
I’m a “good person”, yet I'm eternally flawed because I am human.

Sometimes people tell me I’m a “good person”, but I never believe them.

Thursday, March 26, 2009

Sexual Masterpiece

Contrary to heterosexual myths: there is an overabundance of ways to have lesbian sex.  Many of times, I’ve been asked: “How do lesbians have sex?” The answer depends on the individual(s) involved. The majority of the heterosexual world assumes that lesbian sex is just “oral sex”. They seem to think this is the only way to please our partners. Sometimes, they inquire about toys, but then again, toys aren’t needed. I was once asked, “Isn’t there a void to be filled, like something to replace the penis?”   Yes and no. I cannot speak for every lesbian on this planet, however I can tell you that some women like penetration, which may require toys or not, and some women love clitoris stimulation, which may require a variety of things, such as: manual stimulation with hands, mutual masturbation and genitalia sex, and of course your good ol’ oral sex.  


Most men conjure up images of what I call, “the tickling lesbians”; the ultra femme porn star type with nails long enough to spread ebola across the nation. For some, it’s not their cup of tea. Each woman prefers different types - just as each heterosexual likes a different type of person. Why are lesbians caught up in this stigma that in order to be “a good lesbian”, she has to be either a femme or butch and nothing in between? The most annoying question posed to my partner and myself is: “Who plays the man?” How about the question of who is the bottom or top? I’d like to believe that the “top or bottom” descriptions are usually tossed around like a salad among gay men. Of course, they need to know who prefers letting people into the back door. Lesbians sometimes use, “catcher” and “pitcher” terms, instead of “tops” and “bottoms”. If you’re both, you might call yourself a “switch”. Does it really matter though? Even if the term “catcher” implies you prefer to receive oral sex, then who’s to say you don’t like sitting above your partner having this performed?

Labels suck.

With different people come different preferences. Not everyone is going to prefer what you like, which is why sometimes in the beginning of any relationship, the two people involved have to “get to know one another” sexually. Just because the sex at first is a bit confusing and messy does not mean it’s bad sex. Just like making a good batch of cookies, your first batch is a bit tasteless and messy. Go with the flow and keep trying until you get it right, or to your liking. Fear gets in the way of good sex. Maybe you’re afraid to tell your partner that you sometimes fantasize about other things, which may even include a man. Ladies, remember: this does not mean you or your partner are bisexual or straight! Fantasies are healthy and if your partner can share these fantasies with you, guaranteed your sex will be off the charts. Communication is key and if you don’t tell your partner what you like then she will not know. So then, will you keep on with the guessing game? Tell her. Show her. Reward her. Don’t ‘beat around the bush’.

In conclusion, my theory on good sex is based upon a good foundation. Friendship, trust, honesty, vulnerability, forgiveness and loyalty are all parts of which make up a healthy relationship. If you don’t have this foundation, I assure you the sex will dwindle out and the spark will no longer be existent. Or, if the spark is still there, it’ll most likely be one of those roller coaster relationships that give you heartburn, yet the sex is still good. Long term relationships require work. Work is not a bad word - it implies spicing up your union and being creative with the love of your life. When artists paint, they love what they do. They call it, “their work”.   Now go out there and create your masterpiece!

Wednesday, March 25, 2009

Rolling the Dice

Ah, Wednesday morning, the birds are chirping, the kids are outside laughing and playing while waiting for the bus and the goddam neighbor is putting up drywall in the apartment next to me. I’ve been battling with chronic fatigue syndrome for the past three weeks now and it has affected my work and play a great deal. Saturday I had a nice little break from this foggy feeling and was able to mingle with my friends.

Come Sunday, Monday and Tuesday, I was a total dishrag. In fact, every single muscle in my body ached and my thoughts were scrambled as if I sucked down an entire bottle of cough medicine. Some would call it depression or (SAD) Seasonal Affective Disorder, but I’m going to go with Chronic Fatigue Syndrome. Yes, I have officially diagnosed myself. I’ve been working on a few projects at one time and I’m not much of a multitasker. My personal diagnosis of ADD tells me this. Or could it be a mere “disinterest”? Who the hell knows - everything is so damn vague these days. Manic depressives are now bipolar and multiple personality disorder has twisted into dissociative identity disorder. Everything has a label and pill to fix you. And if you don’t have a label on your forehead, doctors who receive generous kickbacks are more than happy to supply you with one. This is why I love my doc so much, he lets me decide how crazy I really am.

Here’s my dilemma: I’m coming out. No, you all know I’m gayer than KD Lang, but as far as my work is concerned, I’ve been writing for a religious organization that has basically closeted me in as a homosexual. So, I’m not “out”. What torments me inside is that I’d rather be helping people like myself in various areas, instead of giving shallow, positive messages for hardcore Christians who would hang me if they knew there was a gay writer behind these short articles. That really gets to me and I didn’t realize this until later. I thought by just writing these positive messages, that it would help and make people feel better. But what about me?

In the beginning of my journey with writing, I focused on religion a lot, because I’ve experienced God in my life and I was so excited to share this with everyone. Within a year of my writing career, I was tested by the fundamentalist Christians who basically beat me to a bloody pulp. Phrases such as: “You’re going to hell”, “You’re a mockery to God”, and “God hates the sin but loves the sinner”, have all taken a toll on me emotionally, spiritually and physically. At times, I didn’t quite know why I was feeling down or depressed, but I tried to self-medicate by drinking through it.   Jesus made water into wine, right? I had a whole bunch of excuses to drink and God being an excuse to back me up spiritually was very comforting.

In the archives of my blog, as well as the contents of my book, I focus on Christianity, biblical scriptures as well as my experiences and life with God. My blog has changed a great deal. I have changed a great deal, however, my relationship with God remains the same. I feel like a battered woman who has been beaten so severely by other Christians, that I am no longer able to fight back. I will keep my faith, however I will also remain quiet and hold God close to my heart. I thought I was doing a good thing, but apparently, I was riling up many Christians who were appalled that a lesbian can even call herself a Christian. The audacity!

My work has suffered a great deal and I am leaning toward 'humorist gay and lesbian relationship' type of material to fulfill my dream of writing, instead of hiding behind a pen name for some religious magazine. For those of you who have just logged onto my blog for the past year, it’ll still remain the same type of writing, but for those who have been reading me since 2005, you can see it has changed a great deal, but I assure you I am still the same person with the same beliefs. Sometimes you just have to decline in the battle of debates. This doesn’t mean I have given up, it means I have said what I needed to say and moving onto different things.

"To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven:  A time to be born, and a time to die; a time to plant, and a time to pluck up that which is planted; A time to kill, and a time to heal; a time to break down, and a time to build up; A time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance; A time to cast away stones, and a time to gather stones together; a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing; A time to get, and a time to lose; a time to keep, and a time to cast away; A time to rend, and a time to sew; a time to keep silence, and a time to speak; A time to love, and a time to hate; a time of war, and a time of peace."  ~Ecclesiastes 3:1-8


Sunday, March 22, 2009

Sex Ed at Deb's

We had a birthday party for Madelene last night. Here's what came of it...
Warning: Some content may not be suitable for young viewers.


Amy Beckerman is a standup comic based in New York City. She frequents Comix, The Laugh Lounge, New York Comedy Club and Broadway Comedy Club. Beckerman appeared on season 6 of The Sopranos, has been heard on The Mancow Show and performs with Broads of Broadway and 5 Funny Females. She was also featured in the 2007 New York Underground Comedy Festival and is a guest commentator for MTV’s FN-MTV, and is the co-producer of the popular Manhattan based comedy show, Dykes on Mics. Beckerman just taped an episode of Hot Gay Comics on HERE! TV that is set to air in Spring 2009!

Check her website out at www.amybeckerman.com and come see her shows! She's terrific!

Wednesday, March 18, 2009

The Safety "Net"

I’ve always had a fascination with the reality or the lack of upon those who pursue a person romantically who are already in a relationship or marriage. It happens to a lot of people and who am I to judge, because I’ve done it before too? In the past, I have been pursued by my female manager who was already married to a man. The feelings were mutual, so the friendship blossomed into a romantic one.  For me, it was a “safe” way of not getting involved too heavily with someone. I didn’t want to commit. I hated the word commitment - it drove me nuts just to hear it. It became awkward walking into the office because now the relationship had become two people who were now in love with one another. Eeeek! I never saw that coming. But, like they say, they never leave their husbands or wives no matter how much they bitch and moan about this that and the other.  So, I was duped nonetheless. I take full responsibility for my behavior.

What about the internet? Many people I know date online, but the difference is: meeting someone online and then eventually meeting them for a potential relationship or friendship is great. In my own personal opinion, just “dating” someone online without the potential of a meeting, because they live across the world from you is pathetic. It’s just heartache waiting to happen. I spoke to one girl that I’m friends with, who said she was “seeing” someone online. In her own words, she had stated that the woman she was seeing across the world from her was already crying over the phone and stating how much she misses her and had developed deep feelings toward my friend. She had read my previous posts and asked if it was a “red flag” that there were a few crying episodes with this new “love” she had online. Over the circumstances and reasonings why she was crying-----total red flag!  I know, I sound harsh, but I just cannot see someone having a healthy relationship that is living in a world of her own safety “net”. These people usually only develop friendships over the internet and rarely go out of their own  homes to make healthy ‘in person’ relations, to socialize and mingle in the outside world.

They get caught in the vortex of their own visualizations about that one person, make assumptions and develop their “own” sense of imagery of how they would like to perceive that person, when in reality, it’s quite different. They don't know them.  I recall when I met someone online once, and she had told me a cornucopia of alluring qualities that would have had anyone interested if they heard her description of herself. I’m not even talking looks-wise, because I don’t base my relationships upon looks, although it does help - I’m more concerned over people who kick it up notch regarding their lifestyles, their behaviors and what kind of person they really are - moral-wise, values, integrity and so forth. It took me a full year to realize: whoa, total different person than I once met. Her true colors came out, and let me tell you it wasn’t that easy to get away from. Now that she had me firmly by the teeth, I was literally scared for my life to leave the situation without it becoming ugly.

This person who I totally trusted 110% turned on me, cheated on me, and soon on, later found out that she was in fact bisexual. I have no problem dating a bisexual, but I draw the line when it comes to pushing the borders of monogamy. I caught this person cyber chatting sexually with another man,  as well as having an affair with her boss at work. Business trips were “pleasure cruises” if you get my drift and I had to find out the hard way. I had to keep requesting her to go see a doctor for blood work, so that I knew for a fact and for myself that she didn’t have an STD.   She cried and cried and then grudgingly walked inside the doctor’s office waiting to get a few pricks in the arm. The one person who said she would never do this or that ended up doing ‘this and that’...and of course, the other thing.   

Do you feel that those who pursue married people, or those who are safely put away across the world and date online only have commitment phobias? Or do these types of people want to have their cake and eat it too? I don’t understand the psychological reasons why people would want to set themselves up for an inevitable heartbreak, or is it the other way around? Do people who are married or who are across the world accept these types of relationships for the same reasons? Is it their safety “net” too?

Monday, March 16, 2009

Damaged Trust Issues

My previous post brought out many insecurities of people who are in my life or just somewhat connected to me somehow, whether via the internet or just a distant friend I haven’t spoken to in a while. My last post was to just explain my past experiences and how it affects me today. It wasn’t intended to indirectly speak to someone or send some “private message” in a roundabout way in order to get my thoughts across to a particular person.

The post was written for a reason though.

I’m scared. I’m afraid of people who are too insecure with themselves. I’m afraid of those who feel the need of constant reassurance that I like them. I’m skittish about some who feel the need to be in contact with me every single day - although I have no problem with that, it’s the obsessiveness or ‘thought to be’ on my part. If I forget a birthday, I don’t want to be reminded that I have forgotten. That’s just a flaw on my part that needs to be overlooked, in my opinion. I’m not good with dates or things I “should” remember. It doesn’t mean that I dislike these people. I forget my own relatives’ birthdays sometimes. It means nothing.

If I develop a friendship with someone, I want them to see me as a “friend”; a married woman who is devoted to her wife. I want them to see my wife as their friend as well. I don’t want to be singled out as “the lesbian who plays house”. I want my relationship to be taken just as seriously as those who are heterosexuals who are married. I may not get that, but I’ll surely stay away from the types that do treat my marriage disrespectfully. I’m not a guinea pig for straight female friends to chance a ‘test kiss’ on. My marriage and relationship with my wife does not have LBD, (lesbian bed death). Our marriage is not stale, as some would love to believe, just because we have been together for 14 years.

I’m not looking for special treatment. I don’t seek for extra attention - I simply want to be “me” and to have that be okay. I don’t live the conventional lifestyle. I don’t live my life according to a rule book. Judge me all you want. Some people like to fabricate stories about me or blatantly tell lies that are beyond my control. Believe what you will. That’s up to you. As far as my prior stalker and ex-friend, she has prevaricated such tall tales that have shocked many people simply because I refused to let her slip into Madelene’s shoes. She can’t even shine Madelene’s shoes no less get into them.

In my own personal opinion, those who seek to break up a relationship and play “Single White Female” by trying to replace someone is absolutely sickening. I even remember when I was friends with this person, having her ask me, “Does Madelene do it this way”, as she cooked something up in the kitchen or prepared something for me. She always wanted to know how Madelene did it. I’m sure she wanted to know other details of Madelene’s talents, but she could never measure up. Quite a tall order.

I'd like to think I'm there for all of my friends who need a shoulder to cry on, but if that person is crying hysterically over our friendship, then the red flag goes up. I get alarmed too easily and startled all too quickly. Maybe I’m not emotional enough? Maybe I should cry more? Why do I draw certain people into my life who seemingly puts on the tear works way too easily over the simplest of matters pertaining to our friendship? I do admit, it scares me. But, maybe I’m afraid of my own feelings and insecurities too? Maybe I’m the one with the damaged trust issues just because one person ruined that for me.  Or did I let them ruin it for me?  

Friday, March 13, 2009

My Paranoia

Isn’t it odd sometimes when you come across a person who seemingly shares the same things you do, or they’re going through similar struggles or happenings in their life that you’re going through also? I immediately assume that they already know me or someone is trying to spy on me. I kick into paranoia mode. There have been times where I’ve been stalked. Once it was an ex-boyfriend who would park his car behind the garage of my parents’ house and spy on me in my bedroom. I caught him twice. The third time he was caught was on the private road where I lived with my parents. He claimed he was there just to smoke a joint without being on the main road. He wasn't the type to do drugs, so I was suspicious.  He lived twenty minutes away - couldn’t he have found a place between here and there?

Back in February of 2006, I had a reader of mine who was very “enthusiastic” about my blog. She would comment here and there and then try messaging me through my AIM account, which I used to have available. Our chats were frequent, but I detected something “off”, so I blocked her for a couple of months because it was too ‘hook line & sinker-ish’ if you get my drift. After a few months and many comments left on my blog, I unblocked her and we started chatting again. This time, I got the whole, “My partner and I are not doing very well and she doesn’t do this and  doesn’t do that she doesn’t work she doesn’t take the garbage out, she drinks too much she yells too much, and she she she she!!!” (Again you get my drift.) I felt bad for her and decided to talk with her about it.  Instant messaging chats eventually turned into phone chats, which then turned into therapy sessions of me listening to her cry hysterically over her partner and me sitting there trying the best I could to help her.

May came along, and Madelene and I were about to take our annual vacation to Provincetown, MA to get away for a bit. When I woke up in the morning in our bed and breakfast, my cell phone had 10 or more voice mail messages on it and I received many emails as well. It got to the point where I really had to call her back, because she was crying in most of them. At one point, I was having lunch at a bar & grill with Madelene and had to step outside to take a call from my new friend who was going through a rough time with her partner. When I heard her voice, she was crying hysterically over the fact that we hadn’t spoken in two days. This alarmed me because she was no longer crying over her girlfriend - she was now crying over me. She said, “I know you’re with your girlfriend on vacation but I miss you and needed to talk to you.” My instincts told me to back awayyyy from the phone, but instead, I talked to her and tried to help. Her emotional outbursts were so believable and so sad that I couldn’t possibly leave her in that state of panic. My turkey club could wait.

Then I got this email which said: “I have had a hard time talking to you this week because I MISS you and I don't want to be annoying while you are with your girlfriend on your yearly vacation. I've been trying to give you space and respect. All I really want is to be in Madelene's shoes...even if just for a day. Now you've taken down all your videos and are calling me internet buddy. I know I mean more to you then just that...why are you so willing to toss me out? Please, Deb...please talk to me."

Red flags went up and I started getting scared. I took down all my videos and some of my blog posts because I was absolutely horrified, yet this was someone I had trusted; a person I didn’t even know because we connected so wonderfully at times and then other times it was sort of creepy. I explained to her over the phone that I will not live my life like this and that she cannot disrupt my life, interrupting our vacation. I made it clear that we were just friends and that she was, in fact, just an “internet buddy”. It was too scary for me.

She then convinced me with her believable ‘well disguised composure” that she was just needing a friend and apologized profusely. I accepted her apology and she was a bit more tame with our friendship. We ended up hanging out in person and she became a very good friend, knowing nothing else would transpire. Eventually, her true colors came out, which caused my entire life to turn upside down. To make a long story short, she absolutely tried taking Madelene’s place and ended up stalking us. She would park her car outside until 4am, waiting for me to come out and talk to her. I never did. Madelene and I had to leave our previous location and moved into a condo downtown. My friend would drive by and park in the lot for hours, until I started calling the police because I was scared for my life. Another time she came over and started unpacking boxes of things I had purchased for her on the ground. It was her dramatic way of saying she accepted that we were no longer friends. I got so frustrated that I grabbed the wooden part of a broom and bashed every single piece of whatever she had left in that box into shreds and pieces. I went crazy and let her see for herself that enough was enough.

Back to present times: I hope those of you who feel that I’m a bit distant in our friendships and especially those who have pointed this out to me, please know that I am totally paranoid because of my past experience with all this. I love my friends and I do want a buddy to go out and have coffee with on a regular basis with, but my “closeness” or vulnerable side has a huge wall up, which makes me appear as standoffish, when I’m actually really interested in the person(s) and what they have to say or offer. I hope this blog post explains my limited social interaction with some of my closest friends. It’s getting better everyday, however there are small bits of paranoia still stuck in the back of my mind. It’s almost post traumatic in a way, but I realize now there are sane people out there who just want to be friends without stalker-like characteristics.

Thursday, March 12, 2009

Solace In a Little Brown Bag

With today’s economy and downsizing, it’s inevitable to think about the reactions of other people when they lose their jobs, homes and sometimes their family, due to the stress of everything. You hear about the guy who jumps into the river because he lost his job. You hear about the other guy across town shooting his entire family and then himself, because his wife left him and the termination of his job was the last straw. Again, like I asked in my previous post: what determines the “last straw”?

The other night while I was sitting in my AA meeting, it was “Ron’s” turn to speak. He actually stood up, with his disheveled hair and dirty mechanic’s jumpsuit on and said, “You know, today’s a bad day. My wife and I have been talking about a divorce and today before I left work, my boss sat me down to explain that he had to let me go because they weren’t doing so good. After 15 years of giving them my best, they fire me! Me!!! And now, my wife is definitely going to leave me! What do I have to live for? Right now I wanna kill everyone! But, I haven’t touched a drink. Thanks for letting me speak.” and then he sits down all nonchalantly, as though those words didn’t scare every single person sitting around that huge table.

I honestly didn’t know whether to say, “Buddy have a drink” - or just hope that he doesn’t drink. I don’t know which is worse anymore. But now, I have the question in my mind: is it really safe at these meetings due to all the job losses right now? I feel so bad for these people, but you can’t help but think: most of these people are depressed anyway, holding out for one more day of sobriety, when our world is collapsing around us before our very eyes. Who's going to be the first person to snap? I don’t go to these meetings daily, because I really don’t enjoy alcohol anymore and know that I’m somewhat allergic to it - so with or without AA, I’m done with it regardless, without the desire to pick up again. But that night, I decided that I am never going to step foot in one of those meetings again. It’s just too risky.

Then yesterday, as I was waiting inside the Sprint store to get a few Blackberry accessories, I saw “Ron” walking past the store with what it appeared to be a bottle in a paper bag - possibly a 40 (one of those larger bottles of beer). It was around lunch time, so I figured he was making his way over to the pub down the road, but instead, he sat down on the bench near the park. I had this strong urge to walk over and sit next to him, but I couldn’t for some reason. I wanted to talk to him and be a friend to him, but I was scared. I didn’t know what to do, so I got in my car and slowly drove off, watching him sip from his little brown bag.

Wednesday, March 11, 2009

Alabama Shooting Spree

Just a thought. That’s all it takes to make it a reality. Some thoughts are weaker than others, but that one seed that’s planted in someone’s mind that may be detrimental to both that person and other innocent people.   An Alabama gunmen killed 10 people and himself in a shooting spree. So far, they have no motives or reasons why this has all taken place. He went from burning down his mother’s home with her inside, killing his family to ending the lives of complete strangers in various places. It doesn’t make sense.

Psychologically, what’s the breaking point of a person when they just throw up their hands and say, “Screw the world and everyone in it?” The family must have played a key role (whether they knew it or not) in the motive of the gunmen.  There had to have been extreme, distraught anger that went into complete insanity which took the lives of ten people, including himself. He knew he was going to take himself, but he wanted to leave a mark; some sort of justice needed to prevail.

Here’s my question: why this way? Why not make a video of yourself explaining why you’re upset, how distraught you are over it and how it has ruined your life, before going out on these missions? Now, people are left confused and bewildered by the deaths of his loved ones plus strangers. So far, the story isn’t coming to a full head, so probably in a few days we’ll get more details on this.  Right now it's all too vague. 

You’re probably muttering under your breath, “Why is she even making suggestions to people who would do such a thing?” Here’s my theory: people are going to do this regardless of good willed lectures and suggestions. It doesn’t matter. But why go out like that without a “mark”? Why not make a video, throw it on a well known website and tell your story? Forget the other people - let them live in this world. If it were me and I wanted to end my life, a long video would be made. In my deepest depression, I have thought this out many of times. It’s better than a letter - they can see your face, your sadness and feel what you’re feeling through the video.

The one thing that baffles me is taking other people down with you. What goes through their minds that they feel a need to kill another person they don’t even know, and worst yet - their own mother? Their family? The people they’ve cared about? Anger will come and go. Forgiveness will come and go - it can't happen at anyone's pace but its own. The thing you thought was most devastating in your life may be a misunderstanding or a complete blessing in disguise. We have to wait it out before reacting.

The problem is: one thought turns into another, and then another, and then another, until you have complete chaos. If we can just learn to wait it out 24 hours before reacting to a particular frustration in our lives, it’ll make sense before no time.

My thoughts and prayers go out to the family and strangers who have been hurt or killed because of this awful tragedy.

Maybe, if we can read the signs of someone who is isolated, depressed and not letting go of past resentments and anger, then maybe we can save lives.  These types of things occur in people we least expect it from.

Just a thought...

Photo provided by Associated Press.

Tuesday, March 10, 2009

Neighborly Love

Sometimes working from home can really do damage to your nervous system. First, I woke up to the sounds of constant banging and tearing apart of something larger than life, from the apartment below. My neighbors are renovating their place and there is absolutely not one moment of silence until after 4pm. The guy that lives downstairs is a “tough guy” - a no bullshit type of guy. When he’s home, you can hear him talking as though he was sitting in your own living room. He screams, when he’s talking in his normal voice. “YO! Where ya puttin’ that? Bring dat’ ova’ here!” The person he’s speaking to is probably right in front of him. The other day as I was outside in the parking lot, he comes out of his huge F250 pick up truck with a 12 pack of beer in each hand, nods his peach fuzz head and says, “How you doin’???” He seems really nice, like a distant annoying cousin that you can only take in small doses. His girlfriend that he lives with is not as sociable as he is. She won’t even get out of the car if we’re still unpacking groceries. If she's walking outside, her head is completely tilted down as she trots past me quickly.

Occasionally, I hear the two fighting. It’s usually when they have come home after a night out of drinking. At first, I immediately faulted the guy. She was crying - how can you side with someone who’s not crying? But, the more spats and arguments that went on, the more I learned what a fricken nag she is! This poor guy lives with someone who is a constant nitpicking bitch from hell. As I was in my office working, I heard them walking down the walkway toward the apartment building. When people are outside the building, you can hear every single word they say, even if it came down to a whisper. I heard, “Well, it’s not as if those idiots give a shit. Thank God they don’t live above us.” They were complaining about the apartment below them. I was relieved because we’re above them, so she was basically saying we’re pretty quiet, aside from Madelene’s heavy foot and my occasional romp on the treadmill.

Lately, it seems as though the guy has been getting friendlier and actually going out of his way to make a greeting. I was already inside my car settling in, putting my purse next to me and reaching for my seatbelt, when I notice my neighbor trying to get my attention through my limo tinted windows. I rolled down my window and he says, “Oh, I just wanted to say hello!” I greeted him back and wondered what that was all about. We’ve never spoken before and he seems too eager to get to know us now, after a year and a half of living there.

So last night as I’m getting ready to hit the hay, I hear them bickering. They weren’t exactly yelling like their usual fights, but just a light ‘bicker’. I was in the bathroom about to wash my face when I hear, “WHY??? Because they're LESBIANS?”

I guess the truth comes out of the woodwork sometimes.

Monday, March 09, 2009

"Tittles"

If my mom had a computer, I’m sure she would be the nosiest person on Facbeook. She’d be emailing one of my sisters or myself with information regarding someone’s photo or asking questions about ‘you know who’. God only knows who would be the ‘you know who’ list. She’d insist I was having a hot affair with one of my male friends, just because I gave him a “hug” on his birthday. “Well you just don’t do that, it’s not appropriate.” And that’s that. She’d be on top of my statuses, letting everyone know what I’m doing at what particular time...and so on. My questions were answered when I wondered about if she would ever consider Twitter to be on her list of things to do, if she had a computer of her own.

The other night I went to my sister Dawn’s house while my parents were there. While we were sitting around the table talking, my mom casually scoots over and asks me in all seriousness:

“What’s this tittles I hear about?”
“What?”
“Tittles. Everybody’s talking about it. You know - (and she slows her whisper and then empathizes on the word) --T*I*T*T*L*E*S-- What is it?”

I gave her a blank stare and thought for a moment... And then it hit me:

“You mean, TWITTER?”

I had to explain this to someone who has no inkling about any type of networking sites or even the internet alone. I know many of you who read me already know her lingos. Let me put this one on my list...

Internet = intercom
Laptop = blacktop
Text messaging = tex’ mexing’
Google = Goggle

And now, Twitter = Tittles.

Friday, March 06, 2009

Friday Madness

The day hasn’t even started for me and yet, I dread walking out of my very own door. It started at 4:30 am, when I’m about to head downstairs to grab some paperwork that I had left in my car. I opened my door to go outside and I felt something hit my midsection and then heard it flop on the floor. “Sorry, ma’am!” My paperboy is a quicker-dropper-offer and does his job well. But, today it was different. I just looked at him with one eye opened and said, “I hate being called ma’am.” Whatever happened to the days of being called “Miss” and “young lady”. Those days are sucked right down the drain. I grabbed my newspaper, which is more like mierde put together in a bundle of misspelled and fragmented sentences for the locals to be 'in the know' about their neighborhood happenings. Their press should really pass out "Hooked on Phonics" for all of their employees.

A couple of hours later, I start making breakfast for Madelene. I figured I’d make her a couple of eggs on a bagel and for me, one egg on a piece of toast. I reached up into the cabinet and grabbed the Pam cooking spray, when I realized it wasn’t “Pam”; it was a money saving brand version that Madelene must have picked up. I sprayed in on the pan and it smelled like ass. There are only a select few things I will purchase in money saving brands, but this is not one of them. “I refuse to cook with this ass in a can, Madelene!” I am not exaggerating when I say it smells like “ass” - it totally resembles an overused bathroom at a bad Mexican restaurant.

Aside from that, Madelene and I are trying to cut out all sugar in our diets. We don’t want to replace the sugar intake with some cancer causing substitute either; we just want to wean off as best we can. So, instead of putting two teaspoons of sugar in my coffee, I decided to drink it black with no sugar, like I used to do. Madelene went from two to one. Not bad - she’s making progress. We’re trying to incorporate more fruits and natural sugars instead of the refined stuff. So as she was getting prepared to leave for work, she grabbed a banana and an apple and then placed them on the counter...along with a few extra treats. (This photo was taken - no props, no 'setting up' or anything. It was taken "as is"!)

The day hasn’t even started yet and I really dread walking out of here today.
Have a great weekend everybody!

Wednesday, March 04, 2009

Don't Ask Don't Tell

It’s absolutely amazing how Facebook has brought old friends or even just old acquaintances back into communication again. Those who knew me well when I was a child also knew my family while growing up.  After yesterday’s post, a close old friend had written me an email asking me how my father reacted when he found out I that I was a lesbian. My father is your typical ‘old school’ Brooklynite, who smokes four packs of Camel’s non-filtered cigarettes and could put away three pots of coffee in one sitting.  I remember hearing ‘cling-cling-cling-cling-cling-cling-cling-cling’, from his spoon swirling around in his cup a million and one times. He would stir the coffee so much that I felt like screaming, “It’s mixed already, dammit!” As you approached him, there was a thick layer of gray smoke surrounding him. Even if he wasn’t smoking, the remains of the cigarette clouds would linger for hours. The ‘stop, drop and roll’ technique never worked so well. We had to talk to him with gas masks on.

My first real job out of school, I had developed a very casual relationship with one of the sales managers that my sister Dawn and I used to work with. My sister never, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever, had an inkling about me. During business meetings, my “friend” would give me those looks - you know - those ‘they have no idea we’re together’ type of smirks. Business lunches were always awkward. My friend would get up from her table and give me ‘the look’ to come with her to the ladies’ room. My sister walked in at .02 seconds after my friend had just planted one on me. My face went white and I thought for sure she knew. She had no idea. I don’t believe she knew anyone that were gay other than Boy George.

After a few incidents similar to that, I was sure my sister knew. I had to tell her before she finds out. I didn’t want the type of situation where your family knows before you "out" yourself. The worst thing in the world is: “Hey mom and dad, I’m gay.” And their response: “Yep, we know,” as they flip through the ‘parents with gay kids support group’ section of the paper. So I decided to take it upon myself to out myself to tell my sister Dawn, who I thought had an inkling about me. My other sister already knew, so I was sure that maybe somewhere, somehow, it may have slipped out or ‘guessed’ or ‘assumed’.   Who knew...?    When I first told her, I couldn’t seem to get the right words out, other than, “You know me and “Jen” are close right?”She just gives me a blank stare, “Well yeah you two get along great!”
“No, we’re very close friends.”
“Okay...” she says, in a ‘where is this going’ type of tone.
“It’s more than a friendship.”
“Like sisterly?”
“No.”
“Oh!” she said, with her jaw to the ground and her eyes fixated on me as though I grew a few more heads.

So needless to say, mom started giving me the “look”: that look that said, “I’m on to you kid.” It was the same look when I came home and she seemingly detected alcohol on my breath or if I had smoked pot, she’d say, “I smell that funny burnt rope smell!” I just ran to my room and insisted that she was crazy.

“Don’t tell ya’ fatha’”, were the first words she said when she confronted me about being gay. I can see if I was his son working in his excavation business and wanted to start my own beauty salon, but I was his daughter that had no impact on his business whatsoever. At that time, I started dating Madelene. Nonetheless, I never said anything, until one day, while my dad was watching the gay parade on television, he blurts out with his loud Brooklyn accent without hesitation, “Wouldja’ look at ‘dese fairies - wouldja’? They even tawk’ funny yanno’ wad’ I mean?" I just sat there eating my cereal and trying to think of the right words to conjure up, so that the Archie Bunker alter of his could freak the hell out and possibly blame Edith for my twisted ways.

“Hey dad, you have four daughters, one married and the other two coupled up with nice men. Did you ever think that one may possibly stray out of the pack?” He sat there for a few moments, taking the longest drag from his cigarette. You could actually hear the paper burning as he sucked every bit of nicotine into his gargantua-like lungs.
“You tellin’ me you’ a fairy?”
“Yes.”
“You wid’ dat’ nice Spanish girl dat' sends me pastries?”
“Yes.”
“Good fo’ you. She’s a nice girl. I’d ratha’ see ya wid’ her than these lousy creeps dat’ are out ‘dare - yanno’ whad’ I’m tawkin’ abow’???”

And the very last thing he said to me was: “Don’t tell ya mutha’!”

Tuesday, March 03, 2009

In a Perfect World

In a perfect world, nobody suffers over anything. There is no such thing as anxiety disorder, depression, anger, resentment or any other emotion that could possibly push us out on a ledge somewhere hoping someone, somewhere will save us; a cry for help or just a need for someone to realize: “Hey, I’m suffering over here!” But, it remains all too silent for the most part and not one person hears your cries for help, because those cries are set deep within your heart trying to make its way out. Unfortunately, most of those attempts to ‘make it out’ are indirected anger or repressed emotions that target innocent bystanders, loved ones and acquaintances.

As I push forward on the anniversary of three months of sobriety, I was making my way over to AA, which is on a road that has a 25 mph limit. I was doing 35 because it’s morbidly impossible to go 25. A cop pulled me over and I tried explaining to him that I didn’t want to be late for this meeting because it was my three month mark of sobriety and I was already in the parking lot as it was. He had no mercy and had written me a ticket. Fine. But, since I was having a bad day and was craving a drink very badly, I said to him, “Welp, I guess I’ll go the liquor store and then head home and make a toast to you that I at least made it three months and now totally off the wagon.” He looked at me with concern and said, “Now why would you do that?” Instead of being nice and pleading with the guy, I was in a bad mood and blurted out, “Because you’re an effing pig that only cares about his $8 per hour job and his quota.” He nodded his head and said, “Ok...ok...” He backed away from my car as I drove off, while my back tires tossed old dirty slush onto his striped pants. I went home, but decided not to drink.

I drank to relieve my anxiety. It made things go away temporarily. I started drinking heavily at the age of sixteen. A personal friend of mine, who happens to be a psychologist stated that I had post traumatic disorder, which many people have and don’t know it. I started getting severe anxiety attacks at the age of sixteen, which made me seek solace in a bottle. I never really knew why I drank so much; I just did. I was young and the kids all drank so what the hell, right? But for me it was much different than that. As I’ve written in another post about what had taken place when I was that age, it sometimes trickles into my life today. I have a lot of trust issues because I felt that I could trust my parents. It was a different level of trust; it was more about them hiding things from me. But I do understand the reasons they hid things from me to protect me. But, was it really protection?

I think to myself: how do my sisters cope so well? Why am I the only one suffering still? I still have nightmares of tons of FBI units surrounding my house with machine guns and some butchy FBI woman manhandling my mom so brutally, that I wanted to kill her with her own gun for touching her like that. I have seen so much crap in my life and for some reason it just never clicked. I never knew what it was all about. My friends would point things out to me, and yet still I was in a fog about everything. While my parents were in a holding cell, I was home trying to figure out why they had to lie to me. My worst fear as a kid growing up was losing my parents. And I did temporarily. I feel so alone in this, even if it was in the past.

This is my story and I have every right to tell it. I even have permission from my parents to write whatever it is I want. I suffered such emotional crap since that age, that I don’t know how it is to feel safe anymore. I stayed at my parents house for a few years after I lost my job. I made the upstairs into an apartment for myself and Madelene, but I never felt safe. I thought that someone somewhere had a vendetta against my dad. Once reassured that nothing like what happened on March of 1990 would ever occur again, I was soon to be disappointed. I heard shots being fired from downstairs. Then I heard loud screaming by a bunch of men. There was a brawl in our own living room with the neighbors from next door because their Rottweiler ran after my mom in her own yard and almost bit her. My dad took it upon himself to shoot at the ground to scare the dog, however the pebbles shot up into the dogs legs, leaving minimal damage. But the four sons and the father came over to beat up my dad. I called 911 and told them what was going on. Things were settled and my father got a fine for shooting at such a close range within a residential neighborhood. My father ended up breaking one of the guy’s arms, while shoving them out of the door. Not too bad for a guy in his sixties! He took on five men.

I love my family and I have a lot of respect for my parents and how they tried so hard to take care of us in the best ways they knew how. I can never thank them enough. There is an underlining tone that’s never spoken about; the emotional damage that I feel, and the emotional damage that I wonder if my sisters feel or even have? Did they see how those FBI handled our parents? Did they witness the brutality that went on? Do they still feel the pangs of that day they were taken away from us? We always joke around and still talk about it, but I wonder if there is a deep-seeded emotional trauma within them too? I remember watching a scene from The Bronx Tale, where the men went into the bar to kick out all of the bikers that were causing a chaotic scene, throwing beer on one another and messing up the bar. They locked the doors and brutally bashed each and every one of those bikers until they were bloody and lying on the floor. I cried at the scene and walked out of the room. Memories of when I was four years old of watching stuff like this scared the shit out of me. I remember these types of things going on in our own home. I remember my grandma begging my father to put down the gun, because a deal went bad.

It’s calmer these days of course, but not in my head. I still have issues with this and I don’t know how to handle it all. I’m still “scared” - scared of almost everything. I don’t blame my parents for the way I internalized it all - I guess this is the cross I have to bear to move on with life and make it better for myself. Maybe, the reason why nobody in my family speaks about their emotional well-being is because they’ve simply blocked the trauma out? I don’t know. I’ve always wondered. It feels like it happened yesterday, and that’s where my issues come in.

I guess today I’ve been thinking a lot about it and also reflecting on how it has effected my behavior to those around me. I don’t want to place blame on post traumatic disorder to make an excuse for my bad choices or behavior, I just want to be a better person and not rely on alcohol to take these horrible feelings away. I want to “feel”, I just don’t want it to prevent me from living a fulfilling life.

But, in a perfect world, nobody suffers over anything, right? 


Note: This took a lot for me to write and I thank you if sat there to read my story...

Monday, March 02, 2009

Oh, the Humanity!

What happens to us when we hear “snow storm” that makes us automatically run to a grocery store and stock up for a nuclear holocaust?   There was gridlock in aisle five. These idiots were rubbernecking because there was a sale on olive oil, so everyone at the same time parked their carts accordingly in one spot, taking up the entire space available to pass them.

“Scu-scu-scu-ESCUSE ME...” I said, emphasizing the last part because there is  apparently nothing else in the world was more important than extra virgin olive oil on sale. Needless to say, I made my way over to the good stuff: turkey bacon, eggs, dairy, smoked salmon - all the things that breakfast should be.  I wanted to be snowed in with my sweetie giving her the best brunch she could possibly have. We try to be health conscious, so we replace the bacon with turkey bacon, which is only 35 calories and no trans fat. We use only one real egg to make it appear yellow, plus we pour the rest with egg whites so it doesn't contain all the cholesterol. The only “bad” thing on our plate was the bagel. Cream cheese, nonfat, and hash browns made with the lightest ingredients and fresh vegetables. Yes, it was probably a huge caloric intake, but very low in cholesterol.  And I swear to you it tastes exactly like the “real deal”.

After our two hour breakfast and rolling ourselves into the living room with our coffee to talk and read the Sunday paper together, I jokingly said to her, “You know, you’re going to be starving in a few hours - watch.” She thought I was crazy and said, “After a breakfast like that? Are you kidding?” I explained to her that when you eat a huge plate like that, your stomach expands, fooling you into believing that you’re hungry again.    And, she was... and then of course, I was. We grazed all fricken day. I went to sleep with a slight stomach ache and popped a few Tums.

I’m detoxing my body today. I have a food hangover. What is it about winter that kicks in our instinctual need to consume more because it’s colder outside? Do we think we’ll never make it out of a two inch snow storm or is it embedded deep within our primitive nature to consume everything before us to survive? By spring thaw, we’re all starving ourselves and running around our neighborhood trying to shed the pounds we packed on during the winter season. Yet, you'll never see a raging crowd in your local grocery store when there’s a summer thunder storm brewing.

It’s a vicious cycle, but so worth it!