Showing posts from August, 2006

The Raging Sea and PMS

Don’t do it. Don’t say it. Don’t think it. Don’t touch me. Don’t keep asking me the same questions over and over again. Just don’t. What? What? I can’t hear you!!! Are you speaking another language, because you’re not making sense!? The words out of your mouth mean absolutely nothing to me. Nothing. Stop making all that noise! I can’t take it! What are you talking about again? From the slightest crinkle of a candy wrapper to a question that goes beyond what you’re willing to answer—your mind is in complete disarray of any rational thinking that may have taken place just a week prior. Your brain is ‘fuzz’. It’s static electricity sending out electric vibes; striking innocent people in its path. Don’t go near it. Stay far, far away. It’s a force to be reckoned with. Inside the life of a PMS victim (I’m speaking of the person PMSing) life can take a very strange turn. From being happy, going out having fun and spending time with loved ones and friends, to staying home watching sappy Life

A Voice From Queercents

I'm happy to introduce Dawn from Queercents over to my site. She is my guest blogger today who's going to share her views about being a Christian lesbian. Queercents is a personal finance blog serving the lesbian, gay, bisexual and transgender community. (LGBT) "My Thoughts on Being a Christian Gay" Deb asked me to write down a few of my thoughts about being a Christian gay (lesbian) as she said, "I love your outlook on it all". Well, I can't turn down an offer like that. Let me give you a little background on me, I don't like to do this, but so many people who are homophobic read this stuff and have such preconceived ideas. I come from a family where both my parents are still married in a loving relationship; I was raised in an evangelical home with no abuse. My parent's did spank me but nothing that was close to beating. I was not raised around gay people, nor did I even know what it was until I was in my mid-teens. We didn't even have a T

Found a New Drug Dealer

Yesterday was a trying day. As I’ve written before in my previous posts , my current psychiatrist has a personality of a rock. Granted, his words of wisdom that flow out of his mouth only once a year should be cherished, but the fact still remains, he sits there like a zombie and doesn’t say anything at all. If he does, it’s, “So when do you want to reschedule?” Finally, I found a new doctor. I’m trying him out. Madelene came along with me for the ride. We walked into this small office full of people waiting. I approached the receptionist’s glass window and she gave me a ton of papers to fill out. You can’t help but hear everything that goes on in that office —it’s that small. “No! We fit you in for 4pm this afternoon! Other than that, if you want to cancel this appointment, it won’t be until October…..No! I can’t!......What?......I’m sorry, you’ll just have to do the best you can!.....Well I’m so sorry to hear that.” The receptionist screams into her phone as she covers up the mouth

300th Post Dedicated to OCD

It was bound to happen one day. I knew it was coming, I just didn’t realize when. It all happened when I touched the shopping cart handle. I usually have my Purell hand sanitizer with me at all times, but the other day I failed stock up on more—I ran out. As I grabbed the cart and headed down the produce section, I was fully aware of my hands being wrapped around the orange plastic handle—which everyone and their mother probably touched. I just thought, “I’ll just dowse myself in Purell and that’s that!” Amy came along with me on this shopping venture, because I get tunnel vision when I walk through a huge grocery store. In case I passed out, Amy would run out of there and leave me for dead. Anyway, while we were walking down the aisle, we saw a little kid sitting in the seat of the shopping cart as his mother pushed him around. He was leaning over his seat licking the handle. Great. My grip on my own handle gets less and less at this point. I’d look like a total freak if I were to

Testosterone = Patience

What’s the rush? Usually, when you’re back in the dating pool, it’s hard to decipher a good catch from a bad one. You just don’t know them. There are many times to be spent sharing, laughing, talking and getting acquainted with this ‘stranger’ that you’re now dating. It takes time. Some people can hide many things for a long period of time, but eventually, those skeletons come crashing out of the closet burying you with tons of bones. Is it too hard to wait it out? Let me drag you into my world… Lesbians. That’s all I need to say before you start painting a picture of a U-Haul loaded with twenty cats and maybe a piece of furniture or two. I guess it’s comparable to dog years as far as dating. Two months is fourteen, one year is equal to seven, three years is equal to twenty-one years. Get my drift? After the two month mark, most lesbians are already picking out china and trekking to Ikea for their ‘assemble yourself’ furniture. Stop right there! I didn’t say “all les

What Does It All Mean?

Interpretation may seem frustrating to many when it comes to bible scriptures. Even when theologians and “bible thumpers” will only focus on the surface of the meaning and not the core, we can be persuaded very easily to believe the basics. Is God basic? Wouldn’t you think there would be a deeper meaning into His word? Even so, the bible I have is the New Living Testament {NLT}—which is translated into modern English. The bible has been translated so many times, that it tends to lose some of its meaning. For example: Madelene will tell me something in Spanish. She’s desperately trying to teach me Spanish the best she could. She’ll blurt out, “Lo que mata engorda,” when we’re eating something that I think isn’t ‘too good’. It means, whatever won’t kill you, will make you fat. Now, it sounds funny and amusing in Spanish, but in English, there’s a little something lost in its translation. It sounds kind of stupid in English. I don’t want to die from the food we eat, nor do I want to get

To Answer Your Question, Dani...

This is a letter to Dani. She has dedicated a post about me in her blog regarding my beliefs. I just want to state that my beliefs about sinning are based upon being saved by Jesus. God knew that we would all sin and all of us would fall short. Who is without sin in their lives? I can list a ton, from gossiping, eating shellfish, lying, stealing, taking the Lord's name in vain--even the occasional ("OMG!") as well as sexual immorality. Tons of people (heterosexual and homosexual) have premarrital sex. Do you know anyone who has waited until marriage? There are some, I know that's true, but do you think God would throw everyone into the depths of hell? We're all in this together. We might as well enjoy the journey and love God with all our heart. Why make things so difficult while we're here for such a short time on this earth? And here's my letter to Dani. Hi Dani , Thanks for dedicating your post to me. I realize you are concerned for those that are str

Shrinking Pyschology

Don’t get me started. I have enough problems with public bathrooms as it is. The worst part about public bathrooms is when you expect it to be clean…but it’s not. I run into this crap (so to speak) all the time. It’s not only ‘just a public bathroom’, but one that was located in my psychiatrist’s office. Each time I arrive at doc’s office, I have to use the ladies’ room. I don’t know if it’s from nerves, or if it’s from that whole, ‘let me get this over with so I don’t have to cross my legs real tight’ sort of fiasco. I just have to go. I rush into the glass doors of the building, and run straight to the loo. I open the door, turn on the light and plop my purse on the corner of the floor. I don’t think anyone urinates there—so it’s safe. Later on, I’ll dowse that thing up with rubbing alcohol. It’s all good. As I check out the sink to see if droplets and tiny pieces of curly pubic hair aren't lying around, I then check out the toilet seat to check if that’s ‘clear’. Oh it was cle

Please Won't You Be...My Neighbor?

It’s been a crazy week full of events. I haven’t been blogging much, however, there was one event I had to share with the rest of the world. As I have posted many times, my father is not so close with his neighbors. They irritate him… errr …or….he irritates them. Who knows. Anyway, Sunday morning, while we were all hungover, trying to recoup from Saturday’s party at my friend's house…I heard a sound coming from the backyard. Little recap of what’s been happening around the neighborhood... Our house has this amazing view of the mountains and lake nearby. The trees that are surrounding my neighbor’s house is obstructing our view. Now, the trees are on ‘our’ side, so my father asked them politely (I think) to trim them, or remove them. They never responded—or responded fast enough. Dad always went on and on about this; threatening them till the very end. "If dey' don't trim their God damn trees, den' I'm gonna do dis' my way!" My dad took it into his ow

Taking the Good With the Bad

In a blink of an eye, my father can demonstrate a calm, easy going man, or a raging bull full of chaos. It’s tricky trying to talk to him, because you never know what he’s going to agree or disagree with. On top of that, never, ever, and I mean never …talk about politics with this man. He leans so much to the right that it’s scary. After a few gin martinis, he’ll lean to the left for support. His political views are worse than Hitler’s. Now, what I am about to tell you, please take with a grain of salt. My father’s logic and reasoning is neither sane nor meant for educating our children. Dad. He’s Archie Bunker , Tony Soprano and Leatherface all wrapped up into one. Lovely, right? I just adore him. Anyway, here’s the lowdown on each of the following alter egos he has: Archie Bunker: Very racist, but claims he has many Jewish and black friends. He hires the Puerto Ricans all the time at the homeless shelter, so why would anyone think he’s a racist? Those Mexicans are wonderful workers

Never a Dull Moment

These things really happen to me. I’m not even exaggerating. Once again, Amy and I are out to dinner enjoying a bottle of wine along with some delicious Italian food. We were seated next to the window that overlooks the lake and a very busy street. There was a nice older Jewish couple behind us talking up a storm. They looked as though they were in their mid-fifties and seemed as though they’ve been married for a very long time. I tend to eavesdrop on other people’s conversations sometimes when silence hits my own table, but I’m not as bad as my mother. Her antennas go up right away, even if you’re telling her the most exciting story—someone at the other table has a better one to tell. As I overhear the couple talking about their grandchildren’s bar mitzvahs and such, I notice outside that a car stopped right in the middle of the street without putting their hazard lights on. Cars were passing, beeping like crazy and going around him from the left, as well as the right side of the veh

God Hates?

Many of your comments from my previous post has inspired me to write this next post. Thank you all who have participated in the discussion and shared with me your beliefs and thoughts. And now, here's yet, another religious post about what I truly believe. Does God hate? Realistically speaking, emotions such as hate, anger, guilt and sadness are all “gifts” from Satan. In my beliefs as a Christian, the devil tries to take away your joy and replace it with these negative emotions. It can even be in the form of a person in your life that drains the energy out of you, discouraging words from someone or even thoughts of things that you did in the past which you regret, that manifests itself into guilt. Why would God want us to feel negative emotions? Why would another Christian try to make other Christians feel guilt for the things that they do in their life if they don’t agree with certain things? Regardless of what religion you are, it’s still unnerving for someone to try and reinfor

Animalistic or Human Nature? Or are Both the Same?

All my life, I knew I was a good fella’. No. Wait. That’s not where I was going with this. Let me start all over again. All my life, I knew I was a lesbian. At the age of four years old, I fantasized about Marie Osmond. Shut up—I fantasized about her babysitting me or something, and maybe a little kiss here and there. I really didn’t know what sex was, but I knew I woke up shaking and quivering at the age of four not knowing what took place. Call it animalistic, call it human nature, or call me a heathen straight from hell---this is what happened at my very early age. Don’t psychoanalyze me or even entertain the thought of child molestation, because that wasn’t the case. I was never touched by an adult ‘in that way’. I was always taken care of in a parental type of loving way. ”Oh you must have blocked it out.” Oh give me a break. The only thing I blocked out were the intense orgasms brewing inside me when I was a little tyke running-a-muck. (Or at least tried to anyway.)

Feeling Hot Hot Hot!

It’s a scorcher out there today in New York and many parts of the US. The newscasters warn us to keep ourselves well hydrated and not to bake in the sun too long. They want us to check up on our elderly and make sure they’re okay. Rumor has it that the elderly have a harder time in this heat, than someone who’s younger. I started laughing when the news reporter went up to all the elderly people in the streets of New York yesterday asking them how they’re coping. “What? What the hell ya’ want me to do? I have to go out!” One old lady yelled to the reporter. The newscaster was sweating more than the little old lady was. She was happy, smiling from ear-to-ear and having a great time in Manhattan. It seems like the hotter the weather, the more the elderly are out and about. Think about this… I found that when my parents got older, in the winter, their heat is cranked up to 90 degrees anyway. If I go into a home of someone who is in their seasoned years, their heat is enoug

Familiarity Breeds Contempt

“Familiarity breeds contempt. How accurate that is. The reason we hold truth in such respect is because we have so little opportunity to get familiar with it.” ~Mark Twain. Why is it that the people closest to us presume to know us the best—or know us at all? I’ve always encountered people assuming my character and what I was all about. If you ask my girlfriend or any of my ex’s, they will all tell you that I have kept them on their toes a lot of the time. This is true. The reason I have chosen this route, is because in my life people always thought ‘they knew me’. Presumptuous people drive me nuts. Madelene and I always tell one another how much we still have yet to learn about one another. Yes, we’ve been together for twelve years, but to me, I still don’t feel I know her. I think I know her only about 25%---and that’s a lot. It may seem like a very little amount, but the other 75% is all about her mind, her thoughts, her deepest secrets and her past, as well as her tho