I think I see you sometimes, more often than I thought I ever would. It’s not that I wanted to ever stop seeing you, it’s not that I wanted you to be the person I only think I see from time to time. I know this period will end, and I’ll finally write you back. It’s not that I don’t want to. I do want to. I want to see you again. Seeing you in other people shows that I am looking for you, sometimes it’s subconscious, but other times I leave work hoping I’ll run into you. I don’t wonder what you think, well, maybe I do… but you made it clear what you did think, even if you were just getting it out there. I’ll write you back. I’ll tell you what I’ve thought and am thinking. We’ll reconnect, it’ll be just like it was. Won’t it? Oh, I don’t know. We don’t even have that much time before I leave and then, and then I know when I think I see you, I’ll just be searching to fill that void… that void that I can fill, by writing you back. I’ll write you back, you’ll see.

Quote:

When he walks he casts a shadow of purpose.  – Emme Woodhull-Bäche

A Gay Reality: Boston Pride 2009

The Boston Observer attends the Dyke March and the Gay Pride Parade.

Last week, the same week of Boston’s Pride, President Obama’s Justice Deparment wrote in support of the Defense of Marriage Act. This means Obama believes that if a person marries in Massachusetts and moves to Ohio, their marriage is null and void because Ohio does not have Gay Marriage. This is problematic for all of the obvious reasons; however, it also contradicts the position he took during his candidacy.

Yes, some of us should be able to be very happy, gay and complacent… But, for most of us complacency is a curse and the fight still continues. If there are people in this country who are denied certain rights because of where they live: then in a sense these rights do not exist. This is especially true in regards to the Gay Community. If a homosexual couple needs to move to a northern state in order to legalize their love, it is shared inequality. If a homosexual couple need to move away from their friends and family in order for their own family to be legally recognized, it is shared inequality. If a homosexual married couple cannot accept a position in another state because his or her partner may lose spousal benefits, it is shared inequality. Or as Martin Luther King, Junior said “Whatever affects one directly, affects all indirectly.” As a country we have fostered and survived on the belief that if a nation denies certain freedoms we continue to push for these freedoms, no questions asked. During the Civil Rights Movement, did African Americans say, “OK well, I guess we will have to accept that we will never be able to ride on the front of the bus in Alabama?” During the Women’s Rights Movement, did they say, “OK, we’ll only vote in the most populous cities?”

Small battles have been victorious. Thank you: Iowa, Massachusetts, Connecticut, New Hampshire, and Maine. These victories show that the cause is gaining momentum, but these victories have also shown us that we do not live in the United States of America but the “Until all States of America.”

What do I mean by this?

- Until all States of America recognize that homosexuals can serve in the military without shame or fear.

- Until all States of America recognize that families with two women or two men are legally recognized.

- Until all States of America can recognize that homosexuals can love as deeply, truly and passionately as heterosexuals.

Until we can stop saying “until” we still have work to accomplish, rights to fight for, and steps to be taken in order to truly reflect a “United State” a true “land of the free.”

Massachusetts, we have a lot to be thankful for, happy for, even prideful for; however, let us not be blindsided by the success of our state or the state of our neighbors. There are people, fellow countrymen, who at this very moment are struggling through discrimination, and blatant injustice. Not too long ago I remember Massachusetts belonged to this group, but now that we have fought and won our piece it is time to help fight and win for the peace of others.
This article can also be found on: http://www.directoryofboston.com/blog/

I have spent a half hour watching different Oscar speeches, mainly for those who have won Best Actor/Actress. I have my favorites, and I have ones where I feel that their gratitude is not as well portrayed. We are celebrating the winners here, and although anyone nominated is considered a winner… I almost think the speeches of those who don’t quiet get there would be just as, if not more interesting than those of the “best.”

What happens to the losers? We so seldom hear their story.

We each have our own personal definition of losing and winning.

Here are two definitions as found on Dictionary.com:

Win:

“-verb (used without object)

1. to finish first in a race, contest, or the like.

2. to succeed by striving or effort: He applied for a scholarship and won.

3. to gain the victory; overcome an adversary: The home team won.

-verb (used with object)

4. to succeed in reaching (a place, condition, etc.), esp. by great effort: They won the shore through a violent storm.

5. to get by effort, as through labor, competition, or conquest: He won his post after years of striving.”

Lose

“-verb (used with object)

1. to come to be without (something in one’s possession or care), through accident, theft, etc., so that there is little or no prospect of recovery: I’m sure I’ve merely misplaced my hat, not lost it.

2. to fail inadvertently to retain (something) in such a way that it cannot be immediately recovered: I just lost a dime under this sofa.

14. to use to no purpose; waste: to lose time in waiting.

-verb (used without object)

23. to suffer loss: to lose on a contract.

24. to suffer defeat or fail to win, as in a contest, race, or game: We played well, but we lost.

25. to depreciate in effectiveness or in some other essential quality: a classic that loses in translation.”

The lessons learned from those who have lost, and always lose can be just as valuable as those that have lost and eventually won. Why does a loser continue if he never wins? Or is the fact that he continues why he is not really a loser in the first place? I think the day you become a real loser, is the day you give up.  But does that even really make you a loser? Sometimes you have to know your limits, and other times you have to know how to push yourself to get where you want to be.  I guess I am just grappling with examining my own sense of wins and losses.

Quote:

For when the One Great Scorer comes

To write against your name,

He marks-not that you won or lost-

But how you played the game.

-Grantland Rice

I was on the Internet, late (similarly to how I am now) when I received an instant message from a person I did not recognize. Usually when you receive an IM from someone you do not know it usually means one of three things:
1.)   They added you a long time ago when they were randomly stalking people one night.
2.)   They accidently IMed you
3.)   Trouble

I’ve been trying really hard to find a solo trumpet album, or a song even; just one sad, solo trumpet. Today, while at Barnes and Nobel I decided to add to my search a saxophone. I couldn’t find that either.
Isn’t that how it usually works though? People don’t find what they are looking for, they are supposed to find what they are supposed to find. Which can be what they are looking for, but a lot of times ends up being something totally different. And undeniably sometimes you end up with nothing, flat out nothing. But try and hold your breath and not be disappointed. Sometimes it is something you don’t realize that you need, and when it makes its way into your pocket (or your life) you realize, jeez I am way better with this here, than I ever was when I didn’t have it.
Today, I did find something. Chris Botti’s version of “Someone To Watch Over Me” Although not exactly how I pictured my solo trumpet song to sound, it definitely creates the feeling that I imagined it would. I actually feel the music and understand the music, whether I want to or not. Now that’s art, when the piece is able to grab you and turn you and pull you without you needing to give yourself to it. Even though you can’t really define art, I think that’s a close step in the right direction.
Today a dear friend of mine shared with me an explanation for certain types of people. She said she borrowed this from her other friend, but whatever… Someone, somewhere, said this. That the reason people get hooked on people who twist you about, and leave you knowing that things will never be more than what they are. Is because these people are CAPTIVATING. Be warned. These people are captivating and although they can easily swallow you, they aren’t the people you wind up with, but the people that fuck you up. They fuck you up because they make you believe that something is wrong with you. You may start to question yourself… doubt yourself… Why don’t they like me? Is it because I’m not skinny enough? Is it because I’m not artistic enough? Is it THIS Or That? No, no, no. “The problem isn’t you, it’s them…. “ or “it’s not you it’s me” Well, that’s what they say anyways. I can’t even learn this, but it’s happened so many times to me. I thought you’re supposed to learn how to avoid these situations. Isn’t the best teacher experience itself?
Here is my latest project; hopefully there will be more soon. I am going to create another blog where I explain why I chose the images I chose with the words I wrote.
First, a quote:
“Perhaps the most difficult choices to make are the ones that deny us what our heart wants most, because as it’s been said, without reason and without prudence, the heart wants what the heart wants, and more often than not, it will not be denied.” –Mary, In Plain Sight
 
 

In Robert Frost’s “Hyla Brook” he concludes his poem with, “We love the things we love for what they are.” But do we? Do we really love the things we love for what they are? I don’t know if that is necessarily true. Sure, maybe, sometimes we actually do love things for what they are, the good and the bad, the weird, the ugly, the pretty. There are times when all things considered we still love the thing we love, for what it is, not for who we want them to be, or who they once were. I have before; I’ve loved things for what they are. I do still now…
My favorite place to walk is up and down the random row of trees that are just right of the reflecting pool (if you are walking towards the Prudential Center). When you are in them you forget that you are in the city, kind of, and your only structure is this checkered path. This pathway works for any step, a staccato rhythm, a slow waltz, even a square dance. This evening I chose the slow waltz, a little hard to master when you’re going stag, but like anything else, you learn to manage.
 
Quote:
 
Let us go, through certain half-deserted streets,
The muttering retreats
Of restless nights in one-night cheap hotels
And sawdust restaurants with oyster-shells:
Streets that follow like a tedious argument
Of insidious intent
To lead you to an overwhelming question . . .
Oh, do not ask, “What is it?”
Let us go and make our visit.
- “The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock” T.S. Eliot

I’m feeling a little down. 

I am on my way to reach these goals of mine. 

I have been reading The Hours and it is a very powerful book. 

I started co-op.

Quotes from the book by Michael Cunningham:

I have started this new thing. When I work out, I like to do my cardio first because that is what I find the most trying. I like to get the difficult things out of the way in order to let myself know, it just is going to keep getting easier. Sometimes when I am running on the treadmill it feels like I am running downhill, but the way I interpret is that with each step I am closer to becoming who I want to be: a faster, stronger, sexier, irresistible, me.
Like I said I have started this new thing, where after I do my cardio and then my lifting and my stretching, I go back on the treadmill. I go back on the treadmill and I run a quarter mile as hard as I can. Why do I do this? To let out the frustrations in my life… The frustrations of the past: the things people have said to me, the things that have brought me down and left me feeling helpless, the things that I think about when new frustrations occur, the things that lead me to question my actions, my thoughts, my feelings. The potential frustrations of the future: the new people I meet who will have preconceived notions of who I am, where I have been, and where I want to go. And, of course, the frustrations of the present: the things that pull on the back strings of my mind when I feel like giving in, the things that cause self bewilderment, the things that push me to no longer be a joke to those who are fortunate enough to be the objects of my affection. I want to have the last laugh.
Oh and until then, my body cries sweat and my mind makes dreams of former setbacks. My soul works as a machine, it takes remarks, glances, and the will to succeed and compounds them into one and then feeds it to me for breakfast, lunch, dinner and those snacks in between. I feed myself on the need to be better, to be someone that my parents can say, “that’s my girl” and to be the girl that others girls say, “I wish she was my girl.” I want other people to be able to see the blacks of my eyes as symbols of the dark passion that rests under the genetic makeup of a carefree kid.

Summer in the suburbs reminds me of middle school. Barbeques, green grass, the dog that runs back in forth on the line, cooling off with the hose, getting the car washed, riding your bike around the block without worry, softball, the pool, crushes that you hope you run into now that school is out, sidewalk chalk and childhood best friends, playing catch with dad, the neighborhood kickball games, the Sunday parties at grandma’s house, finding golf balls, going to the games, dancing in the kitchen with mom, adventures with Angela, climbing trees, oreo milkshakes, and real family vacations.
I am sitting on the Atchue family deck under the shade of the large awning, and to my left there is a large grill with a nice piece of sausage crackling over the coals, and to my right Chunky the chocolate lab makes a bed near his dog house. When I look out towards the lawn, I see little critters jumping back and forth near where the green grass becomes a series of stones, and eventually a small forest. I forgot how chipmunks jump, I’m glad the rats don’t do that in the city.
I should imagine that when Matt was a kid, like me, he’d go on adventures through the woods, imagining that he would find some unknown path. I wouldn’t mind getting lost in the woods, there was always so much excitement about getting lost back then, but now, to be lost is to be without direction, it seems to be not as fun. Why is that? Sometimes it’s not necessary to know what the next move is, you can’t predict how things will go.
The smell of barbeque permeates throughout the neighborhood. That’s one thing I miss in the city, the smell of that barbeque going.
Quote:
“All that is gold does not glitter,
Not all those who wander are lost.” – J.R.R. Tolkien

As I was sitting with Matt today I had told him that I wished he had a blog. He proceeded to tell me that he feels like when you write something that can be read by anyone, it puts a censor on what can be written. Which got me thinking about the different purposes of blogging. What is the point of writing about your feelings if you cannot allow your whole thoughts to gush out with each sentence?  Sometimes I am tempted to write exactly how I feel, to just say it, with reckless abandon, but then again that’s what my personal journal is for. However, maybe if I did specifically say when “Susan” did this to me in April, it made me feel “…” It would allow for a more personal connection between the writer and the reader. Or, it would be more beneficial to me to actually write out things specifically instead of trying to sugarcoat or say things in an ambiguous manner. 
Tonight, I am going to write about my feelings in two ways one will be the ambiguous and the other will be straightforward:
 
Incidences that are Metaphors for life this weekend:
-       I was getting into the sailboat, when my partner got in before I was where I needed to be. The boat tipped over and we both were swimming in the gross dock water. With a small ladder and a strong arm I was able to get out.
-       Sometimes, in the most peculiar places, I will find a penny heads up.
-       I broke a mirror.
-       I watched Gone with the Wind but only the parts that Rhett Butler and Scarlett are interacting. My heart still breaks when he ends up leaving on a misunderstanding.
-       Scarlett definitely will get him back.
-       There is a lot of serious junk in the trunk of my car.
-       I need to clear out my storage facility in Jamaica Plain.
-       I deleted people on FB who don’t say hi to me in real life.
 
I am scared. I am scared that I am not going to finish the goals I have for myself this summer. I am scared that even though I know that they are attainable, the only way of getting them done is to actually do it. I am scared that if I don’t go back to Cleveland this summer I may not get to see my great aunt Angela (age 99) before she dies.  She’s one of the people in this world that don’t know how much I love her and I need to do a better job of expressing my appreciation for her. I miss my mom and my dad, even though I act like I don’t. When you live on your own, there isn’t always that friendly face or that pat on the back that you get when you’ve just fallen off the boat. The other day when I fell out of the sailboat into the water, I felt really grownup, it may sound like a silly thing to say, but when you publically make mistakes there used to be a time where someone was right there telling you don’t worry, get up, try again. However, that’s the way life is. Your parents do all they can do and you either learn from it or you don’t, or you just keep going until you learn on your own.
I am scared that by saying what I am afraid of it makes me seem insignificant. Like I am just another kid talking about all of these little kid ideas that should have died off when I was 19, I’m 20 now goddamnit, grow-up, be a (wo)man. At the sametime, today when I was telling Matt about my fears of never finding someone… he reminded me that we are only 20, that we really are just kids. It’s true, like Anais Nin says, “”We do not grow absolutely, chronologically. We grow sometimes in one dimension, and not in another; unevenly. We grow partially. We are relative. We are mature in one realm, childish in another. The past, present, and future mingle and pull us backward, forward, or fix us in the present. We are made up of layers, cells, constellations.” I feel like this quote is something that anyone can relate to. It reminds me that I am not alone in the growing process. That just because I am a certain age, it doesn’t mean I need to be doing a certain thing because that’s what I have been raised to believe; that growing-up is all about becoming more of who you are. That in some ways you can still be a kid and still be an adult at the same time. How am I still a kid?:  My optimistic perspective on people/life; I believe that by picking up heads up pennys I have better luck; I am worried that breaking the mirror while moving will bring me seven years of bad luck; I believe that I will fall in love and live happily ever after; I believe that I will find the job of my dreams. I’m so corny, I think that it something I can add to the list. Or that’s not something you grow out of huh? I don’t think people like corny people.
I am afraid that I ask too many questions about everything, to everyone. I am afraid that I am too random, that it makes me seem insincere. I am afraid that I won’t pay off the high debts that I have. And that even though I’ll save money living in the suburbs of RI, that the slow pace of things will make me wish otherwise. I am afraid of being judged for who I am, both physically and internally… but even though that scares me, I will not compromise who I am for anyone. That’s something that I really admire about my friend Matt, he never compromises himself for anyone.
The thing is though, even though that I am afraid of all of these things. I am not afraid to take a chance. I am not afraid to make myself seem ridiculous or silly, because that’s just as much a part of me as my brown eyes or my curly hair.
I think I got off track somewhere around here, but hey, it’s a blog… it doesn’t have to make sense.
 
To the movies.
 
Quote:
“Haven’t you figured out yet that you are the only one who can do what you do, the way you do it? Don’t you realize that the world is waiting for you?”  -Iyanla Vanzant