Niner, niner, do you read me?

My nine year anniversary is coming up in just a day or so. I thought I would do my annual "awwww" blog by letting someone else do the talking about my cheesy, albeit heart-warming, thoughts. So...happy anniversary babe!

"Home" - Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeroes

Alabama, Arkansas, I do love my Ma & Pa
Not the way that I do love you

Holy roly, me, oh my, you’re the apple of my eye
Girl, I’ve never loved one like you

Man, oh man, you’re my best friend, I scream it to the nothingness
There ain’t nothin’ that I need

Well, hot & heavy, pumpkin pie, chocolate candy, Jesus Christ
There ain’t nothin’ please me more than you

Chorus:
Ahh, Home
Let me come Home
Home is wherever I’m with you
(2x)
La la la la, take me Home
Baby, I’m coming Home

I’ll follow you into the park, through the jungle, through the dark
Girl, I’ve never loved one like you

Moats & boats & waterfalls, alley ways & pay phone calls
I’ve been everywhere with you

That’s true

We laugh until we think we’ll die, barefoot on a summer night
Nothin’ new is sweeter than with you

And in the sticks we’re running free like it’s only you and me
Geez, you’re something to see.


“Jade?”
“Alexander?”
“Do you remember that day you fell out of my window?”
“I sure do, you came jumping out after me.”
“Well, you fell on the concrete and nearly broke your ass and you were bleeding all over the place and I rushed you off to the hospital. Do you remember that?”
“Yes, I do.”
“Well, there’s something I never told you about that night.”
“What didn’t you tell me?”
“While you were sitting in the backseat smoking a cigarette you thought was going to be your last, I was falling deep, deeply in love with you and I never told you ‘til just now.”
“Now I know.”

Ahh, Home
Let me come Home
Home is whenever I’m with you
Ahh, Home
Let me come Home
Home is when I’m alone with you

Home
Let me come Home
Home is wherever I’m with you

Ahh, Home
Yes, I am Home
Home is when I’m alone with you.

Alabama, Arkansas, I do love my Ma & Pa
Moats & boats & waterfalls & pay phone calls

Ahh, Home
Let me come Home
Home is wherever I’m with you
Ahh, Home
Let me come Home
Home is when I’m alone with you

shutterbugs

When you photograph people in colour you photograph their clothes. But when you photograph people in B&W, you photograph their souls! ~Ted Grant

So I have been taking photography classes since September, so that I could learn to use a manual 35mm SLR camera...and to develop skills in darkroom techniques. This has been, truthfully, an incredibly rewarding experience. I remember the very first picture I took (my parents standing on the fireplace at Easter), and I recall feeling this electric buzz in holding their camera. Knowing they trusted me to take their picture, when I was all of 8 years old, felt amazing. Ever since that day, I have wanted to photograph the world.

Growing up, my family did alright for ourselves. I had a roof over my head, food on the table, and clothes on my back. Though I had my moments of entitlement (a product of having too many wealthy friends), I never wanted for nothing. But my parents also taught me that if I wanted something that wasn't classified as a "need", then I had to save up for it on my own. As such, I never had an opportunity to get my own camera...and felt insanely envious of people who had them and got to run with the "artsy" crowd.

2008 rolled around. I had a crap job, came home miserable every day. I made next to nothing, and in general had nothing going for me except that I had a good relationship. I needed something outside of work and separate from my boyfriend, because independence is something I pride myself in having. I scrimped, saved, and bargain-hunted...and bought my Canon EOS Rebel K2. It came with lots of toys (tripod, filters, etc), and I had no idea to use any of it. Had I gotten in over my head? What's an aperture value? What do they mean by shutter speed? I spent hours reading over the manual, but was still coming up short. I stuck to the automatic setting for about a year, and maybe would get one good picture off an entire roll of film.

Determined to get better, I kept trying. Seeing the world through my viewfinder made me feel good. Like I was seeing something extrordinary out of the ordinary. It got easier, over time, to trust the manual setting and give the "trial and error" method the ol' college try. My pictures got better, more interesting. Still, most of the roll of film was crap.

Cue 2010. Now have the means to take photo classes. Whee! Now someone can finally tell me what an f stop is! First day of class was nerve-wracking. I was expecting a lecture hall or something, with some older gentleman looking bored at me for not knowing what I'm doing. In fact, the class is held in the 'Carriage' House of a renovated Tudor-style mansion that's a hisorical piece of property here in Atlanta and preserved as a cultural arts center for the city. My class is a mix of high school students, and young adults such as myself. It's taught by this guy and his partner. My teacher looks like Timothy Oliphant, but is probably hotter because I can actually stare at him in person rather than on TV. Such a relief that the whole learning experience is laid-back and informal.

I've learned to not just compose a shot, adjust the shutter speed/aperture value to accommodate for the lighting and the subject itself, but I can develop the film, then select the image I want to print and run the paper through the chemistry to develop the picture just the way I want. I can even go as far as toning the finished print to give it coolness/warmth in the coloration, albeit a black and white image.

Having total control from beginning to end as given me a sense of accomplishment. Having the tools I need to take a better picture...I almost feel like I was a twin separated at birth, wandering the earth looking for the thing that felt like was missing. And now I've been reunited, and it feels oh-so-good. I've found the thing I can call my own. The one "thing" I can say I'm good at, that's not a passive talent.

It may have taken me almost 30 years to figure it out...but at least I have more years ahead of me to enjoy my new hobby than there are behind me. If you feel like something is missing, be persistent. You'll find it. xoxo

"Self portrait"

t'is the season

Ahh, the holidays. The time to bend to consumeristic tendencies, gorge on fattening foods, scream at soccer moms who abscond with the last [insert trendy toy here], and all in the name of the "Christmas Spirit". No? What? That's what all the commercials and tv shows say. So, then, what is this spirit of which you speak? What does it mean in this day and age?

The history of Christmas really dates back to millenia ago, with the celebration of the Winter Solstice by Druids and Pagans alike. Even ancient Egyptians and Greeks took the holiday of "Yule" and molded it into their own traditions of worshipping the sun gods. Yule, traditionally, was to feast, have general merriment, and enjoy customs like a 'yule log' and the decoration of trees. There was also booze...cuz, well, that's how the Pagans roll. Sound familiar? Mmhmm. When Christianity was the new guy on the block of other world religions, they had to do some pretty hefty marketing to sell people on the idea that this rockin' carpenter was born and was the Messiah...an idea no one was buying. So them clever x-ians said "hey, let's make a new holiday, and call it Christmas, after baby Jesus! It will have the same traditions as Yule, but if we just stick this nice baby in the mix, no one will care! We'll make this new holiday just 4 days after Yule, so it'll be like nothing changed!"

And thus, baby Jesus, the three wise guys, and the barn fit nice and fine right next to the mistletoe and wassail.

So...how does a non Christian, non Pagan, or otherwise celebrate the holiday season? What could Christmas mean to me, a self-proclaimed atheist? There's no Christ in my x-mas, nor are their multiple gods and goddesses, and I'm certainly not worshipping the sun while I tip my glass of Jack at the holiday dinnertable. Good question. It's easier to say what Christmas/Yule don't mean to me.

It's not about presents. It's not about Black Friday sales. It's not about the tree or the sparkly lights or putting fresh nutmeg in my 'nog. It's not about dressing my cats up as characters in christmas movies either, just in case you were wondering. And yet, when I think about the Christmas Spirit, it's about the ambiance that those things can create. The sparkly lights and decorations are part of my childhood. The giving of presents meant I could give a smile to someone I loved. The baking of cookies and the crackling of the wood in the fireplace are smells and sounds that remind me of family. I had a happy childhood, and despite my departure into adolescence, I came out on the other side ok...and I still love my family. So the holiday season makes me feel reminiscent of times where we shared generosity with one another, created traditions unique to us.

So, year after year, even as an atheist, I continue having a certain jubilation for Christmas/Yule/Yulemas because it makes me feel close to my loved ones, whether it's Josh spending the evening decorating the tree with me, or sharing homemade cookies with my friends (who don't have anyone else baking them things), or going home to visit family and feeling totally at place - despite the years and my geographically-distant living arrangement. For me, the holidays are like a whole month of me feeling like hugging everyone.

I guess even if I don't think there's a baby Jesus waiting in a cradle next to some sheep and the dudes with the smelly frankincense, those are pretty good reasons to have some Christmas Spirit. eh?

Thirty three

"boy did you hear me say,
did you hear me say now.
love aint far, well I done mine, done mine, done mine
ooohhh you can't hurry love"
The Concretes


I work for an adoption agency. It's work that I am very proud to do, and feel ever more so proud knowing that I'm one of the only agencies in my region that works with same-sex parents. For the last thirty three years, Florida has been the ONLY state that explicitly prohibited same-sex parent adoptions. What did that mean?

1. If you were gay, and your grandchild, niece, nephew, or cousin (i.e you were related to a child) was removed from their home because their parents were deemed unfit to parent, the state would let you foster the child indefinitely but you would never be able to adopt him/her. Because you were gay, you could parent a child but not be a legal guardian.

2. If you were gay, but eligible to pass a home study through a state licensed agency (i.e. clean criminal background, healthy, financially stable, and had a safe home), you could not adopt. But someone with a criminal history who wasn't gay would be able to adopt.

3. If you were gay, you could try to adopt outside of Florida. But trying to come back into Florida you would be stopped by officials overseeing interstate adoptions because of the gay adoption ban told them they had to block the placement.

4. If you were gay, you could move out of Florida, and uproot your entire life, and complete an adoption elsewhere. You could finalize your adoption, and then move back to Florida, with the understanding that someone could report you and live with the threat that your adoption could be overturned if charges were pursued.

Today is a good day. October 12th, 2010, the gay adoption ban was officially lifted with the announcement from Florida DCF (Dept of Children and Family Services) that they would not appeal the judge's ruling to overturn the ban. Today I got to speak with many, many couples in Florida and tell them they could adopt. That they could have access to one of the most basic desires - to create a family. That they no longer would be subject to the homophobic 33 year long law that kept them from achieving their dream of parenting children.

This is not to say that the state of Florida is Utopian by any means now. I made calls to agencies to see who would provide my clients home studies, and there are still many who have religious affiliations that will not be changing their policies. There will still rampant homophobia, and an outcry from social conservatives, despite all the facts pointing them in the face that GAY PARENTS ARE GOOD PARENTS.

LOVE MAKES A FAMILY.

Some people are crying over the videos on the Chilean miners rescue mission. Don't get me wrong, that's an amazing testament to survival instinct... But I've been crying tears of happiness because of all the wonderful people I spoke with today, and hearing that their faith told them to hang on just a little while longer. To listen to them thank ME for staying with them and guiding them at every step...I've been truly touched.

So tonight I tip my glass to the new people from Florida that will be in my professional life, and also to my LGBT friends and family. I love you, and I support you with every fiber of my being and I think it's amazing how each of you perservere every day just in being yourselves.


IT DOES GET BETTER. :)

Everyday is opposite day

I've always seemed to have opposite reactions, behaviors, etc as compared to my peers (or more specifically, my gender group), and while it's weaved its way in and out of my life, it's never been a bother to me. I played on a boys baseball team in 2nd grade when all the girls were trading stickers, was endlessly clutzy despite taking extra care to be aware of my surroundings, refused to play by the rules when it came to dating, gained weight when trying to diet. It was always something different, but I figured it made me quirky and likable.

This weekend, however, shed some light on one other difference I have...one that I already knew about but just realized is upsetting me. Women, food, weight, size, shape. Today's standards say that women need to be thin, Hollywood displays their photos and interviews of actresses and models proudly maintaining a tiny waist and only indulging in "guilty pleasure" foods once every blue moon. I have always had a healthy appetite, never paid any mind to how I looked compared to other girls, and felt that more emphasis should be made on HEALTH and not what was trending at the moment (Atkins, anyone?).

I'm healthy in my food habits, physical activity, I don't smoke and only drink in (mild) moderation. I don't eat fast foods. But my body shape is curvier than most, and I'm OK with that. I love eating, and cooking, and food is like art for me. However, in the extreme heat of the summer, work stress, and general life adjustments has caused a notable loss of appetite for me. I only reluctantly cook dinner (it helps when you have someone to cook for), breakfast tastes like cardboard, and lunch is the only time I can muster up any interest in eating. This has been going on for about 3 months...and as such my pants no longer fit. I have to hitch them up walking up stairs, for fear that my polka dotted undies will be on display by the time I reach the top. I am disheartened by this. See? Opposite! I am saddened not because a few inches have disappeared and my toosh is no longer holding my pants up...but because food is not a joyful experience anymore.

My trip to the mountains of Tennessee this past weekend gave me a brief reprieve from my lack of caloric-intake though...the high elevation or the mountain air simply made me ravenous. It was such pleasure to feel happy about eating again. I felt actual hunger pains and physically craved full meals. I suppose it's not abnormal to have a desire to eat, but for the modern woman it likely would be outside the norm. How sad! How unfortunate that there are women (and men, too) who wish they had no appetite so they could lose weight. This past weekend was fabulous for me, and I was disappointed that I only gained 2 pounds back (out of the 28 that I have lost since June). This means I have to bite the bullet and buy new pants now, since I've been putting it off and just looking silly with my baggy pants.

Now that I'm back in Hotlanta, the appetite is mysteriously gone again. I found myself depressed at dinner tonight, and Josh asked me if anything was wrong. My mournful reply? "I wish we were back in the mountains so I would want to eat again!" I have two wishes. 1 - that the heat wave goes away and my appetite comes back and 2 - that more women would challenge themselves to simply be healthy and happy and not have the lense focused on whether they fit the standard model for beauty....to take ownership of their curves, soft bellies, stretch marks, and larger pant sizes.

the moon up above me brilliantly shines

I've never been one to advocate for reality-based television programming, as in most cases it's mindless drivel that the fat cats profit off of without actually doing anything (you know, like hiring quality writers) aside from installing the prerequisite hot tub and stocked bar. I am part of the Real World generation, and grew up in an era where reality tv went from new-and-interesting to having every single major network featuring their own brand of 20-somethings being "real" in extraordinary situations (Survivor anyone?). Now reality tv is a cliche in and of itself. But there's enough diversity in these scenarios per series that you're bound to find something to your liking. Me...it's the ones that intrigue my inner psychology geek. Intervention, Obsessed, The OCD project. But being stuck at home for the long holiday weekend I tuned into the True Life marathon, and found myself depressed at today's current state of affairs instead of being intellectually stimulated.

Anyone who knows me, knows that I am hugely pro-gay rights. I have family and friends alike who are gay, and I've been involved in the gay rights movement for over a decade now. I've protested, donated, supported, and been the best friend or family member I could to those that came out to me. But I think even then I haven't given enough thought about the minute details that those in the gay community have had to experience.

This episode of True Life depicted three individuals who recently had come out, and how their lives had been effected since then. What I gleaned from their stories were very upsetting to me, and it makes me furious to even think that those I care about may have had to experience it.

Picture you and your significant other. Now picture going to the airport to drop off your SO, where you wouldn't see each other for many months. What do you do? Shake hands, exchange verbal goodbyes, and go your separate ways? No, you hug, kiss, cry, hold hands, whisper how much you'll miss them and love them. For many who are out, or struggling to come out - cannot express their basic and human right to do this if they fear they are in an area where a homophobe could pass judgment or even worse - threaten physical abuse. Even a curious onlooker could be a source of offense, if you are trying to hold your partner's hand in public (as any other couple in love/like/etc would do) and you see strangers staring like you're a 5-headed beast.

Even further...those in the gayborhood have to consider their "out" status and compare it to those they are considering dating/having a relationship with - if you have been out longer than this person has been, your emotional development may be at completely different places and not compatible. Think about it like this - if you were a virgin, on your first date, and your date had been in multiple long-term relationships and was already sexually active....how long do you think it will take for that "talk" to come up? How frustrating it must be for the more mature partner, and how scary it must be for the newbie?

Coming out to other people, family, friends, employers, etc...it just seems so unfair that it's even an issue. When I came home with my first boyfriend, no one questioned it, I didn't have to talk to my parents and say "I'm hetero, I hope you'll be ok with me dating dudes"...because honestly? It's no one's damn business who I'm attracted to except for the person I'm pursuing.

I also recognize that because I date men (or rather, just the one lol), my community identifies me as a hetero and thusly I am to some degree shoved into the "majority" group and there will always be a percent of those in the "minority" who do not value my support or empathy. And I so wish I could change their mind...there is a movement, and because you are coming out you get to be apart of it - but I've been in it too. I don't see you for your sexuality, I see you as the person you are to your friends, family, employer, community. Are you kind, caring, generous, funny? Are you loyal to loved ones, keep confidences, supportive to those who need help? Those are the only things I care about. Guess what...your race, religion, sexual orientation, weight, intelligence level, height, or ice cream preference have nothing to do with your ability to be or do those things for people.

What a curious world we live in...sometimes it feels so surreal, and I have to remind myself that even though I live my life without hate that there is still so much left of it in the world. Maybe one day I won't have to do that, and I can smile knowing my loved ones can be truly authentic everywhere they go.

it's been two long years since the top of the world came crashing down

What is the city but the people?
~William Shakespeare

So I came back from a week long vacation that included stops in NH, CT, and NYC. Mind you, this was my first time ever visiting the Big Apple, and despite it being an abbreviated stay...I came to a few conclusions about NYC, metropolitan cities, and rural living.

I grew up mainly in rural to suburban towns...the former being where I spent most of my younger and subsequent formative years. Quiet country-side towns offering solace, a slower pace, and a sense of peaceful security. Roads so silent you could hear cars coming miles away before you ever saw them. Towns safe enough to forget about the badness out in the world. People know who you are even if they've never met you.

Suburbia is it's own bag of monkeys. Depending on how much the town has going for it, you may get through high school without the whole town knowing your business. They likely have other things to do than to talk about how you barfed during your SAT test. Suburbia can also be a very lonely place to grow up in. It's right in the middle of being just big enough but not too small where if you fall out of your group of friends, it's hard to find a new niche.

Ah, but the big city. It's the best of both. You can find a community of like-minded individuals or purposefully get lost in the sea of people. Atlanta fosters the southern hospitality, the diversity, and a plethora of dining and entertainment. You feel at home at your local grocery store, and love talking to the cashiers about whatever. The only common complaint about Atlanta is the public transit system being a big pile of crap.

New York. This one is tricky. It's a city made up of multiple burroughs, all unique in the community of people that inhabit each one. I learned a few things about how different this city is to my own...like how there are precious few grocery stores, and you live out of your local deli. You are better for befriending your deli guy. You take home what you can carry in two hands, since you don't have the benefit of pushing a cart out to your car to transport it home. You choose your residence based on how close it is to the subway, pub, and bagel shop. You also pay an arm and two legs for this convenience. As I said, I only spent about 24 hours here so what I'm about to say could be way off base...but this is what I gleaned from die-hard New Yorkers: often the things you hate about the city are the very things you love about it. I can get behind that. It's truly a grueling, unique, charming, filthy, beautiful, and personable city.

Now that I'm back in Atlanta...I can say a few more things:
1. I'm glad to be back, so I can continue walking at a much s l o w e r pace, and drive, and pay a pittance for food.
2. I missed Josh and the kitties while away, but it wasn't on my mind all day every day. I think it was good to go away...distance makes the heart grow fonder, eh?
3. I will go back to NYC and spend more time there. It meant a lot to see the things my brother loves about his new hometown, and meant even more to spend time with him and my cousin for an evening.

How do you see NYC?