Tuesday, August 7, 2012

We send spaceships. We fall in love.

I tripped on love and broke my nose or maybe it was my heart. When it's all so connected, it's hard to tell which is the thing that is causing the pain. A friend of mine is having tooth surgery and learned the pain of the one tooth is actually mimicked by the surrounding teeth. So my teeth and my heart have that in common, they cause phantom pain in the surrounding tissue.

I spent the morning looking for images to give to a friend to work on my BiCurean project. This image has nothing to do with my project and everything to do my current state of being. Is there such a thing as a heart canal? Rip the root out and cap it off so the infection doesn't spread any further? Maybe I should just dress in black and nail my hand to my forehead, that wouldn't be more ridiculous.

Watching the excitement over Mars Curiosity Landing and thinking about what I want to do with this BiCurean project, with my life. The probability of separate worlds meeting is very small. The lure of it is immense. I find it amazing we can land on a planet 225 million km away but most of us don't know how to talk to the people we love. I think it's because I get distracted by the distance between us. I see the gaps in between, instead of the points of connection. Maybe I lack faith. It takes a lot of faith to launch something into space and believe it will travel over 140 million miles to land exactly where you planned. I believe in that. But somehow I don't know how to believe in ebb and flow of love.

My mom is in the hospital again. Her back keeps breaking, they say she has osteoporosis and her bones are just too weak. So she turns wrong in bed and has surgery. I ache for her. We aren't close, but I am still in her surrounding tissue.

Monday, June 25, 2012

It's all about the interview experience.

I wanted to travel and see the world from my first memory. In high school, at some point, I learned about foreign exchange programs. At first, I was discouraged by the cost. Being raised in a single parent household doesn't leave a lot of room for expensive dreaming. One of my teachers told me about scholarship programs-- if I wanted to go to Germany for a year or Japan for a summer, I could compete for a full tuition scholarship. I dove right in, filling out the application enthusiastically, and checking the mailbox eagerly each afternoon after school. Chosen as a finalist, I needed to attend an interview with the scholarship committee. And this is where the story gets a little weird. My mom saw an ad in the paper for a beauty pageant that was doing interviews for contestants and suggested that I attend in order to get interview experience. While I was clear that I would never be pageant material, I was willing to do pretty much anything to increase my ability to succeed in my goal of going to Germany. So I agreed and attended a strange experience in a local hotel. Entering the room and seeing a sea of well-manicured girls wearing make-up and fashionable clothes, it was clear to me I did not belong. However, I didn't need to belong to get my interview experience, so I stayed for the 2 hours and went home and promptly forgot about the entire thing. A few days later, I received a call inviting me to participate in the Miss Hartford Junior Teen Pageant. I said yes and called my mom to tell her I was in the pageant and as part of it there were more interviews! There was one small problem, a $300 entry fee that we simply didn't have. So I spent the next 3 weeks after school going from business to business in my town asking for $20 to support my participation in this pageant. I raised $350; got a formal gown donated; and a hairstylist to do my hair for free. I borrowed clothes from a woman in my church for the casual part of the competition and went down to Hartford for a day of competition.
It was a blur of activity -- girls everywhere, quick changes, a 15 minute interview (the whole reason I tolerated all the parading on stage), and vaseline on our teeth to keep us smiling. At 3 o'clock they finally called the top ten finalists and I was antsy to hear who in our group was going forward so I could go home and crash. When they called my name, I almost fell over. I walked out to the stage in a daze, wondering if there were going to be more interviews to make the extra few hours I would have to spend at the pageant worth it. (Turns out yes, it was a short one, but one of those on-the-stage-show-you-have-poise kind of questions about who your heroes are or something like that.)

So I placed 4th out of a few hundred girls in Hartford. I won an engraved watch; a trophy; and a different kind of self-confidence. And all the interview experience paid off. A month later, I went to my interview with the scholarship committee and was headed to Germany as a full-year student just a few months after that.

Sometimes we go in a completely different direction to get to our goal. I wouldn't have said that formal gowns and vaseline would lead to a year abroad but I know that what I went through to get through that pageant is part of what made it possible for me to get to Germany. Part of why I started BiCurean is because I don't think life makes sense or fits into boxes or works anyway like we think it should. And when we limit ourselves to the stories of who we think we are, or who we think we should be, we miss out on the journey.

Monday, June 4, 2012

If only this were a case of bad writing

My son used the term "Deus Ex Machina" tonight and it reminded me of one of my favorite day dreams when I was a kid. I used to amuse myself by thinking "what would happen now, if this were scripted?". People would throw around cliches like "life imitates art/art imitates life" so I figured why not pay attention and see if that was happening. Mostly, it didn't seem to work that way. (Although the sarcasm factor in my youth may have been due to the preponderance of sitcoms and an over fascination with the importance of wit.) But I never saw the overly gruff neighbor turn out to just be misunderstood or the new girl (me) suddenly adopted by the popular girls and made over into a fashionista or that when everything was going horribly wrong some person in authority would notice it and quietly fix the whole situation. Instead, the gruff neighbor was just gruff and needed to be accepted for who he is. I had to accept myself and find my friends and build my life on my own terms. And when things went horribly wrong, they just needed to be accepted and dealt with, no quick, easy fixes from benevolent leaders.

Accepting things as they are and dealing with that seems to be the way of things instead. No lazy writing to make our day-to-day just a little smoother, in fact no scripts at all. Mostly I appreciate the freedom in that.

Mostly.

Wednesday, May 30, 2012

Magic

I was really into magic as a kid. I bought a cheap magic set at 12 and tried to learn the tricks and perform them smoothly. My lack of coordination and my personal awkwardness meant I was never very good at it. Although I got a few card tricks down -- mostly the ones that relied on math. They were much less anxiety provoking than the ones that required me to be smooth in my delivery. My friends and I made up stories about magic kingdoms in our backyards. We were always the benevolent but powerful princesses.

My father lived in Nevada and I would fly out to visit him every summer. On the drive from the airport to his home, we would go through a mountain pass (called the gorge) and I fixated on one of the smaller juts of rock as my "magic mountain". It was beautiful, with greens and reds running through it, and felt magical to me when I was 4 or 5 years old. When I drive by it as an adult, I still see it's beauty. Back home, I would tell my friends I had a real magic mountain with some authority. I don't know if they believed me, but they played along.

I think love is like that in some ways. It is an act of faith that requires we believe in something we don't really have any reason to believe in. Maybe that's why the young love more deeply - they don't have as many reasons not to believe so they can embrace the experience so much more fully. The hope and excitement is new and hasn't yet lead to the grief and heartache. In some ways, I am still young. I don't think I draw magic from that beautiful rock in the gorge, but I still believe in the magic of love to transform us into better people. Not because love changes people but because people can be inspired by love to be more deeply themselves. And I do believe our deepest selves are our best selves.

Saturday, May 26, 2012

Saying yes to my whole self, one FB group at a time.

I write best when I write about my life, but it seems so very new age and narcisstic to make it all about me. And maybe it's just delusion to pretend it's not. I got the idea of doing this blog and podcast last spring and have been chipping away at the pieces since then. Sometimes I forget that I am not a homemaker anymore, with naptimes to sit and write and create. But instead trying to put together the pieces of my personal life in the pauses between work and running errands. And supposedly age catches up to you. This may be true, but I don't feel ready to buy that completely. Someone called me middle-aged last week and I politely, but firmly, corrected them rather quickly. It's not that I mind aging, it's just that I mind aging.

One of my college bff's and I started an online reunion group on FB. I didn't expect it to be quite as much fun as it is (or full of quite as many terrible pictures of me-- how come the only times people took my photo were when I was chill-axing instead of when I was dolled up on a date?) I went to college at Brigham Young University (BYU) a mormon school and now I work as a queer activist. So saying yes to the past and yes to my present has been something I have struggled with since the day I came out in Feb of 1998. I couldn't say yes to all of myself at the time. I needed to leave my past behind in a heap on the floor to embrace this new part of myself. I made peace with it, but I left it behind and have felt the shape of it within me ever since. So today I am saying yes to my past and my present. Embracing the mormon student and homemaker within and the queer activist committed to social justice. I couldn't be here today without being who I was in 1992. And yet I had a fear within myself that I couldn't stand in both places. When they started a thread asking what people are doing today and I wrote "Exeutive Director at LGBTQ Center in Boulder, CO" without fear, I knew I finally could.

Friday, April 20, 2012

Step 3: the site and blogger are talking to each other, sort of

So I have a workaround for now to link the blog to the site. I have to say that I don't completely understand why google sites doesn't work a little more like blogger. It is pretty easy to update and change things on blogger and very intuitive. Pages, the pre-cursor to sites, was also fairly intuitive and easy to use, so not super sure why they changed it. I am getting convinced that I will need to learn html if I am going to make this project really work.

Saturday, April 14, 2012

"Life moves pretty fast. If you don't stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it."

Ferris wasn't wrong. I tell this story a lot, but when my cousin was pregnant with her second baby, I overheard her telling my grandmother that she felt like she had spent her first pregnancy waiting for her baby to get to the next stage of life. And she realized that she hadn't been appreciating where things were at, right now. I feel like that is a deep truth for me. That I need to appreciate what is here, right now. But it's hard to appreciate my inability to understand CNAME configuration (hence my blog not being connected to the domain I bought in Sept!) or the challenges of parenting teens and the questions they have that are so similar to my questions as an adult.