I have come to the conclusion that most lesbian movies and storylines on television suck.  Whenever I’ve seen a lesbian storyline on TV, it generally involves a bisexual character who returns to men once May sweeps is over.  As for lesbian movies, I have been consistently disappointed by bad acting, a poorly developed plot, or manically depressed/suicidal characters. It’s to the point that anytime I mention to Lyndsey that there’s a new lesbian movie coming out, she just rolls her eyes. 

However, one movie I did recently enjoy was “I Can’t Think Straight.”  The acting was good, the characters were likable (and not ready to slit their wrists!), and the story was a sweet romantic comedy.  Finally, a quality lesbian movie (Lyndsey didn’t even complain when I forced her to watch it)!  

Thank you Shamim Sarif for this entertaining film :o)

I was in NY last weekend.  On Sunday, my sister and I headed out to my father’s house for her birthday.  I have to say that it was the first time in about 6 years that I felt like my father was genuinely happy to be spending the day with BOTH his girls.  And it wasn’t so much of what he said, but his behavior… the big smiles, the little reasons he kept giving us to stay longer, etc.  It was the first time for me in 6 years that I felt completely at peace around him.  It was one of those days I kept wishing wouldn’t end.  I wanted to stay in that moment forever.  But I guess that’s the irony of life.  It is only when we first recognize the fleetingness of time that we can fully appreciate the present moment…. It is only when we first acknowledge our own mortality that we can completely appreciate the life given us.

Lyndsey and I missed Chicago Pride this weekend cause we were working in our garage staining the floor.  I’m sure many gays and lesbians would consider this sacrilegious, but Lyndsey and I are workaholics (and a little obsessive-compulsive) when it comes to our house.  I suppose that means our garage is more important to us than our sexuality.  Oh, well… There is always next year, right?!

My mom passed away six days before my 21st birthday.  The night of her wake service (two days after her death), I sat in my bedroom in somewhat of a fog.  I got the urge to look through my sentimental junk draw which was full of old cards, ticket stubs from movies, plays, and little trinkets that had no monetary value, but meant something to me.  As my hand reached down into the draw cluttered with memories, the very first item I happened to pull out was a birthday card from the year before filled out in my mother’s handwriting.  Now I know there are a lot of people who might chalk this off as coincidence, or explain it away by saying my subconscious recognized the card… But when I opened that card that lonely night, I got chills all over my body.  I just knew it was my mother wishing me a happy birthday.

The question I get asked the most from people who have read my book is… “How much of your book is autobiographical?”  To some surprise, the answer is none. 

Although I have experienced the complexity of emotions the main character, Katie, experiences in the story, all of the situations/circumstances are fiction.  

First, my father is very involved in his church, but at no point was he ever a pastor.  Secondly, I only have one older sister… no brothers.  Thirdly, Katie has her first girlfriend in high school and I didn’t have my first girlfriend until I was 23! (I was in some serious denial up until then!!)  Fourthly, I’ve had several boyfriends while Katie only had one.  And fifthly, I have never gone to any sort of religious counseling for being gay.

So I decided to compile a list of things lesbians appear to like/love.  Yes, this is stereotyping, but I thought it would be funny… Here goes:

1) Uhauls

2) comfortable/practical shoes

3) Ani DiFranco

4) straight women

5) softball

6) Ellen DeGeneres & Portia de Rossi

7) cherry chapstick

hats

9) sushi

10) The L Word (love or love to hate)

11) Tina Fey

12) vegetarians

13) the environment

14) Chelsea Handler

15) foreign babies

16) Obama

17) poorly acted lesbian films

18) beer

19) four-legged children

20) motorcycles

21) sex toys

22) Democrats

23) Otalia

24) guitars (and women with guitars)

25) cute gay men

26) traveling abroad

27) being friends with exes

28) Indian food

29) Wanda Sykes

30) coffee shops

31) overanalyzing

32) foreign films

33) Pride

34) Rachel Maddow

35) New York City

This is all I can think of for now, but as more come to me, I’ll add them!

Rather than discuss the depressing decision of the California supreme court justices to uphold Prop 8, I would like to discuss something light hearted… such as Otalia.  For those of you who don’t know, Otalia stands for the budding relationship between Olivia and Natalia on “The Guiding Light”.  Now I’m not much of a soap opera watcher, but this has become my new addiction! I’ve spent numerous hours watching Otalia clips on youtube and searching the web for spoiler info!  I may need a 12-step program!  I’m not really sure how I got so sucked in…  Maybe it’s the lack of good lesbian storylines on TV these days, or the great chemistry between the two actresses, or a little bit of both.  Plus, it doesn’t hurt that both women are beautiful. 

My only complaint… the storyline’s good and everything, but it’s moving along at a snail’s pace.  Wait, I take that back.  That’s an insult to snails everywhere.  One could slither circles around this storyline!  It doesn’t matter though… I’m a sucker who will keep on watching no matter how long the sadistic GL writers make us Otalia fans wait for a kiss!  Hopefully it will be soon! One can only hope!

Did you ever notice that the traits that we despise in other people are generally things we hate about ourselves?  I’ve become more and more aware of this lately. 

A person complains that someone else is rude when they are curt and unfriendly.  A person points out that someone drinks too much beer when they drink too much wine.  A person hates that someone is unreliable when they are consistently inconsistent.  This is also very common among children and parents.  The mother or father who drove us into psychotherapy, we often become.  It’s a cycle we have to first acknowledge and then make an effort to break.

Why can’t we just worry about ourselves instead of pointing the finger at other people?  I’m guilty of it myself.  Think of what a better place the world would be if everyone concentrated on healing their own faults rather than pointing out another’s.  Now I’m not typically a religious person (God knows I haven’t been to church in a while), but given my background, I immediately think about how Jesus himself even addressed the issue in Matthew:  ”Why do you look at the speck that is in your brother’s eye, but do not notice the log that is in your own eye?”

It all come down to this… It’s a lot easier to make a fuss over someone else’s faults and flaws rather than have to face your own.

Lyndsey and I recently returned from a 10 night southern Caribbean cruise.  The trip was pure heaven.  I believe it’s the first time since I was 8 that I had absolutely no responsibilities to think about (besides getting back on the boat before it left for its next port).  The weather was perfect, the ship was beautiful, the islands were gorgeous, the water was brilliant turquoise, and the people were extraordinarily friendly.  Needless to say, it was a much needed vacation after a long, cold winter. 

I thank God that during such hard economic times, my girlfriend and I are so blessed and able to afford such a wonderful trip.

So to go along with yesterday’s post, I decided to share a poem I wrote while I was in social work school (about 6 years ago).  At the time, I was dating a young man who checked all the boxes: handsome, smart, worked out, good job, and adored me.  However, I still felt disconnected.  The truth had always been there deep down inside of me where I had kept it buried for so long… covered in serious denial, but it was finally (slowly) starting to float to the surface.   The following is the poem I wrote in bed one night just before I fell asleep.   

Autonomy

How does the heart exist

Independent of the mind

So that it cannot be commanded

As can the feet or the hands

But like a rebellious child

Pays no heed to instructions?

Does she not see the warning?

Does she not know love’s pain?

She is not moved by love unrequited

Nor does she waver with logic or reason

But stands firm

Even when all else fails.