When Family Counts

I am a fairly patient person. OK, no I am not. But I do understand that change takes time. I also recognize that evolution is a slow process. So I get it that gay rights are progressing at a snail's space, but they are progressing none-the-less. I don't consider myself oppressed, as I feel that places a very negative value on who I am. I consider myself unfortunate to share the world with bigots, unwarranted hatred and a whole lot of ignorant people. The point at which my patience truly stops and my understanding goes out the window is when my children come under attack simply for being my children, and my family is not recognized as such.

I am well aware of the lack of rights I have in regard to marriage. I realize I have no claim on my wife's estate or her on mine. I know we are not afforded the same benefits through the government as our heterosexual counterparts. That being said,I should at least have the right to dictate who I choose to call family. My children do not legally belong to my wife who is the head of household according to the Census. That in essence denies any of us in the household to state we are a family, including me and my biological children.

According to the 2010 Census, I am a single person and there are two children living in the house. My wife is just a single person in the house. With no sexuality questions on the form, and the Census' lack of recognition of same sex marriage and relationships, the counts are skewed beyond belief. The purpose of the census is to acquire population data. That data is used to allocate funding, provide adequate social and health policy, and determine economic policies.

How can the gay and lesbian community be counted and taken seriously if on paper they don't even exist? How can policy makers take a look at the benefits or lack there of for providing services, marriage equality etc to the community when it doesn't accurately know who the community consists of? Most of all, how can they make the determination that my children are not part of a family because I am not the head of the household?

I may not have the peace of mind knowing that my wife will get my social security benefits or even that my same sex relationship is recognized by the government, but I thought I had the right to claim my own children as my family. If I lived alone they would be my family but since I am committed to a partner and our family as a whole, somehow it has diminished all meaning on paper.

I am Not George Bailey

We all know George Bailey, the man whose imminent suicide was sideswiped by Clarance, an angel, in order to show him that indeed his life did effect others. For even the most despondent of people, you would be had pressed to find someone that their lives haven't touched. We all touch people in one way or another. Our actions have a cause and effect like everything else. We are responsible for certain occurrences. There is no way we could exist and not leave a blueprint. However, not all of us are George Bailey. Some of us would have a very different experience if Clarance came to visit. Obviously if I had not been born, my children would not have been either. They owe their existence to my saving mine as a teen. However, aside from that, I think Clarance might have a bit of a struggle convincing me my lack of existence would have diminished many people's experiences.

For a very long time I have been the scapegoat for many other people's unwillingness to accept responsibility for their own actions. Somehow my existence has been the reason for others misfortune's. And while I know, in reality, their issues are what cause their accusations, it is exhausting to constantly pretend the blame doesn't effect me. From the time I was a young child I was the scapegoat for everything my mother hated about herself. Everything from my bed wetting to my childhood rape was somehow my fault and a way to make her look bad. When I came out in high school, I was to blame for the shame my family name would now have to carry. As an addict I was to blame for my addiction and the shame that too caused the family. As a pregnant homeless young woman I was to blame for my circumstance, not the parent that evicted from their rental property so they could live in it when their home was condemned for lack of care. As an adult I am still being blamed. Blamed by others who feel my existence is keeping them from benefiting. That my relationship has hindered their ability to have a healthy life. That somehow I have been the sole reason they have been unable to achieve happiness.

I have learned that there will always be people that will try to sabotage your happiness because they cant seem to find their own. And I have learned that these are not real blames to carry on my shoulder, and yet, some days I find them there. They are coupled with sadness for those that need to drag me through the mud to feel better. But no matter how I rationalize, they are still heavy.

Today I seriously thought about George Bailey and all the horrible things that would have happened if he hadn't been there. I didn't feel like George. I felt that so many people would have "been much better off" without me causing such pain to them. That Clarance would have showed me a bunch of narcissistic people finding their way much easier without me as their roadblock. And as much as I know someone else would have been their target, for just a moment, nonexistence seemed a much lighter load to carry.

The Elderly Couple

While sitting in the "waiting room" waiting for my chest xray, I took the opportunity to people watch. Oftentimes I try to imagine what people's lives are like. I think about what their house looks like, where they work, if they even work, what might be on their meal plan for dinner that evening. I wouldn't say I am judgmental, just curious.

An elderly couple came in just as I sat down to do my waiting. The man was pushing the woman in a walker/chair type device. She was facing him in the seat. It looked awkward, but it got the job done I suppose. I watched them intently. She was obviously a victim of some sort of terrible osteoporosis or rheumatoid arthritis. They both had to be in their 80's. After settling the chair/walker in a place as to not be in the way, the elderly gentleman took off his hat and gloves. He placed the gloves in his pocket. He proceeded to stand in front of his wife and help her remove her gloves. With no words being said, she grabbed hold of the walker and stood up so her husband could put her gloves in her pocket. He then proceeded to remove her hat, scarf and coat like they had done this a million times, and probably had. When she was settled back in her chair, the man took off his glasses and tucked them in his shirt pocket. In that same pocket was a pack of tissues. He took one tissue out, proceeded to fold it gingerly and used it to wipe his wife's nose. It was at this point that I was very moved. I looked at others watching them. I could tell by their faces most of them were simply thinking, "damn, glad that's not me." I could not help but think, "Damn I hope that is me". Maybe not today, but when that time comes I want to know I have someone that cares for me in all respects or that I can care for them; to believe that the commitment I make now will carry through to those fragilest of times.

I began to recall what I used to think I needed and wanted in a partner. Its amazing how differently I think now to even just ten years ago. The things that seemed so important in a relationship replaced by what truly is important. As I watched that elderly couple I tried to picture what their life used to be, dinners, dancing, raising children, and what it consists of today. I am sure he dresses and undresses her daily. Most likely he feeds her and baths her. They probably cant share a bed anymore. I imagine he tends to everything in the house and everything relating to her care. I saw no resentment in his eyes. When he looked at her he seemed so proud to be with her, to do for her, to love her.

That, to me, is what its all about.

Virtual Friends to Die For

Recently Simone Back committed suicide. Her last correspondence with people was a status update on Facebook,"Took all my pills be dead soon so bye bye everyone.” Her death is yet another senseless tragedy for the LGBT community. The way in which it unfolded made me question what social media is doing to the world.

None of her "friends" did anything to save her. No one made a phone call to the police or a relative. Instead numerous comments followed and opened up discussions and banter back and forth between the very people Simone had come to believe were her friends.

Most things you read regarding Simone seem to center on the fact that no one took responsibility for her death. Personally, as sad as the story is, I have to question where the liability lies, or if there even is any. Morally you would think that even if you did not truly know someone you would at least consider reaching out to someone if you were to read her final statement. However morals are not necessarily grounds for liability.

Most of us have social media friends that we have no idea who they are. Some of us have gained them through networking, friends in common, and due to similar interest groups etc. Others are simply collectors. Simone was painted out to be a collector. This was a woman with obvious issues. I don't know anything about her, only what I have read and I don't dare speculate. However one that commits suicide is not without issues. She had a great number of friends on Facebook yet very little seemed to know who she was personally. Whatever her reason for feeling the need to have so many online friendships, it doesn't mean that those she "friended" have a legal obligation to save her from herself. I cannot imagine ignoring her pleas myself, but I am not everyone else.

I do find it eerily strange that no one reached out to Facebook or the authorities. Even in the group of those engaging in the "she is faking" commentary you would think at least one person would have had a moment of morality. As twisted as her virtual friendships showed to be, I am not sure they are to blame for help not arriving. I have read the Facebook bashing as well. Distraught people feeling Facebook should have a better handle on its community's safety. I think they would only carry blame if someone had reported it to them and they ignored it. It's a free networking site, not a babysitter.

For fear of being seen as heartless, let me say I feel horrible for what happened to Simone and to her mother who was finally notified via a text message sixty hours after the fact telling her she should check on Simone. I feel terrible for the sad place Simone was in, for her feeling so connected to her virtual community that her last cry for help was to them. I feel sick that none of those virtual relationships were strong enough to care, even though I am sure she was counting on one to be.

In this day and age we need to step back and analyze where we are dedicating our time and efforts. While its nice to have access to people we would never have the opportunity to cross paths with otherwise, we need to stay in reality. We need to nurture real friends and relationships. We need to understand the magnitude of what will and what won't happen if your life is consumed only with your friends who live on your screen

Dionum

So my editor says to me, "I have trouble thinking of ways to depict your stuff with graphics." To which I replied "I have trouble thinking of ways to depict myself all the time!" Which is the whole purpose for writing about genderqueer issues in the first place. It's so difficult to explain being something other than what people know. When in conversation with someone unfamiliar with the term genderqueer, attempting to explain your gender or lack there of is akin to explaining life forms on other planets. Trying to get people to think outside that box is a challenge. It was challenge enough for me to understand it. For example,say you are speaking of temperature. You might refer to hold, cold, or something in between, maybe warm. Most of us can relate to that and comprehend it. Now try to explain something other than hot, cold or a combination. It doesn't exist in our vocabulary. You can make up a word, say, dionum, but that doesn't explain anything. Its is just a word. There are days when I can explain myself as hot, cold, or warm, but most days I am dionum. A word for something that just 'is', something different than what we know. I consider myself my own gender. I identify as both female and male and have the physical 'goodies' of a woman, but I use those terms because those are the ones I know, the ones we all know. But they don't really fit. I am OK with being a dionum, but I am not OK with being a dionum and being called a confused hot or cold, or maybe I am just a warm and don't know it. I embrace my genderqueerness. It fits me, it fits my wife, thats all that truly matters. But I will continue to try to explain to people that a marvelous world exits outside of what we concretely know, we just need to be open enough to recognize dionum when we see it.

Nature Vs. Nurture

I have been thinking a lot lately about certain relationships and their negative impact on life. Some days I am confident enough to tell myself there is no room for negative people or feelings, that life is just too short. Other days I find myself obsessed with "fixing" what's wrong. Its makes me wonder if we, as people, are even strong enough to walk away when we know things in our lives are toxic. It seems senseless to continue to try to correct something you have no control over. Toxic relationships are everywhere, we all have them. People we want to love that have no idea how to love us back. We waste precious time and resources trying to change ourselves to fit into the poison situation. Many times we are perfectly content to accept blame when it isn't even warranted, if it can make things the least bit better. Why do we nurture what is so blatantly bad for us? Is it nature or instinct to attempt to survive the experience? Are we that afraid of loss and loneliness that we allow the toxins to control who we really are? Perhaps we are too afraid of the unknown to risk it.

I understand completely when emotions, or fear of them, get in the way of rationale. What I haven't been able to understand is when people expend all their energy on what doesn't work and so little on what does. By allowing nature to dictate your nurturing, the relationships that need the most work, the ones that are the most poisonous, always seem to get the most attention. The things that are good in your life should be celebrated and stroked. Ignoring what doesn't need so much work sends a very negative message. Its says, you are not worthy of my time and attention.

I remember as a child I had a special needs cousin whose older sister was often times ignored because she needed less care. Unfortunately less physical care didn't mean she needed less emotional care. I recall feeling very sorry for her. She was a straight A student, always kept her room immaculate, excelled in dance school and was very giving. However, no one seemed to notice her. She was a very capable young girl and people interpreted that as her having little need. It was very sad to always see this girl, full of heart, getting so little in return. To this day I always try to make sure I nurture all things in my life that are good to me, not just the ones that yell the loudest for attention.

We have a responsibility to all people that touch us. Its the amount of responsibility we take on that we must decide. To what extent do we use our time, energy and resources on relationships that will never heal, are unhealthy or toxic? How much should we take from those that are deserving to try to fix those that may not be? How do we find the strength to walk away from what we know is poison and feed that which is not? Balance is essential in all things. Nature dictates our instincts, our hearts and souls dictate how much we nurture those instincts.

Black Sheep Holidays

The holidays afford us a great opportunity to spend time with friends and family. For some of us it also affords us the possibility to pull our hair out in frustration. Family gatherings can be especially difficult for the black sheep of the family. Even if you are accepted by your parents or siblings, inevitably you will find yourself in the company of someone who doesn't 'know' you. Bringing a partner to the occasion adds more eggshell walking moments to the mix.

In a perfect world we would be able to stand by our convictions and not care who thought what of us. But in reality it does matter, at least deep down. Nothing is more unsettling then knowing some twice removed family member is staring at you and sizing you up. You can feel it in the air and see it out of the corner of your eye. Nothing says happy holidays like whispers and distorted faces. You know darn well they are intrigued even if they are disgusted, and are assuredly attempting to picture your most intimate moments in their head.

For most of my life my partners have been introduced, by my own family, as my friend or roommate, the ultimate act of their shame. The lack of acknowledgment is very painful, especially when you know your relationship trumps the majority of the ones in the room. In order to save face or not have to explain me, my family can single handedly belittle all that is good in my life. The moment screams of their embarrassment and inability to think not everyone shares their feelings. Self protecting becomes very selfish.

Sitting on the couch, making sure not to accidentally show any public signs of affection for someone I have been with for almost 15 years is difficult to say the least. People's lack of acceptance has driven me to the point where I attempt to avoid their embarrassment of me. I go out of my way to not be who I am. Their selfishness has conditioned me to fear myself.

Holidays are a great way to spend time with loved ones. For me, its a great way to wish I was back home.

Amends

Recently I have felt the need to make amends for things I did to people long ago. I am not talking about the rock throwing, name calling nonsense as a child, I am talking about things that have emotionally impacted people. I don't consider myself a selfish person, however I do consider myself a master at avoiding my own emotional trauma. I can flick the "I don't feel anything" switch at a moments notice if I need the protection. That ability has caused many friendships and relationships to fail in unnatural ways.

Being the emotional basket-case I am, I have always ran when things got the least bit uncomfortable. I never learned the art of discussion, working things out, or even debate. So in my attempt to avoid things, I have ultimately left others hanging, wondering what the hell just happened. It may have taken me a very long time, some over 20 years, to realize how devastating my quick departures were. And for that I am truly sorry.

And though in the end we all find our way, and realize if those departures hadn't taken place we wouldn't be where we are now, I feel I owe some people a lot of gratitude. Gratitude for what they gave to me. Gratitude for what I have learned from them, not just then, but apparently now. Allowing myself to look back I don't see just failed relationships. I see people that taught me how to love and what family really meant. I see people that appreciated me and ones that showed me hard lessons learned. What I don't see are the feelings that made me run, and I think thats a great thing.

So as I make my amends, even the silent ones, I am grateful for those that loved me long ago; they have enabled me to be able to stick around with those that love me today.

Gay Soldier

You said I didn't matter

That I was just a gay

You made me fight for rights

That you had every day

You chanted hate on corners

Held signs up of disgust

You've protested my marriage

And other things unjust

You've said I can't compare

To what a man should be

I shouldn't be allowed to fight

To keep our country free

I hid my sexuality

To serve my fellow man

I slept by you and shared your food

And lied the best I can

You never knew my partner

Until that faithful day

When you looked at my photograph

And found out I was gay

Your haste to leave the trenches

So you would not be near

Your impulsive reaction

Certainly cost you dear

The shots rang out in unison

Your body on the ground

An instant change in thinking

A moment quite profound

Staring up into my eyes

I wait for what you'll say

Will you save my life today?

I can't, I'm just a gay

And for that very moment

I felt justified

But reached out to my brother

And held him as he died.

~EB 2010

My Hiatus

Although I have attempted to take a mental hiatus from my blog and writing in general, the need to write has been too overwhelming to stay away. My decisions to retreat are the same ones that have brought me back, overwhelming emotions.

It was difficult at best to drum up two articles and send them off to the editors today, even though I was very passionate about my topics. Something is boiling deep inside, something I am not quite sure of its identity. My emotional roller coaster of late has had me reflecting all over the place. I am finding myself experiencing the most extreme of emotions. And while some are terribly sad in nature, I am truly enjoying the levels in which I am able to feel right now. For me negative feelings aren't always just negative. They evoke passion in me, and passion is what fuels me.

So in my uncontrollable emotional state, I have taken many recent journeys down memory lane. I do this often. Not to remember better times, or those I lost, but to see where I have grown from the experience. It may seem a tad masochistic to relive painful memories, but for me the sadness enables me to appreciate all that is good in my life. And for as many things as I can still find wounds, I can find what's healing them.

The holidays are especially difficult for me. They bring back many haunting memories. But I allow them in. I allow myself to feel them and to realize that I can feel them from a much safer place now. And I am grateful. This time of year is supposed to be about giving and loving and appreciating what you have. It may have taken the majority of my life to finally get to a place where I am grateful for more things than I am burdened. But I am there.

Thanks to all that have supported, encouraged or loved me through my writing endeavors and personal growth this year. May your holidays find you safe and nurtured in the best possible ways.

~EB

Dual Gender Hairdo

About 10 years ago I had hair well down to the middle of my back. Some time a few years later I felt I needed short hair. I have had short hair ever since. I like my short hair, except when I feel I want long hair. Being gender fluid makes having a hair style very difficult. No matter what my hair is like, I will see people or old photos of the complete opposite and want that. However, like most things that have to do with me, I will not ever feel satisfied with one or the other. When I wear my hair short it feels more masculine to me. So when I am feeling feminine it doesn't seem to work. I am simply not 'sexy' enough to have short hair look 'hot'. It just looks dyke'y some days. However, when its longer, I feel like I am conforming to the physical body given to me, and thats not who I am either.

I wrestle with my hair on a daily basis. I want it to fit what I look like but want it to fit who I am. I have no idea how to do that. I obsess about it all day. Each time my internal dynamics change, I would love a telephone booth to run into and change the outfit and hair to match the moment. Instead I am usually left being someone I dont look like and unable to express myself honestly. I spent many years lying to people trying to be something I'm not, and now I am lying to people because I cant show them who I actually am.

In the late 80's my hair was probably the most suited for who I was, even though I didn't know who I was. As a matter of fact I didn't even know I liked that hair cut. It was short and cropped on one side and long and curly on the other. Pulling only one side of your hair back was typical for that era, cropping it was not that much of a stretch. But it was the best of both worlds in a hair cut. As funny as that style may seem today, I bet it would still suit me well. I'm not sure I can pull off the dual gender hairdo at my age, but I think I might give it a try.

Looking Back

This weekend I wrote another chapter for my book. I started questioning how far into my life I am going to take this. Typically a memoir spans a certain time period or focuses on a series of events. It should essentially have a story to it, a purpose, an explanation if you will for who you are and why. I am finding if difficult to place more importance on one part of my life over another. My childhood and my adolescence, the two areas I am covering, are so drastically different but blend together to create who I am now. Each has a significant impact and each equally noteworthy. Until I wrote these pages, I had no idea the impact these times in my life had on me. When asked, I would have said my younger years had little mark on the person I am today. But in actuality, it has everything to do with it.

Many people blame their past negative experiences for their self destructive patterns and behaviors. Professional victims I call them. I have always been so determined to overcome my past that I essentially went completely opposite with my thinking. I have never blamed my disturbed mother, the pedophiles in my life, bad parenting or cruel friends for anything I did or thought as an adult. I made a vow to myself to be a rock, to never give in to my sadness or fears. And while I never played the victim, how I handled it very well may have been worse.

Looking back on my life I can see where the need to stand strong overshadowed allowing myself to feel. In an attempt to feel no pain or anger, I essentially felt nothing. Keeping secrets and shame to myself kept me from my freedom to love properly. I walked with my head held high, untouchable by those that could hurt me. However I was untouchable by those that could love me too.

In reading my old journals and reflecting on my past there is a lot I had forgotten. Selective memory has always served me well, or so I thought. In having to relive these moments lost in time, I feel empty for the opportunities missed. As an adult I can see where sharing, being honest, and allowing myself the vulnerabilities all this time very well could have changed who I ultimately ended up being.

Don't get me wrong, I am in a good place now. However I probably could have gotten here a whole lot sooner if I would have allowed myself to feel.

Validation

I like validation. I need validation. I know its a character flaw, but honesty is not. So, yes, I admit, I need to know that I am wanted, needed, useful, appreciated, and hopefully someone certain people feel they cannot live without. But sometimes the need for validation holds me back from doing or saying things that might not warrant such validation. Validation comes in a lot of forms. For me, I prefer the non verbal type, particularly in bed.

I have always read that you should talk to your partner during intimate times, that you should say what you like, what you don't, what you want and where. And while I agree that communication can be very helpful in finding a really nice intimate connection, I find holding conversation during sex a kill joy, unless of course the conversation is raw in nature. I am very aware of how my actions effect my partner in bed. I pay attention. I use all of senses to make sure that I am finding that connection not just having sex. Part of my lovemaking stems from my self esteem issues and my need to make sure I dont do something they wont like. Another part is my constant drive to do things 100% all the time. If my mother only knew her warped desire to have all things perfect shaped my love making skills.

Validation for me in an intimate setting comes in the form of moans, whimpers, lubrication and orgasms. It appears in body language, new experiences and returning to old favorites. There are a lot of clues that I look for and use to create a better experience. If my partner is not enjoying themselves I have failed. As a matter of fact for most of my life I didn't even enjoy being touched. I placed all my value on what I could do for someone else, how I made them feel. Their pleasure was my validation, and secretly it still is the most important thing in that moment to me. However I have learned to allow myself the pleasure derived from being touched, even if most times I still feel as though it being done out of obligation.

Occasionally my wife does something while we are intimate that I have never said I truly love. I have never told her that when she does that, when she reacts to me like that, it validates me like nothing else right then. I don't tell her because I am afraid she will do it just because she thinks I like it. I don't ever want her to do something just because she knows I like it. I want it to happen because she feels me and she is reacting to me.

Last night as I was cooking dinner I replayed a moment in my mind. I remembered the last time she reacted in that way and I remembered how I felt. I wanted to turn to her and say "I really really really love it when you.......", I wanted to share what I was thinking and how it made me feel, but I didn't. I didn't dare risk the possibility that next time the validation occurred it wouldn't be honest.

I notice

You bring me coffee in bed each morning......even if I am awake first

You send me an Email before you do anything else......even when I forget to open it before I do anything else

I find my clothes washed and folded on the bed.....and sometimes sigh when I have to put them away

When I cook dinner, the dishwasher is clean and empty.....as it is every evening

You bought me warm snuggly pajamas.......just because I didn't feel well

Each day I receive a text at noon......even when you think you are the last person I want to hear from at that moment

Sometimes I think I am the one that isn't appreciated......

Where is the humility?

We all enter into relationships because we need something. Maybe we need companionship. Maybe we need to feel loved. Most often, its a combination of reasons. For me, its because I need the way I am needed. It took me a long time to realize that is what I was ultimately looking for, and probably walked away from a couple of times already. My perception of experience told me that doing things for someone was a sign of weakness. That by doing so you were agreeing to boot wiping on your back.

I walk around a little jaded by past relationships. The relationships we all have experienced at one point or another. The ones where you give everything you have and get nothing in return. There is one specifically that stands out in my mind. One that has unfortunately effected my trust with each relationship after. It was the one in which I let all of my defenses down, allowed myself to admit my neediness and did, did, did for her. That was the one that took advantage, cheated, and left me stranded. A time in my life that I cannot remember the actual pain of, but still see the scars.

Its so easy for people to tell you to get over things. To move on, that everyone is not THAT one. And rationally it makes sense. However when our defense mechanisms kick in, we find ourselves protecting ourselves too much. In the twenty something years since then, my defenses are still trying to protect me from her. Unfortunately she isn't the one in the picture anymore. They are now protecting me from something that doesn't exist. And while I appreciate the armor, I do not appreciate always feeling that I need to be ready to battle.

I can site a lot of moments in my day where instinct tells me to do something, something that may put me in a vulnerable position, but I resist. Afraid of ever looking weak, I don't do and say so many things that probably would enhance my current relationship. In an attempt to be the rock at all times, I am short changing myself the feelings that come with moments of humbling myself. I am not allowing my partner to experience me in my entirety. At this point, so many years later, I do not think it is genuine fear as much as it is a pattern of behavior engraved in my brain.

Why does it seem so easy to incorporate defense behaviors into our lives and so difficult to find the humility?

Dreams

I don't normally try to analyze my dreams. Between the medications I take, stress, and being all over the board in personality and thoughts, I usually assume they are pretty much an extension of my normal chaos.

Lately my dreams have been odd, even for me. I know emotionally I am a bit of a mess right now, and perhaps it is playing out in my sleep. That being said, I am finding it strangely peculiar the vulnerable positions I am allowing myself to find in my latest dreams. If you ask most people they will tell you I am loud, brassy, confident and a bit obnoxious. They will say I am witty, quick to the punch and an open book. They may say I am a little too bold, bossy and sometimes someone to be afraid of. Seldom do they say I am timid, small, quiet, and shy. Never will you hear them say I cant hold my own, that I will back out of a confrontation or admit defeat. You will never hear those words. Unless its from someone who knows me.

I am truly all of those things, the big and the small. However I am most comfortable when showing my peacock feathers. Its safer. I spend the majority of my time in this role with most people. It enables me to keep distance. It keeps vulnerability out of the equation.

The last few days I have felt emotionally defeated. I have been unable to stand up to myself. So I suppose its no wonder that my dreams are taking me to places unfamiliar and what should seem uncomfortable. While the situations in my dream are not typical, the feelings are. They are honest. Certainly more honest than I give away when I am awake. I woke up this morning after an interesting dream and found myself feeling very vulnerable and needy. It's a place I have truly only allowed myself to feel a couple of times honestly. I was surprised by the dynamics but quite comfortable with them.

I know my dreams are not my reality. I know they are not a prediction of the future or even a memory of the past. I know they are simply my thoughts and feelings grouped together into a vivid creation. But they are true. And honest. And sometimes I like how they feel. And maybe I need to take a lesson from them and allow myself to feel and be what dynamics dictate and not what I try to.

Someone I don't miss

I found you in a dream last night
It isn't something new
I think of you when I'm awake
Not how you'd like me to

I picture all the things you did
Your melancholy smile
In dreams you have the tendency
To effect me for a while

My heart feels heavy while I sleep
And you appear to me
Reminders of the way things were
And what they came to be

When I awake I feel the need
To tuck you out of sight
No explanation of my dream
To the one who makes it right

I could let you leave my dreams
And never reminisce
But I think I'd like to keep you there
As someone I don't miss

~eb

Both ends of the spectrum

I went to see Trans Siberian Orchestra last night. I had wanted to see them live for a very long time. Not just because I thought it would be a good show, but because I wanted to 'feel' it. The music they play is such a representation of who I am; two ends of the spectrum coming together to form something there are no words to describe.

I knew I would have a difficult time with the fact that it was their winter show and they would be playing Christmas songs. Christmas songs have a tenancy to depress me. They bring me back to a time in my life that I don't particularly wish to relive. I knew hearing these songs would make me feel sad and hollow and very small. On the other hand I knew they would be incorporating very intense guitar chords in heavy metal ballad form. Raw energy with the ability to touch me at my core. This type of music speaks to my powerful, confident, primal side. The marriage of the two was what I wanted to experience, what I wanted to relate to.

I was not disappointed in my quest. In two and a half hours I felt more emotion than I allow myself to most days in their entirety. I took the sad, let it mingle with the intense and found a really awesome middle ground; something I don't find in many places in my life. I tried to express this to my wife, but believe it or not, unless I write, I cannot speak. Too many years of who I am and what I have to say being misinterpreted or dismissed has made me very apprehensive to let words out face to face.

When I look inside myself I see a constant battle. A battle between genders and dynamics. I am constantly switching my roles, my feelings, my demeanor. I am always making decisions on where I fit at that moment. I am never 'just me'. I don't expect anyone to truly understand what I felt last night. I wish I could give you all a way to feel it. It wasn't about the music, as awesome as it was. It was about finding comfort in all my energy all at the same time. It was about not having to just feel one way and then the other. It was about feeling everything all at once.

The Mustang

As I was looking at the demographics of this blog, who visits and what they read, I found it funny that the most widely read post was "Strap on, Strap off". I would assume most people that saw "strap on" took it for what it was. Does that mean we are a community of perverts? I hope so.

I vacationed in Hawaii this past summer. Naturally I packed the essentials everyone would need, clothes, toiletries, bathing suits and yes, my detachable appendage. When I buy things, I don't buy cheap. I am a perfectionist by nature and my cock was no different. It truly is an extension of me in that moment, so glass, steel, purple or polka dot isn't going to work. I want it to look right and feel right for my partner, and it needs to be a representation of what I feel and who I am inside. I don't use one to become a man, but I do use one to do what seems to come naturally to me. I am an insatiable female with the drive and talents of a teen aged boy in the height of puberty.

Unpacking when I got home from a fabulous seven days, I realized something was left behind. I would think most people in that position would start adding up the dollars lost. In that first few seconds I, however, felt like I lost my best friend. I suddenly felt incomplete. In an instant my mind ran through a slide show of pictures, memories lost, new ones unable to be made, the housekeepers touching it! I was truly depressed.

I could rationalize that it's just a "thing"; a tangible, replaceable item. It didn't feel that way. I don't bring it to bed with me every time I have an intimate moment, but the thought of being intimate without the possibility of having it if I needed it was devastating to me. "Its a rubber cock for Christ's sake". I tried to convince myself. I spent the next several days with my eyes searching the internet for a suitable replacement. Unfortunately they don't make the exact one anymore, nor do they make the harness I could never part with, despite its rusting snaps from the million washings.

With a lot of research, a heavy sigh, and a wife aiming to please, I chose a new "set". It arrived a few days later in the mail. Being the person I am, I immediately found things to dislike about it. I compare everything now to what was good in my life then, a terrible personality trait, I know. The harness seemed cheap, the cock small. Prepared to be disappointed I brought it to bed for the first time. I felt performance pressure for the first time in a long time. I felt self conscious. I was worried I wouldn't 'feel it' or that my wife wouldn't enjoy it. But I learned something that day. I realized that comfortable isnt always the best thing. That sometimes stepping outside of the comfort zone yeilds great results. After that night I no longer missed Magnum as I had loving dubbed it. I began a new relationship with Mustang,a much better representaion of who I am.

Now if I could just get the images of the housekeepers fucking each other out of my head.

She gets me

Driving into work this morning I was listening to music as usual. There is hardly a song that I hear that cant produce some kind of emotion in me, even if I don't particularly like the song. A pop song was playing at one point and I decided to listen to the words despite my urge to change the channel and find something more soothing to my ear.

The song was typical in that the artist was singing of his appreciation for his girl's beauty. As a writer I know how easy it is for strong emotions to inspire lyrics. Most songs you hear are about passionate love or the failure thereof. I realized that I have never written a song lyric, a poem or anything about anyone in a superficial way. While I have a great appreciation for a good looking woman, I don't write about it, I'm not inspired by it and it has never been criteria for me.

I began to reflect on what it is that inspires the sticky love dripping words I sometimes jot down. And all I could come up with was feelings. I write about feelings. Feelings that run much deeper than anything you can see. I recalled a line I wish I had penned, "her hair reminds me of a warm safe place where as a child I'd hide". That's not about beautiful hair or the appreciation of it, its about the feeling the hair gives you. Those are the feelings that inspire me.

When people ask me about my significant other, they usually want to know where we met and what attracted me to her. Its hard for me to answer the latter because it doesn't have words. It's a series of feelings that can create a series of words, none of which would make much sense in a conversational setting. I end up looking like I am lost for words, like I cant pick out a single thing that would explain my love. The truth is, there really are no words to explain it.

My wife wont win the Miss America pageant, she doesn't have influential friends, she isn't rolling in money, her job is less than high profile, and her car is a typical four door sedan; hardly conversation stoppers. But she gets me. And no one in this entire world but her 'gets me'. No one else would have the strength, patience and selflessness to even try. I cant write about her hair or her eyes or how she shakes her booty on the dance floor. But I can write about how it FEELS when she gets me.

From now on, when someone asks me what attracted me to her, I will simply respond with that......."she gets me".