A Quirk-ful Life

I have A LOT of bad habits. most are fairly harmless. BUT. i am not willing to admit them here or now. or ever. at least publicly. i masturbate at least once or twice a day, but i’m not ashamed of that in the least. i don’t even feel slightly guilty about it. i’ll just say that i chew my nails, that i leave the water running when i brush my teeth, and usually forget to use coupons and leave it at that.

what? you say i’m a procrastinator? that i make list after list and never finish it all? i have several books in the works and am too afraid of failure to finish them? ok. so you got me. so what? i admitted to chronic, daily masturbation- isn’t that enough? or i do need to also admit that i rarely follow through on anything? that i rarely vacuum out my car? am i supposed to talk about my swearing? about my negative nelly/cynical jaded bitch attitude? well, i won’t.

i love bloody gory movies, and don’t work out enough. i love carbs and when i actually get the chance to read- i enjoy young adult fiction. i don’t wear my seatbelt all of the time, and i’m a bit of a boozy partygirl, despite being a mother. i get dandruff and would prefer to wear pajamas constantly if it was socially acceptable. i just TODAY found out what macarons actually were. i don’t recycle as much as i could. i am extremely carnivorous. i DESPISE romantic comedies. i don’t consider myself a feminist and love when boys do stuff for me. i hate my dogs sometimes and don’t vacuum steps. i hate breakfast and red velvet anything. i’m judgey and hate most people. i am often late.

i am flawed. i admit it. hell, i didn’t even shower today and i was at the mall. BUT. i did take down and put away the christmas tree and visited a good friend. i probably said ‘the f word’ as many times as i checked facebook and ate too much junk food. but that’s who i am. and i like myself a lot- even if I’m not guilty for walking around the mall unshowered.

http://dailypost.wordpress.com/2014/01/12/daily-prompt-quirky/

My Name is Theresa. And I’m a Realist.

I realized something the other day when people were still throwing new year’s resolutions about, and i was steadfast in my resolution to not make any resolutions. i was sitting quietly in the car as we drove around Atlantic City listening to Christmas music. we were trying to get the last of the holiday spirit before it disappeared into the chaos of another three hundred-and-some days. i watched the blazing marquees blink and flash and i wondered what was in abandoned and broken down buildings. i watched the groups of casino-goers scuttle about and i saw lonely people trudging home from their late night jobs. i felt so small, like you do when you are disconnected from rushing crowds and noisy happenings. i wondered, as you do, what those people were celebrating, and felt lonely for not being a part of their fun. i was quiet and introspective, like you are when you miss your friends and wondering if they were missing you too.

there was talk about what we would do if we were to inherit a lot of money. my boyfriend and i were dreaming of owning a campground or a bed and breakfast, and building the house of our dreams and traveling. realistically unrealistic, but with the right circumstances, possibly attainable miles and miles in the future. we talked about the past, and things he used to do in his old neighborhood, and like i do, i listened, wondering what my childhood would have been like if i was in his shoes. talk of ‘the way it used to be’ was brief, if only because it’s just talk, and there’s no potential in dwelling on the past, so the conversation went back to buying a boat and a camper, specific kinds of dogs, special vacations, all excited with possibility. my life being what it is, however, full of so much missed opportunity, so much disappointment, i didn’t give myself the chance to get filled with dreams. or even hope. i’m a realist. and we realists know better. we live in the now. we only allow ourselves realistic thoughts. we don’t dream or make WISH BOOKS or say things like “someday i’d like to…”. we just can’t. we can talk about the future in the short term, on practical attainable goals like- “in six months after we pay off our credit cards-…”, or “after i lose ten pounds, i’d like to-…”, or “next week after i finish work for the week-…”. attainable. practical. realistic. i am a realist after all.

i wasted a lot of my life wondering about the ‘what if’s’, and crying over my problematic past. neglectful parents, correctable mistakes, broken promises. these are things i know. but these are also things that i can no longer do anything about. they are done. they are in the past. they are the past. thankfully.

the future? i want to believe, and dream and hope and wish. but i can’t allow that. i don’t want to say, “after i lose 100 pounds i’ll buy that bikini to wear on our caribbean cruise”– there is just SO MUCH WRONG with that. it’s almost laughable. i won’t say things like, “i would like to go back to school if-…” because, well, i just won’t.

i can however, let myself say, “after my car is paid off next summer, i’ll feel more relaxed” and “by next year, our credit cards will be paid off, and we’ll finally be able to breathe a little easier”. these are things i can say. these are things that will happen. these are things that i know (*knocks on wood*, barring some unforeseen disaster- that is NEVER out of the possibility). but MOSTLY, for the most part, BASICALLY, (probably) those are things i know.

now, having said all of that, i still WANT things to happen. like, winning the lottery, or getting a huge burst of creative energy and also a miracle publisher and get my books onto shelves. or losing 25 pounds. i can hope for a dream job for my boyfriend. i can dream that my son will find his way through life easier than i did. but will i wait for it? will i dream about these things? will i allow myself the luxury of HOPING for them? absolutely not. i’m a realist. and realists don’t do that.

http://dailypost.wordpress.com/2014/01/11/daily-prompt-forward/

Not So Much a Hero

Today i’m supposed to talk about a hero, eh?
well, i aint got one. nope. no way, no how. not wonder woman, not spiderman, not martha stewart or even any of the horrible disney princesses. i grew up with a mad crush on Michael Jackson and slept with a giant hard plastic King Kong bank—- does that count? i didn’t think so.

so. hero… hero… um. how about someone i admire?
because that’s an easy one. i admire my boyfriend. i admire his courage and strength. i admire his ability to ignore the assholes of the world. i admire him for having the guts to come out. my boyfriend, of nine years, came out to me this spring as male. let me back up and explain.

way back when, nearly a decade ago, i got a divorce and started what i liked to call, “guerrilla dating”.
being bisexual, i was happily dating both guys and girls, and one crazy night at a favorite club, i ran into the cutest person i can recall having met up until that point. very low-key, very casual, quite gender ambiguous and yes, quite drunk. i was hooked almost instantly. some heavy flirting and a bit of a ‘whirlwind romance’ later, we were in love and together ever since. that tale, however, is very long, and for another time.

through the nine years, i was labeled as ‘in a lesbian relationship’, and by default lumped into the ‘lesbian’ category, despite being bisexual and explaining constantly that one’s sexual identity or preference is NOT defined by their partner or relationship status. i held fast and true to my blatant bisexuality, all the while dispelling the myth that bisexuals are ‘greedy’, ‘confused’ and ‘cannot be monogamous’. i never cared about the gender of my partner. i just knew that i loved that person.

years and years after we met and fell in love, combined lives and built a home together, he bravely came out to me that he finally realized that he was a transgendered male, i.e., born with a female body, but inherently male. he risked me not accepting him, of me breaking up with him, of me not understanding or wanting to continue our life together; none of which happened, because i do accept him and want to continue our life together no matter what. and although i may not understand SPECIFICALLY what he is going through, i will support him every step of the way. so, since he came out to me and started his transition, things have been the same as ever; for me anyways. for him, unfortunately, coming out to me was just the beginning. next he had to tell our friends, which, although seemed easy, wasn’t. he still had to overcome the fear of being questioned, or not being taken seriously. everyone was supportive, however, and for them, as with me, it was all very easy-peasy. for my boyfriend, however, who hates any sort of attention, things weren’t as simple. he was having trouble fielding all of the questions and even responding to the overwhelming support, when he was still just feeling his way around this new step of his life. he had to learn to respond to his newly chosen name, and even remember to use the masculine pronoun when referring to himself. thirty-six years is a long time to just change something simple like your own name, especially when dealing with having to use your ‘birth name’ at work. there was so much stress from trying to decide how to come out at work, or even if he should, or even if he COULD and risk getting fired. it was so hard watching him struggle and be afraid of getting outed. he had to explain the situation to HR repeatedly, and unfortunately his company didn’t even know how to deal with the situation, which didn’t help ease his troubles. at every turn, there was a new scenario, a new situation to have to consider whether or not coming out as a trans-male was the best thing to do. he was under a microscope so often that i saw him crack occasionally, and those cracks lead to more stress. but he always managed to get his chin up and at least fake his way through it. he was so very brave then.

hardest of all, he had to eventually face his family and struggled with the whole situation for a long time. it is sadly a step in his journey that he will constantly have to revisit many more times to come, but at least, the initial conversations are over. i have always known my partner to be brave, but these things took the most courage of all. but even still, with what seemed the hardest part behind him, there were more steps, each more complicated, each another chance for exposure. he cannot hide, no matter how much he wants to. his whole life, he has always drawn attention, despite being quiet and withdrawn. every day he has to move forward, and every day is an introvert’s nightmare; stares and sideways glances; whispers of “is that a BOY or a GIRL?”, constant questions about whose credit card or license he has, and a never-ending stream of screwed up pronouns. waitresses usually seem to address him as ‘sir’ whereas blue collar workers call him ‘a lady’, and when people realize their mistake, it’s more exposure as they try to correct themselves, apologetically. and now, he has the added fear of the BATHROOM DILEMMA. he’s too boyish to use the ladies room, and men’s rooms aren’t usually fully equipped for his current ‘equipment’ and there’s always a fear of being called out, or openly questioned and embarrassed; not to mention the scariness of backwards people who don’t understand the world; people who can’t accept that how we are born isn’t always black, and white or male and female as the case may be.

even more, there’s always an underlying fear of what happened to Brandon Teena who was portrayed in the movie based on his true story in Boys Don’t Cry. i am admittedly nervous for my partner at times, a lot of times actually. there’s always the underlying fear of hate crimes. always. no matter how much i pretend, the fear still lingers, even if just in the cobwebbiest of corners. i want to protect him from everything- the stares, the snickers, the pronoun game, and hate crimes; mostly, i want him to be able to transition quickly, both with legality of paperwork and also physically with surgery. but the reality is, i am not always with him, i can’t always be there to be a buffer when he needs to use the bathroom at work, or when he needs to use his old driver’s license or credit card. i can’t always be there. and at these times, when i can’t be there for him, he has to put his bravest “i don’t give a fuck”- attitude forward, just to do things that we all take for granted. and he is brave. i love him for that. he may not be my ‘hero’, but i admire his courage to just be who he really is.

http://dailypost.wordpress.com/2014/01/10/daily-prompt-hero/

Fat On the Outside

Talk about a time when i experienced being on the outside looking in?
that’s simple. every single time i go to the fucking gym. no joke. i’m not trying to be dramatic or cliche, either. it’s just that every time i take my fat to the gym, i become an outsider.

i go to a franchise gym where the slogan is that it’s a ‘JUDGEMENT FREE ZONE’- which is fine and dandy, but when i walk in, in my sweatpants, raggedy hoodie and non-designer sneakers, i get instantly judged, and might as well be put in a caged area for not being a natural born gym goer. to start, i am more than 100 pounds overweight, and although i don’t “LOOK” obese, by medical standards i am. interestingly, i am in better shape than a lot of my skinny friends, and actually can hold my own with a lot of exercise but i definitely don’t look good doing it. now, i know that no one really looks good sweating and getting all red in the face, but, most girls that i see at the gym wear more makeup than i did for my wedding. i’ve seen false eyelashes and glitter, even those glue on crystals– ON A TUESDAY NIGHT in winter. no, i’m not trying to compete, and NO, i’m not trying to pick up a date, i’m trying to drop a few tons, but i absolutely hate feeling like it’s Gym Class in high school- where the fat kids will ALWAYS be picked on, and never fit in.

people stare at me like they are worried that i’m going to have a heart attack, or pitied because my fat is flopping around. i know people will deny it, or ultimately say, “who cares? fuck em!” and all of that, but the truth is, it is a completely uncomfortable situation- from the moment i walk in, until i walk out. i am uncomfortable getting on machines and i am uncomfortable about getting off of them. i am nervous to use the weights and self conscious about using the other equipment. i rarely push myself, because i don’t like the looks i get; some that simply say, “gross” and “why are you bothering?’ and others are thinking “god, if i ever look like that, shoot me.”

and this doesn’t just happen at the gym, it’s just very obvious there. it happens everywhere. being ‘FIT’ or ‘IN SHAPE’ is as much a clique as being popular in high school. when i’m walking around the trails at the park, or roller skating, summers of softball, i feel excluded and not a part of what others are doing. Even the other day at the ski resort, i didn’t dare ski, because i hate not being able to fit in with people that are flexible and stronger, or even have better gear (i wore jeans, hoodie and some boots that i got from the thrift store that are in desperate need of another coating of waterproofing spray). i’m slower, less coordinated and not as resilient as everyone else, so it’s easier just sitting out and watching. it really sucks. the worst part is that my brain doesn’t understand that it can’t always do the same things that the thinner people, which makes things worse because i want to be out there skating and skiing, and even trying that scary cage-y bar lift-y machine.

i keep going to the gym and trying to be as active as i can, with the hope that i won’t be so big someday, won’t be so clumsy and ungainly and eventually won’t feel like i’m on the outside anymore. i know that there’ll always be the gym elite, the pretty ones, that wear expensive designer breast cancer-awareness pink sports bras, yoga pants that they bought from a speciality store online, and shoes made just for going to the gym that cost as much as my car. i’m not trying to compete, i’m really not, but, someday i would like to not feel excluded from something that most people take for granted.

http://dailypost.wordpress.com/2014/01/09/daily-prompt-outside-2/

Letters for Tomorrow- TODAY!

Dear One-Year-in-the-Future Me,

First off, i would like to extend my deepest sympathy for how shitty 2013 was. it’s amazing that we managed to make it out alive. alive and not homeless. i honestly can’t even think of much good that happened in 2013 except that Lucas came out as trans and it was an amazing time of life discovery for him and a wonderful boost of honesty to us as a couple.

otherwise- we turned 40. we got hit on by a lot of big black guys. we got spun through the constant revolving door of friends and used as the all-you-can-eat-friend buffet/stepping stone for others and we never lost more than 25 pounds at one time. we went to the gym inconsistently. this year dad died, setting off lots of nonsensically annoying events. softball, though fun, was filled with its usual drama. this was the year that we really started to focus but we never did manage to finish that book we started a million years ago. this is the year we started an amazing blog full of erotica, slutty short stories and sex positive narratives, but then crapped out after our job crapped out. that car of ours? first a dead deer carcass was thrown at it and then the ridiculous amount of flat tires and various other annoying and expensive problems. total balls. our relationship with lucas waxed and waned, became strained, but we worked through it and later, was amazing. we celebrated nine years together- that’s pretty amazing. michaelbosco graduated and turned 19. he also realized that he suffered from depression- just adding to the down parts of the UPS and DOWNS of life. thanksgiving was crap and by year’s end, lucas’ dad passed away, so we spent christmas in ocean city. it was tough, but we ended the year as happily as we could, with our new friends and some fun at our new favorite bar. thankfully our little family is flexible, resilient and amusing- and we celebrated christmas on january 5- with some silliness and a lot of plants.

the one thing i noticed though, is that we tend to put things off until other things get done. for instance, we say we’ll start going back to open mic nite at Coffee Buddha AFTER the car gets fixed or we’ll start writing again AFTER we get the house organized- and obviously more often than not- that never comes about. so- in an effort to waste less of 2014- why don’t we get over that bullshit, and get stuff done a little more expeditiously.

but here we are, January 6, writing, comfy in our pjs, surrounded by all “new” furniture and watching christmas movies in our cozy little house, with lots of hope for 2014. i can only hope to look back on 2014 and feel accomplished. i’d like you to have finished at least ONE BOOK, and consistently build up a nice and bulky blog full of humorous and insightful stuff that other people will appreciate and enjoy. hopefully you’ll be in better shape financially, and finally get those credit cards and car paid off (which shouldn’t be too hard- as the plan is by summer). and speaking of shaping up—now, i’m not stupid enough to hope for 100 pounds, but i’d really like to try to lose 50- and if nothing else, fit into all of those size 20 jeans we have. i hope to read that you went camping a lot, traveled and gotten to all of the places you missed out on this year— i just really hope you live 2014 with as much life as possible! no more putting stuff off! life is too short and the sand keeps running in that timer whether the house is clean or not; whether it’s the right time or not. so just get to it and dance like nobody else is watching and write like no one is reading it! ACCOMPLISH LIKE THERE’S NO TOMORROW!

lastly, i hope you have another year of good health and lots and lots of happiness! twenty years for mab, ten years with lucas— this is going to be a huge year- hopefully you can really get things accomplished as well!

keep on keepin on! just pick it up a bit! GOOD LUCK and much love and happiness! WRITE ON!!!!

yours,

*Tee Dizzle of 2015*

oh and P.S.! in 2013- we got an iPhone! welcome to this century! maybe soon we’ll get power locks and windows again!

Better, please.

i was on a long hiatus from blogging over here because, i guess, in general, i wasnt all about how it worked. wordpress is such an incestuous community, and it seemed less about sharing your writing than getting followers for your own blog. i was tired of getting followers only because they wanted me to follow them. i’m self involved and narcissistic, but i’m not naive enough to believe that i am writing anything that people will beat down the door to read, but if you are going to follow me, or at least try and get me to follow you- i’d have hoped that people would at least TRY to read my shit. not only that i realized that i was somewhat guilty of the same thing-i was following people knowing full well that i was NEVER going to have time to read them all, and most of the shit people were blogging about was so boring or braggy about how many followers they had. fuck that, i said and so i pretty much ditched wordpress, and went back to private personal journaling.

after awhile i remembered why i came to wordpress and decided that i needed the structure and dare i say, guilt motivated publishing that this kind of writing provides. i remembered wanting to publish more content and less personal drama. i remembered having that hope that i would/could/potentially connect with other writers who wanted the same, for actual constructive critiscm and all of the things that fellow writers do when they are connected.

so. i’m back. and i guess i’m hoping for a better experience this time, although, we all know, that is up to what i post and whether or not i actually connect with likeminded people.

My Listy OCD

I do something I called PLANNED SPONTANEITY which is giving myself an agenda of listed tasks and sort of just allow myself to go about it in any way that I can to get the stuff done.

I’m a planner by nature. I make lists of lists. I am an uber multi tasker. I judge myself based on what I have accomplished during a day. I judge others on their inability to multitask. And yes, I have been known on occasion to add something to the bottom of a list only to immediately cross it out. It’s a completed task, isn’t it? It counts! It does!

My OCD is boundless, hence the task of going back to complete all of the DAILY PROMPTS from when I started these blogs. Sure, I could easily walk away and just start with the one that starts tomorrow- but what about all of those OTHER prompts? Those ones that were sent and I didn’t even attempt? WHAT ABOUT THOSE????? For the love of god there are so many!!!! But I must do them all! Even if it means not going to the gym, or the GROSSery store, or to the bar with my friends!!! And what if I do? What’s the point? The whole time on the treadmill all I’ll be able to think about is the ten or so DAILY PROMPTS sitting there in my inbox, taking up virtual space! Standing there at the bar, doing shots I will be thinking of how I haven’t vacuumed the living room for the sixth time this week…. WONT SOMEONE PLEASE THINK OF THE CHILDREN????? You may think I am exaggerating, but alas, I am not. Not even a little. There I am, in the produce aisle, deciding between romaine or iceberg and trying to not acknowledge the niggle in my brain reminding me to make sure I update my ITUNES playlist and make sure I don’t have any duplicates in my music library. I am not kidding you.

You would think that this would make me super super productive. But it doesn’t. The reality is that I spend so much energy fretting about getting things done, that I waste time accomplishing very little. I say as I type up my fifth blog of the day while staring at my chipped nailpolish that I am obsessing over painting, while my wet laundry waits yet another couple of hours before going into the dryer and I completely ignore/avoid my taxes. But you know what? Tomorrow is another day. Thank god for procrastination. Thank effing god.

(cross posted from my other blog- http://tealshades.wordpress.com )