lesbifriends.blogspot

what a difference a year makes

2012-01-02T16:23:00.004-05:00

what a difference a year makes…

2011: in review

LESBIFRIENDS; what a difference a year makes by lesbifriends

around this time last year, i was beginning to feel a bit burnt out. i couldn't keep up with the pace of things; missed calls, unanswered emails, drafts upon drafts of incomplete text messages. my little castle on a cloud was getting mighty cramped.

i couldn't focus.

i couldn't remember my dreams at night.

i couldn't sleep at all. but it was alright- i knew in my gut something was changing. i knew that while things seemed pretty bleak, a new horizon was getting ready to emerge.

"quit your job? what do you even want to do? you can't just throw it all away because you can't explain your feelings…that's crazy-talk"

as the seasons changed from winter to spring, the rhythmic hum of my life turned shrill. i could no longer ignore what had been bubbling within me. i knew that if i didn't act on those urges- and fast, then i never would. i could see my life play out as a sad, pathetic, washed up version of all my dreams. i could see myself as an old man recalling the past in hopes of drowning out the now. i could see myself in every person who told me what i was doing was wrong- that dreams have a shelf life and we all have to grow up sometime.

my last day on the air was friday the 13th- an ominous day, but in an optimistic way. when i quit my job, there were a lot of people who didn't really get why i was doing it. shockingly enough, i was one of those people. i didn't leave with another job lined up- i didn't have a normal list of benchmarks to determine my success…i was more or less just wingin' it.

once out of the 9a-5p world (or 7p-3a world…i lived in many different ones) i told myself to simply, follow my passions. "i want to do stand-up but i can't stop making crafts. i want to make more videos but can't stop taking nature photos." my mind was in a constant state of frenzy; constantly swirling with questions, answers, and new projects. i had been used to a world where i was completely saturated in my job. since i left school, i was my job. i was always at work or thinking about it. transforming from a person to a job title isn't hard living in/around the nation's capital- people are constantly talking about what they do like it defines them.

around the end of the summer i was all but convinced i was beginning to go insane. i was beginning to run out of the money i'd set aside to survive sans job and more pressingly- i no longer WAS my job…i was simply myself- but who the fuck was that? oh hello mid-life crisis…what appropriate timing you have. this 24 year old, quirky young lady was in need of having her cage rattled! thanks for swooping on down and bopping her on the head.

my parents wanted me to get a job, my body wanted to be quiet and think. i was hopelessly tired and felt as if i was accomplishing nothing. waves of depression began to do their pre-crest pull. rather than continue to be still and listen to my inner voice, i began a full out sprint to the stage to begin my stand-up comedy career.

the rush when you come off the stage is one countless comics spend a lifetime chasing. it was addictive…one open mic turned into a handful of shows- but i wasn't proud of my work. when i started doing shows, i was venting about the things that i hadn't been able to say for a while. mostly about being a femme lesbian in a male-dominated world…and not because WE live in a male dominated world but i was coming from 5 years experience in the radio/TV industry- which is still very much a boys' club. i'd watch videos of my stand-up performances only to be horrified at how i came across…"that's not me! i'm more than that!!"

the challenge with "finding your voice in comedy" is first in realizing that you will never find your voice in comedy if you are looking for it. being humorous isn't a language or dialect, it is (at its core) about human connections… finding a universal thread and pulling it to evoke a smile. for several months i was scared to go back on stage. at the time i felt it was because i hadn't found my comedic voice but i know now that it was ME that i had yet to find.

i had to slow down- WAY DOWN from what i'd been used to. i had to re-evaluate everything. what do i believe? what are my talents? where do my passions lie?

in the fall i exploded creatively. what should have been a blessing seemed to be more of a curse. i was creating, thinking, and inside of my head so much that it was hard to do anything but create. i could see a future where i supported myself through my talents, and just like that- the fog of uncertainty began to lift. all this time i'd been telling myself that the voice within that urged me to make new things was a distraction. wanting to take pictures when i was to be writing jokes or making art when i should have been reading…these weren't distractions but muses waking up!

"you're ADD or something- everyone is now a'days."

i'm sorry- but that's just not true. i'm not hyperactive, i'm hypercreative- and no drug can slow down my brain. nearly 8 months have passed since i left a job for my dreams… and i still have no idea what the fuck i'm doing with my life. i have a ways to go before i'm supported by my art and living in my dreamworld but everyday brings me one step closer to all that exists within me.

people will always have an opinion and oft times they mirror the negative voices in our heads. i hate to be so curt- but fuck those people. life is a series of choices and these have been mine. i proudly stand behind them all. if you don't think i'm living my life according to your standards, you're absolutely right. i'm finally beginning to understand that direction and aim are two very different things. one aims at a target and success is black and white- either you made your mark or didn't. direction, on the other hand, has no specific end point…just movement.

i, ashley linder, vow in 2012 to continue moving in the direction of my dreams- join me, won't you?

VLOG: an adorably awkward, dinosaur loving weirdo

2011-09-13T00:51:00.003-04:00

coming to terms with being an adorably awkward, dinosaur loving weirdo

my personal vlog

i finally took the stage at Riot Act comedy theater in Washington DC and lessons were learned...lessons like "don't talk about period blood".

VLOG: "wow, that could have gone better"

2011-08-17T18:58:00.003-04:00

"wow, that could have gone better"

my personal vlog

i spread my comedy wings and host my first stand-up comedy event at Ragtime in Arlington VA...needless to say, things could have gone better.

VLOG: dino for pterosaurs

2011-08-16T16:50:00.002-04:00

dino for petrosaurs

my personal vlog

i constructed an entire VLOG around a 10 second clip of me making cat sounds...you're welcome world.

VLOG: august 11th

2011-08-12T08:35:00.002-04:00

august 11th

my personal vlog

today brings many joyful things...
-the grand opening of Riot Act in Washington DC (8th & E NW)
-premiere of Apacowonderland later this evening

-METEOR SHOWER (i don't mention this in the video, but it is worth noting)

VLOG: job hunting

2011-07-29T15:42:00.003-04:00

ashley goes job hunting

my personal vlog

with a new, state of the art comedy club set to open in DC in a few weeks, i kick up the creative in order to gain their attention...

VLOG: "the blind babbler"

2011-07-19T14:26:00.001-04:00

"the blind babbler"

my personal vlog

VLOG: cool kid craft club

2011-07-18T01:06:00.003-04:00

"cool kid craft club: party of one"
my personal vlog

VLOG: it's no joke...

2011-07-12T13:58:00.003-04:00

"it's no joke...i'm fiscally broke"

my personal vlog

techburnt

2011-01-25T17:30:00.001-05:00

techburnt
in an electrocentric world

there are several things i am good at. collecting pens that write smoothly and evenly- choosing the fastest lane when stuck in traffic- striking gold at thrift stores- and making crafts rank among my most useful skills. i used to fancy myself an avid texter as well but with the rise in text-related traffic accidents (read: they passed a law in both the states i drive in daily and i'm not trying to get any tickets) i've almost completely lost my desire not only to text but to communicate altogether via technology.

my tech-qualms aren't just limited to my phone, but the internet as well. i've grown increasingly more uncomfortable with the amount of information we ourselves willingly put out there. this epiphany couldn't have happened at a worse time, our society is rapidly changing and growing more and more dependent on technological what-have-yous. from cell phones to tablets to laptops to fucking robots that are disguised as cell phones (i'm talking to you driod); to hell with the copernican model- we live an electrocentric world and we've reached the age of automation.

for years science fiction writers and enthusiasts alike have warned us of a robot-lead revolution. fortunately for the masses the probability of robots raising arms against us is slim, but the likelihood of our own kind going ape shit with androids raised high is real- very real.

last week a friend and i were discussing our weekends. i told her that my sister and her boyfriend of 8 years finally got married and the ceremony was a beautiful one. the other bridesmaids and i wore long black and white silk gowns that danced in the wind. this would have been a picturesque moment were it not 11 degrees and all of us sans bra...but it wasn't about us- it was about love.

as i began to regale her with the tale of how the jello shots made it to the reception she stopped me mid sentence- "that reminds me, i'm so pissed at britt. i invited her out this weekend and she didn't respond to my text or my message on facebook. she's so rude."

sensing i had exhausted her with tales of my family being far too fun at the wedding, i fueled her tangent by stating, "don't you think you might be acting a bit harshly? it's just facebook and a phone...maybe she was out busy engaging in life or working. i think people are too quick to get pissed off about things that the other person isn't actually culpable for."

her pug looking head cock to the side told me that i had lost her. so i elaborated, "what i mean by that is, it's unfair of you to be angry with a person for something so trivial. if you never talk to britt face to face, how will she ever know you got upset about her lack of response? who's to say she even read your message? maybe she is ignoring you- but maybe she's just techburnt."

to be techburnt is to be completely strung out and over extended in the online world.

now i'm the first to admit, it comes across as pretty hypocritical of me to state that i'm not comfortable with a lot of technology and yet i have a twitter, a facebook, a tumblr, a youtube and a blogger account. in years past i even went so far as to swear to never sign up for a twitter account (as i was convinced it was a tool for the government to monitor 'the pulse of the people'...but that's a can of worms better left closed until another day.)

i now regard twitter as a electronic post-it pad that helps me organize my often scattered thoughts. unlike facebook it doesn't ram my activities in the faces of all my "friends". i don't have much to say positivity about facebook except when used properly it can be a great networking tool...this is the only reason i still have an active account, well- that AND i was allowed to change my name to "Eunikorn Kweif" (take that, heightened monitoring of name changes!).

my main gripe isn't with the services themselves, but how people conduct themselves after being privy to such personal information- as if that level of transparency is owed to us. it's unnatural to me to be mid-conversation with someone, only to be stopped with "oh yah i know, i read about that on your facebook...you mentioned it on someones wall i think." what the fuck?!

i doubt i can do much to hault the progress of technology, but i can change how i interact with it. the overwhelming exchange of information shouldn't be feared, but we most definitely need to address how open we are online (as well as how open we expect others to be). feeling slighted for a misconstrued comment or dejected after a missed response online are no grounds for termination of a friendship, but rather an opportunity for you to talk to said person IN REAL LIFE.

forgive me in advance for not being the best texter, emailer, facebook wall-poster, or tweeter...i promise you that i'm still the same great friend deep down but i'd rather engage with my real life over the e-one i've constructed (except with tumblr...where i'm forever online and forever alone, lol).

feel free to connect with me:
twitter.com/apacowayner
apacotopia.tumblr.com
youtube.com/apacowayner

dormant desire

2010-12-30T15:06:00.004-05:00

dormant desire
aka: my life until now...

for as long as i can remember i've made it my mission to do two things- treat people as i'd want to be treated and never, ever be a cliché. the thought of being just like everyone else always terrified me and whenever i tried it it did nothing but make me feel even more unique and different.

my fear of being normal is due in large part to the fact that on paper- i am. since being accidentally conceived on moving day after the birth control was packed, my life has been painfully typical. upon entrance into the world i was cloaked in the most common name of the 80's, "ashley". growing up as a white, middle class girl with blond hair, blue eyes and having a pink 1989 vw cabriolet as my first car, it would have seemed that my barbie-doll life was well on its way to "happily ever after". where many would see a blissful, easy-breezy path towards the future- i saw monotony, complacency and the most dreaded of all- settling.

i've always had a love/hate relationships with plans. part of me yearns for the security of having an agenda and goals; the other part of me shuns anyone/thing that attempts to 'chain me down' and keep me from a freedom filled existence. in 2005 i graduated high school and there was no question- i was going to college for communications, in hopes of someday figuring out what the hell i wanted to do other than talk in public places and prank call people. (which i was very good at, i'll have you know)

it was an interesting place to be, between the certainty of the next four years and the looming uncertainty of what path i would go on after i got that piece of paper. i needed something more concrete. during my first year of college i tried desperately to sink my teeth into something fulfilling, something that would awaken me and set my dreams in motion. class after class; club after club; activity after activity; i found nothing that shook me to my core, i wasn't happy…i had to fix the problem.

there will always be those who doubt your choices on your journey towards ultimate happiness...sometimes that person may even be you. all too often we are scared to do what we want because we've been told "it's not sensible" or "it's not right" or "that's not the way it should be done". in 2006 i broke my parents heart and quit college in pursuit of my dreams.

my dreams were still pretty free-form at that point. ok, well that's a lie- i did know more than anything i wanted to be a stand-up comedian. it was the only dream i'd had since childhood that never went away. i love making people laugh, i enjoy being clever, and i like writing...it seemed like at every bend the universe was pushing me towards comedy. i wanted to move out to LA in hopes of making it big. ahh but then the pesky "i refuse to be a cliché" line kept swimming around in my head. "really ash? you think that you are any different from the countless other dreamers who flock to the west? you think an awkward, string bean of a girl would be successful on stage? you need something solid, something secure...you need to get a ball rolling on a career path."

after refusing to acknowledge my dream, i pushed onward in my search for happiness and i made a plan. i enrolled in a broadcasting school and quickly fell in love with radio. since childhood i could be found recording my own shows and forcing whoever would listen, to do just that. after being in school for a few weeks, i couldn't wait to get into a real studio. i snuck down the street one day after class and i talked my way into my first internship at a male talk radio station (unbeknownst to my teachers). the president of my school took me under his wing and pulled out all the stops in order to get my feet wet. he urged me to apply for a job with his daughter, which just so happened to be at the discovery channel. i landed the gig as a media librarian at the discovery channel communications HQ. in the year that i had been home after quitting college i had secured a full-time job with benefits, an internship at a popular radio station, and was going to broadcasting school...life was truly blossoming.

during my internship i worked for the morning show which consisted of four main guys, two producers, and a movie reviewer. on day one they pulled me on air to get to know me a little bit better. at the time i had just turned 19 and i was only recently comfortable discussing my sexuality publicly. it wasn't long before i was known as the 'hot-bisexual-intern' to listeners (i came out as a lesbian a year later), which was a regrettable way of confirming to my mother (a station listener as well) that i wasn't kidding when i said i wasn't straight. sorry mom!

i gobbled up any job i could around the station. from setting up events to recording commercials to escorting strippers to the greenroom…i did it all and happily so. i loved my time as an intern but as soon as it began the ride was over. a day prior to my internship being complete i was offered a position at the station, which i took (to replace the job i had recently left at the discovery channel) and staid there for another year and a half.

people are incredibly dismissive of radio due to the FCC manhandling all creative forces at play on air. many also complain that radio stations play a selection of music that's repetitive and often way too mainstream. what few outside of the radio world know is that terrestrial radio has the potential to be entertaining, interactive, enlightening, and something really magical. i will never stop believing in radio- ever, i only hope that the FCC someday recognizes the err of their ways and adopts the mantra from our own constitution- "freedom of the press".

finding a sense of belonging in the radio community, i pushed forward on the airwaves. i left the unpredictable world of male talk radio for a more straight laced spot on the dial- news stations. with all the shtick and sexually themed conversations i'd been a part of in the past, i welcomed the complete 180 of being in a news room reporting on serious events. i accepted a job working weekends as a traffic reporter and in a matter of months i had moved into a full time spot during the weekdays. a year after my first shift on air, i was offered a position on TV as the afternoon traffic girl- at 21, i couldn't have felt more accomplished.

for the past three and a half years i've dutifully reported the traffic day after day in the nations capital. it doesn't exactly get me the ladies but i'm sincerely fascinated with the ebb and flow of cars (traffic nerd 2 da MAXX). a ride with me is often sprinkled with little known reasoning behind major work zones, or fun stories of major accidents. nothing brings me as much joy as discussing the gruesome tales i've witnessed/reported on throughout the years...unfortunately, this isn't a shared love and more often then not people think i'm morbid or weird for finding my reports on daily death so fascinating.

that itch that prompted me to leave college is flaring up again in a major way. in recent months work has demanded nearly all of my time. i don't say that in the way that most people do when they are mindlessly complaining about their job- i say it in the most honest way possible. while i've gone to a social gathering here and there, since the end of the summer i've been swallowed socially by my job. sitting in it- driving through it- reporting on it- or trying to avoid it; traffic is all i can see. in years past, complete career saturation has been a welcomed occurrence; i like loving my job and don't mind being consumed with it. but the moon is shifting and the tides are changing in my little world, i'm gaining the confidence needed to reach out and follow the stars that live in my heart.

i know dreams won't stay asleep forever...i just hope i wake up in enough time to chase mine down.

usurp the drama queen: period

2010-11-26T01:01:00.003-05:00

usurp the drama queen:

PERIOD

drama; a word that in my younger life evoked images of stage productions and movie stars, now is forever marred by the maxed out emotions of petty people. with the rate at which people complain about it you would think that drama was an unavoidable predator, who lurks in the shadows waiting to pounce on kind-hearted individuals.

upon first meeting new friends i pay close attention to their word choices. if the phrase, "i hate drama" tumbles out of their mouth (or the less true statement of "i'm totally drama-free") i'm sure to take note. not because i think i've stumbled across the one person who has no issues whatsoever in life but because they are probably full of shit and live for dramatic encounters.

i don't generally like to base my theories off of the assumption that people are liars but some of the most troublesome, disruptive personalities i've met also claimed to hate drama. therefore, my theory is rooted in truth (even if that truth is little more than my life experiences).

it would come as a shock to no one to learn that there is a portion of people who not only enjoy drama but seem thrive within its grasp. these people are commonly referred to as drama queens. they aren't always as attractive as mean girls would have us believe (something tells me i could have handled high school with a lot more grace where it lindsay lohan and her massive mammaries telling me i was a freak of nature but that's neither here nor there) my mother always told me to avoid these types of folks and keep my guard up around them. being the asshole child i was, i refused to believe any lesson that i hadn't learned in the most challenging way possible. i chose to try and tame the beast.

my thinking had always been if there are folks out there who do nothing but stir up drama, then it's possible for the exact opposite to exist. i learned very quickly that it was too idealistic of me to believe that one person could put out all the fires another had set.

negativity can sometimes spread faster than positivity. when negative vibes begin move around in hateful actions and gossip people start to feed off of it. to a certain extent we begin to enable each other, we tell each other it's ok to be nasty.

why? why would we encourage each other to be bitches and assholes? who's idea was it to think that being disrespectful, condescending, or in any way that you yourself would not like done to you, was any way to treat any woman (or anyone in the LGBT community or anyone ANYWHERE)? staying with just women however, i don't think its right to support our friends hurting other people, no matter who that is. jaded, hurt, alone, angry- we've all been there, but why inflict that on another person? why keep that cycle going? that goes against every grain of my being…i, for one, am standing up-

if you gain anything from this piece, i hope it is this- we are meant to lift each other up, never tear each other down. everyone is someone else; every body has different essence and soul; we are all worthy of both giving and receiving respect. in order for you to become the unicorn who storms the castle to usurp the drama queen and end her rude reign of tyranny you must be the period. someone has to end the cycle of drama. even if your period is scratched out by a later editor who continues to add more crap as a run-on sentence to whom which doesn't make sense but you have to end it sometime; a period always has to come.

unless there is an ellipse… you see, i've yet to find a person who truly leads a "drama-free life". the nature of life is that its unpredictable and at times tumultuous. we've been trained to think that all drama is bad- that it is something to be feared or hated or used as a way to gain power, but that's not true. drama can be (and is) a very beautiful, essential part of life. my only sister; my best friend. my body with bigger boobs and more interesting tattoos, is getting married in a few weeks. a freshly rattled snow globe would best describe the flurry of drama that has surrounded this one day. it's crazy to me but in an inexplicable way. i love her so much and i love them together, i wouldn't trade this drama for anything.

good, bad, essential or otherwise drama happens. we are all on this short ride together, doesn't it just feel right to help over hurt? everyone has lead a life up until the point you met them..we all are equals. drama queens around the world (and i do mean actual queens in some cases)? be wary, for someone somewhere read my message. that sour, slithering, saucy sentence you've been spitting? it's going to end…
soon…know why?
i'm on my period- BE THE PERIOD.

optical illusions

2010-11-08T22:20:00.002-05:00

optical illusions
what you see isn't what you get

not a single soul sees the world exactly as i see it. i'm not special, or unique, or on a lot of hallucinogenic drugs...i'm just blind without some sort of corrective lenses. when strangers pluck the glasses off my face and slip them in front of their eyes squeals of, "oh my god- you weren't kidding! i feel like i'm on drugs!" are often heard.

unfortunately for me, i'm blind enough to wear comically thick glasses but not blind enough to own a seeing eye dog... nor am i actually blind enough to legally classify myself as "blind" (a fact found out when i attempted to apply for a scholarship for the visually impaired in high school and was promptly denied on account of the fact that i can see.)

being acutely aware of my visual shortcomings, i became intrigued early in life with differences in perception. where my eyes failed, my mind filled in the blanks. that spawned a lifelong fascination with optical illusions. the first time i saw the work of m.c. escher my worldview expanded. it was as if he opened the door and gave me permission to see what wasn't apparent outright. in his work what is- isn't...a staircase that leads to more of the same? hands drawing themselves? triangles that transform birds?

the mind is a gnarled, unexplainable labyrinth that houses an endless array of possibilities and paths. we are so quick to limit ourselves to believing in only the tangible, the sensible, and the rational that we forget how beautiful the unreal can be.

not a single soul sees the world exactly as i see it. i'm not special, or unique, or on a lot of hallucinogenic drugs...i'm just open to the beauty of life's optical illusions.

lost and found lesbifriend

2010-11-05T22:00:00.002-04:00

lost and found lesbifriend

don't call it a comeback

lesbifriends was born out of a particularly challenging time in my life. directionless, emotionally drained, and just plain lost; my blog began as an escape from my mind. by focusing on other thoughts; by writing about positive things; by simply having an outlet- i found a great deal of peace. through this recent depressive lull in my life however, i no longer found that peace post after post.

my blog is a reflection of who i am. i turn to it to unload, to connect and ultimately find some sanity. while i don't like being explicitly personal on my blog, i do make it a point to always speak honestly of my feelings. this stems from my firm belief that were we all honest with our emotions, we'd find we are all a lot more alike than not (and as an awkward, unique, string bean of a lady- that is a very comforting thought.)

shutting down emotionally is not uncommon for me but to stop writing...well, that was a new one.

i didn't lose my passion for writing- i was still filling up journals and scribbling notes everywhere but nothing expressed all i truly wanted to unleash. i didn't want to turn my blog into what my head had become... something with a nasty, negative, mean voice. the only way i could do this while still posting new material was to censor myself. in doing that i was also shutting down my lone outlet.

it was only natural for me to want to write out my frustrations but having a life that is entwined with so many- i felt it would quickly become a gossip blog or a forum to bash situations that i found fucked up. i wanted to allow my feelings to flow out. i wanted to call people out on terrible actions. i wanted to let people know that my social silence wasn't indicative of my complacency but rather was my attempt to 'rise above'. i wanted to tell the world how alone and betrayed i was. try as i might, 'posting through the pain' for the past few months didn't bring me much comfort. i was still sad and not writing about ALL that was swirling around in my head.

it was my father's voice from long ago that finally brought me the stillness i so desperately needed. in elementary school, i remember working on my math homework with him one night. the problem had to do with fractions and it was not clicking in my little head. i'd been working on it for what seemed like hours and was still at a complete standstill. i became increasingly more agitated until i finally broke down in tears and demanded he tell me the answer. he didn't... he never would give me the answers... but he did tell me that i needed to take a step back- breathe for a moment- then approach the problem with fresh eyes.

i never did figure out the answer to the question (fuck fractions) but i did carry his message with me from then on. meditation, self-reflection and a fresh world view can make all the difference. after a dark and difficult summer, my days are sunny once again. does that mean life is a double rainbow (all the way)? certainly not. but i have 'refreshed my home-screen' if you will, and i'm looking at life through new, bright, hopeful eyes.

it feels good to be back my lesbi-friends.

directionless dreamer

2010-10-05T15:13:00.005-04:00

directionless dreamer
finding inspiration in my bff jill

www.jillbethhannes.com

during my freshmen year of high school, i met a woman who would change my life forever. it was several weeks prior to the start of school and the summer sun was still freckling my skin as i prepared for tryouts. with my braces freshly off and my nearly blind eyes now corrected by contacts, i walked into cheerleading tryouts confidently. sure- i had no actual experience, nor did i have a passion for cheering...but i liked smiling and waving my arms around wildly, so it seemed an appropriate fit.

i learned very quickly that i didn't fit in with the rest of the girls trying out. still three years away from puberty, my body was anything but womanly. my thighs were soft and rounder than the other girls. my hair was long and pulled back with no discernible style. as more girls walked in my confidence faded. they were mesmerizingly beautiful and had been cheering for years, there was no way i could be part of this elite club- i was too awkward and weird...then she walked in.

jill beth hannes was an ivory skinned, strikingly beautiful 14 year old. her face, like her eyes, were peppered with freckles. standing still she was the definition of grace and pose. walking, i soon found out, was another story. jill owned two, very narrow, extremely flat feet. this made balance a challenge for her. she came stumbling into tryouts and my life, narrowly missing a face plant on the cafeteria floor. it was clear to me that this gangily, stumbling creature would be my greatest friend.

we both made the squad and from then on did everything together. cheerleading, theater, yearbook, stealing shopping carts/repainting them/riding them around the neighborhood; we took high school by storm. my awkwardness and anxious nature had finally found their counterpart. she made me feel closer to normal (which in those crucial years, is very much needed).

after high school jill moved to san francisco to follow her dreams of becoming a photographer for vogue. upon finishing school she sold nearly all she owned and bought a one way ticket to new york city. i remember her telling me that all of her internships had fallen through just before she officially moved into the big apple. as someone who thrives on the stability of set plans, i was very concerned for her. "so, you don't have a job or any internships? aren't you scared? how will you survive?"

the truth is she was probably scared shittless but she gave herself no option but success. with her back against the wall she was relentless in her search for work. several months after her move she now has a job and two internships, one of which with the famed nylon magazine. jill continues to climb the ladder of success and will no doubt rise to the heights she's been dreaming of all her life.

i can't help but be a bit jealous- not of her successes, but of how clearly she sees her dreams. i yearn for that clarity. while i've been successful in my current line of work, i feel as if i'm marching tirelessly on a path with no end in sight. i have no definitive end goal and it's driving me crazy. i have nothing worth selling all i own in pursuit of.

i've tried to compile lists of my strengths, as well as things that bring me happiness in hopes of figuring out where it is i should steer my ship. but s.s.ashley is still riding the waves of a path i set out on years ago. and while i'm closer than ever to figuring out what i want out of life, all this introspection is starting to drive me crazy.

with time i'm certain i'll figure it out...that's how things generally happen, right? i've always felt like my purpose was to connect with the disconnected and to make people smile. someday i'll find a job that utilizes all of my strengths and talents. i just wish i knew what that job was so i could drop everything in pursuit of it. all i can do now is continue to move forward in work and life and hope that i find my dreams along the way.

you can pity the fool

2010-09-23T17:55:00.003-04:00

you can pity the fool
but don't pity the lonely

everyday millions of people classify themselves as lonely. some are launched into loneliness by way of betrayal, mistrust, and abandonment. others cling to it in attempts to become a stronger individual; proving no one is needed for their survival.

being alone has been vilified for years. it should come as no shock that so many regard it as a depressive pit of despair- we've been trained to think this way. it's commonly understood that the crazy cat lady lives alone and speaks to no one but felines. everyone knows the man seated alone at the diner must be waiting for someone to join him- he couldn't possibly be solo by choice.

somehow throughout time we've come to believe that sadness and loneliness go hand in hand; that no one could possibly want to be alone- let alone thrive when left to their own devices.

feeling alone and being alone are two different animals. truly being alone is something i've never been. lest it be family, partners, friends, coworkers, or friendly-faced strangers; i've always found something worth holding onto in other people. all my life, i've clung hopelessly to the belief that people are inherently good. it's a challenge to hold onto that mentality when those who surround you do things that (for lack of a more eloquent wording) make you sad but if you believe that everyone is rooted in evil...what does that make you?

the line, "you are the company you keep" continues to swirl around in my head and i can't help but shout back, "WE ARE ALL INDIVIDUALS, NOT CLONED SHEEP!" i've witnessed my friends do things i couldn't fathom doing. in turn, i'm sure they have seen me conduct myself in a manner they find foreign and bizarre. i know that the world is pretty fucked up, but i dismiss that as my mantra and try focus on the good.

alone is a tough title to keep while still remaining positive about the world around you. when you remove yourself from society, every one and thing has no choice but to live up to all of your expectations. how can anyone prove you wrong and encourage you to trust again when you won't allow them in? how could anything be more than you imagine when you don't give it the chance to?

the most depressing thing i heard this summer came out of the mouth of someone who was very close to me at the time. she was going through a rough breakup and was beginning to loose faith in humanity. with tear filled eyes she turned to me and said, "i know- i'll just sleep with her ex! that will show her!"

this sweet, kind girl wanted to destroy another emotionally to justify the pain she was in. i understand hurt- we all understand being betrayed but when did this mentality of 'getting people back' become king? i've been driven to loneliness by none other than myself, but the actions of peers have forced me to question my return. do i want to come back to a world that encourages us to hurt each other when we feel wronged?

the only thing i do know for certain is that i can only focus on my own actions. judging others for living in a manner that i deem unfit is no better than the bigots who flick off my car for my HRC sticker. it boils down to a simple difference of opinion. hate can be hidden in many forms, including that of 'concern for others'.

i can now admit that negativity and anger have clouded my vision for far too long this summer. while i'm still baffled by the behaviors i witness, i'm also ready to bat away the cobwebs and return to life. i can either live in the snowglobe-dream-world i've constructed for myself or i can engage with real life and take it as it comes.

being alone can be restorative and cleansing. my self-ostracization has brought me closer to myself and given me a greater understanding of how people interact with each other. to my lonely friends out there- remember, through this painfully connected world no one is ever truly alone. as long as you still have the strength to lift up your hand...someone will be there to hold it and even if no one is there, hope isn't lost. you are stronger than you could ever dream. you don't require anyone in order to become who you will be. we all have the ability to both rise and fall, it's up to you alone to choose what path you take.

pride in the sky

2010-09-23T15:09:00.002-04:00

pride in the sky
the rooftop in rockville

this weekend is a big one in the lesbiworld around the dc metropolitan area. first you have the annual phasefest, hosted by phase one which starts this evening and lasts throughout the weekend. (get more infomation regarding phasefest here) if bands and bars aren't your thing you can hop on down to richmond, virginia for virginia pride. (get more info here)

but what about my maryland sisters? richmond is a haul for even viriginians and sometimes DC can be a daunting drive for our neighbors to the north. well fear not friends, all hope is not lost! there is an up and coming event that is steadily gaining speed in montgomery county. la tasca is a spanish restaurant and bar in rockville, maryland. they have several different locations peppered thoughout DC/VA/MD that host such events as live flamenco shows, dancing lessons, and the occational free sangria and tapas. at their rockville location this weekend they are hosting the rooftop party, pride in the sky.

on saturday from 8pm-1am every ones favorite, DJ rosie (of Bare parties at Cobalt) will be spinning. they offer a happy hour from 8-9pm with $3 beers, sangria, wine and rail drinks. the drag show goes on at midnight but the view from the roof is free all night.

it's also worth noting that several of my close friends are going to be bartending the event. now i say this with as much depth as possible, but they are aesthetically pleasing in every way and thus you should go see them and shower them with your hard earned cash. they even possess charming personalities to match their beauty; all of 'em are worth your tips and good times.

i hope where ever you land this weekend, you have a magical time and are surrounded by warm, loving people.

pride in the sky @ the rooftop in rockville
155 gibbs st., suite 305
rockville, md 20850
saturday 8pm-1am 21+ w ID
$5 cover until 10pm $7 after

event on facebook

it's that time of the month!

2010-09-21T15:28:00.004-04:00

it's that time of the month!
bridget mcmanus presents: that time of the month

just in case you missed the 22 minutes of perfection that aired on LOGO last tuesday, here it is for your viewing pleasure...

Bridget McManus Presents: That Time of the Month Episode 5 - watch more funny videos

if you want to be a part of the show and love ladies checkout the guidelines for submissions here or you can email me at apacowayner@gmail.com

vaginas: natures fortune cookie

2010-09-16T13:00:00.005-04:00

vaginas:

natures fortune cookie

every vagina is different. generally i'd follow that statement with "...and all are beautiful" but as my gynecologist delicately pointed out one visit, "there is nothing beautiful about open sores and communicable diseases...healthy vaginas are beautiful." i suppose being in a profession where on any given day you could find yourself forearm deep in the herpes-speckled snatch of a stranger, it's easy to see how one might lose sight of the specialness of vagina's and become jaded.

much like a fortune cookie, vagina's hide life lessons deep inside. when i was seven a vagina taught me that life is unpredictable and oft times uglier than we envision. even at that tender age, i came to the all-too-adult notion that the universe has some fucked up ways of exposing us to it's truths. very few moments in my childhood do i remember as vividly as my first encounter with another woman's genitals...please note: i do not say this with any sense of pride.

it was my first sleepover birthday party hosted by none other than the popular girls of elementary school. i couldn't contain my joy. new house, new smell, new experiences; it was going to be a great night, all i had to do was not be weird.

clearly, i was destined for failure.

as the girls huddled around a table full of glitter, markers, pens and paper, my nose pulled me elsewhere. in my own little world on the floor of the laundry room, i crawled around sniffing everything. instead of leading to a life of coke binges and huffing paint, i hoped that my keen sniffer would simply lead me to the smell source. after all, i was investigating a suspicious scent (which, to be honest wasn't as suspicious as it was just shitty). the other girls undoubtedly got a whiff but they lacked my nancy-drew-like curiosity for the unexplained and chose to color bears and flowers instead.

unbeknownst to me, slinking around an unfamiliar house and rummaging through boxes of christmas decorations is frowned upon- it might even cause one to never be invited back to said house. moments before i lifted a towel off what i would later find out was a dog cage (with one very ill, shit-covered dog inside) a dainty hand of shocking strength pulled me up off the floor and ushered me back to the party.

"wouldn't you rather be drawing poinsettias like the rest of the girls?" the birthday girl's mother asked in a tone that said, "seriously you little snoop- sit, color and stay outta my shit." she went on to explain how the dog was dying and i shouldn't bother him. her honesty was refreshing but did result in a horrified expression on my cherubic face. at the sight of this her story quickly changed to 'the dog ate chocolate, leave him alone' and my smile sheepishly returned.

her hair was wound tightly around rollers and her nightgown wreaked of zest. her blood red nails coupled with the bright blue veins bulging from her hands had me all but convinced that she was going to turn us all into rats later (a la witches) but after feeding us poisionless chinese food i figured we were in the clear.

the night began to wind down and the slumber bags were unrolled. as i wiggled my way deep inside the cocoon of cotton and polyester i felt satisfied. i had managed to survive the party being only borderline bizarre with one, lone witness- my friend's mother.

the line between being conscious and drifting into the REM cycle was finally beginning to blur when a loud sound awoke me. it was a person coming down the stairs. terrified that someone was breaking in, i shut my eyes as tight as i could and waited for them to leave.

that would have been a fine plan, had the stranger left promptly and not begun to walk around amongst the sleeping pre-teens. i could feel the footsteps march closer towards my beloved garfield sleeping bag until finally, the steps stopped. peeking out between the web woven by sleep, i could make out that this stranger was standing above me- a foot at each of my ears. now in legitimate fear for my life, my seven year old eyes opened as wide as they could to see my attacker and hopefully stave off death.

that's when it happened.

vaginatown.

turns out my 'attacker' was also my friend's mother who had popped back in to check on us. another fun turn of events was my friend's mother also appreciates the ease and comfort of pantie-less living. it's like that moment when you catch yourself staring into the sun. reason tells you that it's likely burning your retina and you should stop but some strange mixture of curiosity and self-loathing prevents you from doing that. her vagina stared back at me and gave me a sideways smile.

it was the only time i've ever been horrified upon the sight of another womans genitals. quite frankly, it's shocking i'm gay having such a traumatizing experience as my first vagina spotting. the entire ordeal proved to be a worthwhile one, for i did learn a valuable lesson that cold (but not cold enough for underwear) winter night. metaphorically or otherwise, we all are blinded by unpleasant truths in life. it might be uncomfortable or painful momentarily but in the long run- it's just life, it's just a vagina.

We hear you now PSA

2010-09-15T07:20:00.004-04:00

We hear you now PSA

apacolyptic productions

We hear you now:

Public Service Announcment

Written/Directed/Produced:

ashley, apacolyptic productions

more colorful

2010-09-13T15:17:00.003-04:00

more colorful
a thought

nbc's new fall slogan of "more colorful" television leaves me with more questions than answers. some might be prompted to glue themselves to the edgier, funnier, undoubtedly life changing programming they are set to unveil but others, like myself, ask simply "what color nbc?"

at first i thought, "it's a racial nod. 'colorful' oh i get it!" but the greater portion of propaganda with the 'more colorful' slogan on it has a slew of white actors in their 30s. it's clear the color implied wasn't the color of ones skin. sure, a few minorities slipped into some photo opts, but not enough to constitute a new ad campaign.

now admittedly, i don't watch tv with any sense of regularity and when i do catch a show that everyone is talking about i've more than likely witnessed it online. i have an acute awareness of the goings-on in the media world due to my job. work forces me to swallow commercial copy daily.

after reading (over and over and over again) a commercial for nbc the truth became all too clear. "nbc's new daytime lineup features: the nate berkus show, the ellen degeneres show and the real housewives! everyday is full of color on nbc." as the words tumbled out of my mouth an epiphany was bubbling up within me- their advertising department's intention wasn't rooted in race, but in sexuality!

my mother always accuses 'the gays' of being in your face and down your throat with their orientation. (so easily she forgets all the times that i personally have made efforts to not bring up my sexuality because it offends others...but i digress). i couldn't agree with her more in some cases, but more often than not it's only considered 'in your face' because it's not been an open topic in the past.

instead of vilifying nbc for not showing more minorities, we should thank them for placing our delicate community smack dab in the center of the dinner table. fresh on the heels of gay marriage, nbc becomes gayer than ever with their obvious nod to the homosexuals. with their "more colorful" take on television, nbc parks two homo-hosts next to each other...it's official world- the gays are taking over the media.

fecal matter face

2010-09-09T10:37:00.002-04:00

fecal-matter-face

and that time of the month

when i emerged from my mother's lifehole 23 short years ago, i was covered in an adorable mixture of amniotic fluids, blood, and human fecal matter. not having ever experienced childbirth, it's easy for me to consider being a literal shithead upon delivery disgusting- vomit inducing even. the thought of a pristine newborn looking like a jackson pollock in various shades of brown reminds me that no one is perfect. whenever i accomplish something noteworthy in my life- something that might cause me to shout from the rooftops, i remind myself of one simple truth...you were born a warrior but your warpaint was shit- stay humble e cloi-face.

being humble isn't always easy when you are a good looking, ferociously smart young woman with a dazzling smile. but if you were a lady in your early twenties with gangly limbs and a borderline unhealthy love of dinosaurs, humility is something that comes naturally to you. it's hard to be cocky when you own both a fanny pack and a pt cruiser.

the perks of poo comes in the form of life lessons. i've learned it might give me pink eye if it finds its way in/around my optical area but no shit can't squelch my dreams. i've never had issue with taking pride in my work but i have always been quick to downplay my successes in attempts to stay grounded. (i fear resting on past achievements causes people to settle...i never want to settle.) i've made no bones about the past several months having been less than stellar. throughout the summer i assured myself that something spectacular was coming my way- i just had to muddle through waist deep shit to get there.

now it's rare that i toot my own horn but BEEP BEEP mo'fucks! i can't keep this to myself any longer! i sat on this information for a little bit- mostly because i had a hard time believing it was real- but a dream has come true in my world and i'm one step closer to finding the cure for aids.

ok- half of that statement isn't true but i did land a new internship. while i doubt it will put me on the path to curing aids, it is the gayest, most magical moment in my life to date. imagine witnessing a unicorn mount a vespa and drive on a rainbow colored road, all whilst wearing a top hat and handlebar mustache... THAT is how i feel and have felt since the news came down the line.

some of you don't enjoy reading and find lots of words in a small font boring. you probably didn't even actually read to this point you just skimmed for a paragraph break..for you (and loyal readers alike)

HERE IS MY BIG BIG NEWS:

i got an internship with the new show, bridget mcmanus presents: that time of the month

which in turn means, bridget mcmanus is aware of my existence.

the same woman who pillow fought with lena headey and is married to karman kregloe, emails me.

the show airs on LOGO and afterellen.com, hello gay meccas!

AND my name will appear as associate producer!

OMFG!

i'm sorry- i still have a hard time digesting the whole thing.

that time of the month, showcases the film and video work of lesbian and bisexual women. i owe yourdailylesbianmoment author, arlan, a giant thank you. if it weren't for her, my little email would never have been taken seriously by bridget, let alone found it's way to her inbox. she has been a tremendous inspiration and friend to me throughout my time in the blogosphere and posts photos/videos of incredibly attractive (generally half naked) women...thank you arlan- for everything.

my summer into fall transition has been an exciting one, to say the least. one might even go so far as to say that i couldn't ask for anything more...but i will. it's a modest request, nothing that requires too much from you. i ask simply that next tuesday morning come 4am EST, you park yourself in front of a tv, turn on LOGO and watch: bridget mcmanus presents- that time of the month! then it's required that you laugh hysterically and tell all your friends about this delightful, new, lesbifriend-approved show!

storms of shit are worth weathering. while in the midst of one it's not uncommon to wish that life could go back to the way it was before. the smell, the feel, the overall quality of life during shitty times is just that- shitty. but we all know storms don't last and nothing is as it was before. life is all about progress, positivity and learning to dance with shit on your face.

bridget mcmanus presents:

that time of the month

september 14th, 2010

4am est on LOGO

(if you are interested in being featured on the show and meet the requirements, don't hesitate to e-mail me: apacowayner@gmail.com and i will pass your work onto bridget...i can't wait to see what you ladies are working on!)

rough and tumble

2010-09-06T18:12:00.000-04:00

rough and tumble lesbians
who are they?!

rough and tumble lesbians:
a new breed of mainstream lesbian; a monster mash-up of all your favorite stereotypical lesbian roles:
two parts dyke + one part femme + a pinch of 'yo-boy' + a whole bunch of dyke swagger

wardrobe consists mainly of:
board shorts
brightly colored skater shoes
flat-billed hats (only worn slightly cocked to the side)
thin, mildly form fitting, cotton t-shirts (preferably v-neck)

these girls aren't afraid to jump back and forth across the line between femme and dyke but they feel most at home in a pair of mesh shorts and a wife beater. with a wardrobe that would leave justin bieber speechless, rough and tumble lesbians offer more than the simple style of a preteen boy. to their outfits they bring color- neon to be exact. those who suffer from seizures should look elsewhere for a lover because these ladies love bold punches from the visual spectrum. from bright splashes on shoelaces to multicolored neon hats, everything is worthy of a kiss of color.

rough and tumble lesbians differ from your everyday dyke in two major areas- hair and makeup. dykes are known for their shorter, often gender-neutral haircuts. brash and bold in their hair stylings, the dykes love shaving their heads (or more typical of your modern lesbian- shaving half or simply the square above the ear) sometimes they even spice it up to the point that they shave some speed stripes in there! conversely, rough and tumble girls generally roll with long, straightened hair.

the myth that lesbians don't wear makeup couldn't be disproved more by our rough and tumble friends. with a flick of an eyeliner and a coat or two of mascara, these ladies aren't exactly breaking the bank at MAC. it might not be on par with drag queens but they do wear make-up, albeit a little.

be on the lookout for this new lesbian breed on the rise...

you should get naked...

2010-09-06T05:43:00.004-04:00

you should get naked...

and other fun suggestions i passed on this weekend

this weekend, against my better judgment, i forced some friends to join me in a directionless adventure. our mission was simple: go to arlington to deliver a birthday present to a jordana-brewster-look-alike. being road-savvy, i thought i'd be in the clear leaving the GPS at home and following my remembered way into the beer-soaked streets of clarendon. that was a great thought, however i forgot to include in that line of thinking that i don't actually go bar hopping in arlington, nor do i have any idea where the bar in question was...hilarity ensues.

three ladies, collectively dressed to kill, slipped into my pt cruiser and within moments we were on our way. as a plan enthusiast i found it odd how excited i was to arrive at a location that kept changing as we drove. first one bar- then the one across the street- now the one that's catty corner to the metro station...the texts poured in from the jordana-brewster-look-alike. every location given was within the same block or two and that fact kept my nerves at bay.

our main goal was delivery of the birthday present. the jordana-brewster-look-alike had been out of the country all summer and this was my first chance to really wow her. in fact, it was my first time actually meeting her face to face. no pressure. after a 15 minute drive into arlington turned into a 45 minute tour of arlington we finally arrived at our destination.

it's worth mentioning that the bar we were willingly seeking out was a straight one. in the past, i've had some challenging experiences in hetero clubs and bars but i'm trying to let go of my 'straight-club-hatin' ways. well- more honestly, this chick is a friggin' jordana-brewster-look-alike!! i would have stopped by anywhere to ensure she got her birthday hug.

after elbowing our way through the entrance we were finally in sight of the dance floor. it was late- late enough that 80% of those dancing had sweat stains and a complete lack of basic motor skills. if i couldn't feel my ass cheeks the night would have been delightful. alas, my ass is a sensitive little sucker and i felt all of the man bulges and giant lady shoulder bags as they shimmied by. the dance floor was packed so we inched our way to the bar. it proved to provide little relief from the crowd but the promise of holding something in my hand was a comforting thought.

those of you who aren't excessive drinkers understand my uneasiness when my hands are empty while standing bar-side. everyone sees my paws without a drip drop between them and thinks, "she needs a drink." who's to blame them for jumping to those conclusions? i'm in a bar...it's pretty clear that the intention of an establishment such as that is to drink. to help myself assimilate into the bar scene, i've adopted the habit of always holding a corona light in my hand- empty or full, in my hand it stays.

try as i might to avoid the awkward it finds fun new ways to weave itself into my life. in attempts to play it cool, i told my friends we should stand stationary and wait for the jordana-brewster-look-alike to come around our way. this was a good call on two counts; one- we wouldn't have to bulldoze our way through a crowd and risk loosing each other, two- i wouldn't throw up on the short girls heads and have a panic attack while looking for my friend...WIN WIN!

i saw her gracefully bounce down the steps, smiling and saying hi to people along the way. "guys! i found her! but i'll just wait until she wonders this way...i don't actually want hunt her down." sure enough, within 10 minutes a hand cupped my back and a woman politely asked me if she could squeeze by. in true rico suave form i began smiling uncontrollably and saying bizarre, already established things.

why when i'm nervous i slip into stating facts is still a mystery to me. "ahh! there you are!""it's your birthday." in case she wasn't aware, never mind all of her friends standing behind her tossing 'birthday shots' her way OR the fact that she invited me to her birthday party. "this place is packed." she would have undoubtedly been lost without my assertions. thankfully i alerted her to her own location.

fake-jordana-brewster, my friends and i chatted for a little while longer until our convo was disrupted by two polo-clad fellas. "do you think we are douchebags?!" they asked as the sweat and booze trickled out of their pores. i wouldn't normally judge strangers so harshly but the tenacity of these two was a bit much for me. maybe it was the one corona light talking but i gave 'em some sass.

engaging with these drunk strangers wasn't the best move i've made recently. rather than causing them to scatter, my unparalleled wit (or the fact that we were rejecting them) kept them nestled close to our circle of five.

i began rattling off the reasons why drunk people can be douchebags and one guy went on the attack. he grabbed my scarf, "you know it's not winter. why are you wearing this scarf? it's silly."

at a lesbian bar, i would have been showered with compliments on the classic black kerchief tied round my neck. i told my inebriated new friend that i was on the pulse of fashion and he didn't understand. indeed he didn't- he then went into a tirade on how 'you don't need clothes to be beautiful'. "that scarf isn't you. those clothes don't make you beautiful- you make you beautiful..."

as much as i wanted to hear him out and accept his compliments (let's face it- we can all use a pick-me-up), his bloodshot eyes and the faint smell of vomit reminded me that he was wasted. the jordana-brewster-look-alike rushed to my defense. grabbing my scarf she shouted, "do you know what this means? it means her dick is bigger than yours."

for a split second i'm pretty sure he thought i was a M2F trans but then i clarified,"i'm aware of the fact that you are trying to be philosophical but all you are really saying is that we should all be naked. that's a really neat thought sir, but you are barking up the wrong tree- i'm gay."

being a mature adult he then called me a douchebag and gave me a firm scowl. i went on to remind him that any number of the ladies dancing around would gladly service him later; that our disinterest in dick was no slight to him but the damage was done, his ego crushed for the moment.

it would be easy to look back on the night and remember nothing but the adventure-filled drive and the 15 minutes spent giving the fake-jordana-brewster her birthday present. but where's the fun in denying all of the fun pickles that life puts us in?

rolling with the punches this weekend was something i'm proud to say i did with relative ease. stepping out of my comfort zone both physically and emotionally was a tough pill to swallow but with friends as smooth and thirst-quenching as mine, it was no sweat...aside from those drenched in it at the bar.

epic high fives

2010-09-02T16:54:00.001-04:00

epic high fives
a thought to pick you up

hating thursday simply because it's not friday is no way to muddle through the week. every day should be praised (except mondays- they always suck). daily we all should try and focus on the threads of hope, humanity, and hilarity.

if you are more of a pessimist and find my unusually chipper demeanor annoying- you're an ass, lighten up sunshine. but even the negative nancy's of the world could use a smile. who doesn't enjoy smiling? (that's a stupid question. sometimes smiles, particularly from strangers, are unnerving. picture this- elderly man in loose fitting sweatpants and a beater looks at you from across the bus. his smile stretches from ear to ear. after returning the smile you note both his hands are down his pants- creepy right? that was of no relevance...i'm sorry) point being- we all can use some hints on how to bring more happiness into our worlds.

today's hint? high fives, man.

nothing quite compares to the joy one gets after a solid clap of the perfect high five. after locking eyes, i square up with my partner and while facing each other, our shoulders align. just prior to the approach my arm is fashionably draped over the corresponding shoulder. another breath won't enter my lungs until the one across from me mirrors my sassy stance. some might jump from this point directly into the arch just before the high five. those who do that are fucking high fivin' amateurs.

the one, lone key in the making of a perfect high five is the momentary glance preceding the high five itself. it's all about checking out those 'bows. often called 'the most awkward part of the body aside from knees' or 'wenis', the elbow holds all the cards. one fleeting glance in tandem with your high-fiving-friend ensures that you will get the perfect clap- every time.

after arching back and hurling my heart and soul into my approach- it happened. *CLAP* that sound; a thunderous, meaty, slap of skin. that feeling; epic, rad, perfection. that connection- open palm, open heart. no debate necessary- high fives can't be beat.

if you find yourself feeling a little bit low today, i remind you to smile and find joy in this moment by ramming your hand into anothers. with one solitary slap you can bring an explosion of bright light into your world. if you are too lost in the darkness and feel that no one is around you, fear not- high fives are always possible, no matter how deep the depression. as long as you have two mitts at your disposal (even if the both belong to you), you've got yourself some magic.

up high- down low.
happy day- fo' sho.

lesbilove

2010-08-30T15:24:00.008-04:00

lesbilove

let's be goddesses. lesbifriends

in the gay world there are a lot of gray areas. there is an ever increasing number of labels that, while their intention is to make everyone feel included, seem to have a more divisive quality about them. we are a community that's based on the differences that unite us and yet we lay a hand in dividing ourselves further.

the lesbian subset is not impervious to the power of in-fighting. it's a fact i admit with a very heavy heart. for years i've bickered with those who clung to the mantra of "lesbians love drama". i think it's a broad, unfair statement. no matter how many crazy shenanigans ladies seem to find themselves in- dramatic situations are universal. straight girls, hetero wiener-slingers, old women who wear the absurd red hats...'drama' has touched them all.

gay or straight- we all love something or someone. gays love other fellas; bisexuals love ladies and gents; pansexuals love everyone, pre or post op; and lesbians love other women. i hate to jump atop my hippie soap box- but damnit, WHERE'S THE LOVE GONE? we all need love. we all give love. we need to remember that. for a fact as obvious as this, it seems people have made a conscious choice to not love.

thanks to facebook and the basic misunderstanding that retelling a story infused with your emotional perspective ISN'T gossip (but it is), i'm aware of more than i should be. thanks to facebook ALONE i'm sure we all can say we know more than we ever could have wanted to in regards to other peoples lives. people claim to be private or even guarded with personal info but i don't recall a time i've ever approached someone and said, "hey, would you mind telling me about how apeshit your ex is?" and yet, in spite of these words never jumping off my lips i've heard many a'stories about some wacky ladies, post breakup.

in this summer alone i've witnessed countless couples cheat on each other; i've witnessed people ram their way into situations in efforts to 'help', when their actual goal was to destroy someone; i've witnessed people turn into heartless, hate-breeders who only gain pleasure out of being the star of the shit show. the hyper dramatic, self-centered, summer of sin was in full swing these past few month. it's not as if i was unaware that these sorts of situations existed but this summer has really seemed to kick up the crazy.

i went up to philly this weekend to visit my best lesbifriend, jarvis. i was hoping to get a taste of a new lesbiscene and see the beautiful faces of philly and new jersey lesbots. when i arrived jarvis was filling me in on all the drama that had happened in that area in recent weeks. not knowing the people made it easier to tune out but i heard stories that were mirrored back home.

at first i smiled. it was funny to me to think how universal bullshit can be. but then i realized the wave that crested back home was crashing here as well. young or old; femme or butch...estrogen begets a certain amount of drama- and i'm sorry, but it's fucking LAME and needs to stop.

"same shit, different vaginas man..." i said under my breath upon hearing a story about how one chick wanted to fight some girl who held her girlfriend's hair one night as she was vomiting. let's just take a moment to reflect on that one more rationally- her girlfriend was sick...she was nowhere to be found...and a stranger was helping. THAT'S IT. you should probably thank her for making sure your chick didn't chip a tooth on the toilet before you punch her in the throat- but, it's really none of my business.

i've had the same conversation with my friends all over the country. the general consciouses is that sometimes women can be emotional, silly geese. excuse me for using such juvenile terms but it's appropriate, if only for the flock-like nature of those who like to stir the pot. much like other drugs, gossip needs enablers to thrive. if you surround yourself with those who are equally as done with the bullshit, then dramatic situations will arise less often.

it's one thing to share stories about your life with your friends and loved ones but it's a complete other thing to rip others apart and claim you're merely 'being honest'. i've never understood when such hateful things fly out of peoples mouths followed by 'no offense, i'm just being honest.'

the thing that really pickles my cucumbers is that at the end of the day- we all love women. when i say love women i mean more than 'i really enjoy how you all look when naked'. from mind to mammaries, I LOVE ALL WOMEN. that includes the women who've fucked me over; the women who annoy me; the women who i've not returned their calls; and the women who've slept with my exes (...ok, love is strong for that one. i will more honestly say i can appreciate the fact that those women have a vagina and thus we are sisters in an 'isnt-this-a-crazy-fucked-up-universe' kinda way, but i digress.)

i get that we can't all be best friends and that the world wouldn't be balanced without discourse but i honestly believe we can all conduct ourselves respectfully with some dignity. there have been times when i've wanted to give a girl a hot-sauce soaked tampon in hopes that upon insertion she might feel a fraction of the pain she caused me emotionally. but what kept me from unwrapping that stick of cotton and dipping it in texas pete was the simple, yet powerful thought of- what if that was me? how would i feel if someone was attacking me in such a way? if we all asked ourselves these question prior to going umbrella britney on each other, i think that fights would flow more logically- if not be all together avoided.

we are all in this little world together (and if you know young lesbians, we are all most likely sleeping together as well.) it's high time we treat each other like the goddesses we are-
LESBIFRIENDS FOREVER!

magic in store

2010-08-27T14:44:00.006-04:00

magic in store
random tidbit

the wind was warm yet it cooled my face as it tenderly flowed through the window. i was staring out and up towards the sky when a ladybug riding the breeze landed atop the screen. she wrapped her legs between the squares and began to dance around.
"today will be a great day-" i thought, as she unhooked herself to stretch her wings once more. "ladybugs always mean something magical is in store."

...something sorcerous is afoot.

the best way to get over one

2010-08-24T11:21:00.001-04:00

the best way to get over one
is to get on top of another

i don't like AIDs. this fact, coupled with my fear of countless other STDs has prevented me from getting over my most recent ex...or so i've been told. i wasn't aware that my safety conscious attitude towards sex was an issue until my friend sat me down and dropped a deuce of truth in my lap. if it weren't for her enlightenment i would have been trapped in a very sanitary cage of celibacy for the rest of my natural born life...or at least until i got over my ex.

"ash- this summer has turned you into a social recluse! where have you been hiding? i never see you anymore!" i couldn't tell if she was genuinely upset or mocking me. "tell me- what you do outside of work? do you ever just wake up and do something crazy and unplanned?" i hate when peers ask that question. i've yet to find the perfect words to explain the delicate balance between spontaneity and rigidity in my world.

most of those i know live a life that's more conducive to last minute adventures. the life i've lead since dropping out of college at 18 has been consumed with plans, dreams, hopes and wishes- all devoted to my work. no relationship, party, friend or foe could prove to be more attractive than my goals. to this day very little can sway me from that path. sometimes it's lonely in the sense that i'm alone, but i've always been a relentless believer in hard work pays off, so whether it's now or 10 years from now i know i'll achieve what i've set out to do. that fact makes me happy.

this year, my year and a half long relationship dissolved along with the passage of spring. the only fiery-love left in my life comes from my work. no woman or activity has ever brought me the unrelenting joy and pleasure that work has. from my job that pays the bills to all the work surrounding my writing (blog and otherwise); the power that comes from creating is an infectious one. i've certainly felt that passion in my relationships with people but clearly nothing that has stuck with me longer than a few years.

i'm beginning to believe that work is the only lover i'll keep throughout the rest my days...and at the moment, that's an eerily comforting thought.

my friend, knowing my stance on work, snapped me back to reality by grabbing my face and stating, "you need to get laid." her blasé tone made me laugh. was she really speaking about sex in such a flat way? i told her, "it doesn't work like that for me. sex isn't an action as much as it's a reaction in my world. it has to be motivated by something in order to actually accomplish anything. if i went around slayin' hotties i don't think i'd feel nearly as fulfilled as i do when i complete a task."

after nearly falling out of her chair in a fit of laughter, my friend composed herself just enough to say, "you just compared sex- one of the most tribal, animalistic rituals man practices- to 'completing a task'." i corrected her, "i believe i put the task above sex, thank you very much." needless to say, she didn't share my enthusiasm. she kept stressing that i'm never going to escape the feeling of being in a relationship until i prove to myself that i'm not. that sounds like a rational line of thinking until you realize she's not talking about moving on so much as sleeping with others.

is it just me? am i the only one who sees the disconnect between the two? they aren't one in the same and yet everyone's advice is- get over one by getting under another.

i can't help but feel like i did in middle school when everyone had boyfriends except for me. my friends were learning how to kiss while i was picking popcorn out of my braces. i never felt bad about where i was in life until a popular girl alerted me to the devastating realization that i was lame. i was a virgin who couldn't drive. all the boys in school were lusting after my high-school attending sister. i still collected pogs (but only played the game by myself, which is arguably more lame than the fact that i simply collected them). i didn't even realize how lame i was until she took my bag of YIKES pencils and threatened to trash them. my squeal of terror did nothing to stop her ally-oop to the trashcan but it did confirm that we had different priorities.

without the help of that little douchette in seventh grade, my lameness would have probably spiraled out of control until i finally went through puberty 5 years later. the question now is, do i allow my beloved yikes pencils to be stolen and trashed once more? do i really get over one by sleeping with many? do i allow the words surrounding me to become my own?

i should stress the fact that i mean all of that in a rhetorcial sense. i'm content and completely satisfied throwing myself into my job. if crossing my legs and not partying makes me a prude- so be it...that makes for more porntime for me SUCKAS! plus, i really don't think that getting naked with new friends would make me feel anything but awkward...and lord knows i don't need help in that department!

white party lessons

2010-08-23T18:13:00.002-04:00

white party lessons

respecting women + unorthodox hangover cures from strangers

perhaps i'm just a foul minded, perverted old man deep down but when i hear 'wet t-shirt contest' i also hear the unspoken whisper of 'nipples' and i hope against hope that actual flesh will be seen. i don't find myself alone in this line of thinking. i was packed shoulder to shoulder in a club full of lesbians and upon hearing "we are starting the wet t-shirt contest!" like moths to a flame, the masses scurried stage-side. looking at the faces around me, i noticed the crowd was peppered with smiles and mouths agape in anticipation of the glory we were all about to witness.

i've never been the type of woman who found strip clubs very offensive. any number of reasons could be the driving force behind this thought. from my work history in male-saturated fields to my personal experiences within the clubs themselves, i've always seen these women objectifying their own bodies and people paying them for the experience. never have i judged anyone who calls a club their home because on some level- it was a choice to be there, just as it was my choice to walk in.

now, the thought of men objectifying these women and not seeing them for the soft, beautiful, downright fabulous dancers they are does make me ill...but little, unassuming me making it rain on them is nothing short of magical. hypocritical? perhaps- but it's where i stand.

the crowd's verdict on strip clubs is still a mystery to me, however their thoughts on wet t-shirt contests is a lock. the love between both crowd and water soaked, t-shirt clad temptress' was a palpable one. i didn't hear one disrespectful word from those standing alongside me, except for the occasional, "oh the things i'd do to her..."

while the crowd was foaming at the mouth waiting for the show to begin, camera phones began to light up the club. like sweet summer lightning bugs, the glowing screens began to dance and i hoisted my video camera high above my head. the curtains peeled back and a t-shirt covered woman could be seen peeking out- i clicked on the flash and hit record.

after the first contestant was finished the MC grabbed the mic and looked sternly at us all. with furrowed brows and a finger wave that meant business she told us, "you all need to put the cameras and camera phones away NOW. you all need to RESPECT these women. if i see any of these photos on facebook- i swear...just put them away. and you- YOU WITH THE VIDEO CAMERA! I SEE YOU, PUT IT AWAY AND HAVE SOME RESPECT!"

you know the very first time your mother walked in on you while you were sharing a personal moment with yourself? that's how i felt...like a pervert who was caught lurking around a playground with a backpack full of candy and pokemon cards. after a talk with security and the promise that i would not post the videos, i was allowed to keep my camera and continue partying the night away.

but just for the record...i respect each and every diamond that graced the stage that evening. i bow down humbly towards those who allowed the celebrity guests to moisten their shirts with pitchers of water. i have nothing but admiration for both you and what i may or may not have seen through your shirts. you all were lovely but i digress, back to the party...

dani campbell (from "a shot a love with tila tequila") and elizabeth keener (aka dawn denbo of the l-word) were the celebrity guests in attendance that evening. i won't go so far as to say tila had it coming from the jugaloos, because that's truly awful what happened to her, however it's obvious her decision making skills are less than stellar. for one to pass on the formerly-firefighting, lady-loving dani campbell for some forgettable fella is still a riddle to us all.

i'm 90% sure dani's hand was on my fanny and/or in the general vicinity of it during the time of this photo.

this could be explained by the fact that i'm taller than 80% of the non-athletic lesbians and that forces me to hunch to make sure i don't flirt with tranny height in photos. it could also just as easily be explained as everyone was drunk, so a little hand slip down to the ol' ash-ass isn't THAT flattering. also, with my subtly pink backpack taking up the better portion of my back area, where else was her hand to go? whatever, fuck that- we shared a shot a love. she may not know my name, nor be familiar with the basic structure of my face...but damnit if we didn't make a little magic that night.

the night ended as chaotically and with as much energy as it had began. the crowd at cobalt was a diverse and impressive one. i hit on no one and staid almost completely sober the entire party but the night was still a success. i did witness an unparalleled act of kindness from a stranger towards my friend.

my friend had one too many sips of alcohol that evening and was found throwing up next to a car. strangers and friends alike, rallied around her making sure everything was taken care of and she was safe. after buying crackers, bread and 7-11 pizza i returned to the stoop where everyone had gathered only to find it empty. these strangers had walked my drunken friend down the street to their home for safekeeping.

if that had been the extent of their kindness, i would have been overjoyed but one fella pulled out all stops and really wow'd me. not once or twice but multiple times he lovingly rammed his fingers down my friend's throat to ensure she would not have a hangover. i consider myself a pretty neat little friend...but i also let my OCD tendencies take the wheel from time to time and THAT most definitely would not have been a bridge i'd have crossed for her.

moral of the story is that it did prove to be a great hangover cure...so at least there's a silver lining to a bite marked-speckled, vomit soaked finger from a new friend.

luRe presents: the white party

2010-08-20T15:14:00.004-04:00

end of summer bash
the white party

Saturday August 21st, 2010
$10 before Midnight - $13 after
Cobalt 1639 R St. NW (corner of 17th & R St.)

i don't often turn my blog into an events calendar. i suppose that speaks to my overall 'lameness' when it comes to social gatherings but save me the speech- i'm completely aware that socially i'm a terrible excuse for a 23 year old but knowing this works to your benefit.

how so?

simple my precious friends- i save you the hassle of picking and choosing which lady-saturated events to invest your hard earned dollars at.

the summer is fading fast and fall will soon envelop us all. generally this is regarded as a depressive time. with the change of season comes school back in session, heavier traffic patterns and our half naked sisters at the beach begin to bundle up. the ladies of luRe, sensing this depressive shift in their friends, knew they had to act fast and big if they wanted to save all dc/va/md lesbians! after some skillful planning luRe popped out a steaming pile of perfection in the white party.

month after month, luRe is responsible for hosting some of the best ladies events. their current claim to fame is their monthly parties held at cobalt, (corner of 17th & R St. NW) called BARE. it's hard to find women events in this "gay means gayboy" world. that's why i've always been a huge supporter of BARE- they always have a healthy crowd of beautiful faces swimming around.

the white party is sure not to disappoint. DJ Rosie & DJ Keenan will be spinning- the always lovely go-go dancers will be shaking their thangs- and everyone will be decked out in white. let me express this in a different way...a ton of ladies- in white shirts. now i won't go so far as to say that i'm going to sneak in water balloons just to see what sort of magic i can help facilitate BUT i think that the possibilities are endless. who knows what sorts of debauchery will ensue!

OH WAIT! the ladies of luRe are one step ahead- THEY HAVE A WET T-SHIRT CONTEST SCHEDULED FOR 1AM with a $200 prize! there is a cover of $10 prior to midnight and after that it's a humble $13. did i mention they have celebrity guests coming? the last time the l-word's tasha & dawn denbo popped in, who knows who they secured this time.

i hope you all find some time to go and check it out on saturday evening!

deluded dreams

2010-08-17T18:03:00.002-04:00

deluded dreams
and real life fantasies

have you ever had a dream that upon awaking still resonates with you? a dream so vivid it leaves you shaken and confused; a dream so intricate it couldn't possibly have been a simple firing of subconscious neurons; a dream that feels so real you are left questioning the line between reality and REM. after being jolted back to consciousness, your mind is in a haze and you ask yourself, "did that just happen?"

there is something to be said for the unspoken power of the subconscious. my most memorable dreams piss me off more than anything else. i'm not excited to recall the events, no matter how magical the dream may have been. if you read my blog with any sense of regularity you'd know that i'm a big supporter of dreams, so this news of my feelings towards my own nighttime visions might come as a shock.

as a child i had night terrors. i never remembered the dreams as much as i remembered waking up to the feeling of catching yourself just prior to a fall. i'd wake out of breath, shaken and disoriented. you know when you're dozing off in class or a meeting and you're trying desperately to stay awake. your eyes, weighted down by exhaustion (or sheer boredom), begin to close. your head and neck, no longer working in tandem, begin to nod forward then whip back. after perching your head atop your hand in attempts to wake up, it happens- you finally drift away only to be violently awoken by your head smashing into the table. this is how i woke up night after night as a lil fella (albeit sans table).

as a young adult my dreams were easier to recall but i still didn't consider that a feather in my cap. during this time my dreams seemed to tell the future...or, in actuality, i had one dream i was being cheated on and it turned out to be true. my mother raised a valid point when i told her of my new found miss cleo status, "i don't think you're psychic ashley. however, do you think it's possible on some level you saw it coming? not saying it's your fault, or it could have been prevented but maybe deep in your subconscious- you knew." i still have no idea how this delightful tidbit popped into my brain. it would make sense that it was somehow buried in my subconscious but then how does one explain that i was completely blindsided when the truth came out? oh well, lesson learned...i'm not psychic and my dreams are to be trusted.

fast forward to the present day dreamer, ashley. as of late my dreams have been extensions of real life. while i don't find it hard in waking life to acknowledge the fact that i'm not asleep, i do sometimes find it challenging to recall conversations or situations and know beyond a shadow of a doubt that they did or did not happen. a lot of the dreams i have are possible. the dream-conversations i engage in are equally as plausible as the situation itself.

in addition to having to ask people, "did we actually have this conversation once before" it also pisses me off that i have dreams about finding things. nothing is more depressing to me then having a dream in which you find an item you have been desperately searching for. i would have no problem with these sorts of dreams if they lead to a major discovery upon my return to reality but that has never been the case. i will wake up overjoyed that in my dream i found whatever the misplaced item was. i will then rush to the location where it was hidden in my dreamworld only to discover, i've been duped.

what it boils down to is that i don't like to be disappointed- by my dreams or thoughts. waking dreams are more tangible and my love affair with them will endure forever. no matter how outlandish or far-fetched the goal might be, at least in my mind, it is always possible. there is always a way to turn a daydream into a reality. those scenes i see once my eyes are closed are not always possible. they leave me frustrated and confused more than they leave me enlightened and inspired. i've tried to interpret them in a way that makes them seem like something more than a manifestation of my subconscious with no avail. the dreams i've spent years constructing help me greet each morning with a smile and a purpose but as for my little nighttime visitors- to you i say, GOOD NIGHT!

classic authors teach me...

2010-08-16T18:24:00.000-04:00

classic authors teach me
the art of swallowing

this weekend i took the opportunity to get better acquainted with a few old friends. when life proves to be a dash too disheartening, words- books- and dead authors are the safest and easiest escape. i can't imagine too many wacky shenanigans one could stumble into whilst reading a book. oh sure- you might be inspired (and if you were turning to bret easton ellis for solace you may think twice about picking up a hooker and then setting her eyeballs on fire) but for the most part, turning to the written word for a reprieve from day-to-day living is healthier than other, oft times more destructive, forms of escape.

in my world, there has always been a comfort and safety surrounding words. the way in which we choose to make these man made symbols dance can leave me with goosebumps or on rare occasion- with tear filled eyes. mr. thoreau and emerson were the guests in my head this weekend, as well as a cameo from sylvia. through their words i bypass all of the mundane, pointless, trivial blips on my radar. through them i can escape...if only for a moment.

while tangled in the web spun by thoreau specifically, a question surfaced and resurfaced in my mind- who is more the animal...man or beast? i've witnessed both cause destruction and wreak havoc in their own lives and the lives of others. for the most part animals devour each other not out of spite or jealousy but necessity. humans can rip each other limb from limb for sheer amusement.

as i peek through the trees thoreau paints in my mind, i know that my frustrations may be more than slightly influenced by the social interactions i've been part of lately. i've witnessed character shifts in people that are mirrored in the animal kingdom when one contracts rabies. from full of life and purpose to spewing venom and lost; people and animals have fewer differences than many would like to admit. it's worth noting however, that an animal must contract rabies whereas humans can fault any number of reasons for their social declination.

it would be easy to take the words of these literary gods and weave them into my life in a way that would bolster my disdain with people as of late. the challenge i posed to myself was not to fall down further in a pit of unsavory realizations but rather smile in spite of them.

you can stand on the side of being smug and righteous all by your lonesome or you can toss your hands to the heavens and dance wildly. if you wanna get out of this world an unjaded, open-hearted, creepily optimistic person then you're going to have to learn to roll with it. taking gulps of both shit and sunshine is how i plan on living the rest of my days; to simply swallow life as it comes (...that's what she said.)

the authors whose words who floated about my head this weekend helped me to see that life has, and always will, rage wildly around us. it's what we choose to focus on that really paints the picture of our world. if your palette only has negativity to draw from, how can you expect to paint anything but? it's natural in life to face both ups and downs, but there comes a point where you have to pull yourself back from the edge and remind yourself that life is meant to be enjoyed.

single and sanitary

2010-08-15T15:20:00.004-04:00

single and sanitary

finger fashions

because in these std-riddled times, what's sexier than a lady who's colorfully prepared?

queerFAQtor wednesday

2010-08-11T20:05:00.003-04:00

queerFAQtor wednesday

apacowayner's movin' in!

way to be topical queerfaqtor. that wasn't at all painful to talk about...

femme-femme

2010-08-11T10:34:00.000-04:00

femme-femme

unlike it's medical sounding counterpart, will not kill you

fen-phen has been linked to cardiovascular disease, hypertension, diabetes, high cholesterol, sleep deprivation, and cancer; femme-femme relationships have been linked to aesthetically pleasing make-out photos, an immediate doubling of ones wardrobe and praise from frat boys around the world. bringing nothing but joy into the world, you would think that femme-femme relationships would be encouraged by the masses but it would seem as if things are stacked against the flirty flipped hair of femmes.

the biggest supporter of femme-femme lezzyiasons goes to the porn industry. i guess 'supporter' is awfully kind of me, 'exploiter' would be more accurate. the lesbian porn community to a heterosexual is chalk full of bodaciously bouncy, rock-of-love rejects (except for that one who confirmed she was in porn, she's no reject). the girls often times are uncomfortable or stiff; their movements clearly dictated by a man who wants a sexy shot. now in mainstream porns defense, i will admit to both watching and enjoy such filth from time to time. the shots are indeed sexy but as a woman i know that she can't possibly be driving pleasure from a straight girl, playing gay, poking at her vagina like a gynecologist.

it's little wonder why femme-femme relationships have trouble being taken seriously. once, while out at the bar, a friend turned to me and pointed out some ladies across the room. "look at the one in the hat- hellloo loverr" she whispered in my direction while eyes locked on our new friends. i chimed in, "i'll take the one in the tank top." her head spun around and she looked at me confused, "but ashley- she's a super femme and you are..well, you are pretty fuckin' femmey."

i rolled my eyes, not like i haven't heard that bullshit before- i just don't get it. for one, i classify myself as 'quirky' and 'unique', not 'femme'. two,why is it so challenging for even those within the gay community to recognize the validity of a relationship, regardless of how the two dress. some argue that it's jarring seeing two lipstick lesbians in an embrace...that the mind wants to call them sisters, or drunk party girls. conversely, people are also uncomfortable with two butch ladies dating. are the only acceptable match-ups femme and butch? can we not cross lines without fear of jeers? i'm sorry but when did gender roles become the mainstay in gay relationships? do gay men face this same unspoken scrutiny?

femmes are just as much lesbians as dykes on bikes, the leather is just distributed differently. there are a lot of "party-lesbians" that are tainting the waters for the rest of us. flaunting their sexuality (or their claimed sexuality of the moment) and demanding attention from all who will give it, these ladies are living their life and i applaud them for it. however, my frustration comes from the fact that i have to defend myself for their attention seeking actions. much like bisexuals constantly have to defend their sexuality, femme couples hear the all too often "you two are too pretty to be gay" or "you guys are sisters, right?".

lipstick lovin' ladies- i say, date whom you please and follow your heart. people can shove you into a box but it's your choice whether or not you stay in it. to all of my less-than-femme-sisters, i got your back too...we are all in this together. it doesn't matter what color the m&m- they all are stuffed to the brim with chocolate. so what if i date butch ladies? who cares if my tastes include hyper-feminine women? there is more than enough love in this world for everyone to be happy.

quarter life monsters

2010-08-10T17:14:00.001-04:00

quarter life monsters
under my bed & within my head

the term "quarter life-crisis" always struck me as a bit dramatic. don't get me wrong- i'm in no way trying to diminish the magnitude of a quarter life-crisis, but just as with the 'terror level' in america, the name instantly sets a tone...and it isn't an uplifting one. why couldn't psychologists dub it the more friendly, "quarter life-kerfuffle"? i for one wouldn't mind talking about that ad nauseum. whereas admitting that i might be in the throes of a life crisis (amidst my early-to-mid twenties, no less) is overwhelming and kind of embarrassing. i'd even settle for the appropriate "quarter life-cluster fuck" or the alliterative, "quarter life-quandary" having the word crisis in the title is the equivalent to having death in the name of an illness- it doesn't instill a feeling of optimism.

i keep telling myself if i don't classify it as a crisis then it isn't one. this theory was born of another that worked out great when i was a child. as a fresh faced babe i was terrified of the dark. i had night terrors and trouble turning off my mind...a normal sleep pattern is something i've never known. my parents chosen form of protection was in a monster-light (which was actually just a normal lamp with a colored bulb...my parents stopped at nothing in their quest to help me get to sleep soundly) but nothing could ease my restless mind.

i had a particular fear of wolverine hiding under my bed. if i where i to move just a fraction of an inch his giant blades would tear up through my mattress- slicing each and every one of the major organs housed in my tiny body. nightly i would stand atop my bed and jump on different pieces of furniture in order to escape his clutches.

my bed wasn't the only place i feared. in my mind my closet was a portal to another world. during the day- it was where all my dreams came true. i would climb into it and close the door- pretending i was an astronaut locking myself in the shuttle. when i would open it again my bedroom would transform into a new world. with the flick of a switch that dreamworld would turn into a horrorfest. i never knew what exactly was so terrifying inside my closet, all i knew at that age was that i was not to go in there when it was dark.

i'm not sure if it came out of sincere concern or he was sick and tired of having me come into their bed to sleep night after night, but my father finally broke down my monster-walls. he put me back to bed one evening and simply told me to close my eyes and go to sleep. to help ease my fears he did a run down of my room; first flipping up my bed skirt- nothing there; then he pulled back my bi-fold closet doors- still no monsters. he assured me that i was the only one besides him in the room and the monsters i feared so much only lived in my head. he then proceeded to slip his legs under my bed and scream, "oh my god- ashley help! they've got me!! HELP!" i burst into tears and began screaming as well.

some might mark this milestone as traumatic one. others might tearfully recount the events to a therapist later on in life. but in my slightly-off young mind i understood my fathers intentions, even if his execution gave me nightmares for weeks afterwards. his attempt was to teach me that even if there were monsters under my bed they could fucking eat my father, so for me it was certain death. there is a sense of comfort in knowing that the man you see as untouchable could also be nomnom'd on by some subconscious creatures.

after scaring the shit out of me my father gave me a big hug. "i'm sorry honey, i didn't think you would get that scared. everything is ok- i was just playing around with you. monsters are silly and they are not real- you should laugh at them instead of crying about them." with big, blue, tear filled eyes i looked up at him. my superman just told me everything was going to be ok and i should laugh about it. "but seriously ashley...go to sleep, it's late. i'm done joking- close your eyes and it will all go away."

i wish i could say that in the trying times i've faced in recent months that i've clung to my fathers positive advice from years ago. truth be told if i had chosen to believe that everything was going to be ok and that i should be laughing about my worries versus crying about them, i'd probably be on more stable emotional footing. instead i chose to close my eyes and believe it would all go away.

my world has taken a shift and i don't like what's going on within it. i don't like seeing people act in ways that are unbecoming. i don't understand how people can treat each other in such terrible ways sometimes. i don't like feeling anger grow inside of me. i don't want to live in a society that throws respect away in order to be more self-sufficient. the shroud of negative energy that surrounds me this summer is a self imposed one. i've placed myself in a position where i don't actually have to engage with people. i've not been ostracized as much as i've been awol. even knowing that, i've found it hard to shake this feeling of having no fucking idea what i'm doing with my life. i push as hard as i possibly can when it comes to work not knowing if i'm going in a direction that will lead me to ultimate satisfaction.

i feel like i'm on a scavenger hunt looking for little scraps of happiness. along my walk through life i've picked up all sorts of things that bring me joy. one day i believe i'll be able to construct a whole world for myself filled with all the things that i enjoy. the tricky part with life is that yes, you will find things that fill you to the brim with excitement and elation but you will also have to deal with things that bring you unmeasurable pain. it's how life balances itself out.

so, am i in the middle of a "quarter life-crisis"? i can't lick the envelope on that one just yet. if i admit that's where i am then in a way i'll have admitted defeat. as for now, all i can do is continue to ride out this storm and remind myself that monsters aren't real- and life isn't worth crying over...and if that doesn't work keeping the lights on never killed anyone.

The Soggy Showdown

2010-08-07T00:14:00.002-04:00

The Soggy Showdown

apacolyptic productions

The Soggy Showdown Saga

Written/Directed/Produced:

ashley, apacolyptic productions

Featuring the talents of...

Lisa; Ayna; Melissa; Eleana; Kathy; Anna;

Thuy; Dana: Jackie; Megan & Ashley

My Bits

2010-08-06T04:48:00.003-04:00

My Bits
apacolyptic productions

My Bits
a lesbifriendly remake
to mickey avalon's, my dick

re-written/produced/directed:
ashley, apacolyptic productions

featuring the talents of...
jackie; keri; emily;
sammie; donna; & danielle

rant: shoe vs sock

2010-08-04T11:38:00.003-04:00

rant
shoe vs sock

as far as foot housing is concerned, i generally opt for the simple cotton sock. all too often people neglect this classic, dare i say perfect, covering for heels and toe alike. shoes don't provide the uniform comfort of a sock. any enclosure comprised completely of fabric that cradles my foot, not unlike baby jesus in a manger, is a-ok in my book. tightly bound, secure, safe- socks truly provide feet with the luxury they deserve. sure, i'll give you that skater shoes feel lovely on the tops of my feet. (with their giant pillowy tongues it comes as no surprise that lesbians love DCs). the soles of a shoe however, is what forces it behind the sock as supreme paw cloak.

the foot is placed in an interesting juxtaposition when harnessed in a shoe. the more tender 'top of foot region' is worshiped and caressed by a gentle lick of a shoe tongue. even if the tongue where absent, as with sandals, the foot will either kiss the sky or play peek-a-boo with some laces. conversely, the sole of a shoe, is treated as the literal underbelly of ones soul. it lives in dark often dank conditions. after years of at worst abuse, at best an acknowledgement via pedicure the bottom side of the foot is kicked one final blow. in addition to shouldering the burden of supporting you or me, the bottom is full of bacteria. creepy...infectious...nasty...ok- i'm going to gag- germs.

admittedly, i've always been acutely aware of sensation on my little feetsies...err- they aren't little. i've got some flappers down there, 9.5US (but i've notice recently they have shrunk, i'll keep you posted on this as i'm not sure if i'm devolving into stumps). everything my feet touch- i feel. when i was very young it was amazing- i loved nothing more than dragging my feet through crisp, dewy, mildly-firm grass; my family dubbed it "carpet grass". but it was always weird during the summertime. typically this would be my afternoon:
running around outside;
kicking off my shoes;
stepping in mud;
freaking out it was poop;
being assured it was not;
freaking out poop was mixed in the mud;
think about what animal pooped there thousands of years ago;
now KNOW i'm standing in poop- prehistoric or otherwise;
hose off feet;
put on socks.
socks always clean up the mess.

i'm not ashamed to say that i take a disinfecting wipe to my feet every night, even if immediately after the shower. call me ocd or call me sensible but feet and hands are no different! i just think of all the things feet can get into- it's downright scary. i know i might be alone in this tirade and if that's the case- so be it.
feet are friends...not giant breeding grounds for infections- and SOCKS RULE.

rant complete.

hopedar

2010-08-03T17:34:00.002-04:00

hopedar
don't stop- believin'

have you ever noticed no one seems to shout about their marginal skills when it comes to spotting gays? people love to tell you how fabulous their gaydar is; how they can spot lesbian in a sea of straw-fedora-clad hipsters. mirroring their tenacity, those whos gaydar sucks are equally as proud. their claim to fame is finding the most flamboyantly gay person alive, then swearing it was a curve ball when they came out.

a woman at work and i nearly came to blows regarding one, 'ricky martin'. she claimed that she was in love with him from day one and just could not wrap her brain around the fact that he came out. now, i'm not a pro in spotting gays but 'curve ball' and 'ricky martin's sexuality' don't exactly go hand-n-hand for me. his hip control alone lead me to believe years ago that, at the very least, he's seen some male-tail. she said that he's spanish and happy- not gay... that was literally her whole defense- an emotion and his lineage.

then others, much like my mother, think every woman with a wide stance and a pixie cut is checking her out. any frumpily dressed woman in wal-mart is a giant dyke in her eyes. everything with a vagina in home depot; all vegetarians; women who have neglected (by choice or convenience) to shave their legs- all of them are snatch goblins. their gaydar sounds the alarm at every boy in a speedo and any fella with a small dog. i wouldn't exactly call this "gaydar" as much as it's "reinforcing stereotypes"...but this is also from the mind of the same woman who told me i wouldn't ever get my period i would just turn into an ape on account of my ample, blonde, arm hair- so i get that sometimes her logic is a bit off.

there is yet another set of people who have no clue what the fuck they are doing in this blog post but they're really happy to be here. they don't cite reason or a vibe for assuming someone gay- these select few dig deep in their pants for others sexuality. you may call it 'wishful thinking'- i call it hopedar. through a dream and a scantily clad vision in their head, these folks look super-straight girls in the eye and tell 'em they're gay. you know those moments when you meet someone who you're just so blown away by that regardless of how long her nails are, you believe you have a solid shot. it doesn't matter than she has never heard of ani d. or tegan & sara... she's totally interested, or at the very least she will be gay for you.

i am not a stranger to hopedar. lindsay lohan captured my heart in her timeless portrayal of not one- but TWO adorably precocious twin girls separated by divorce in the 1998 remake of "the parent trap". her freckles danced across the screen and into my young heart. our one-sided love affair has done little to enrich my life but i've supervised hers in a way that would make any stalker proud. i tell myself she is gay. i want to believe the words as they trickle out of my mouth. i want to believe it has nothing to do with being 'edgy' or 'a media hot button'. i want to believe that one day i will see her semi-to-half naked in real life. i want to believe i will make her feel loved. i want to believe these things just as much as i want to believe miley cyrus and lilo might hookup with megan fox at a party...it all boils down to hope.

gaydar, hopedar and archaic ways of thinking are fun ways to mask the fact that we still look at each other and make snap judgements. we all know judging and assuming are wrong but if waldo taught is nothing else- at least he gave us the joy of the hunt, the thrill of the find, and the ultimate crush of realizing that it's not waldo but that douchbag who wears the striped hat. it doesn't matter if your gaydar is on point or you are shooting blanks...all that matters is that you do it with a smile on your face and love in your heart.

fire

2010-07-29T22:02:00.001-04:00

fire
a breath of fresh air

fire has always been fascinating to me. i can't exactly pinpoint why... something about the way it quivers when perched atop a candle- the way the smell weaves its way into your clothes- the way its brilliance is best displayed when against the backdrop of a clear night. maybe it's the way the sulfur burns your nose when you flick a match and inhale deep- or perhaps it's the simple fact that holding raw power makes me feel strong. there is just something undeniable about fire that keeps me mesmerized.

that sounds eloquent but truth be told it's a fancy way of masking the fact that i'm just a pyro.

there are several ways to snuff out a flame. a painfully typical task, people forget that there is a grace and beauty that comes with extinguishing fire. you must always respect the fact that the allure of a flame is a double edge sword. lean in too close- leave burned; pay it no mind- miss out on natural magic.

if singeing all the hair off of my lower arms one summer night while testing out the flammability of nail polish remover taught me nothing else, at least i learned to respect the power of fire...also how to quickly put out your arms when they are fully engulfed. one can put out a flame through means of dowsing it with a non-flammable liquid; one could lick their fingers and pinch the flame out; and if you are feeling like a douche and want someone to think your cool- then just snuff that lil fella out in your mouth.

but what's the most beautiful way in which a flame is turned off? air. simple, crisp, unassuming air. after a strong gust blows through one of two things will happen to fire- it will either gobble up that wind and grow and spread, burning everything in its path...or it becomes overwhelmed and snuffed out, leaving only a smoke trail behind.

my world has been burning. i know that a breath of fresh air is all i need to turn down this oppressive heat. i also know that when i leave this chapter and move onto the next i'll only leave a smoke trail behind.

queerFAQtor wednesday

2010-07-29T01:57:00.001-04:00

queerFAQtor wednesday

late night questions, interesting takes on "answers"

sure it's late...but of course i'm up.
when it rains it pours.

in attempts to not be a bitch i become a bitch

2010-07-28T21:29:00.002-04:00

in attempts to not be a bitch i become a bitch
and other fun flaws in my logic

aretha franklin holds a very special place in my heart. many mistakenly assume my love of ms franklin is a direct result of her humble hat choice during obama's inauguration. this hat did warm my heart a great deal but the main force behind my love of her is in the soulful way she sang the 1967 classic, respect.

the way she demands to be treated; the sultry way she lays down the law; the no bullshit approach to commanding respect- to me, it's inspiring. throughout the song she stands firm in her convictions and her wishes are made clear. "i ain't gonna do you wrong- cause i don't wanna; all i'm askin is for a little respect" she's not being hateful or a bitch- she's simply asking for common courtesy.

when it comes to trust, i get why the greater portion of people don't give it out freely. as a person who trusts people until they give me reason not to, i've found life can be a bit more emotive for those like me. but as it pertains to respect- that's a whole other monster.

while there is wiggle room with doling out trust; respect, i believe , there is no room for question- everyone deserves it... even those you would rather just punch in the throat. if everyone took a moment to calm themselves before lashing out in a disrespectful manner, fights would flow in a mature way. if everyone gave everyone else respect as indiscriminately as we give out snarky cut-downs, the world would be a beautiful place.

but as we all know too well, respect seems to be a fleeting virtue. all too often people put their pride before their dignity. treating someone like absolute horseshit just to prove a point is a counterproductive measure. the only point that's actually proven is that you are an asshole.

the biggest challenge in giving everyone respect is dealing with people who are rooted firmly in negativity. as of late i've encountered such people and it breaks my heart to be near them. i know that the world isn't always the best place and i know that not all people living on this earth are good natured but i remain blissfully unaware of this fact when i surround myself with only good people...logic that while probably isn't healthy, has worked for me for years.

the downside to indiscriminately giving people your respect is that sometimes it's not returned and you get trampled in the process. no matter how much kindness you shower a person with they still possess the power to thumb their nose at you. not to long ago, i went out of my way to be accepting of a person who left a rather foul taste in my mouth. i knew my feelings towards him were baseless and not exactly warranted- so i kept them at bay. i went out of my way to treat him respectfully. i was convinced that if i kept up my respectful end of the bargain, he would surely follow behind...i was mistaken.

i learned, through him, that it's not about how a person treats you but how you treat them. when i lay my head down to sleep all i'm left with is myself. i am the only person who knows who i am inside...and even i'm not the best authority on that subject. if i can honestly tell myself that i'm a good person each and every night, that's all that matters. i should not shoulder the burden of someone elses actions.

my mother always told me not to act with the expectation of a reaction because 9 times out of 10 people will let you down. i was trying not to be a bitch and in the process turned into doormat. but you know what? i'd rather have people drag their feet across me time and time again then throw it all away and become something i'm not. maybe i just react to pain in a different way but an eye for an eye was never that appealing to me. i don't understand why people hurt each other simply because they have been hurt...that only continues the cycle of anguish.

aretha is on a play list with such jams as "faith" by george michael and "hold on" by wilson phillips...don't you dare scoff at me, it's my "get through it" mix. when i take a step back and look at the lyrical content of my musical library, it's not hard for me to see a trend. i enjoy songs with a message. i want to flood my ears and brain with philosophical musings about life, love, and achieving your goals. just as in life, not everything on my itunes is all about unicorns and rainbows (i don't even have the auto-tuned version of double rainbow even though i LOVE THAT SONG i refuse to pay a dollar for it). there are times in life when people will try- completely unprovoked- to knock you into another world. remember who you are and who you want to be, THEN allow yourself to feel...and always, above all else: R-E-S-P-E-C-T!

how...

2010-07-26T12:17:00.004-04:00

how...
breakups suck

how are you supposed to react when the one person you never thought to doubt betrays you so viciously you fear it may leave you permanently jaded?

how do you remain positive when your world screams, "people are selfish and not to be trusted...and because you seem to not want to believe that- lets ensure you do by completely dismantling everything you've ever held sacred"?

how can i look back at this time and see anything other than the utter devastation this has crumbled into. the once idyllic landscape we worked as a unit to maintain has become overgrown with thorns and brush. the pristine river that cut through the backyard runs as black as oil. it's been transformed from a peaceful pasture to the slut-peppered-party-of-a-lifetime...and my invitation has somehow gotten lost.

i hate the moment in a breakup when you realize the one you loved (and arguably still do) is now a stranger. when all the empathy drains from their eyes and their motivations turn inward. while you sit at home and weep over the possibility of hurting them, they are out unapologetically living their life.
you have regressed to little more than a blip on their radar screen.
you are nothing more than one of thousands of flakes floating around in their snow-globe.
you cannot be friends because they are sleeping with your 'friends'
you cannot hang out with your friends because they are friends with the friend your ex is now laying with...biblically.
"i thought of you the whole time" are unspeakably harsh words...they should be forbidden.
nothing stings like being the last to know.
nothing feels like being purposefully left in the dark by all whom you trust.
you have to move out.
you are no longer important.

breakups suck.
watching the one who once cradled your heart in their hands rebound, sucks more.

beautiful? bullsh*t.

2010-07-22T15:29:00.004-04:00

random thought
beautiful? bullsh*t.

the other day my friend and i got into a conversation about picking-up and hitting-on girls...
friend: "pick up lines are bullshit- you aren't really saying anything meaningful. i just walk up to a woman and tell her she's beautiful."
me: "but telling her she's beautiful is arguably just as full of shit as saying 'have you sprayed your pants with windex...because i can see myself in them.' it just doesn't pack as zany or crass a punch...and sometimes crass is key."
friend: "i know you wouldn't seriously use a pick-up line on a girl."
me: "true- but i must admit, i have used them in an ironic fashion once or twice."
friend: "why do i feel like you've done that to me while i was drunk?"
me: "because i have."
friend: "bitch. well then how do you approach a girl if you think pick-up lines are trite and calling her beautiful is bullshit?"
me: "i tell her something real..."
friend: "that's almost poetic of you-"
me: "...via text. girls make me nervous in real life."
friend: "ahh, there's that ashley charm!!"

after our talk ended my thoughts continued to swarm around the idea of physical beauty being something worth complimenting. we can't take ownership of our looks, our clothes or our cars. all we own is who we are, the choices we make, and the life we live. when we say someone is beautiful, or conversely when we say someone is ugly- what are we really saying about THIS PERSON? nothing. if you are doing anything you're giving them your opinion and nothing else.

this whole notion of worshiping beautiful people, or even idolizing them does nothing but pull our focus in a meaningless direction. we aren't showering them with accolades for anything worthwhile that they've done. we aren't stroking them for changing the world. we are praising them for being pretty- which they arguably had nothing to do with.

does this mean i don't wear make-up when i go out or take part in a consumer driven society? no- not at all...i do all of those things and on top of that i do seek out partners that i find appealing physically. while beauty is subjective, that doesn't mean that it means absolutely nothing to me. just as i can recognize the attractiveness of someone physically, i can listen to their words and watch their mannerisms to see if internally that beauty is mirrored.

i'd rather have someone tell me that i have a rich and colorful mind over having them tell me i'm hot. that leads me to believe that they are actually listening to me- or better yet, we have made some real connection. that's what life is all about to me- connecting. hell, that's the whole purpose of my blog.

a reminder...

2010-07-21T16:12:00.002-04:00

“I am responsible.
Although I may not be able to prevent the worst from happening, I am responsible for my attitude toward the inevitable misfortunes that darken life. Bad things do happen; how I respond to them defines my character and the quality of my life. I can choose to sit in perpetual sadness, immobilized by the gravity of my loss, or I can choose to rise from the pain and treasure the most precious gift I have –
life itself.”

-Walter Anderson-

delusional dreamworld

2010-07-20T12:24:00.004-04:00

delusional dreamworld
takin' shit with a smile

i take a lot of shit with a smile. when faced with the choice of flipping out or gracefully giggling a snide remark away, 99% of the time i choose the latter. it's simple to me- if you don't want to be surrounded by a shit storm of drama, then start with yourself and chill out.

normally this mindset leads me to an overall more peaceful, enjoyable life. floating above the antics that surround me has proven to pull me in a more introspective world. it has brought me closer to those who share my non-confrontational beliefs and helped me to drift further from a gossip driven world (that i stupidly thought would be nothing more than a distant memory outside of the walls of high school... or at least after college.)

i've learned however, that this viewpoint- this delusional, pollyannaesque, outrageously optimistic world i've chosen to live in- is not the real world. in the real world life is a see-saw and with every undeniable up there is an equally as depressive down. for a long time, i feared both verbalizing and internalizing this fact as i worried it would lead me to become jaded and blackened...but i now know that admitting the truth is neither optimistic or pessimistic- it's simply reality.

those i respect and care for have done a lot for me over the years. most of the time my experiences with others have been mutually beneficial. as our paths have become gnarled and intertwined my friends have lifted me up and helped me to become a better person. this to me is the purpose of friendship- to propel each other forward in life.

contrary to this fact, there have been those who have taught me lessons through less than pleasurable ways. i've been hurt, taken advantage of and completely disrespected by those whom i trust. one would think that i would learn that placing my trust in the hands of the unscrupulous many times over does not lead to warm fuzzy feelings.

it's easy to look at others and see where they have gone wrong, but it's harder to take an honest look at yourself and admit there is room for improvement. the challenge i face is pinpointing what exactly needs to change in my world for me to grow and thrive.

my mothers suggestion? "you need to take off your pollyanna glasses and know people WILL screw you. you give people the benefit of the doubt all too often. brush it off- move on- and surround yourself with positive people. don't be trusting of all people- they don't deserve it, you have to make them work for it. i'm sorry because i know how it hurts you to see the negative side of people...but that's life"

even knowing this; even after being burned time and time again; even after all the lip service/bullshit/and straight up lies i've been fed by people over the years, i still want to believe in humanity. i can't remove the glasses and become another east coast cynic. if i allow that side to take over then what's next? a jaded soul...a judgemental spirit...a negatively rooted world.

i know that there is a lot of darkness surrounds each of us every day, so if i make a conscious choice to look towards the light does that make me delusional? if so, i'll keep livin' in this dreamworld...and i hope someday you all join me.

queerFAQtor wednesday

2010-07-15T01:31:00.002-04:00

queerFAQtor wednesday

miss apaco does miss manners

this week we discuss relationship deal breakers...i choose to focus on the road. (you're welcome mother)

a tough realization: everything, everyone

2010-07-15T01:11:00.005-04:00

a tough realization

everything, everyone

when i was in a relationship it was understood that my time was mostly monopolized by another. my friends cut me a certain slack when it came to social engagements. but now that i reside in singledom it seems that that slack is no longer cut in my favor. it seems as of late my friends reactions are a bit more gruff when it comes to my declining party invitations or not being able to go out all the time.
in all honesty, i know where this is coming from. i haven't exactly jumped head first into single life. if anything, as i have left the realm of relationships i've thrown myself into my work. i don't necessarily feel bad about that but i do sit before you with an unmeasurable amount of guilt on my shoulders.

i feel bad. i feel like i can't be the friend everyone wants me to be. i feel like i can be a great friend to several people and i do just that. but i want to be the best friend that i can be to absolutely everyone i come in contact with- no matter how brief or minor our encounter. i don't want to compromise that facet of myself for anyone or anything.

yet i realize that i need to delegate my time more appropriately. i feel selfish and guilty and bad all the time because of brief yet mildly flippant text messages; because of facebook wall posts of discontentment. in actuality they are of little consequence, most of the weight they carry comes from my own mind...but i'm still upset. i feel bad.
how can i be the best person i can be to everybody when i'm focusing on myself, my work, and things i find important?
am i wrong for putting my work over my social life?
will i somewhere down the road kick a younger me and say, "good lord girl- why didn't you just focus on the moment and being happy- just enjoying yourself?"
now i'm not saying that i don't enjoy my work because i most definitely do. i'm very pleased with how i'm spending my time. i hope that someday it will all pay off. someday i'll look back at this time and say, "yah- it was tough but i'm glad you stuck it out old girl."
is it possible i'm wasting my todays waiting for somedays?

to all of those who i'm not the most present friend right now- forgive me. know that i want nothing more than to be the greatest friend, the most supportive person in your world and i'm sorry that i can't give you all all of that right now. i'm sorry if there is never a day that i can be everything to everyone.

...that's a tough realization.

big ol' puss

2010-07-13T17:05:00.003-04:00

big ol' puss
embracing your inner wussy

oh, i'm not shy about it- i am a pussy, in every sense of the word. not only i am a proud owner of the double-X chromosome but i avoid physical contact with angry people because i don't enjoy being punched. at this point in my life i've never been in a physical altercation...assuming i don't get jumped on the way to my car after work today.

my dukes have been involved in a scuffle or two with my sister (which she always won) but full on 'rip-outta-bitches-weave' type of encounters just don't come my way very often. being fairly tall, i walk at a level where smaller arms shoot up towards the sky and my face in order to show happiness or excitement. that's about it when it comes to my physical altercation record- accidental spurts of joy that spawn a shiner on my eye.

during my first year of college i tried desperately to be a bit more typical. with a heavy heart i admit that there was a time that i thought being myself would do nothing but lead to social ruin. all throughout high school i embraced my uniqueness and regarded it as my funky badge of honor. after a mean-girlesque senior year, my pride turned into shame and i felt my identity was something that HAD TO remain hidden. i was half in the closet, had just reached puberty and was thrust into college with no clue as to who i was.

in hindsight, i know who i was at this time. i was the same lil squirt i am today, just less wise to the ways of the world. puberty did nothing but make me taller (and thank god for that, because really- who wants to grow breasts during ones late teens?) it was freshmen year of college and my idea of fun was while wearing an outfit that only an acid-enthusiast would love, my friend and i would wander around campus playing 'paparazzi' (a game that required us to run around and take incredibly unflattering photos of each other then write insanely witty captions that no one thought were funny but us).

the main thing that set me apart from my peers in my early collegiate days was my apathy towards parties. don't get me wrong- i have no issue with others drinking and i love meeting new people but i did miss the boat on loving giant ragers involving kegs and terrible life choices. every time i found myself at such a party i would make friends through chain-smoking, as that was the only place i felt mildly at ease (sorry, mother). in attempts at normalcy, i would go to parties to be a "typical" college kid.

at one party during late fall, as per the usual, i stood stoicly on the stoop. a young boy approached me, no doubt realizing that we were the only two outside and his options were to become fixated on the sky or engage with me... we began a conversation. looking past both the lazy eye and the giant facial birthmark, i hoped that i would see a sign of intellegent life behind his pale brown eyes. i threw reason out the window and disregarded the fact that i was in a sea of lilly pulizer and gave him a chance to really dazzle me- unfortunaly he was just another douchey frat fella who couldn't grasp the concept of an unpopped collar.

just as our conversation came to a close a group of girls exited the party. one girl looked me up and down then walked assertivly over my way- i knew that face...she wanted to eat me alive (and who could blame her, i'm delicious!) from her teeth, to pearls, to hair- this girl clearly had a non-racial love of white. everything on her just glistened. she smelled like victoria's secret and her hairspray had glitter in it...she was fancy. after finally coming toe-to-toe with me she looked me dead in the eye. "hi, i'm sara- have you met my boyfriend?" she said in an adorably bitchy way, while pointing to my new friend. i, not realizing the question was rhetorical, answered with an honest and almost shocked "yes". i didn't understand why she was asking if i had met him when he and i WERE THE ONLY ONES ON THE STOOP.

her interesting phrase choice became all to clear the next day when i awoke to a knock on my dorm door. a friend i went to high school with came with words of warning- "you need to watch your back...you pissed off the wrong sorority girl last night. she wants to fight you." my body lurched forward and my jaw sat in my lap. as my blank expression met his i busted out in a fit of laughter. "you can tell her that she can beat me up whenever she'd like", i said through a sneaky smile, "cause lord knows i'd lose."

my friend seemed confused. to him, throwing myself to the lions was the worst possible idea...and where i completely serious- he would have been right. but my point was simple. accept her challenge, let her know what a silly goose she was for wanting to fight me, possibly get beaten to a pulp, and then laugh about it.

i never did get the shit beat out of me by the sassy sorority girl. it was just one of the many times i took the humorous high road and it worked out for the best. from dramatic arm movements to fists of fury, one never knows when an idle hand will come in contact with their face at a high rate of speed. my artful ways of bobbing and weaving through packed parties and life in general has turned into a magical dance- a dance called 'keeping the peace'...now if only everyone would join in.

dancing: G.O.A.T.

2010-07-13T15:07:00.001-04:00

dancing: G.O.A.T.
don't doubt it, ladies

i have a little gift inside of me. some mistake it for complete abandonment of both my dignity and sense of rhythm but i know it's true name- dancer...and not just any dancer, but the GREATEST OF ALL TIME. my daddy long legs step on the floor and it's over- no one dares to challenge the convulsion-like charm of my sick moves.

for the love of littles

2010-07-09T17:00:00.001-04:00

for the love of littles
fannies
---------
beyonce is bootylicious this we know,
for her song did tell us so.
little fannies, please be strong
from donk to dinky none are wrong.

(to the tune of jesus loves me,
oh, don't roll your eyes..i know, i know-
it's catchy and blasphemous of me!)
---------

most like big butts and cannot lie. while you other brothers and sisters might deny me as a result, i have a confession to make... i am the owner of a lil lump round back- that's right my friends, i'm rockin' a dainty dumper.

remember the rare occasion when your parents would buy you a lunchable? i don't remember mine actually buying one for me as much as i remember the conversation that followed every time i asked for one. it would generally focus heavily on the financial obligation of such lunch treasures; how children were starving in india and we already had a shirt on our back WHAT MORE DID WE NEED?! my mother always acted as if i was asking for the baby jesus to spew pea soup when i asked for a lunchable. it literally required her to toss a box with over processed food in my face and call it a 'treat'...you don't even have to actually like your child to make them happy. even knowing this, i still regard them as both a sign of love from parents and a special delight for all children (even if my personal pallet has expanded beyond crackers, cheese, and awkward ham circles).

the anatomy of a lunchable is much like my own make-up. underneath a plastic sheath comes a delicious, snack-sized candy. pull back my neon cloak and you will uncover a small lump of love where my badonka-donk should be. it's little wonder why i affectionately call my fanny 'snack-size'.

now i'm the first to admit, it's not easy to embrace a less than ample booty. it seems as if our modern society has sunk its teeth into a ripe ol' apple bottom and tossed aside the core- the spirit of the ass, if you will.

most girls who share my lack of shape round back are shocked to find that i embrace what some feel is a physical shortcoming while they purchase padded underwear. what furthers their amazement and leaves their mouth agape is when i tell them that i regularly get comments on my delightful lil dumper. to be completely transparent- i should note that i always say 'comments' over 'compliments' as i know in reality these people aren't exactly tossing accolades my way. but as in life, it's all a matter of interpretation.

i interpret, "your butt is so soft, it's like laying on a little pillow" as "girl that ass is outta this world- let's snuggle". many might say i'm delusional- and they would be right. i hear, "it's less an 'ass' and more a meeting point for your legs..like a vagina on your back" and internalize it as, "i've been staring directly at your ass for an extended period of time and i said both 'ass' and 'vagina' in one sentence. either i want to sleep with you or i want to sleep with you."

now, do i really wish i had a watermelon shoved down the back of my pants? shockingly, no. i've grown to love the charms of what i posses. for instance, i wear my pants low- not gangster/super-thug-dyke low, but low enough that my hips are exposed on a regular basis. with low-rise pants or pants that hang a bit, one always has to be cautious of their crack poppin' out a la kilroy. BUT when you have a small posterior your crack starts much lower and thus your clothing options aren't limited to mom jeans and high-waisted trousers. i also can shimmy my way through aisles of movie theatres without ever being groped or have to apologize for my giant ass in someones popcorn.

i shroud my crack with a cloak of cockiness but in all actuality it's a defence mechanism. i love big booties on the women i pine after, but in my own drawers what i have is just fine. us with less than full fannies have to deal with everyone assuming that we wish ours were bigger. while i can admit that i'm attracted to larger ones, i appreciate the strength and grace it takes to shake a smaller tambourine. nothing makes me prouder than to see a skinny little caboose, gyrating wildly up in the club.

to my sisters in stunted dariairity- i urge you to stand strong. we might be little fellas but what we lack in girth we make up for in spirit. i for one will shake my snack-sized butt when and where ever i can- if only so others can see the inverted nature of my caboose isn't a handicap but a blessing in disguise. i leave you with the words of wisdom imparted to me from a drunk drag queen, "just because you don't have it doesn't mean you can't work it like you do." of course she was referring to a vagina- but the message still stands..WORK IT LITTLES!

queerFAQtor wednesday

2010-07-07T17:01:00.002-04:00

queerFAQtor wednesday
finally truth or dare week!

several weeks after initially posing the question to viewers we finally make good and do the 'truth or dare videos'. this video is a longer one but i assure you- it's worth a watch. what's mildly depressing to me is the fact that half of the video didn't make it past editing. some tidbits you will NOT find in here: my answer to the truth, "tell us a story about masturbation and your life" (i went on a 5 minute rant about my introduction to the word 'masturbation' at age 8); my completion of the dare, "put on your dinosaur outfit and dance in a public place to loud music" (i thought about completing this one at work, but i doubt i'd have a job afterwards so- pass).
happy wednesday friends!

vacation trip #3: reunited & reawakened

2010-07-05T17:48:00.002-04:00

--vacation trip #3: reunited & reawakened--

upper east side, nyc

i was in new jersey somewhere around hour number three of driving alone in complete silence when i figured out the meaning of life. all of my life i've regarded driving somewhere- anywhere- as one of the easiest ways to slip into an introspective mindset. some go to secret gardens, some go to the ocean, i just want to drive.

my comfort in cars started as a child. an insomniac from birth it would seem- i've always had problems sleeping. as a baby my parents would strap me in the car seat and drive around the neighborhood in order to lull me into slumberland. as a teenager, my car was my escape. i never drove too far but i did drive for long stretches of time; to calm myself, to restore my sanity, to collect my thoughts, to unleash them into nothingness. driving brought my anxious mind some much needed comfort.

the thing i love most about driving, is you remain in a constant state of moving even while being completely still. my restless soul finds little comfort in slowing down. i feel guilty taking time to completely stop life in order to examine it. while i allow my mind to become calm and relaxed, my body is moving along with my car...so while i'm never wholly still- i'm close enough to make me happy. (i blame this logic on my being an ambivalent gemini.)

in the past three weeks i've spent over 40 hours driving up and down the east coast- most of that completely alone. my latest driving adventure took me up to new york city. my best friend and her boyfriend recently sold all they own and moved from my utopia, san fransico, to their wonderland, new york city.

jill is an ethereal spirit. she is as intangible as air and yet as focused as a laser. she is one of the few people who has remained a fixture in my life regardless of distance, time, and emotional unavailability. she is also a phenomenal photographer. her cross-country move was two parts impulsively, one part calculated plan execution, and all heart. an unflickering flame glows within her and proves to be an inspiration to all who hear her story.

i found out on friday evening that i had to come into work early monday morning. that meant i had to leave that much earlier saturday morning to optimize my time in new york with jill prior to rushing back home for work. reason told me i would spend 30 hours in the city- tops; i would have to leave prior to fireworks even being considered so it really wasn't worth the 9 hours round trip. this momentary blip of logic was quickly overshadowed by jill's cries of “but it's my first weekend in the city- i used to live across the country...you have no excuses”. she was right- why the hell not...let's go!

so back to my basically solving life's biggest riddle- what is the purpose of life? i've never really stressed this question too much, as i felt confident that life is interpretive and there is probably no actual purpose to it- it simply is what you choose make it. but when i posed the question to myself this long and lonely drive, i chose to dig a little deeper for an answer.

i began to think about humankind on a broad scale. now while it is up for debate for some people, i believe in evolution and going off of that logic it is safe to say that humans have proven to be quite adaptable over the years. the main factor that ties us all together is our ability to grow, change, progress, learn...in essence evolve.

my thoughts then slipped into my own world. if throughout the course of humanity all we have done as a group is evolve, why can't the same be said for the individual? what if all we are meant to do on this earth is simply grow? it may sound like a modest goal for one to set as life's purpose, but would it be so bad if we all challenged ourselves daily to emerge at the end of it transformed...if only just a little?

the weekend went by far to fast. within the blink of an eye i was driving back home in the same symphony of silence that welcomed me in the first place. it was good to see jill again- she's the type of friend that when you see her, all of your insecurities slip away. we understand each other in a way that very few do...she makes me make sense. i was proud for pushing myself out of the world of logic and reason and did something a little impulsive...
in essence i grew as an individual, and isn't that what life is all about?

vacation trip #2: straight club

2010-07-05T17:23:00.002-04:00

--vacation trip #2: straight club--
washington, dc

i will be the first to toss myself under the bus and admit it's hypocritical- but generally speaking, all straight clubs make me feel weird. i go to bat for gay clubs all the time, assuring those who haven't been that it's worth a trip, you will have a blast...don't shun the unfamiliar.

i suppose i'm being hard on the establishments- it isn't their fault...it's the fellas that frequent such places whom leave me questioning why i even left the house. last thursday my friends and i started the evening at apex, a gay club in dc. as recent as several years ago apex's thursday night was a bubbling brook of activity. you ran into countless familiar ladies an gays, the drinks were cheap, it was college night, and for the most part- you knew what sort of crowd to expect week after week.

just one week after turning 23 reality slapped me across the face and assured me that my youth was fading fast. after our IDs were checked and our bracelets were fastened we walked into a ghost-town of a club. one or two committed dancers shook their bodies violently and waved their arms to no particular beat. other than that- no one was there. we attempted to see it though, hoping- wishing- praying- that we were just a little early and things would pick up.

things did indeed pick up and a steady trickle of fresh faces walked in. now by 'fresh faces', i'm not implying it was a bevy of beauties- but rather i doubt anyone outside of those i arrived with were even eligible to vote. my roommate, thuy, jumped on the dance floor at the sight of the young ladies. she began dancing with one but moments later returned.

"we need to go. NOW." she sternly said under her breath. not having any issue with making an early exit we all joined her in a walk towards the door. she explained to us that the young lady she was dancing with lived in our area and graduated high school nearby...not exactly an unheard of phenomenon in the northern virigina area. it would have been a neat story had it ended there, but thuy went on to tell us that not only did she graduate high school a few weeks ago but she graduated with thuy's baby brother.

wow. are we seriously "those old lesbians" now? i havn't even hit 25!

the night was still relatively young so we went to the straight club where our friend is a promotions girl. things started out fine. we grabbed a few drinks and began to float around the popped-collar peppered crowd. in my flat billed hat, skinny jeans and chucks i felt my sexual orientation was apparent outright. if there was any confusion, i was standing in a group of 4 or 5 lesbians- so that should confirm everything, right?

wrong.
wrong.
WRONG.

i'm not sure if it's because we exude a energy that genuinely wants to have a good time, or because drunk guys are persistent about pussy but whatever the reasoning, we were swimming in hetero fellas looking for fun.

i think it's presumptuous to shout within the first few moments of meeting someone about my sexuality. to me it implies that i have reason to tell them and if that's the first thing i say to someone at a bar, in my mind it's the equivalent to saying, "i feel the need to tell you this information because i assume you want to sleep with me."
after the second time i neglected to give out my number and after the third time my friends declined to slow dance, i did it. i dumped a giant can of worms onto the bar, "we are gay." this, of course, prompted the typical responses- "i'm a lesbian too, i love women"; "wait- like ALL THE WAY gay? like...100% no dudes?"; "well, whenever you want some real dick- i'm right here"; and the always charming, "shut the fuck up. you are lying".

just as in the halls of high school, the information quickly zipped back and forth across the bar. a man i had spoken with earlier in the evening approached me visibly upset, "you think just because you are pretty you can do what you want? i was nice to you. why did you have to lie?!" before i had a chance to sneak a word in he stormed off into the crowd.

i turned to my roommate, "what the hell was that about?" she was laughing uncontrollably at this point. after i talked to that man for a while, i had told him i was gay. he told me i was too pretty to be gay and i told him that most lesbians are but guys like him assume them straight. after he walked away he had gone up to my roommate to ask if i was actually gay. hearing this question over and over in one night can be exhausting so she thought it would be funny to spice it up and play dumb. "who? ashley? omg, she's gay? did she say that? haha wow, that's news to me."

aside from words, there was no way or reason to prove our gayness to these people.
we have no gay card.
we have no passport to love pussy.
we carry with us no scars or tattoo that indicates our sexuality.
we are all just people...so why get so hostile because one or two girls in a bar of hundreds don't want to sleep with you?

one guy went so far as to ask me what the hell we were even doing there if we weren't "down with dick", as he so eloquently put. in a glance i asked him if he was serious...he stared right back at me- "you all are just a tease." by the end of the evening the bartender gave my friend his number, a british man was trying to break in to another friend's car in hopes of coming home with us, yet our gay little heads remained held high.

will i be returning to a straight club anytime soon? i'm not going to limit myself and rule it out completely- but next time: flannel, birkenstocks, and rainbows will be a must in our hetero club fashions- and if that doesn't work i'll settle for drinking alone.

home again, home again

2010-07-05T05:27:00.001-04:00

home again, home again
jiggity jig

after what seems like my first vacation in years i've returned whence i came- back to reality. the break was much needed, but then again- when isn't it a perfect time to take a moment to break from normalcy?

the past few months have felt like the moments prior to a roller-coaster cresting the first summit. with each click locking the gears into a higher and higher position, time slows down. reason tells you to prepare for something- something big and powerful. your heart begins to race and for a moment the line between terrified and excited blurs into oblivion. you know at any second the machinery will cut out and gravity will then take over but in the meantime you toss your hands up and unleash a scream...

here we go-

i've had many adventures as of late. the first week in june i drove up north in search of a dream. in hunt for oprah, i wrote of my trip to new jersey in hopes of finding lady o and securing a spot on her new network. after a less-than-noteworthy audition i vowed to return in order to try- try again. a few weeks pass and a weekend trip to atlanta is on the itinerary.

--vacation trip #1: oprah's audition; atlanta, ga--

i woke up to the sound of soft chatter in the kitchen. my father leaned over the kick-wall dividing the kitchen from the living room, "almost ready to get up sweetie?" i smiled, nodded groggily and walked over to my overnight bag. i pulled out my checklist to make sure i had everything for our atlanta adventure. i had already gotten everything together the night before- rereading the checklist was more an ocd move on my part, but i wanted to ensure that this time things went without a hitch.

last time i went to the audition in new jersey i hit a few snags along the way. my stomach was alive with butterflies and my thoughts were scattered and frantic. normally i enjoy long lonely drives as i have time to sort out my thoughts and unharness my mind but this time around my father chose to join me and i welcomed the company. we both were treating this trip as a mini-vacation which lifted 75% of the pressure off my shoulders.

as more time passed between the first audition and the second my feelings towards the whole thing began to shift. i've worked very hard up until this point in my life to achieve those things that i want to. so i asked myself, "is this something that you want?". my initial reaction was an energetic and unmistakable "YES!! YES!!". as we drove the 10+ hour journey into the land of peaches i couldn't shake the term reality show...really ashley? you are for all intensive purposes trying out for a reality show, is that really who you are?

of course i mean it in no disparaging way to those who's answer is yes. my father and i drove up to the parking lot at 4:30am and there were already over 3000 people in a line that stretched for miles. it's clear that there is a passionate following for this thing. for me, saying it wasn't the be-all-end-all in my life was liberating. when i saw all those faces; when i felt the frantic energy of the crowd; when i walked around a giant warehouse looking for the end of the line- i knew that the answer was clear.

with my fears on the rise, i turned up to my father. with eyes wide and brows pointed towards the heavens i muttered, "this line is going to be here for a while, there are so many people here...i can't even find the end." he knew what i meant. "i'm not mad if you decide this is too much for you. it would be nice to just relax and explore atlanta." with that i smiled and nodded, together we walked back to our illegally parked car.

last time the crowd of 300 was borderline panic-town for me. now this go around there was 10x as many people and if that group were to take a turn for hysteria i knew i'd have the grand mal of panic attacks.

all in all i don't consider the trip a failure even though i didn't even stand in line or even try out again. the weekend was an incredible one. i wouldn't trade anything for the 20 hours i spent round trip with my father. we spent the whole time talking, laughing, and philosophizing about our lives...i hardly noticed the fact that we rare to never had the radio on.

i grew closer to a man that i've known, loved and respected for 23 years. he told me stories i'd never heard before. we talked about my papa (his father) who passed away years ago. the weekend that we drove down would have been his and my nana's 50th wedding anniversary. her friends took her on a trip to celebrate his life and my father told me countless tales of the sharp-witted man with the jet black hair.

the conversation took an unnerving tone amidst all this nostalgia and i couldn't quite put my finger on it. it wasn't until my father began his typical tirade about how he wants his funeral to be a celebration over a mourning that it hit me. "what's with all the death talk daddy? you keep talking about your health and papa and funerals...do you have to tell me something? you aren't even 50!"

my directness took him by surprise. his father had died at the young age of 52. he had scores of health problems...none of which my father has but my father is committed to the idea that he will meet his maker sooner versus later. try as he might to sound rational and level-headed about the situation, there is something mildly depressing about talking about the reality of death with a parent.

by the end of our journey i felt as if even if oprah herself had gotten down on one knee and hand delivered my very own show to me i'd still take the seemingly pointless 20 hour drive with my father. leave it to oprah to swoop in with the magical ending. the woman IS a goddess- she doesn't even have to be there to facilitate happiness and growth..thanks for that one, girl.

queerFAQtor wednesday

2010-06-23T17:07:00.002-04:00

queerFAQtor wednesday
updates, truth or dare, and apacowayner- OH MY!

life lessons from boys who are beastie

2010-06-21T14:41:00.006-04:00

life lessons
from boys who are beastie

the beastie boys song, fight for your right (to party!), has always been well received as a fist-pumping (pre-jersey shorification), party anthem. many a'frat boys and lady lovers alike have shouted this ditty at the top of their lungs whilst in the throes of a festive function. but the term "fight" never sat well with me. it was the puzzle piece that initially appeared to fit, but refused to lie flat and melt into the oneness of the whole.

what, pray tell dear ashley, would make this jam one that you could firmly chant without experiencing hesitation and frustration?

to put my neurotic mind at ease i wish the more appropriate verbiage was utilized, "assert your unlawful right to party". one doesn't actually need to throw 'bows in the name of beers, nor does one need to exchange punches for the sake of pong. if you want the non-governmentally supported law to be upheld-
why wouldn't you just go out do it?

this question begat another in my introspective snow globe of a mind; if that query can apply to a simple song- couldn't it be turned to the broader backdrop of life in general? if we want something more out of this life- something that law/other people/reason can't provide for us- we have to give ourselves permission to grab it versus constantly fighting the world around us.

all too often we want to look outside of ourselves for the answers that are hidden within. every day, life puts another proverbial fork in our paths. every hour, life bobs and weaves- spinning wildly around us. every moment is a choice, a challenge, and a cryptogram...every moment we decide, do, and decode in order to get closer to self actualization.

turning ones thoughts inward and looking at oneself honestly can be scary and painful. most fear their own truth so much that the thought of making a conscious choice to do so is inconceivable. i will be the first to admit, the excavation process does require that you open your eyes to your own darkness but it also is a journey where your bright, brilliant light will be found. it most certainly is not the easier road by any stretch of the imagination but i've found that the answers are more glaring when pulled out of yourself.

throughout the years i've heard it from therapists and peers alike, "you don't have to go through this alone- why do you always take the most painful path? life could be easier if you weren't so stubborn." the truth is that i know that ofttimes i opt for a journey that isn't as pleasant as i'd like. i don't relish in the pain nor do i seek it out as some form of emotional-masochism but i would be lying if i said i didn't purposefully choose paths that required self-scrutiny and were inherently more difficult. outwardly some mistake it for self sabotage, but i call it self-preservation.

some might argue that my analytical nature forces me to draw parallels between things that are meaningless. this is a fact that i'm willing to accept and deny, all at once. maybe things aren't as connected as i believe but maybe everything is connected, and lessons can be found in everything and every one around us. upon over analyzing the lyrics of the beastie boys, i stumbled across a powerful message to give heed to my life- stop cursing the powers that surround you, and start liberating yourself through changing your perspective.

the chains that bind us to a life that is less than what we want are self inflicted but so is freedom...but for all one knows the beastie boys where right- and we all have to FIGHT- FOR OUR RIGHTS- TO PARRTTYY!

queerFAQtor wednesday

2010-06-17T01:04:00.002-04:00

queerFAqtor wednesday

be the change

www.thetrevorproject.org

tuesday, no blues day

2010-06-15T16:57:00.002-04:00

tuesday
no blues day

it's an overcast day in the nations capital yet as i look to the sky i feel the warmth of the sun. while making a purchase at the 7-11 across the street from my work today, a man who was strung-out on something fierce approached me. his disheveled appearance jarred with the finely manicured flower beds that lined the streets he called his home. his matted hair and tattered shirt both were in desperate need of washing- or at least a spritz or two of febreze to help a brotha out. his eyes were warm and his smile was genuine. as he came closer to me, i smiled and said hello.

i've seen him before- he's not my favorite homeless person, but he is the most boisterous. my first encounter with him was over six months ago in the very same 7-11. he was screaming at the attendant demanding they go in the back and "GET THAT BLUE SHIT". he was referencing the mountain dew flavor, blue shock, which at the time was a seasonal promotion and was not widely available.

today, not unlike our first meeting, my friend was inquiring loudly about flavored sodas. one glance at the attendants face and you could feel their pain. you know deep down they want to throw him out, but aside from being a menace he wasn't actually doing anything wrong.

he slammed the glass refrigerator door and huffed over in my direction. while in line, i watched as he shuffled my way without once lifting his feet completely off the ground. just as i began to nod my head to the hypnotic rhythm of his well-worn shoes the beat dropped off and we were toe-to-toe. as my gaze transitioned from down to up, he looked me up and down.

"you are looking gorgeous from head to toe mami..dayum" i looked around to see who the man on crack was talking to. i knew that there was a chance he was speaking to me, but there was also a chance he was talking to someone in his head. "who me? wow- well thank you." i said as i tossed my items on the counter. he shook his head vigorously, "from head to fucking TOE. f'real girl- i mean it." my sentiments of gratitude were repeated once more and i began to gather my belongings to head into work.

as i walked out of 7-11 i stood a little bit taller and i swung my hips a little bit harder. the sidewalk became my runway and i'd have made rupaul proud in the way i sashay'd and shante'd. some might have taken a compliment from a homeless, drug addicted stranger in stride and known that it's validity is questionable at best- but i took him at his word.

i don't really care whether or not i actually look gorgeous to this man. i don't care if through his eyes i look like something out of an acid trip. all that matters to me is the fact that what transcends both social classes and mental competence is kindness and a smile. it doesn't take much to turn a bluesday back into a tuesday.

pride 101

2010-06-14T11:52:00.000-04:00

pride 101

lessons in the friend-hunt

pride events represent a lot of things to many different people. for some it's the party of the year; a time to let down ones hair and make new friends. for others- it's a time for a community and those who support it to gather around and marvel at how far they've come, while keeping eyes focused on how far we've yet to go. what everyone can manage to agree on, is that pride is a place of joy. pride is meant to bring people together- not divide them further.

i woke up to a nasty text message this morning regarding my 'not meeting up' with a few people at pride. i also got several, shall we say- rather assertive, texts throughout the entirety of the weekend from friends trying to meet up. this isn't my first go-around with pride, nor is it for countless friends around me- so why is it that people don't understand that the whole point of pride is to have a good time? pride's intention is not to cause strife between fellow gays. it's not the time to reprimand other friends who's paths didn't cross with your own. pride is simply not the place for your hostility to come out.

regular readers know that i try my hardest to remain relatively impartial in regards to my stances on things. i make efforts to see the other side before i develop my opinion but this is one time i will stand firm to my guns in defense of myself. most don't take it as a personal slight when they lose friends at an event that easily brings thousands of people out, but it did bother one friend. it bothered her so much she denounced our friendship and deleted me off of facebook. for the most part i don't allow facebook goings-on to spill over into my personal life, but with this one- i got upset. i wasn't upset that i had lost this friend as much as i was upset at how things happened.

my pride was spent surrounded by my best friends. it was a beautiful time in our beautiful city. we were the most energetic, dynamic, personable group of women around. we shared in adventures, picked up a few stragglers, met up with some strangers, made new friends, ran into old ones, but most importantly we had a great time. those around us, lest they be strangers or not, were our families in that moment. the faces that mirrored our smiles had it right- just enjoy this moment. there were those we attempted to meet up with but due to the sheer vastness of the city and crowds seeing everyone who attended pride just wasn't going to happen.

and you know what? you never see everyone at pride- ever. sixty percent of the time after uploading the photos later and then perusing through other friends albums, you'll discover you were mere yards away from each other all day. you will laugh about it- vow to meet up next year, but chances are just as likely that you won't...again, thus is the pride-friend-hunt.

i wish people would chill out. (it's a sad state of affairs when the borderline OCD, anxiety riddled freak is asking folks to chill) but honestly people- your friends don't hate you because they didn't see you at an event...your friends are busy suffering from heat stroke and awkwardly throwing up behind a camry in an alley while their ass is covered in gum they sat in. your friends aren't terrible people because they missed your phone call...your friends are busy looking for their roommate who blacked out- lost her id- had no money on her- and was eventually found sleeping alone under a dc alcove.

on the flip side of this coin are those friends who know how pride works. they know, that try as you might to figure out who will be attending what, you might not see everyone. they know that pride-misses aren't a personal attack on ones friendship. they know that at the close of the weekend, that friend still has your back through thick and thin regardless of whether or not you saw them. they know that a single appearance doesn't dictate loyalty, honesty or any of the qualities one looks for a friend.

i suppose i'm just being a bit sensitive this morning, as 8 back-to-back downright disrespectful text messages might do to a person upon just emerging from slumberland. i'm sorry if i come across as harsh but this weekend wasn't about you.

pride isn't about the individual, it's about the collective. while you sit there and stew about how awful your friends who 'ditched' you are, i will remind you of the sea of faces i saw this weekend. within that sea was happiness, joy and friendship. no one was throwing fisticuffs, no one was gettin' scrappy and pulling out weaves- everyone was proud. they were proud to be at a place where no matter who you are- you are accepted. they were proud to be swarming with absolutely enchanting individuals with brightly colored EVERYTHING. they put their arms around strangers and hugged them with both arms, none of this christian side-hug business!

what i feel people are missing when it comes to pride is the true reason we are all there. it isn't just to meet fresh new faces to befriend and bed, it's true purpose is to show how proud of ourselves we are. those who paved the way for us not so long ago would no doubt be disappointed in some of the shit that tumbles out of pride...but we can change that! the magnificent thing about life is that change is constant- and you can be part of that change even if you once were the source of the problem.

pride is a place to march.
pride is a place to dance.
pride is a place to be free.
pride is a place to be proud.

my lesbot life be like...

2010-06-12T04:42:00.003-04:00

my lesbot life be like...

my life be like- ooh ahh by grits

queerFAQtor wednesday

2010-06-09T17:49:00.000-04:00

queerFAQtor wednesday
apacowayner presents: poly livin'

june pride

2010-06-08T09:24:00.005-04:00

june

a month to be proud of

june is a cornucopia of celebrations. our first month that resides entirely in the summer season often brings fond memories of school letting out, summer sun, and lazy days. selfishly- i think of my birthday, father's day, and the summer solstice...in that order. (i'm not THAT selfish, they just all occur on the same days)

i narrow-mindedly thought that was it, that june- while full of fun and laughter- didn't exactly provide much in the way of holidays. after a little research i found that 'cornucopia' wasn't just a word common in my vernacular, but also a very appropriate summation for june. lactose intolerant friends beware, june is national dairy month. don't laugh- they won't be the only ones sh
itting their pants this month, because june is also national fruit and vegetable month. it's also a month that celebrates the 'rose'. i was thrilled at this discovery, but almost immediately after was left in udder disgust. when i read national rose month i assumed that my second favorite golden girl has an entire month devoted to her- i was mistaken. to complete the stool trifecta, june is also national potty training month. and finally- for all you pussy lovers out there, june is national adopt-a-cat month...so start adding to
your 'creepy cat lady collection today'!

june is also a beacon of hope for many gays all around the world. along with it comes parades, marches, demonstrations, parties, glitter and rainbows- all in love for the whole LGBT community. often, the week before pride weekend is a bit chaotic. texts, emails, and wall-to-walls fly around wildly, all wondering where the best events are. i like making lists, so i thought it was only appropriate that i share the list of where my friends will be going/performing/serving beer!

wednesday
jello wrestling @ phase one
9pm-2a $10 cover 21+
525 8th st SE
washington, dc

if i really have to twist your arm to go to lesbian jello wrestling then i mistook you for a LADY LOVIN' FOOL! but if you call a face full of cleavage 'home' then this is where you need to go this evening. i know my roommate and good friend will be rematching tonight, and it's bound to cause bill cosby to blush.

saturday
i strongly urge those coming from va or md to stick with metro; don't be the silly goose who gets a DUI or gets your car towed because you wanted to shimmy your rainbow flag ASAP.

the dyke march is at 3pm and leaves from dupont circle. the main parade will leave at 6:30pm and march from dupont to thomas circle. the real lesbitopia is going down after the sun does. the party to be at this pride for all lady lovers?

cobalt & LURe
the corner of 17th & R NW
washington, dc

LURe is known for throwing some of the most dynamic ladies nights in the dc area. i personally am a huge fan of bare their monthly party thrown at cobalt, as are nearly every lesbian who goes out in dc...so it comes as little shock that when i found out that 'bare' was on the same week as pride we ALL rejoiced. out of towners- hear my cries!! THIS IS WHERE YOU WANT TO GO ON SATURDAY NIGHT!
the excessive use of caps- while poignant- still makes me feel awkward...moving along.

sunday
the festival...please- i, and the other metro riders implore you- do not get too drunk prior to even ma
king it to the festival, it's not a good look.
but with that said the street festival starts at 11am and runs until 6pm. you must go to the main stage around 4:15, that's when the delightful miss eva will don the stage with her band kitten on capitol hill. please come out and support everyone whos a part of this fab
ulous event.

happy pride everyone!

hunt for oprah

2010-06-07T23:01:00.002-04:00

hunt for oprah

in search of dreams

i felt the vibration of my alarm before the sound crept in my ears. with less than ten hours of sleep the entire week, it was little wonder that i felt like in seven days time i had aged seven years. calling it "sleep" is being generous. night after night i wasn't sleeping- i was suspended above myself...eyes closed...mind racing...still completely aware of the world raging around me. as the idyllic tune continued to bring me closer to being fully engaged with life, the now offensive pitch was too much to bear- ok, time to get up- today was the day that i had been waiting for.

i alluded to my plans of impulsivity a while back in the post, hopes, dreams, wishes...and unicorns but in all fairness,plan and impulsive don't exactly go hand in hand. spontaneity isn't something that comes naturally to me. at best what i have been forcing myself to do is be calculatedly impulsive, which has been a challenge but i see progress.

it was 1:41am when i pulled out of my driveway in search of oprah. for an 'act of spontaneity' i was well prepared. emergency snacks in case my car flips over a bridge and no one finds my body for weeks- check. a cell phone with full bars, as well as backup cell phones in my center console in case mine dies just on the off chance i'm accosted by gang leaders and need to call the popo- check. an earth-shattering, brand new talk show concept, bound to change viewers lives forever- check. full tank of gas- check.

as i rolled backwards then lurched forward, my car transitioned into drive and i couldn't help but note the parallel it shared with my life. i had taken a step, albeit a modest one, forward. it doesn't require much effort to change gears, but the impact dictates the direction the rest of your life will go in. within the past few weeks i've been commited to pushing myself as hard as possible as it pertains to my dreams. that means doing things that scare the shit out of me; that means doing things i am in no way qualified for; that means doing things that in the past i would have run away from.

the drive was long and lonely. it was also the single most liberating drive i've ever taken. i've always sought comfort in driving- it's not the greenest practice i partake in, but i recycle so they cancel each other out. every road trip i've been on has had several friends along for the ride, but tonight i rolled alone. friends and family alike offered their presence by my side but it was important to me to do this by myself.

i was going up to new jersey to audition for oprah's search for a new talk show host. in addition to looking for a fresh new face, show producers were also looking for a brilliant new show idea- and wouldn't you know it, i've been planning one for sometime now.

it's painfully typical of me to admit, but one of my loftier goals in life is to be a part of a show. it seems as if everyone on the eastern seaboard agreed with me as i pulled up to the kohl's parking lot at 5:45am- as i saw about 300 souls standing in lines. i freshened up, parked, and marched over to claim my spot with the masses.

i had been driving on little to no sleep for a while, so a chatty cathy i was not...hell, i wasn't even a personable paula. i was, at best, a semi-concious samantha- but there i stood for two hours, patiently awaiting my bracelet to ensure i would be seen by the casting directors.

a man stood atop a chair and began shouting into a broken bullhorn. i can only assume it was broken because as far as amplifying his voice, it was not. his attempts at delivering a message fell on deaf ears. in addition to not being heard, his actions prompted a calvacade of chatter which then transformed into full on shouting- from adults. his message began to trickle back through the crowd. he had assured us all that we would be seen and that bracelets would be handed out momentarily.

now clearly, this was not the same message that everyone received. when i was a child i was that kid who changed the sentence in the game of telephone. i was that little prick who thought nothing was funnier than messing with people and fucking up peoples childhood. i suppose it's only fitting that my snot-nose-child antics would come back to cause me pain in my adult life. the message 75% of those around me received was, "run like hell- push down that skinny ass white girl- and getcho bracelet!" so, mass hysteria insues- everyone is running around, jumping over barriers, pulling out weaves, throwing babies (i might be taking some artistic liberties with the last two, but i'm going with it), and all around acting like jerks.

i don't blame oprah for this, no- she's still a saint in my little world, but to the woman who elbowed me in the eye then turned around and said, "excuse you", i say- "that was a tad bit hostile for the environment i think oprah would want, don't you? please forgive my eye socket, which resides inside of my SKULL, for getting in the way of your movable joint of an elbow. i channel oprah's grace and allow you in front of me in line, even though i know regardless you will push me over to get by."

arms crossing like swords, fists raised in fury- everyone scrapped for their chance at what was little more than any old club id check bracelet. a scrap of paper with a oprah logo; a yellow strip with a number; a chance to make our dreams come true.

after standing steadfast in my original line after another hour of near panic attacks i made it to the head- or rather the belly of the beast. it was here that most of the scrappiness occurred. people were jeering the security officers who were trying to give out the wristbands, they were pushing each other. i don't generally claim to be innocent when i am not, and in this instance i have to say i was not doing anything of the sort. i have a terrible fear of large stagnant crowds so this whole ordeal was less than pleasant, but i had set out to do something- and damned if i was going to let an angry, sweaty semi-mob stop me.

the beast was quit to spew me out once i had gotten my golden ticket. i looked at it once i could see the sun again- 900. "what!? i was easily one of the first 300 in line, if not 200. well- it's ok, we all will be seen today" i reassured myself. i walked up to a security officer. "what time should i come back to be interviewed if my number is 900?" he looked at me and laughed. "wow, that's pretty high- 8:00pm" i thanked him and walked away. turning to my wrist i checked my watch, it was 8:15am...i had my car, some dreams, some snacks- but nowhere to spend 12 hours!

eventually, it turned out that i was given bad information and i came back closer to 2pm after renting a hotel to take a lil nappy laroo in. fresh faced and ready to take on the world i stood in line for the last time before i made my dreams come true. problem was- i had no idea what we were in for. when i finally got my chance to show 'em what i got, i feel like i more or less showed 'em what i'm not. i didn't slam dunk. i didn't knock it out of the park. oh- i got a zinger or two in there, don't you worry, but as far as really explaining who and what i am and what my show would be, i didn't.

i drove back half hoping for that callback for sunday. who am i kidding, i was more than half hoping- every text, every call, my heart dropped thinking it was them calling to say "come back for round two, and really kick ass this time girlfriend!!" the other half of me knew that it wasn't coming...and i couldn't change that. the only thing i could do was accept it, and i did.

but acceptance doesn't equate to failure in my book, nor does it mean the ol' girl is down for the count. i'm sorry friends, but i will have to decline my invitation to new york pride this year- because ashley is going to be going to down to atlanta. with two precious peaches smuggled in my shirt i will be try- try- trying again to rock'n'roll em. throw those interviewers a real ashley curveball- full of sassafrass. if i don't succeed, then it wasn't meant to be-and there is no fighting what is in store for each of us.

late night confessions: friday night

2010-05-31T17:33:00.002-04:00

late night confessions
tell me sweet little lies

i have a confession to make- friday night i lied to a stranger for no reason at all and the guilt has been killing me.

after going out to a local bar my roommate's friend invited a few guys back over to our place. completely unaware of this fact, i began to freak out on the drive home-
with a pinch of panic in my voice i said, "hey guys, i don't mean to be a puss- but the car behind us has been following us since we left fairfax. i'm going to circle the house so they don't know where we live. after three or four left turns you can call the police."
a muffled giggle came from the backseat, followed by-
"aw ashley- you are so cute. those are my friends! they are supposed to be following us!"
don't roll your eyes at me... i'm not overly cautious but i am overly trusting- and i know this about myself. i'm the girl who believes every angry person just needs a friend- even if that anger puts a shank in their hand, that doesn't mean that they can't toss me a high five with the other. with the rose colored glasses i refuse to take off, my mother always said- better to be safe than sorry...and this was one of those times.
after arriving home we all settle down and begin to talk. it's rare that new straight men are in our home, normally the wiener-owners that grace us with their presence are our well established lesbros.
not shockingly the four dynamic personalities surrounding these boys eventually caused them to sit back and simply marvel at our always entertaining conversations.
one boy was very quiet, so i tried engaging with him. "so, you grew up in this area?" in northern virigina, that's always a great go-to question, because more often than not the answer is yes and it will spawn a new conversation about how typical this area can be.
paying just a dash of attention to him must have gotten his gears turning as he then became particularly inquisitive. normally i would happily entertain the line of questions being tossed at me, but he was blacked out drunk and i was certain he wouldn't remember meeting me- let alone the conversation in question.
when i came to that conclusion it was then that i decided to have a little fun...
"you guys have a really nice place here. how did you all meet?" he asked as he stared at me blankly.
without skipping a beat i, equally as blasé, retorted "oh, we met off craigslist."
clearly he wasn't expecting that, "really? craigslist is sketchy as hell."
"well- everyone knows craigslist is a front for criminal enterprises." i muttered as shot him a glance that said- i don't fuck around. "we're no exception."
it's worth mentioning that i've never been classified as anything remotely close to 'intimidating'. my glowing, alabaster completion coupled with my awkwardly long limbs do nothing but remind people of an albino scarecrow...except even crows aren't scared of me. however i can masterfully commit to an idea and sound so believable that even the most outlandish of shit that topples out of my mouth sounds plausible.
"f'real?" he said half smiling- still unsure of my truthfulness "that's cool."
deadpan, i assured him "we are deep into money laundering...how do you think four young women afford this place? you have no idea who you came home with."
anything more would have been too much, anything less- not nearly enough. without giving him a chance to respond i left the couch and retired to my room for the evening.

while alone in my slumber palace i congratulated myself on a job well done. i had successfully managed to either terrify my new friend or lick the envelope on my awkward life status- either way i left feeling satisfied. while i did feel a bit guilty about lying- i can't exactly apologize. for if were i to run into my new friend ever again i would most definitely recommit to my money laundering, craigslist loving ways. who knows, i might even let him know my gang affiliation!!

queerFAQtor wednesday

2010-05-26T15:46:00.003-04:00

queerFAQtor wednesday

de-spelling the myths: bisexuals

mythmaster ashley makes an appearance to spit some myths about the bisexual community...and a personal 'atta girl to yours truly, as i have managed to get a dinosaur in every video- today's included. (not sure if i should be proud, but fuck it- I AM!)

post break-up relationship

2010-05-25T01:07:00.003-04:00

post break-up relationship
who the hell are you?!

"what's in a name? that which we call a rose
by any other name would smell as sweet;
so my baby would, were she not my baby call'd,
retain that dear perfection which she owes
without that title."

after a relationship ends most assume that's it- the dissolution of the partnership is final and definitive. you both go your separate ways and hope to never run into each other ever again. as far as being 'lovers' is concerned, that chapter of your lives is over. outside of hollywood there is no end scene where all is right with the world and the two- temporarily parted lovers- run, slow-mo, into each others arms in a field of sunflowers. there is no moment where aerosmith's "don't wanna miss a thing" blares loudly over speakers and you kiss once more before one of you goes off to blow up an asteroid that is aimed to destroy earth. sometimes it simply is what it is, and that shared portion of your lives is done.

what we often forget is that in the avalanche of sadness there is room for hope. while something established is coming to an end, it is also the beginning of the newest chapter in your life- one of friendship with your ex. this isn't an easy route, but it can be done. where is the manual that says how one is to function after a break up? is it so wrong to handle oneself in a mature, reasonable manner? after every break-up i've had throughout my life i've been force-fed this 'mantra of independence' by those around me. you, undoubtedly are aware of this mantra without even knowing it. it's the well rehearsed speech that naturally tumbles out of our mouths when we see a friend in pain. regardless of the situation surrounding the break-up, catch phrases such as "you have more time to focus on you"; "you are better off"; and "you are now completely free", sting like an army of wasps. their intention is to make you feel more at ease with the notion of singledom and prevent you from future heartache but with every one liner tossed at you, you are further reminded that it's real- and it's gone. i don't think it's always appropriate to befriend an ex, but i have found that those who treat their break-ups as a transition into friendship generally come out of the ordeal with a few less scars.

there are sometimes where cutting and running is what you have to do. i hold onto the idea that everyone, with a little effort, can coexist in a harmonious fashion. i'm not about to say that everyone can be friends, because while YES it is in everyones limits to befriend everyone else it just doesn't happen like that. there are some people who just do not get along with others.

but for those who are open to friendly relations with exes, have you ever felt the harsh eye of friends of loved ones who think that the past should be left in its place? i've had lovers who didn't like that i was on good terms with exes, i've had lovers who strictly forbade any contact with exes (that relationship didn't last long. if you don't trust me than there is no room for us). on some level i can understand the hesitation, and agree with it- however in a relationship there should be a level of mutual respect. it seems if people have a problem with anyone, anywhere holding the title of 'ex'. wouldn't that include the greater portion of the world?! i digress, i've had friends who wouldn't go to parties because exes were there. i've had friends who refuse to have any exchange with their exes at all, and for what? like it or not, these people are a part of your history.

please don't misconstrue my words; i'm not trying to fill your head with grandiose ideas of a fictionalized life where every human interaction is ideal...no, i'm filling your brain and my chest with positivity and the hope of a brighter day as i know this life is a see-saw. i know that the pain i've experienced and seen inflicted all around me when couples fall apart. now even if a break-up is done on the best of terms, with the sweetest of intentions, hurt/rejection/and loss are all there...just as when things end on a sour note. there is no two ways around that swamp of sadness, but i think that in some cases it is possible for that relationship not to end but transform into a friendship. i think that sometimes your grandma is right and every new beginning comes from some other beginnings end...ok, either your grandma or semisonic.

the ocean & the sandcastle

2010-05-21T17:30:00.003-04:00

the ocean
& the sandcastle

the waves run ashore and reclaim the sand.
you watch a sandcastle melt into the water.
what once was majestic is now a memory.
naturally, panic sets in and your mind races-
"what if i had built it taller? or just a little bit stronger?"
reason tells you that you were never any match for the mighty ocean.
it was just a matter of time before she took back what was rightfully hers.
reason does little to ease the sense of loss.
just because you never owned the sand you claimed-
doesn't mean it was any less yours.
even though a pristine landscape now lives where your castle once did-
your work was not in vain.
you lovingly molded tiny, inconsequential, grains into a fortress;
you took scraps of broken shells and dirt and made something beautiful;
you built a house and made it your home.

sandcastles aren't meant to last forever.
after enough time, the waves will provide us all with a new perspective.

the power of pain

2010-05-17T21:17:00.001-04:00

the power of pain

and the power of perspective

the thing i find both curious and charming about pain is it's unrivaled power. the power of pain is one that even the most idealistic optimist can't deny. unlike a soft caress- pain will always derive a feeling, even when we assume that the skin has grown too callous to feel.

lest it be a pinch or a punch- pain is synonymous with displeasure. poor, pitiful, pain- it gets such a bad rap, and why? because it doesn't directly emote happiness? because often time it forces one to learn a lesson? because pain is a harder emotion to forget than pleasure? whatever your issue is with pain, i assure you it's not as dismal as it might seem...

when i was 17 pain paralyzed me for the first time in my life. i went to an open casket funeral; his name was andrew and he was my second cousin. our story was an interesting one and began in middle school- before we even knew we were related. i knew him as the incredibly talented soccer star, whom all the girls swooned for. he was funny, personable, intelligent, dynamic and he talked to me. a seemingly trivial fact now but at the time middle school politics dictated that like oil and water, we weren't to mix. he was popular, attractive, and well spoken; i was still about 4 years shy of puberty, donned the classically lame glasses + braces combo, and i hadn't yet grown into my killer wit.

what i later came to find out was andrew was a bit of tomcat. don't get me wrong- he was sweet and genuine but he told me later in our friendship that he initially had talked to me in hopes of getting closer to my sister- the hot one, who was two years older and in high school! but unlike every other boy who hit me up in hopes of scoring with my gorgeous,untouchable older sister, andrew became my friend as years went on.

my great aunt, who was a second mother to everyone who knew her, passed away and our family attended the funeral. while at the luncheon the church threw after the service i saw andrew's mother. when our eyes met she scurried over my way, "hi ashley, you don't know me very well but my name is pam- and i'm your aunt...more or less." my mother's side of the family is a twisted tree to say the very least- west virgina residency, illegal adoptions, common law marriages, and what can only be described as "bloodless, self-imposed familial ties" is what they call the extended family.

she went on, "i'm not sure if you have met, but i believe you have a class with my son andrew- he's your second cousin." ANDREW? the boy who wanted to sleep with my sister IS MY SECOND COUSIN? i suppose it could have been worse- instead of some lustful, meaningless schoolboy crush, he could have actually slept with her...hello therapy! i've grown to love the mystery that is my maternal side, but at the time i was horrified. upon my return to school i saw andrew and asked if he knew of our relation- it was news to us both.

in high school we had gym together and both suffered sports injuries around the same time. he and i were sidelined and forced to watch everyone learn volleyball while we wrote papers on how our lives were enriched through the sport of spikes. both of us had gotten knocked up in soccer; he had chronic knee issues because of the dedication he had for his sport; and during a tournament a girl slide tackled me from behind and broke my wrist (full disclosure: the year prior, in the same tournament my actions lead to her breaking her arm off of a corner kick...i will go to my grave stating i never intentionally hurt her- nor did i even get carded for the move but i digress.) it was during this time we grew the closest we would ever be.

within a year he left for reform school and our conversations grew more sparse. our interactions became limited to family events, which were few and far between. then one day a medicine ball hit me square in the chest- i was told andrew was dead.

a death in high school is terrible for two reasons: one- teens are already on an emotional precipice and a death of a peer can have far reaching emotional consequences; two- (which was the unfortunate case with andrew) the rumor mill spins wildly and the death becomes a sideshow of sorts. i talked to his mother on several occasions after his death and to this day she regards the gossip surrounding her son's death as one of the biggest challenges during the grieving process.

i remember not wanting to go to the funeral not because i was too distraught to be seen in public, but i feared that people would judge my lack of reaction harshly. andrew and i talked openly of our depression and at that time i was still in a very dark place. while it wasn't directly the effect of his death, my depression had taken a turn for the worst and this was merely icing on the cake. i wanted to go to support his family and let them know what a brilliant light andrew had within him, so i sucked up my fears and went to the funeral.

it was an open casket...he was 17 and it was an open casket. to this day the image is burned in my mind...him lying there, soccer trophies peppered about a table next to him, the top of the casket littered with old photos and memories. it was the first time physical pain from sadness paralyzed me. i stood about six feet away from the coffin with my left hand on my right shoulder- this was the time when i should have cried, but all i could do was stand and stare. there was no outward expression of sadness, no tissues, no dramatic scene, just me standing in front of a coffin staring blankly at my friend- my family- andrew.

in hindsight, it's really no big surprise i didn't cry at andrews funeral- or any of the funerals i attended in that time of my life. emotionally i was completely shut off from the world, but with andrew's funeral came an epiphany. i was reminded that no matter how detached we become, we are always capable of feeling something. even though that something manifested itself in crippling depression and an awkward statuesque scene in front of a casket, the fact of the matter was that i felt something.

pain is vilified so much in our world because it's not pleasure, dealing with it isn't as easy as simply accepting joy. but that doesn't mean that we can't gain something from each painful experience that we have. with andrew's death, i learned that the lights are never completely turned off until you are dead. that no matter how strongly you believe you are emotionally inept or that depression is all you can feel- remember that you are feeling and you are alive...and that's forever something to celebrate.

absence

2010-05-14T18:20:00.000-04:00

absence
acceptance

we've been told all of our lives that absence makes the heart grow fonder. it's a mantra that is clichéd- trite- archaic- and abstract; and yet we cling to it as if it's our only lifeline left when backed into a corner. when someone departs from our lives or general vicinity, in order to lessen the blow we fill our heads with idyllic notions that they will return to our arms or hearts one day. we hold onto the hope that at that point the past will be erased and a new world order will ensue with you both living like kings.

it's easy to ignore the fact that absence can also have the contrary effect; not making the heart grow fonder, but helping to bring to light the fact that humans are self sustaining creatures and you never needed anyone, but rather wanted them there. we throw so much up to the heavens and call fate whenever something "can't be explained"; and why? because internalizing a feeling and analyzing it proves to be too much of a challenge? fate might have brought you two together, but a mutual choice kept you together. don't minimize your role in your own life. yes, the universe is bigger and more powerful than most can imagine but that in no way trumps the power of human choice.

the truth of the matter is that sometimes people don't return. life isn't always a soap opera with reoccurring characters and themes; sometimes sentences end with a simple period over an ellipse...and that's the end. it is a very challenging mindset for me to accept, but everyday it becomes more actualized to me.

i've always been unusually plucky and optimistic, thus 'throwing in the towel' or giving up on ANYTHING isn't something i do without a fight. most people claim it's their pride that keeps them from admitting defeat; i claim it's my heart. to give up on a person, a feeling, a task, or a dream means admitting to myself i set the bar too high; it means i unrealistically thought i could do something that i, in fact, could not. fuck my pride- it's my heart that shatters when i fail.

i've come to the realization that acceptance doesn't directly translate into failure. the initial emotional response might feel the same, but in all actuality they couldn't be more different. with failure- you set out to complete a task and either weren't capable or chose not to follow through with. with acceptance, i liken it to a novel- within it are a number of chapters, the parts to a whole. and while some chapters are more salacious and titillating than others, you don't throw the book down in disgust because a chapter has come to a close- you press onward, eager to see what's next.

with failure comes defeat; with acceptance comes hope.

i'm not giving up on dreams/people/life in general, but i rest assured knowing that if a day does come that forces me to stare facts in the face and walk away from something arguably unfinished, i will greet it with hope over despair.
i know that i'm strong enough to weather any storm, as are we all...

queerFAQtor wednesday

2010-05-12T15:40:00.002-04:00

queerFAQtor wednesday
talkin' dirty with apacowayner

i'm a shy guy when it comes to talking about sex on such a public level...but i think this was a respectable attempt at disscusing just that.

queerFAQtor wednesday

2010-05-05T16:37:00.001-04:00

queerFAQtor wednesday
queerFAQtor quizzles

this week we discuss being out in the workplace...

random thoughts #29

2010-05-04T18:07:00.000-04:00

random thought # 29
my brain is a shaken snow globe today

classifying myself as having wanderlust is a stretch. while it would be more accurate to say i 'have an unexplainable and overwhelming desire to wander throughout the west (specifically the bay area) whilst documenting my adventures via witty blog musings and entertaining videos', it just doesn't pack the same literary punch and have the same readability as the simplistic, 'wanderlust'.
whatever verbiage you fancy, the fact still remains that san fransisco changed my life. i cannot wait to breathe that bay breeze once more. the city by the bay proved to be the first time a location transformed me, taught me, and opened my eyes.
my best friend jill (of san fransisco) has taught me through her example that everyone should be in touch with their inner hippie. i'm not advocating going out and buying a brick of weed and smoking it by the reflecting pool on the national mall (because the 5-0 doesn't smile upon that ), i am however in support of a more whimsical way of thinking. i'm trying my hardest to channel that emotion...so today, i'm going to find a flower- and let it know just how beautiful it is...then do the same to a person who needs to hear it.
i still refuse to understand twitter...but i'm finally willing to admit that it's a 'refusal' to educate myself, not the fact that twitter is complicated and beyond me.
nothing is more frustrating as when you are succeeding while failing at the same time. challenges come in all shapes and sizes. when one is massive enough, it's illogical to tackle it all at once... breaking it down into more digestible pieces isn't wrong but outwardly those around you assume you are gasping for air when in reality you are making big strides in your life. i'm succeeding for myself, but i can't shake the defeating feeling i get when you look at me in that way...i wish you would just allow me time and space to complete this task.
on may 3rd, 'world press freedom day', upwards of 35 journalists are still detained in prisons in iran for doing their job...click here to e-mail iranian president mahmoud ahmadenijad calling for the immediate and unconditional release of journalists jailed in iran since june '09 and to reopen the sealed office of the association of iranian journalists. if we stop the press we shut down our most powerful link to the world. i still believe in the power of journalism in spite of the sensationalistic way that most choose to portray it.
i never thought i would classify myself as a person who believed that there was a genetic tie to homosexuality. if one could argue that point, than who's to say someone won't take it one step further and try to 'cure' this 'genetic mutation'...rounding us all up like livestock, 'fixing us',. ok- perhaps i thought a bit too colorfully on this one, but be that as it may- my tune has a new harmony added to it today. i've come to the realization that there HAS to be a genetic link for at least certain portion of lucky lesbians. much like 'dyke swagga', lesbian hat head is something that a special goup of lesbots are blessed with.
you know that typical, american apparelesque, super slouchy beanie- that when held up looks like you could smuggle dreads and a bucket of babies inside? those aren't designed for people with sensible sized heads, they were designed specifically for hipsters and lesbians with lesbian hat head.
i've yet to visually confirm that the lesbians who wear these hats without fear of them falling off ACTUALLY have cone heads, but i'm friggen convinced. it's just a thought...
i'm all for thumbing ones nose at social norms and being an original (a belief no doubt bolstered by my purchase this weekend, see left) but there are some who flirt with that line a bit too much. i can appreciate that people assert an artistic flair when it comes to the monotonous palate of facebook. i think that your default picture is the most blatant way for you to express your personality. perhaps i took a trip to crazy town recently, but last time i checked the 'face' of facebook had a self implied 'you' along with it. it can be topical and witty to upload a photo of another person, but when every photo of you is someone else i begin to get uncomfortable- cut that shit out. you do not look like selena gomez- you look like you...please stop uploading photos of her as your default only to have me feel like a shallow asshole when i realize that fact and become enraged that i fell for another fucking doppelganger.

guilty pleasure, uncouth treasure

2010-04-29T11:50:00.000-04:00

guilty pleasure
uncouth treasure

i have a confession to make; a guilty pleasure of sorts. it's incredibly embarrassing when i think about it from a logical, mature standpoint. my rational side knows it's highly inappropriate and degrading but damn it if i don't love a disrespectful ditty. nothing gets my gears going on the dance floor like lyrical gems such as, open up her legs then filet mignon that pussy.

i know for a fact i'm not alone in this admittedly hypocritical belief. i have scores of lady friends- young and old- who coyly nod 'yes' when asked if they tap a toe or two to these mildly misogynistic jams. now, in the interest of being impartial (or as impartial as one can be on an opinion based post), it's also worth mentioning that numerous women thumb their noses at these songs and find them disgusting. you most certainly won't find them downloading them offline, much less paying for them in stores. the baby feminist in me cringes when these songs turn into club anthems for intrinsically, i believe that women should indeed be respected and treated as equals. but the fact still remains, i'm lookin' for a dime that's top of the line- cute face slim waist with a big behind.

before you shake your fists wildly, don your activist hat and begin penning your 'way to set the women's rights movement back 25 years' letters, know that i wouldn't make such a blasphemous statement against women unless i had some reason to support my claims.

in recent years there has been a movement of women who are out to 'reclaim their sexuality'. when i first became aware of this movement, the mantra was intriguing. i like being a lady; i support the rights of my fellow females; and while i've never felt like someone commandeered my sexuality per say, i'm down for reclaiming it! in theory, reclaiming your sexuality is great. many therapists encourage women to own their bodies and subsequently their sexual desires. this proves to be a tremendous help to rape victims in particular, who often suffer with a laundry list of sexual issues post-trauma. i have absolutely no gripes with those who 'reclaim their sexuality' in a healthy and productive manner.

my issue with this mentality comes from another group of women; those who assert their sexuality by flaunting it indiscriminately and in the process completely undermining the whole point of reclaiming it in the first place. under the guise of being strong-willed and sexually confident these women belittle themselves by accepting a role as a sexual object. you no doubt have heard of those ladies who try to 'turn the tables' on their male counterparts by joining them in an emotionless take on relationships.

please don't confuse my stance on these women as me saying i don't support sex outside the confines of a relationship. i most certainly can get behind a more liberal take on sexuality; i even support casual sex between consenting adults . as i grow older i understand more and more how people can float through life unattached to another person. it's not wrong or morally corrupt, it's just a different viewpoint than my own. i just don't understand how one can claim that they are owning their sex by giving it away for free and treating it as if it's nothing special.

if some can go so far as to claim that by devaluing our sex we are in some way harnessing it's energies, then i don't think it would be too brazen of me to state that i think these horribly offensive songs are simply misunderstood. what we once classified as objectifying language is in actuality- well, ok...drop down on all fours like a dog, now i'm lookin at yo ass 'fore i hit it does prove to be a bit of a challenge to spin in a positive manner. ..a challenge? yes. impossible? no.

see, what the classics such as: 'me and my bitch' from biggie; 'jane fonda' from mickey avalon; 'i can tell' from 504 boys; and pretty much anything out of lil wayne's mouth, have in common is their unquestionable love of women. sure, they may use some depersonalizing terms in reference to us ladies but to me their intentions are clear. it's obvious that these men are spitting licks about women not because they hate them, but because it's whats on their mind. the female form is an irresistible one. one that has the power to burn an image in your mind. a form that is worthy of praise, accolades, and commemorative songs. these men are merely glorifying the majesty that is a woman.

the challenge isn't in reading between the lines in order to uncover something sweet amongst the bitch and hoe references; the challenge is in changing ones perspective in regards to these songs. upon hearing, police pull me over- they don't write no ticket, all between my legs tryna lick it, it would be easy to be offended- it's harder to admit it's just a song and isn't worth getting upset about. do i honestly believe these disrespectful lyrics are worthy of high praise? most certainly not, but i won't deny that i enjoy the beat and find the words hypnotic.

now that the weight of this guilty pleasure is off of my shoulders i implore you to listen to the following uncouth treasures (as compiled by friends and myself):
*~ bitch is a bitch- NWA
*~ lil freak- usher
*~ raindrops- jeremieh (to be honest, i just like the video because i enjoy the way the women are shaped, the lyrics of the song are actually quite gross when you think of what sort of raindrops he's referring too- or i'm just a perve who took it there)
*~ pull my hair- ying yang twins (honest to god, one of the sexiest- nastiest songs around...i can't get enough)
*~ pussy- jackie o (you have to do some digging to find this gem, as she released a more PC version called 'nookie'. this song must be played on high blast in your car...or would be fun in a gynos office)
*~ i can tell- 504 boys
*~ so rich, so pretty- mickey avalon (or any song mickey does, to be frank.)
*~my neck, my back- khia
*~smack my bitch up- prodigy

queerFAQtor wednesday

2010-04-28T15:15:00.002-04:00

queerFAQtor wednesday
the tale of pacosaurus and the ashonaut

this week we were to tell a story- i'm sure that the topic more specifically was implying that we tell a story about our own life but my life is boring in comparison to the tale of the pacosaurus and the ashonaut...agh, alright, you got me- i just wanted an excuse to try and make an astronaut helmet this morning (fear not, i failed miserably).

"yes, it still exists" files #1

2010-04-26T18:00:00.000-04:00

the "yes, it still exists" files
#1: pusspie

last week, i didn't wave to the man who let me slip in front of him while in bumper to bumper traffic. not only did i not wave, but i didn't even bother to turn my turn signal on as the merge implied that i was going to be doing that anyways. i'm not generally such a discourteous driver. normally- were i not to frantically wave back, i would spend the rest of my drive feeling guilty that i had been one of the people i hate so much. i would have let thoughts of, "i hope i didn't upset that driver" and "if i had waved, perhaps their day would have been a little bit brighter" overwhelm my brain. this day was different, it was clear that everything i once loved was doing little more than annoying the shit out of me:
children laughing on the playground by work- look at those fuckin' slackers.
a sweet girl flying a kite- i hope you get electrocuted and your flying bit of joy crashes to the ground in a ball of fire.
old people holding hands while sitting on a bench- *rolls eyes* i bet that old fella creeps on the regular with women 30 years his junior.
a kitten crosses the road- AGH, HE'S NOT EVEN A LOLCAT- FLOOR IT!
it was offical- i was in a bad mood.

people slip into funks from time to time- it's inevitable. upon hearing of someone feeling low, we are all too quick to tell them to 'snap out of it'. sometimes the best cure for a bad mood is to work through your sauciness, truly allow yourself to wallow in that anger for a little bit. surround yourself with your most passive aggressive, sickly sarcastic, perfectly pessimistic friends and let the hostility within you escape.

after that, it's nice to be reminded of the goodness in the world. when in a bad mood, the bright spots in life often fade and are more difficult to see. that's where i come in with a series i like to call the "yes, it still exists" files. these are little tales that i've stumbled across that are shining examples of- well, just plain goodness. lest it be something sweet ive witnessed amongst couples, or a simple gesture that put a smile on my face the intention of these posts are to lift your spirits and remind you that even when it seems that the entire world is on it's period and is cranky as hell- that goodness, love, and kindness still exist...

pusspie

dee hadn't been feeling well all week- she was most definitely having 'one of those ~~days~~ weeks'. it's worth mentioning she's been in the process of moving from dc to massachusetts for a little while now- a move that substantial would be more than enough to stress someone out, especially now that it's coming down to the wire. but add to that transferring schools, battling a cold, still maintaining a job, and tackling life's riddles- dee was spread thin and worn out...she needed a reprieve.

after a particularly challenging day, dee walked into her house- hating life. no doubt grumbling under her breath, rueing the day every annoying person was born. her cold made her sleepy, her interactions with humans made her want to dismember them, and she had almost forgot what love felt like for a moment.

she sassily walked her way into the kitchen (because, let's be real- everywhere dee walks it's in a sassy manner...girlfriend's got a lot of attitude in her walk, and by 'attitude' i mean 'assitude'.) whilst fumbling around for something that would lift her spirits she spotted a delicious new friend. what did she find on the counter? none other than a homemade pie just for her, placed lovingly on the counter by stancil.

if stancil had simply made her a pie, i would have thought that was pretty sweet- but nothing too above and beyond the normal gestures of love. but good ol' stancy didn't stop at just a pie- she lovingly painted a pretty pink friend atop the pie, stuck a thermometer in her hole with the message of, "get well- and enjoy this pussy pie".
that ladies, that's what i like to call, real love.

so- if you are having a case of the monday's today (or any day for that matter) remember, it still exists...even if you personally don't see it.

queerFAQtor wednesday

2010-04-21T20:49:00.003-04:00

queerFAQtor wednesday

fears and phobias

i ain't 'fraid of no ghosts...but santa is a whole different ball game.

hopes, dreams, wishes

2010-04-19T10:25:00.009-04:00

hopes, dreams, wishes
...and unicorns

i think about dreams everyday. i think about my dreams; i think of the forgotten and abandoned dreams of our salad days; i think about the dreams of those around me. hopes, dreams, wishes (and unicorns...why the hell not?) are polaroid's into someone else's imagined world. the number of people you have slept with, how many poor life choices you have made, or your most classified information is of little importance to me. the secret of yours that i covet above all things is your honest, unfiltered, flight of fancy. to me, nothing is more fascinating. i'm not sure what it is but the concept of turning a whimsical notion into a reality is inspiring to me. on my own, i cook up new dreams daily- a constant flow of optimistic energy surges through my brain, and after some hemming and hawing regarding logistics, out pops a shiny new ambitious aspiration. will it take flight and turn into something tangible? or will it give birth to another idea that will push me further? only through living and learning will i find out.

talk of the weather, what you do for a living, or if you come here often are the common standby's people jump to when attempting to strike up a conversation. why? why water-down your mind for the sake of forcing an exchange of words? if i'm talking to you- i want to engage with you and there is nothing more i'd like to gain from a stranger than their life thesis. the same four words tumble out of my mouth to stranger and lover alike- what are your dreams? i can't seem to stop myself- i continue to drop my bucket into their well of life, hoping to gain clarity in my own. i want to know what inspires them, what propels them forward in life, what prevents them from living a sedentary and unfulfilled existence. i enjoy watching people struggle to find the words to accurately express what is literally untouchable.

it's interesting the answers you stumble across when asking people to lay out their goals. some abruptly answer with curt, snarky, uninspired thoughts such as, "i dont know, now leave me alone." a handful have well versed, highly documented plans that they are more than happy to lay out in great detail. you might think this would be a chore to listen to but in reality these hyper a-type personalities are simply inspirational to chat with. once you get beyond their heir of importance and you drop the notion of, "wow, i suck. what am i doing with my life, comparatively speaking", you find the spark. the metaphorical light inside their eyes that comes on only when someone is committed and passionate about a goal or theory. seeing something so honest, so quick, so slight, in a person who only functions using logic gives a glimmer of hope to the non dreamers- and fuels the fire of those already awakened.

i find more often than not, people fall into a third category. while they don't know their ultimate path, they aren't apathetic about it...just wide eyed, open, ready to take it all in. a mindset that doesn't exactly classify as a 'curveball' from my peers. we are early to late 20-somethings, it's almost to be expected that we'll grapple with life's infinite questions and riddles.

so- you just graduated college and placed your beautiful piece of paper on the mantle at your parents house (because, let's face it- aside from that degree, you aren't quite rolling around in paper). after the novelty of being a graduate wears off, the reality of life drops a steaming load in your lap. said load is chalked full of fun nuggets; "i am going to be stuck here forever."; "do i go after money, or go after my passions?"; "SERIOUSLY, WHERE ARE ALL THE FUCKING JOBS AT?!"; "you gain experience from the job, but to get the job you need experience. WHAT?"; "i am suckling the proverbial teat again...living off my parents."; and finally, the most pressing of all, "what the hell am i doing with my life?" i'm right there with you my friends. actually, the overwhelming majority of people: fresh faced 20-somethings, cougars pushing 50, or not-so-legal pre-teens; we are all there...wandering, but never lost. we are all puttin' along in the same little boat, the s.s.insight plus a dingy named magic (because proper planning is key, one never knows when the boat will capsize...comon, you really think i'm going to be that wreckless- pfft, yah right).

my mother's dream has always been to be a writer. i remember as a child, her innate ability to paint a picture with words captivated my young mind. always encouraging us to think creatively, she would use the guise of a 'game' in order to teach my sister and i. as a budding wordsmith, i loved when she would give out a 'word of the day' and a la pee wee herman, we would use it as often as possible and then celebrate wildly when it was used correctly in a sentence. one of my favorite games she would play with my sister and i was 'finish the story...'. as the name implies, the object of the game is to add onto a story that is being passed around amongst the participants. my sister hated this game with a passion. not because she's devoid of an imagination but rather one time my mother told a story about our dog dying, being put on a boat, and sailing off for 'greener pastures'. the 'max story', while completely fabricated, is still referenced to this day as a moment my sister was scarred for life...my mother's defence? "stories have a mind of their own, you can't always control them".

my mother is a lot of things but a big dreamer she is not. she talks often of her lifelong dream to write and be published; to be read and be understood; to be the creator of a world and to connect with strangers. but the darling defeatist is quick to admit that after being with the same company for over twenty years; after utilizing the same skill set day after day; after children and a life; dreams slip away. priorities shift from passions to obligations, and while they are never completely lost- they do transform. the once bright, shiny, hope filled possibilities shift into a dull pain in the pit of your stomach. dreams unchased become cancers, and only serve reminders of an incomplete mission.

i've always felt a tremendous amount of guilt in regards to my mother's life. she chose a family and a secure career path over following her goals for no other reason than she wanted to provide a steady foundation for our family. whilst in the throws of adolescence, i came to the conclusion that life after school would result in one of two options. i would, like my mother, fall into a stable career path; live within the same 15 mile radius for all of my days; and long for the chance to do what made me happiest. or i could work relentlessly towards something i believe with every fiber of my being; live a less secure life than i feel comfortable with; and wake up everyday knowing i'm moving in the right direction.

my hopes and dreams might have changed throughout the years, but my passion never has. i've had ups and downs and dealt with the typical ebbs and flows of life. i've felt listless, uninspired, misdirected, and hopeless in the process of following my happiness. there have been moments where i've collapsed and told myself "your work is meaningless, what are you doing it for?". there have been more than a few times that i've felt completely lost- we all have, but the beauty of life is that as long as your living there is the opportunity for change. as long as oxygen tickles your nasal cavity at a life sustaining pace, you are still in charge. while they are all healthy ideals; security, being 'safe', and erring on the side of caution does nothing but limit your potential. i will be the first to admit, i do things as safely as possible...i enjoy job security, i like a regular paycheck, i hate being low man on the totem pole but assure myself i'm simply paying my dues. i'm ok with where i'm at- but that's the only place i'll ever be unless i do something to shake things up.

i'm going to do something that many might think is impulsive and rash; i'm going to do something that some might deem absurd- frivolous even; i'm going to do something to for no other reason than i feel compelled to; i'm going to do something whether or not it's approved; i'm going to do something to make the nagging voice in my head who shouts daily, "you aren't working hard enough", finally shut up.

the ninety and nine are with dreams, content but the hope of the world made new, is the hundredth man who is grimly bent on making those dreams come true.
-edgar allan poe-

the cloud game

2010-04-16T15:44:00.001-04:00

the cloud game
www.youtube.com/apacowayner

i hope you have a magical day.

queerFAQtor wednesday

2010-04-14T17:35:00.003-04:00

queerFAQtor wednesday
ayo girl, whatcho type be!?

just fast foward to the end...if you are a booty fan, you can thank me later for the sassy gem i sneaked in there; if you are a mammory gal, you need to fast foward to 5:05. happy humpday, friends!

lesbifriends lends a hand...

2010-04-13T19:02:00.000-04:00

lesbifriends lends a hand
you are not alone

i've recieved a handful of emails throughout my time running lesbifriends. after sifting through spam, porn (which i will defend as 'not always spam'), and a few mismarked emails i did come several letters intended for me.

the common theme that has run throughout the messages has been a basic one- help me. whether it's 'help me find more gays to hang out with' or 'where can i go this weekend' or even 'how am i to approach other women'. (admittedly, you are on your own with the last one...my approaches rarely work for me- let alone other people. i just thank my lucky stars that my dreamboat of a girlfriend somehow fell for the ball of awkward that is ashley.)

one e-mailer struck a cord with me and it prompted this post. in her e-mail she explained that she felt alone as she was newly out and didn't know where to turn. undoubtedly a last resort, reached out to me for comfort.

i am in no way trained to help clincially, mentally, or physically...but if you ever need a little friend, my hand is outstreched- all you have to do is grab ahold! when i was at my lowest and i felt abandoned and shunned by all of those around me; i remember vowing then and there to one day become that one person to someone else. the one person who reconnects you to society, who acts as a soundboard, who you can unload on without fear of judgment or ridicule.

click here to e-mail me

feel free to email your comments, concerns, worries, or questions over my way.

take care friends!

random thought #28

2010-04-13T13:22:00.006-04:00

random thought #28

a little lesbot rant + some thoughts

___________

"i'm not a lesbian!" the phrase took me by surprise coming out of her mouth...i know sexuality is fluid and i don't raise issue with those who amend their title later on in life- but this girl has slept with more women than shane, loves crafts more than rosie o, and hasn't seen a woozle since sex-ed in high school. her tirade continued, "i refuse to allow this world to place me in a box, and the title of LESBIAN does JUST THAT." you would have thought she was speaking at a gay rally and lesbians had switched sides and were picketing with westboro baptist church. melodramatically, she went on, "walls cannot hold me back- the term 'lesbian' is so passé i just- i- i- i can't do titles any longer... from now on i am simply 'me'."

i appropriately chimed in, "oh, well that's neat... so can i still hit on you or not?" cue the pregnant pause, "what? was that out of line??" apparently it was and a dramatic eye roll from my friend was the only response i got. it was clear that her passionately prepared speech fell upon my deaf ears, and she did not get the reaction she had hoped out of me.
how did she expect me to respond? "thank god you don't identify as a lesbian anymore...who wants to sleep with snatch all the time anyways? lesbians are boring- what with all the plaid, only hitting on girls, the downright reckless use of beanies. good for you for spicing it up... fuck those walls holding you back."

she told me that she was no longer a lesbian, but simply 'me'...am i to congratulate you on identifying yourself as yourself? i get that finding yourself is a journey, but is saying 'i am me' really THAT much of an epiphany? i'm sorry you don't feel that 'lesbian' is an appropriate title but i'm tired of swallowing negative statements just so someone else can feel 'more like themselves'.
don't get me wrong, i'm thrilled that you have found a more accurate way of identifying yourself, but don't rip others down in the process. while 'lesbian' may be a confining title for you, it is a liberating one for me. it took me years to say it aloud, let alone identify as such. the word alone has proved to be the key for countless women who have found strength in identifying as a lesbian.

those 'walls' that you refer to, the very ones you claim hold you back, are self imposed. the world doesn't care who you sleep with; the world doesn't say because you are a lesbian you can't have feelings for certain people; the world did not place you in a box. you allowed yourself to believe a simple word could dictate your life, and with that you all but jumped into the 'box' you are trying desperately to escape.

___________

is it just me, or have both diane sawyer and katie couric found their inner power dyke now that they are on nightly news?

at first , i could excuse the more conservative attire as a move thats intent was to mirror the serious tone that their broadcasts have taken. the networks had their work cut out for them. both women left very public, successful morning show positions, where it was their duty to be the nation's little cupcake of news come 7am. and now their job requires them to be strong assertive, credible, newscasters...(which i think they both are doing well- but my girl, diane, is KING)

now, the hair is shorter; the blazers have broader shoulders; and the overall look is more gender neutral...watchout rachel maddow, they' re all about your dyke swagga'!
___________

{-} an ashley definition {-}
~~republican~~ fanatically right-winged party-sexual girls:
(personal pronoun); women who openly and proudly wear their political affiliation on their sleeve, they are not afraid to get up in your face and let you know that they are merely trying to 'protect the country and the constitution' and are tired of being 'Taxed Enough Already". they also are liberal lipped when it comes to denouncing a 'gay lifestyle'. what they neglect to mention is while they don't support gay rights, nor do they think the bible 'supports' our way of life, they have no problem getting wasted and trying to inhale another chick's face.

i'm certainly not implying these girls are lesbians or even bisexual for that matter, my issue with these women lies in their living in a hypothetical world. am i to assume by their actions that being gay is only ok when you are wasted and you laugh about it later as par for the course?

it's worth mentioning that living in/around the nation's capitol, it's not uncommon for people to be extremely boisterous in regards to their political beliefs. i guess my issue is less with the fact that they are committed to their causes but rather that i believe what i believe because i consider it part of the fiber that makes me. i don't support gay rights because my party does- i support gay rights because intrinsically, it matters to me. so when someone is steadfast enough in their beliefs to tell me that "gay rights are not important to americans", then they turn around and do something very gay (ala a flirty photo shoot with your friends in the bathroom, where making a V over your mouth with your fingers whilst pretending to eat your friend out is just 'cute' and 'girl stuff') one can understand my confusion.
___________

queerFAQtor wednesday

2010-04-07T15:50:00.005-04:00

queerFAQtor wednesday
apacowayner "interviews" jillybean05

i love my best friend with every fiber of my being. my heart aches without her near; she is in my utopia, san fransisco, and i sit atop capitol hill. this weeks topic was supposed to be 'interviews' but jilly and i got a bit distracted...to say the least.

also, while we are on a video vein i have something i'd like to pass along. a movie was brought to my attention today after someone mentioned the story of joe wilson. after joe and his partner announced their marriage in their local newspaper, controversy soon followed. as a filmmaker, it was only logical for joe to chronicle his journey and turn it into a movie. out in the silence is his film and a must watch film for everyone! it "will challenge you to rethink your values and help close the gaps that divide our communities."
http://www.wpsu.org/outinthesilence

sex before marriage; do it for your health

2010-04-06T10:50:00.009-04:00

whilst flipping through old writings the other day, i stumbled across an essay i wrote back in college. it tickled me that the topic was 'sex before marriage' because i was just having a conversation with a coworker the other day about just that. specifically, how archaic an ideal that was, how rare it is to find in modern-day relationships, and how it doesn't seem to apply to homosexual relationships.

don't get me wrong, i'm not trying to further the stereotype that homosexuals are sexual deviants, who throw morals and caution to the wind when engaging in sexual acts (because if you want me to break it down and get real with you, we are all humans- hetero or homo, it matters very little...we all are capable of terrible things). i am stating however, that it isn't uncommon for people to not know the extent of their feelings towards one sex, until they act upon it. now that gays can get married in some states and countries, we have to consider if this ideology applies to us.

sex a personal, private choice- that much i understand. my biggest frustration is the stigma of supporting a sexually assertive lifestyle. the general assumption is supporters of sex are loose-moraled, down to sleep with strangers, probably cool, and started smoking cigarettes when they were 14.

my father always told me that assumptions do nothing but make an ASS outta U and ME (get it?! it spells assume! my father is full of adorably appropriate, borderline trite, sayings). while normally i would embrace the title of 'probably cool', i just can't accept that because my morals are different than yours i am the unorthodox one...i am the one who is deviating from what is 'socially acceptable'...but that's a rant for another day- in the meantime enjoy today's post!

sex before marriage
DO IT FOR YOUR HEALTH

Although the meaning of life has never been clearly defined, humans know that one of their main purposes on earth is to produce offspring. In order for the human race to sustain life as we know it, procreation is the only way. It has been going on since literally the dawn of time and will continue to forevermore. But at the birth of the religious age a widely accepted principle came upon the scene, that sex was reserved only for the married, and was for the sole purpose of procreation. No pleasure, relief or happiness was to come out of the act of sex, merely a child. Sex before marriage was seen as a social taboo, and children out of wedlock were looked upon sinfully. Even to this day it is a difficult and uncomfortable topic for many of the ‘Baby Boomer’ generation and religious right wingers to discuss, is sex before marriage so wrong? Morals aside, sex outside of marriage is not wrong. In fact, it can be a vital step towards a lifetime commitment with one’s significant other. Testing the waters of sexual compatibility is a healthy option versus jumping into marriage pre-sex. Knowing one’s partner completely before marriage truly plants the seed and prevents divorce. Many marriage statistics cite ‘sexual issues/incompatibility’ as the leading causes of divorce in America. Religious doctrines argue that copulation is purely an act of breeding, but today many leading doctors argue the opposite. Stating that sex does have a health purpose, and it is one that everyone should practice. There are many health benefits to safe sex, ranging from better teeth to better mood. Finally, there is evidence to support the changing trends in society towards pre-marital sex as statistics support that more people are engaging in sex before marriage.

In his research, Dr. Lawrence B. Finer, author of Trends in Premarital Sex 1954-2003, concluded that “…almost all Americans have sex before marriage…” Not that that is proof alone that sex before marriage is acceptable, but the exhaustive statistics he found certainly support that truth. Years ago, sex was primarily for pro-creation and, therefore, considered acceptable only within the bounds of marriage. That was during a time when women married young and the average life expectancy was considerably shorter than today’s standard of living until the average of 77.6 years, according to the Center for Disease Control’s National Center for Health Statistics. Today, according to a recent USATODAY article, the average age for marrying is 26. The average age for having children is currently 24.9 years (according to an article by Herbert Klein; The Changing American Family, 2004). While those statistics support that women are having children before marriage, they actually help to counter the religious belief that if you have sex before marriage, you are “tainted in some way to be unmarriable.” Research supports that times are changing and thus ideals are changing with them. Therefore, the philosophy that “sex is wrong” is no longer supported and can be the first line of defense when stating that sex before marriage is not only okay but healthy and right.

Joann Rodgers, Director of Media Relations and a lecturer at Johns Hopkins Medical Institution, says “…People are hard-wired to have sex…and they engage in it as a biological imperative.” This quote suggests that there is a certain nature to sex, one that is biologically hard to deny. Alex Farnham, author of the article, Is Sex Necessary, lists at least nine, medically-supported or researched, benefits to having sex on a regular basis. They range from better heart health, to reduced depression to even better teeth. His research, supported by medical professionals, suggests that there are health benefits to having sex. Furthermore, he goes on to state that there are no discernible health benefits to abstinence. While his article does not mention sex either before or after marriage, you can confer that sex is better for your health or perhaps that waiting for sex does nothing from a health standpoint. What further proves the point that sex is more than a means of producing children, is the seemingly limitless array of different sexual orientations. Other than that of heterosexual relationships, no other orientations produce offspring naturally, and yet, they all engage in some form of sex. Sex is not simply the act of ‘mating’, but an intimate exchange between two (or more) people. Copulation is more than just an action that humans are supposed to do, but rather something they want to do.

In an article entitled “Will Your Marriage Last, “ (Psychology Today, April 2000) Aviva Patz, executive editor of Psychology Today, concluded from the 56 couples asked about their own reasons for divorce, that one of the most prevalent reasons cited for a divorce was “…loss of affection…”. While this hardly suggests that sexual incompatibility is the problem with the loss of affection, it does suggest how important sex is overall in a marriage. Sexual incompatibility was listed as one of the leading causes for men to divorce, according to a 1966 study by Dr. Levinger, a social psychologist. That reason still holds true today as one of, if not often the top, reason for divorce, cites Dr. David Schnarch in an American Association for Marriage and Family Therapy article. In conversation it is not uncommon to hear of a marriage broken up because of infidelity of one or more of the parties. Men and women can not help the need to be satisfied, and if they are not fulfilled then they tend to look elsewhere to fill that need. Sexual fulfillment is the number one reason that people stray from a stable relationship. Raised with a belief that sex-talk is ‘taboo’ many feel that speaking openly with their partner on sexual issues is wrong, thus leading too unhappiness.

Sex has been around from the beginning of time, and it seems that the mentality that sex is reserved for marriage has been around just as long. It is imperative that humans have sex before the institution of marriage is enacted for a number of reasons. Whether it means being able to fully understand a partner, or preventing divorce, or simply fulfilling a pleasure, sex is important for people to understand outside of the walls of marriage. When practiced safely, sex is more than breeding, it is a different form for humans to express themselves, relieve tension, and bring themselves to a higher state of being. Being in touch with ones sexuality, as well as your partners leads to a greater understanding of a person on a basic level. Sex is not designed to be a sole objective act, it has many benefits when done properly and safely.

who's that lady?

2010-04-05T21:55:00.004-04:00

who's that lady?
...and why can't i remember her name?!

clutching my arm with all of her strength, she dug her nails into my arm- she wasn't playing around. the curvaceous brunette hurriedly leaned her lips towards my ear and unleashed something breathy and hot. "what's that baby? well aren't you precious, get on over here!" i responded with a smirk.

with that her body lurched back from mine- instead of our eyes meeting, glitter falling from the ceiling, and having a choir of inner city youths sing a 'glee inspired' song in our honor; she just looked at me like i was bat shit crazy. actually, it was less a look of 'you're crazy' and more a look of 'you didn't hear one word i said, but rather than just say that you will pretend you heard what i said and carry on an entirely different conversation based off that'- my girlfriend can say so much with a mere glance.

violently wrenching her neck around a la the exorcist, she looked back over her shoulder. "she's coming- help!" she shouted in a whisper. i could see the woman she was referencing meandering over our way, she looked familiar...no, i've definitely see her before. as she came within earshot, a doe eyed danielle looked at me and mouthed, "WHAT IS HER NAME?!"

it's happened to the best of us; a heavy fog rolls in- your mind is shootin' blanks- the tip of your tongue is yielding nothing but 'oh crap, what's her name!' now sure, there are times when it's appropriate to be brutally honest and state simply, "i'm sorry, what's your name again?" but there are other times when you have already met them several times overs and forgetting their name consistantly gets downright embarrassing.

you face a fork in the road each time ones name escapes you- you either find some covert way of figuring out their name (best done in club and party situations, when recruiting friends easily done) or you refer to them in generalities until the conversation is over. i personally have used both methods and found varying success. my standby used to be 'how do you spell that- i like letters'. i do not suggest that method. all that did was make people think i had a learning disability because i was asking for spelling lessons for challenging words like 'S-A-M' or 'K-A-T-E'. however, i still stand steadfast in my argument of- you never really know how to spell any one's name anymore. any simple name can be made complex by some 'creative' parents who thought adding a few vowels would really dazzle future employers.

but what about those who you do know their name but you don't know them? in our ever shrinking facebook-friendly world, it isn't uncommon for my friends and i to go to an event and be swimming in sea of familiar poon. it seems like i see more faces that i know but have absolutely no idea who they are. whether it's because facebook parked your face in the upper right corner of my home screen sating i should 'know you' or because lesbians just have a knack for always flocking together and our social circles are incredibly well connected.

those i see frequently are appropriately dubbed the regulars. not because i regularly see them at our favorite bar. not because i see them regularly at our favorite club. not because i see them regularly at our favorite event. but because i see them at ALL of those locations. pride, ladies jello wrestling nights, equality rallies, drag queen races in dupont, slut nights, drag king shows, prop 8 rallies- you name it, they have are there.

it's how i imagine life must be for former real world cast members when they meet other former real world cast members. it's an unnatural process, knowing someone before meeting them. well, it's only an unnatural process if you aren't a stalker or one that often has restraining orders slapped on them. it's common knowledge that mtv's real world does not attempt to put people in their best light. that means when meeting other former real worlder's for the first time, there is no need to exchange pleasantries! who really needs them after you have already witnessed each others emotional breakdown on national television?

real worlder's have access to each others lives prior to a friendship taking root, much like the regulars i see out and about. we recognize each others faces, we know the clubs and events the others like to frequent, we know of each other. we might even go so far as to be facebook friends but never actually interact. i liken it to knowing your surroundings, it is wise to be an astute lil lesbot. these girls, while i don't always know much about them personally, i do enjoy seeing their faces time and time again. there is something comforting about the regulars that makes it feel like home.

when i think about it on a broader spectrum, it warms my heart to feel like there is a strong community in DC/MD/VA when it comes to the ladies. seeing so many familiar faces, faces that i can't remember the accompanying name to, having beautiful amazing friends...it may sound trivial to some, but lesbians will tell you- girls are illusive. it's rare you find a club that caters to women and brings them in consistently but they are doing just that all around me. so while we might not know each other's names or have actually met, to those strangers i see on the regular- it's lovely to live life alongside you.

queerFAQtor wednesday

2010-03-31T19:07:00.005-04:00

queerFAQtor wednesday
a day in the life...
aka: ashley got green muslin this weekend, fun ensues.

can't a girl just sit alone in her room and play with chroma key settings for hours on end and not be referred to as a social recluse? until that day comes, i'll keep on dreaming.

butches and boobs; flatties and femmes

2010-03-29T22:45:00.000-04:00

butches and boobs
flatties and femmes

i walked towards the end of the hall, unsure of what i might find. she had kept herself sequestered up in that room for what seemed like hours. cautiously, i opened the door just a crack and peeked in. i then delicately tiptoed over the well worn ace bandages, paying close attention to the strips of duct tape littered across the floor that were itching to bond themselves to the bottoms of my socked feet.

there she was, sitting cross legged. staring blankly at herself in the mirror with her hands clenching her breasts. "i hate them...what purpose do they serve aside from being the begin of my existence?" she had been trying for hours to turn her D-cups into flat, firm, pecs and the process wasn't going as sleekly as she had hoped.

"they are so big and cumbersome. i'm sick of people seeing these on my chest and feeling as if that gives them license to treat me as less than a person. i want a blank canvas, i want to not be identified by my appearance but with these two mountains in the way- it's proving to be a quite challenging."

large breasts are literal mountains for some women. in addition to being painful to carry around, many women have said tig ol' bitties are demonstrative to their appearance- and distracts people from other, more substantial features. top heavy women have cried for years, "they are just plain annoying!"

now before you think i'm encouraging you to raise up your sharpest cheese graters in a rack rebellion, i implore you to flip to the other side of the coin, my side to be exact. my girlfriend was blessed when the mammary fairy sat down on her chest and unleashed a perfect pile of titastic goodness. i, however, have a different cross to bear.

math, first day of middle school...intensely chewing on my pen cap, hyper anxious and active 7th grade me was alarmed when tapped on the shoulder by a classmate. "hey bp, can i borrow your TI-83?" he asked with a coy smile. never one to turn down a new friend, i disregarded the fact that none of names, first- middle- or last- contained a 'b' or 'p', and i passed him my calculator. as the year pressed on more and more boys from my classes began to snicker when they would call out to me, "BP! BP! BP! haha- hey ashley." even as a young kid i was ok laughing at myself, but i was totally out of the loop on this one. what was funny about a few letters?

as summer began to extend our days, yearbooks were passed out and i gave it to my friends to sign. a few of the boys who regularly called me 'bp' referenced me as such in my yearbook, but one was so bold as to write simply, 'baby bottle pop'.

"what the heck does that mean, bozo?" i asked tentatively (prior to finding out how fabulous curse words can feel when tumbling out of your mouth when mad/offended/incensed). "your boobs. they look like the tops of babybottle pops." my jaw unhinged and dropped to the floor. "oh com'on ashley don't act like you don't know...even MY boobs are bigger than yours, and i'm a dude." i was devastated- not because they had been making fun of me for the latter part of the year to my face without my knowledge. not because they were talking about my breasts whilst sitting behind me in math, day in and day out. but because i had been the last to hear the punchline. in middle school, as you will remember, it's all about fitting in and being the last to 'get' a joke was more painful than being the butt of it.

fact: the lumps of fat that sit atop my ribcage are humble in size- this isn't something new or shocking to me. making fun of me for it in attempts to hurt me is futile, i've owned and accepted my tiny titty fate from an early age. plus, lets see a chick with natural D-cups run sans a bra- her shit will be so far up her throat after the first stride...while us little lumpers can do handstands without a bra and no one's the wiser.

when i crossed the threshold of high school and saw the myriad of perky, bouncy full breasts around me, i knew i was put on this earth to stare at them. it's almost a blessing that i have not been graced (or afflicted, depending on your stance) with actual boobs...could you even imagine?! i would never leave the house!

living with all women, it isn't uncommon for breasts to come up casually in conversation. my girlfriend and both of my roommates have substantial sized twins living beneath their shoulders, i'm the only one in the house with lil' ladies chillin' on my chest. one of my roommates is even considering breast reduction surgery to lighten her load. when she mentioned that to me, it begat the following line of thinking-

the rolling stones taught us that you can't always get what you want, but why is it that butch chicks always seem to have glorious, full, fun bags that they try desperately to hide, or suppress- and then theses flat little femmes are shoving handfuls of synthetic gel pads into our shirts in attempts to appear more ample?

it would be too easy to turn this post into a self-loving, boob-fest, full of verbiage such as, 'love yourself', and 'every body is a beautiful body'. instead i choose to prance down a different path. i say to my lady friends- bind away butches! pout proudly, my femmes! am i supporting self loathing? of course not, but if you are unhappy with your breast size and sleep with women, i have a little secret to share with you...what you lack, they could posses. if you want bigger boobs in your life...you can go out there and find them! you would be shocked at how many people are down to share 'em- big or small.

it's a funny twist of fate these butches with boobs, and femmes who are flat...but the world wouldn't be nearly as dynamic, inspiring, and enlightening if we all were born into our 'ideal form' and as the dalai lama once said, "remember that not getting what you want is sometimes a wonderful stroke of luck."

miss nice guy

2010-03-26T18:30:00.001-04:00

miss nice guy *
*which is gender neutralization of a generally gender charged word
because i've learned some are easily offended-
and you know i like to keep you happy.

everyone has got each other figured out lately. i mean, that must be the case considering people have no issue telling others how to fix their lives. i'm all about growth- i'm all for hearing new ideas and implementing them into my life if i feel it's appropriate to do so. i think it's important for every one of us to swallow our pride sometimes and admit that we have lessons to learn from each other. just because someone challenges who you are, doesn't mean they are attacking you- often times, they are simply trying to help you.

as of late i've tried to really listen to the advice people around me are giving. i took a break from writing and simply observed. when asked how i could improve my life, i heard an endless array of answers from "never wear your silver metallic fanny-pack out in public ever again" (pfft, yah right) to "stop being that girl who doesn't pick up the phone, but will immediately text you back saying 'hey, what's up'". (to defend myself, my phone is always on silent due to work, so i might not have heard it ring. now, if i did feel it vibrating and chose to text you afterwards versus picking up the phone- don't be so salty my little cup of fruit, i still want to interact with you. i just genuinely don't enjoy talking on the phone...just add it to the list of borderline socially reclusive traits that i posses.)

what i heard time and time again had to do with my attitude: "stop being so damn nice"; "get your head out of the clouds"; "stop wearing rose-colored glasses"; "don't allow people to push you around"; "you need to wise up to the world, jive turkey." ok, no one called me jive turkey...but the point expressed was clear- in order to be more successful in life, one shouldn't be so nice.

i fought the urge to feel as if people were questioning who i am fundamentally and admitted that there have been times that my optimistic disposition has led me to some social challenges. 'social challenges' is the term i use to classify the bullshit i've been through with people. it has a nicer ring than, 'fuckin dramatic bullshit', don't you think? i've walked into situations that, in hindsight, i knew were doomed from the get go. i've been burned, i've hurt people, i've been mistreated, i've taken people for granted, but never once have i allowed any of that to make me jaded.

that would be the biggest disappointment, were i ever to become hardened and jaded. i've made it through life this long without falling into the cynical cycle of assuming the worst at ever bend, i would hate to think i could reasonably go through life thinking everyone was an ass. however, an even greater disappointment would be to dismiss valid advice.

to my cynical sisters: i'll admit, you are right- being nice doesn't always get you further in life. my friendly ways have caused me to hold onto things that i should have let go; it has caused me to place trust in people who have thrown it and my emotions into the trash; i've stood steadfast behind those who were nowhere to be found when i needed them most. in the workworld my authentic nature has given those who are threatened by me the false notion that i am easily pushed aside. in the past, i've been written off as 'a sweet girl who does what she's asked', when in actuality i'm trying to be the best worker i can be. simply put, being nice opens you up to being burned.

while being trusting and believing in the goodness of people can come back to bite you in the ass, it can also expand your horizons and introduce you to new world. i'll tread lightly and cautiously on this earth while i'm here, but i won't allow my past or anyone else's mar the beauty of today. i'm a bit more cautious with who i trust, but to change who i am intrinsically and become anything other than a friendly, genuine, sassball of sunshine just isn't in me and i'm ok with being miss nice guy...

queerFAQtor wednesday

2010-03-24T17:00:00.002-04:00

queerFAQtor wednesday
lbgt challenges with apacowayner

good lord i love lawn gnomes...

queerFAQtor wednesday

2010-03-17T17:29:00.002-04:00

queerFAQtor wednesday
coming out, an interpretive dance

anyone can tell you their coming out story...not everyone will do it whilst wearing a neon yellow bathing suit and coordinating lime green stretch pants.
i aim to please.