When I was in 6th grade, my friend/neighbor Dru and I were biking to school one day– this day was only different from other days because we were running late.  My school district was fairly small, so the middle school and the high school actually shared a parking lot.  We were riding through said parking lot when I heard the bell ring, and being only concerned with my tardiness, sped up.   Three high school girls were casually driving along, and with my view obstructed by a row of cars, I rode right in front of them.

I remember feeling frozen, straining for my fingers to reach for the brakes.  I remember not being able to move, but I must’ve hit the brakes because I came to stop just as the high school girls slammed on their brakes.  I remember gazing into their frightened faces, feeling guilty, and then looking down to see my leg nestled between my bike and their front bumper.  My pants were covered in grease from the bike chain, but I was unharmed.   This is what mercy feels like.

More than a decade later, I still find myself getting out of some close calls on my bicycle.  It’s not usually because I’m late and there’s a blind spot in the parking lot, though.  It’s usually because my head is in the clouds.  “Oh… I hope that light I just went through was green…”  It’s a terrible combination, I know, and I don’t have the same problem when I’m driving a car (I’m acutely aware of when I’m wielding a two ton death machine).  But, chances are, on a bike, the only one I’m going to hurt is myself… and I’m reckless.

So I believe there must be some power higher than myself with far too much forgiveness for my reckless behavior– but only because I don’t believe in luck.  (That’s what happens when you’re born on Friday the 13th.  My mother used to be superstitious, and then I came along.) That, and, if there isn’t a power in the Universe that is wiser than me, we’re all fucked.

Is there such a thing as dreaming too much?  I don’t sleep as much as I should and my night visions are consistently unpleasant, to say the least.  So in my waking hours, I let my imagination off the leash– sometimes to my detriment.  But if you don’t dream big, you’ll never reach for something big.

It’s always the same cliff.  Whether I’m falling, jumping, letting go, getting pulled up, or being pushed, it’s always the same cliff and the same blue-green ocean below.  And now I see myself, chasing my heart after pitching it into the wild blue yonder, suddenly terrified of what will happen to it if I don’t keep it close.  Suddenly terrified to go on faith alone.  I have to remember that there is no reward without risk.  And if it ends up hurting, at least I’m still feeling.  (As Ingrid Michaelson says, “Happy is the Heart that still feels Pain.”)

My life feels so full right now, and I know it’s just a matter of time before the dam bursts.  I get suspicious when too many good things happen at once.  It’s unusual, and overwhelming, and when overwhelmed I become extremely forgetful and distractable.   Exactly what an avid daydreamer needs, eh?

Then there’s the fact that my job is so tedious I listen to music practically all day.  Headphones might as well be a gateway drug for the daydreamer.  Sometimes I genuinely worry that I’ll burrow so deep into my own mind that I won’t be able to find my way out.

There’s a t-shirt I bought in 6th grade that I still have.  It was one of those rare occasions where I was given the opportunity to buy my own clothes, and I choose this blue t-shirt with a large smiley face on it and three fuzzy (in focus, not texture) little ones underneath it.  It has the words, “Stay Focused” on it.  Ah, delicious irony.  I got it right after I chopped off all my hair and wore it everyday I could with baggy jeans and a baseball cap.  I guess I’m still that same little tomboy, in some ways.

I need to remember to Stop Down.  (I got this tattoo for a reason, didn’t I?)

Fall 2007:  Senior in college, in my first photography class.  I took color before black and white due to circumstance.  It’s our second assignment, and I’m working on portrait I took of B standing by the pond at dawn.  The odor of developer is still making me ill, but eventually it will become synonymous with bliss.  The dark is calm and cool, albeit the slightest bit unsettling.  I’ve done my test prints, determined the appropriate exposure time, and loaded my paper into the easel.  I forget to stop down the aperture.   An act that takes, literally, a fraction of a second.  All I need to do is gently turn the lens on the enlarger two stops, but I forget, as I will continue to do for weeks to follow.  A mistake that is guaranteed to ruin my print every time– with this sole exception.  Instead of a ruined print, I get this:

(For reference, this is what it was supposed to look like.)  I’m lucky– except I don’t believe in luck.

I learn the value of mistakes in photography and the necessity of stopping down.  Eventually, I get the words “Stop Down” tattooed on my left wrist, over some regrettable scars, to remind me to stop down (and breathe) in every day life, lest I overexpose myself.

So what is this blog about anyway? Reality or Fantasy? I talk a lot about current events and politics, ranting about policy and hypocrisy.  But I want it to be about dreaming of something better, about brighter visions and solutions.   I dream of an American where we argue about policy, rather than meaningless labels and macho posturing.  I dream of a day when representatives will care more about their constituents than their pocketbooks.  I dream of the destruction of the electoral college, and the championing of the popular vote.  I dream of universal health care, amnesty for immigrants, an employment non-discrimination act that protects transpeople, a gender spectrum rather than a binary– I dream of changing the world.

But when was the last time anything I imagined came to fruition?  “You know we’d never do this in real life?” “That’s why we’re doing it in a fantasy.” Sometimes it seems as though the act of imaging it simultaneously wills the possibility out of existence.

That’s not to say that the alternatives can’t be wonderful, too.  After all, my life is the furthest from anything I ever imagined for it, but I’m happy.  I did manage to get out of the nest– now I live in a house full of lesbians and our cats.  My current job pays minimum wage with no benefits, but I’m surrounded by photography all day.  My best friend might be leaving the state in 12 days, but I know he genuinely cares about me– and it turns out he isn’t the only one.  I’m in a mound of debt, but it’s all student loans and I do have a Bachelor’s to show for it, not to mention “the Bennington Experience” (which is an experience, let me tell you).

And when it comes to life, out-of-your-control, messy, mutable life, “all you’re really guaranteed is the experience.”  And really, what more could I ask for?

Songs for Today:

“Over my Head” by The Fray

“Breakable” by Ingrid Michaelson

“Lonesome Organist Rapes Page Turner” by The Dresden Dolls

You can’t hide behind the 10th amendment when it suits you, and throw it out when it disagrees with your moral code (which is a laughable thing to call any code that openly supports bigotry).  Again, the only consequence of gays getting married is, well, gays marrying.  And if the love between a man and a man or a woman and woman truly tears at the fabric of society and degrades the sanctity of marriage, then what of marriages of convenience?  What of marrying for a green card? Or for money?  Oh, gay-bashers.  You’ve forced me to whip out the editorial on gay marriage I wrote back in high school (the days when I thought I was a hetero).  I hope you’re read to get school by a straight, high school girl.

It is simply ridiculous that in the, supposedly, “freest country in the world” some of the United States’ citizens are denied the right to marry due to their sexual orientation.  Not allowing marriage to homosexuals robs them of over a thousand benefits married couples receive, which is outright discrimination.  It’s no different from forbidding interracial marriages.  Take the case of Zach and Brad, a gay couple whose marriage is recognized in the state of Massachusetts—and only Massachusetts.  “Zach will not be able to take advantage of the Family and Medical Leave Act to care for Brad when he is ill, nor will he be eligible for the surviving-spouse benefit offered by the Social Security Administration if Brad dies.  In fact, Zach and Brad will not enjoy any of the 1,049 benefits and protections afforded to married couples by federal statutes” (Cloud 59).  On the simple basis that a legal marriage certificate provides a couple with so many government benefits, it should be legal for any couple of any size, color, and gender to be wed.

Marriage to many couples, however, is more than governmental recognition.  Homosexual relationships currently only last half as long as the average heterosexual relationship because they are not supported by society the same way straight couples are.  For homosexual couples there is “less social glue—marriage, family, expectations, children… there’s no one rooting for them to stick it out… there’s no ceremony that invokes traditions of what it means to be a couple” (Lemonick n.pag.).  American society doesn’t give homosexual relationships much of a chance for survival.  By failing to recognize a gay marriage, we fail to recognize the validity of the relationship.  It is unjust, in the “land of opportunity,” to deny gay couples their opportunity to a real life recognized in the eyes of the law.

The most frustrating part of the argument with gay marriage is the religious fanatics who cry out that homosexuality violates the laws written in the Bible.  Though in many places in the Bible this rings true, it has nothing to do with whether or not gay couples should be allowed civil marriage licenses.  The United States is supposed to practice separation of church and state.  According to a poll taken by Time magazine 51% of those polled said that gay marriage is morally wrong, while luckily 45% realized the truth—that gay marriage is not a moral issue (Cloud 60).  The church may very well disagree with the idea of homosexual couples, but advocates for gay marriage are asking that their rights as a wed couple be recognized under the law, not the church.  Churches can and very well should have the right to say no to gay marriage in their own congregation, but gay marriage should nevertheless still be a civil option (Sullivan 104).

Groups against gay marriage claim it threatens the sanctity of marriage as it has previously been established.  The argument is that “it would damage the institution of the family” (Cloud 60), which is ironically why gay marriage should be allowed.  Gay couples aren’t looking to simply receive the same benefits as married straight couples, but they seek the “sanctity” of marriage as well.  “When people talk about gay marriage, they miss the point.  This isn’t about gay marriage.  It’s about family.  It’s about love” (Sullivan 104).  It’s unjust to discriminate, to deny two people who love each other the right to marriage and the right to start a family simply because they’re not a traditional couple.  Family comes in all different shapes and sizes; the ideal nuclear family is non-exist.  Where there is love, there is family, whether it’s between a man and a woman, two men, or two women.

Sorry I was only able to dig up one of the sources; this was written for a journalism class and we were all using the same sources, so while I referred to them in the editorial itself, I didn’t write out full citations.  I actually think it’s worth unpacking this a little.  Some of my opinions have stayed very much the same, namely civil unions for all (gay or straight) and marriage for the religious at the church/synagogue/temple’s discretion.  Additionally, I think the comparison of gay marriage to interracial marriage remains an extremely valid one– remember, interracial marriage was once illegal too, and I think the vast majority of us can agree that was absurd and unjust.

What I would like to reexamine is this idea that there is less “societal glue” holding gay couples together (a interesting point), and therefore homosexual relationships don’t last as long.  Is the latter really true?  Unfortunately, gay marriage has not been around in most places long enough to have reliable information on divorce rates.  However, it is worth noting that Massachusetts, which legalized gay marriage in 2004, has the lowest divorce rate of all the states in the Union.  Gays do not create any less loving homes than heterosexuals do.  In fact, a recent study came out (no pun intended) showing that children of lesbians “scored higher than kids in straight families on some psychological measures of self-esteem and confidence, did better academically and were less likely to have behavioral problems, such as rule-breaking and aggression.”

So, if there’s no evidence showing that gay marriage results in more broken homes or maladjusted children, and in fact there’s evidence to the contrary, what are the gay-bashers so afraid of? Perhaps it’s the sexual revolution that inherently comes with society embracing homosexuals.   Granted, I know my fair share of prudish homos, but most of us seem to be pretty comfortable with sexuality.  After all, chances are that if you’re out and Proud, at some point you had to question the assumption that you were straight.  It’s not a far jump to then wonder if you’re actually straight-laced, either.  While this is a personal survey, most of the kinksters and polyamorous people I know are either queer or bisexual, and none of them have been homophobic.   It is a fact, though, that gays are rewriting the traditional rules of matrimony, either just by getting married or, like this couple, by having open marriages.

Of course, little can stop people like Maggie Gallagher, Chair of the right-wing “National Organization for Marriage,” from running her mouth:

“Does this federal judge want to start another culture war? Does he really want another Roe. v. Wade? The simple fact is that the right of the federal government to define marriage for the purposes of its federal law and federal territories has been clear since the late 19th century, when Congress banned polygamy. Only an incompetent defense could have lost this case. We expect to win in a higher court.“

Maggie, if a “culture war” is what it takes to get justice– whether it be for women, gays or any other minority group, then absolutely.  We’ve only begun to fight.  So, dear reader, if you have a moment, please sign your name to this letter to President Obama, asking him not to appeal last week’s decision against DOMA.

Of course, Hawaii Governor Laura Lingle doesn’t see what all the to-do is about– after all, we don’t allow siblings to marry.  No, I’m not kidding.  She compared gay marriage to incest.  I… really don’t even know how to respond to that.  Lingle states that she doesn’t see gay marriage as a civil rights issue, so I’m curious as to what she does see it as.  ”Special rights” for gays? I guess equality is pretty damn special.  It’s so easy to be a bigot when you don’t even recognize your own privilege.

Also on today’s hypocrisy train, the Republican nominee vying for Harry Reid’s senate seat, Sharron Angle.  You’ve probably heard by now about her “advice” to young girls impregnated by incest: “Make lemons into lemonade.” Or, better yet, if you get raped, don’t sweat it– because “God has a plan.”  That’s right, according to Sharron Angle, your right to choose– be it to have an abortion or to simply not have sex– is irrelevant, because it’s all part of God’s plan.  I think this pisses me off more than her anti-choice stance.  I’ve gotten used to anti-choicers saying stupid things, but by saying that rape is God’s doing actually removes responsibility from the abuser/rapist.  It likens sexual assualt to a “natural” disaster.  Hey, I might not be able to stop a tornado, or keep Angle from flapping her gums, but I’ll be damned before I sit by and accept that there’s nothing to be done about the rape pandemic.  Rape flourishes when we turn a blind eye or pretend there’s nothing to be done about it.  Rape flourishes when we stay silent.  Rapists get away with rape because we, as a society, have a huge attitude problem.  ”What was she wearing?” “Is she promiscuous?” “What she drinking?” “She was asking for it.” BULLSHIT.

There’s a fabulous organization called “Men Can Stop Rape.”  While I think this idea desperately needs to be expanded, since men are not the only ones who rape and not the only ones who allow it to continue, they’re on the right track.  The idea behind the organization is that attitudes need to change.  Particularly, for MCSR, the visions of male strength that exist, and how traditional views of masculinity encourage men to dominate women, rather than be an ally to them.  What other pervasive attitudes encourage the disempowerment of women and rape victims of any gender?

Oh, and to respond to Angle’s anti-choice attitude, a quote:

“Women can be glorified, burdened, scorned, restricted, endangered, beloved, and martyred when they are forced to reproduce. But when they are forced, women end up enslaved by their reproductive capacity. They remain partial, not full citizens. Under these conditions, full citizenship refers only to men.”
–Rickie Solinger

It’s not all a bust, though.  Last week, Supreme Court Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg insisted that Roe v. Wade shall not be overturned.  ”Over a generation of young women have grown up, understanding they can control their own reproductive capacity, and in fact their life’s destiny,” Ginsburg said. “We will never go back to the way it once was.”  I feel better already.

But then this schmuck, Senate Republican Jon Kyl, had to come along.  More stupidity courtesy of good ol’ Arizona.  Jon Kyl, while one of the Republicans blocking the extension of unemployment benefits for millions of struggling, unemployed Americans, said on Sunday that the Bush tax cuts for the wealthiest Americans should be extended.  The hypocrisy of this is so obvious and so appalling, I really don’t have much to say about it.  It speaks for itself.  I will say, however, that it isn’t in the best interest of America’s wealthy to keep screwing the middle class– after all, where are they going to get all their money once they’ve destroyed the middle class?  Don’t forget who lines your pockets, you greedy bastards.

Despite all this, and the fact that I managed to give myself a migraine writing about it, I actually had a lovely weekend and start to the week (who knew Mondays could not suck?).  B and I spent some real quality time together.  He’s actually moving out of state in two weeks, and I’ve been pretty anxious and worried about it.  But, with his girlfriend out of town, we got some time to be BFFs like it used to be.  Plus, when his girlfriend is out of town, I get to ride on the back of his motorcycle.  (Note to self: I need to get me one of those… And, uh, learn how to ride.)  We saw Steve Carell’s new movie, Despicable Me, which we both agreed was utterly delightful.  If you have the opportunity, go see it! It’ll make you laugh, smile, and maybe even tear up a bit.  We also decided to fill up my inflatable pool in the backyard and split a bottle of Pinot Grigio.  We debated the English language, rehashed old college memories, and when the wine was all gone, we put the empty bottle, the empty glasses and all the ice cubes in the pool.

It turns out, empty wine glasses, when set afloat, will repeated toast themselves.

Songs for Today:

“Sort of” by Ingrid Michaelson
“Us” by Regina Spektor
“Impossible” from Rodgers and Hammerstein’s Cinderella

I know what you’re thinking, “NR, it’s your fourth entry and you’re already resorting to picture posts? Don’t you have anything left to say?” I’ve got plenty left to say, dear readers.  (It’s come to my attention that my readers aren’t non-existent, just lurking.  I’m on to you.)  However, I simply cannot resist doing a picture post today.

Why?  Because literally thousands of my digital pictures, that I thought were lost forever, have been pulled back from the edge of obscurity.   I have a few external hard drives floating around, one of which was corrupt and had the entirety of my digital picture collection from 2004-2007 on it.  I hadn’t gotten rid of it, in part because some of the files on it are still accessible and because I hoped one day I could recover those corrupted files.  Today is that day.  O frabjous day!  I don’t even know how I did it.  It was magic.  But they’re all back!

What would my life have been, without gems like this one of my best friend?

Aww, look at all the love in his face.  That’s the kind of love only Best Friends can give.   Or how about this one, of my adorable cousin, which I can one day use to blackmail him?

Or check out this super stoic picture of my Dad–

I frickin’ love my Dad.  I can take as good as I give, though.  How about this not at all awkward picture of me?

That doesn’t even look like it’s my arm.  Are elbows supposed to bend that far?  Let’s follow it up with an embarrassing picture of me at the Happiest Place on Earth– and no, I don’t mean Disney World.

Awwww, yeah.  Let’s hear it for college!  Ok, in all seriousness though, there are some great pictures I almost lost.  Such as the following:

These next two are actually scans, so the original prints still exist somewhere, but it’s unlikely I’ll ever get my hands on them again.  It’s my Grandmother on her Wedding Day.  Is there a family resemblance?

Last, but not least, is this picture of me standing in a field–

Technically speaking, it’s a mediocre picture at best.  So what’s special about me standing in a field? Well, this particular field is (or I should say “was”) located in Malaga, New Jersey.  It’s behind my great grandmother’s house, a house she was born in and lived in for literally 100 years.  I love this field, I spent a lot of time wandering around in it, daydreaming.  But after my great grandmother died, they tore down the house and this field is now a dollar store and megaplex.  Good ol’ progress.

I was very excited for a new episode of Futurama tonight, as I hoped the hijinks of the Planet Express crew would take my mind off things for a little while.  There were a few good laughs, to be sure, but when did Futurama become so political? Just this season, I suppose.  Tonight’s episode centered around Bender and Amy, who have a fling, and then go on to champion the rights of “Robosexual” couples.  I would say this was a thinly veiled reference to the fight for homosexual marriage in the United States right now, but there was nothing veiled about it.  They actually have a full-out Pride parade in the episode, complete with enough rainbows to burn your retinas out.

Best line from the episode? Without a doubt, Bender, during a debate over robosexual relations: “Our love it just like your love– except hotter, ’cause I’m involved!”

It hardly took my mind off things, though.   Fortunately, queer news-wise, there are some reasons to celebrate in the world today.   A blow was struck against the Defense of Marriage Act (DOMA) today in Boston (holla!), when a federal judge ruled that DOMA violates states rights.  This news is especially uplifting after hearing about Hawaii governor Linda Lingle’s decision to veto civil unions earlier this week.

Just to clear this up:

Though I have some personal beef with GLAD, who filed the lawsuit that resulted in this decision, their legal team continues to win victories for the LBGTQ community, and for that I can be nothing but grateful.  In case you didn’t know, GLAD is the reason why Massachusetts and Connecticut now have Gay Marriage.  Last I checked, they were pursuing a 6 by 2012 campaign, that is, a goal of having Gay Marriage in all 6 New England states by 2012.  Here’s hoping!

More good news from Planet Queer: On Tuesday, a federal judge in Atlanta ruled in favor of Vandy Beth Glenn, a transgender woman who was fired for transitioning.  The ruling was so deliciously level-headed, I’m just going to quote it verbatim–

“[A]voiding the anticipated negative reactions of others cannot serve as a sufficient basis for discrimination and does not constitute an important government interest.”

Maybe this decision will help set a precedent for a gender-inclusive ENDA?

Not that there aren’t a fair share of wingnuts out there, still spreading the hate.   Remember that anti-gay bill in Uganda I was discussing a few days ago?  Turns out Texas Republicans think it’s a great idea!  This week, the Texas GOP released their 2010 platform, which included the re-criminalization of sodomy as well as imprisonment for straight people  who help gays get married.  Texas’s original anti-sodomy law was on the books from 1860 – 2003, when the Supreme Court decision Lawrence et al. v. Texas ruled that the plaintiffs were “free as adults to engage in private conduct in the exercise of their liberty…”  What really gets me, is that the Texas GOP cites the spreading of “dangerous, communicable diseases” as a primary reason to be against homosexuality.  This is, however, the same platform that insists on abstinence-only sex education.  Good thing only gays can spread STDs, huh?

Since treating queers like stray dogs isn’t enough, they’ve lowered the bar on women’s right as well.  Namely, requiring a sonogram be performed as part of the consent process to each mother seeking an elective abortion.  Sure, if you’re going to be forced to allow women agency over their own bodies, you should at least make them feel as guilty about it as possible.  To offset my ire, I’m going to post a link to the pro-choice site, “I’m Not Sorry,” which is primarily comprised of positive and empowering stories from women who’ve had abortions.  That is, it kicks that “you should feel guilty about this” concept right in the nuts.

On a lighter note, gay favorites also lead the Emmy nominations today, including Chris Colfer and Jane Lynch (who play Kurt and Sue Sylvester on Glee, respectively).   For the record, I have a deep and abiding love for Jane Lynch, and would marry her in a second if, wait for it, she weren’t already married.  (ZING! Take that, Texas!)

As a side note, I’m currently seeking new Queer News outlets.  My primary source for queer news at the moment is The Advocate, which has its moments, but I largely think could use an upgrade in the journalistic integrity department.  Their articles are often terse and overtly bias.  But, truthfully, what really sends me running from the site in terror are the comments.  I realize that there is an abundance of stupidity on the internet, but I swear, it seems to congregate around The Advocate, perhaps after a romp on 4chan.  So, queer news outlet suggestions urgently requested!

Not this past Sunday, but the one before marked five weeks since I had my tongue pierced, which meant I was (finally!) eligible for a new piece of jewelry.  My new barbell is only two eighths shorter than the one they used to pierce my tongue, but it feels like I have my whole mouth back.

#1: [untitled]

Trade in these dress shoes
for flip flops, this daylight
for darkness, this head
for a pillow.

Famished felines
noisily stalk me from
the shadows.
I’ve kept them waiting.

I never thought
eighty-five would feel so cool.
I only know how to crave water
at these extremes.

The sides of the inflatable
pool in the backyard
sag in the fading sunlight,
less than half an inch from spilling over.

I want it all to pour out,
the false promises, the sweaty palms,
the unfounded palpitations.
I need to irrigate my sandy soul,

To transform this desert
into an Ocean,
To drown amongst the cacti and coyotes,
Howling for an Answer.

#2: “Infidel”

Sand stings the back of
my heels at the bus stop bench.
I sit waiting,
watching the wavering Palm Trees
in the silty sunset
and wonder
if they’ll keep their promise.
Palm Trees point to paradise,
and remind me of my
Manifest Destiny.
Go West, they say,
waving in the wind.
Go West, young woman,
to your Birth Coast.
Go back to before the Move,
before the Memories,
before your Mother became
a Foreign Land
and I
the Infidel.

Anger and Outrage
were the emotions
She claimed
for herself.
So I slipped into
subtlety.

Scrawling coded messages on
the blackboard, that may have said
“Help Me,” but meant, “Can you see me?”
Not the me wandering blankly
through the hallways, in dated
hand-me-downs and
eyes on the ground, but the Me
I locked up because she shown
Too Brightly, drew too much
Attention. And had a smart mouth.

I lost the key to her chains
on purpose, too long ago
to Remember.
I’ve checked everywhere–
underneath my fingernails,
In between my ribs,
within the fissures in my skull,
but to no avail. The only place left
to look, is in the nauseated green
of the hospital walls
in which I was
born.

I used to work for a bank.  Granted, it was a local Boston bank, not a national giant, but a bank nonetheless.  My position was not one in which I physically handled money or even dealt with customers face to face.  Despite this fact, I was put through the same rigorous training process that all bank employees had to go through– which included dealing with suspicious activity, filing Suspicious Transaction Reports, how money laundering is accomplished, etc. etc.  Perhaps I’m being cocky, but spotting suspicious activity is not very difficult.

So I keep mulling it over, how these banking giants, well-versed in the risks associated with the financially industry, could unknowingly launder billions of dollars for drug cartels.  The only conclusions I’ve reasonably come to are either they did know (and didn’t care, or were getting something out of it) or they were asleep at the wheel.

And lately, it seems like the whole damn world is asleep at the wheel.

To get literal for a moment, back in the days when I was a sleep deprived student with a car, I nodded off at the wheel once or twice.  Granted, it was for split second– but that’s really all it takes.  If you’re wielding 1 to 2 tons of metal at 60 miles per hour, or a multi-billion dollar corporation that is “too big to fail,” you want to keep your eyes on the road at all times.

The one upside to nodding off for but a split second? It sure as hell terrifies you awake.  Not everyone seems to have gotten the wake-up call, though.

Other less-than-outstanding driving records can be seen in Uganda, South Africa, the US Congress, and the state in which I currently reside– Arizona.   Do I even need to mention BP?  Thank the genderless higher power that the Coast Guard has convinced them to stop burning sea turtles alive,  but in 77 days BP has only skimmed or burned 60% of what they said they could in a single day.  I am terrified that the next time I lay eyes on the Atlantic Ocean, it’ll be nothing more than a sticky, black mess.

Likely you’ve heard about the anti-gay bill that was proposed at the end of 2009 in Uganda.   Though the death penalty has, supposedly, been taken off the table as an appropriate punishment for engaging in homosexual activity, life in jail is still a very real possibility.  Of course, this hardly accounts for vigilantes.  Pasikali Kashusbe, a Ugandan LGBT advocate and member of “Integrity Uganda,” was recently found beheaded.  It gets worse.  His mutilated torso was found half a kilometer from where his head was found, in a pit latrine.  Hate knows no limits.

Then there’s South Africa’s Eudy Simelane, who was gang-raped, brutally beaten and stabbed 25 times for being an out lesbian.  Violence against lesbians in South Africa has only continued to rise since her murder.  Supposedly, this is part of a campaign of “corrective rape.”  You know, since there’s so much evidence to support the idea that you can rape or beat the gay out of someone.  I’m suddenly glad I skipped breakfast.

I’m not about to start ranking on the Obama administration, although I know it’s all the rage currently.  In all sincerity, the guy can’t take a dump without being criticized.  I cast my vote for Obama back in ’08, and although I somewhat unsatisfied with his lack of progress in many areas, I’m giving him the benefit of the doubt.  I do believe he cares, I do believe he’s working on it– and I do believe his very much needs to abandon his attempts at bipartisanship.  I applaud the initial attempts, but the GOP has made it crystal clear that Obama can do no right in their eyes.   If you can’t persuade them to work with you– screw ‘em! Seriously, the American people gave the Democrats a huge majority in Congress, and they’ve done nothing with it but made countless concessions to representatives who have no intention of supporting any piece of legislation proposed by the Democrats anyway.  What is it when you repeat the same actions expecting different results? Oh, right: INSANE.

Rant aside, the two bones I’m picking with Congress today are on the issues of net neutrality and unemployment.  Last week, with the unemployment rate still at nearly 10%, Congress allowed unemployment benefits to expire for more than a million unemployed Americans.   Arrogant asses like Rand Paul are enjoying telling the unemployed masses to take a pay cut and “get back to work.“  As someone who was, unfortunately, unemployed for 6 months last year, I guarantee you that there is no unemployed person in this country who has been offered a job and turned it down for any reason, least of all a pay cut.  No one enjoys being unemployed.

Then there’s the less publicized issue of net neutrality.   In short, net neutrality is good for consumers (it means a free and open internet, in addition to the highest speeds available) and bad for large cable companies, who desperately want to become internet gatekeepers and, potentially, limit free speech.   While Internet Freedom Preservation Act of 2009 (H.R. 3458) is still on the table, 74 Democratic representatives just signed industry-backed letters to the Federal Communications Commission (FCC) in attempts to keep the telecommunication companies from being regulated by the FCC.  It’s a complicated issue, to be sure and, truthfully, I don’t trust the FCC much more than I do Verizon or AT&T.  Oklahoma’s “hands off” approach appears to be the best route.  My appetite for capitalism keeps shrinking with each passing day.

And then there’s Arizona.  We’ve got rodeos, the Grand Canyon, and legalized racial profiling.  If you live above ground in this country, you’ve heard about SB1070, which officially goes into effect on July 29th.  Today, the US Justice Department filed a lawsuit against Arizona.  As a person who attempts to be socially conscious, my inbox is consistently flooded with calls for action, petitions to sign, and progressive news blasts.  This morning I received an e-mail instructing me to thank President Obama for suing my state.   I was a little taken aback.  Do I think the Justice Department is doing the right thing? Absolutely.  Injustice must be stamped out wherever it resides, and there’s an abundance of it in Arizona right now.  However, I know a lot of good people in this state.  The country is still in recession and while boycotts against Arizona continue, I really do worry about these people.  Especially since many of them are at risk of being discriminated against under SB1070.   While politicians debate immigration policy, real people are really being hurt.

My initial reasons for coming to Arizona were personal, and it was just by luck I wound up in Tucson, the blue dot in this red state.  My reasons for staying in Arizona, though, are more political.   Despite being white like meringue (though I’m sporting a nifty farmer’s tan now), I feel like it’s important for me to be here now, fighting this batshit piece of legislation, amongst other things.  Don’t forget, July 29th is the National Day of Noncompliance.

So here’s the world: asleep at the wheel.  But I can’t say I haven’t been asleep at the wheel myself.

If I believed in luck, I’d say mine has been hideous lately.  But I don’t believe in luck, perhaps because of that whole being born on Friday the 13th thing.  I do believe in physics, though, namely that every action has an equal and opposite reaction.  What I have done to cause these recent reactions, though, is still hazy to me.

This whole year has been kind of a flop, thus far.  On New Year’s Day I departed Boston for the West Coast, and made it a mere 80 miles before my engine ceased up.  Carless, I came to Tucson anyway.   I actually manged to get a job within a month or so (which I thank the genderless higher power for every day), but it was a few weeks after that when my primary mode of transportation, a bike I was borrowing from my best friend and roommate, was stolen.  I still owe him $400.  I borrowed another friend’s bike, which I managed to not get stolen, but she recently reclaimed that, leaving me somewhat helpless transportation-wise.  The public transportation system is atrocious and expensive.  A few days later, I had to reformat my laptop hard drive after I unleashed a virus onto it (OK, the cause and reaction to that one is self-explanatory; use a condom and a firewall, kids).

Despite the string of unfortunate events, I’ve been really trying to make self-improvements and be better about self-care.  This has been moderately successful.  I do have a therapist who I like (and boy am I picky about therapists), I am getting better at making and sticking to a budget, most days I get enough sleep and get to work on time, and I recently took a self-defense class and began fostering an interest in the Israeli combat art of Krav Maga.  Not to mention I quit smoking (weed, I never smoked tobacco) a few weeks ago and am trying to wean myself off soda and drink as much water as humanly possible.   Not bad.

But then there was this weekend.  It started out well enough.   I got up early on Saturday, cleaned the house, did weekend chores, ran Saturday errands, and headed to a free Krav Maga class.   That’s where I got my wires crossed.  I managed to show up just as the class was ending, and then realizing my bus came in ten minutes, ran and arrived at the corner just in time to see the bus drive by.  My choices were then to either wait an hour for the next bus, or walk.  So I walked.  Props to me for not violating my one rule for living in Arizona (“Don’t leave the house without a fully water bottle”), but shame on me for not having eaten anything that day.  About halfway home I started to feel lightheaded and even dumber than I already felt.  Somehow, I made it home, munched on some bread, and started to feel remotely human again.  Showered and headed out to the Tucson versus Mesa poetry slam.

I brought my camera to this slam, a first for me.  I’m very deliberate about where and when I have my camera.  I think it’s just as important to live life as it is to record it, and I often have to pick one or the other.   As such, I have this philosophy wherein I dedicate all the pictures I do take to all the pictures I missed taking because I was too busy living.   Philosophy aside, it was going to be an epic slam, so I thought it was a good chance to take pictures.

I got some great shots, but the quality is crap.  It makes me ill to think how much money I spent on this digital SLR (an entry level camera, to be sure, but not exactly cheap) and the quality is inconsistent and absolutely terrible in low-lighting situations.  But since an external flash would cost almost as much as the camera itself, I work with what I have.   I desperately miss working with film, though.  Shots are better composed, I focus manually, and the quality (even in low-lighting situations) is significantly better.  I hate auto focus, I really do.  It always focuses on the background or some insignificant object rather than your subject.  But it’s a necessary evil.  If, like me, you enjoy photographing people candidly, by the time you’ve focused manually, the shot is gone, the moment passed.

So, even though I know I’m capable of producing good, even beautiful work (such as here, here and here), this weekend I managed to get a lot of shots like this one, which would’ve been awesome if I could learn to get along with my bloody auto focus.  (I mean, COME ON! Focused on the SB1070 sign?! And I didn’t think that bill could piss me off anymore than it already has!) This pretty much sums it up:

Anyhow, flash forward to later that night when I return home to find some unexpected guests at the house.  My other roommate and her girlfriend were hanging out with two mutual friends of ours, one of whom I hadn’t seen in three years.  So, in the spirit of socializing, I had a few drinks with them.

It wasn’t until I was thoroughly smashed that I remember that I had eaten practically nothing that day and that I’m a complete lightweight, despite being large in stature, since I drink so rarely.  It wasn’t long before the melancholy hit me hard.  I went on a self-deprecating Twitter binge and then refused to go to sleep until the sun came up, for no apparent reason– except that’s what I do when I get depressed.  It’s like I think if I go to bed before the sun comes up, something horrible will happen.

Feeling achey and awful, but managing not to get sick (damn my Russian stomach of steel), I took Sunday to recover.  But, since work was closed on Monday due to 4th of July observance (as an hourly employee, I hate Monday holidays), I got smashed again on Monday night.   This had mixed results.   My roomie, her girlfriend and I watched “Death Proof,” my first viewing, and as far as female revenge movies go, it was deeply satisfying.  But somehow, over the course of the evening, the conversation slipped into trauma, then childhood trauma, then childhood sexual trauma, followed by a fair amount of drunken weeping (not me, though; I’ll cry for other people’s pain, but fuck if I’m going to be anything but stoic about my own).

This brought me face to face with an issue I keep trying to unpack, but to no avail.  Childhood sexual abuse is simultaneously normal, and not normal.  It is “normal” in the definition “conforming to a type, standard, or regular pattern” (i.e. it’s disturbingly common).  It is not normal in the the definition “Functioning or occurring in a natural way; lacking observable abnormalities or deficiencies” or “free from mental disorder.”  (Cited: The American Heritage and the Merriam-Webster dictionaries.)

So what the fuck do you do about something that is ubiquitous, but terrifying and inhumane?

Me? I had the worst nightmare of my life.  Nightmares usually don’t phase me anymore.  For over a decade, I had them every night, and eventually I just got used to it.  (You dream about dead children, mass rapes and cannibalism enough, nothing phases you after a while, or so I thought.)  The past few years, though, I’ve been sleeping relatively peacefully.  Then last night… it’s like my brain took every fear I’ve ever had, every terrifying thing I’ve ever experienced, and shoved it into one compact, nighttime package.   In my dream, I wept… but it wasn’t for me.

I don’t know whether to blame it on the alcohol, the conversation, or my brain.  But I feel like I’m asleep at the wheel.  And, in regards to the drinking especially, I can’t help but ask myself the same question, repeatedly– “What am I doing?”  Two nights of excessive drinking does not an alcoholic make, but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t very concerned.  I didn’t even have my first drink until I was nearly 21; alcoholism runs in my family, and I decided when I was younger that if I was an alcoholic, I didn’t want to find out.  Turns out, though, despite rampant addiction, alcohol is extremely normalized.  I’m not drinking alone, which is good, but I spend a fair amount of time with people who drink almost every night, and I worry that I’m more impressionable than I realize.

Maybe if I weren’t so terrified of turning into my mother, I wouldn’t be so worried.  But she and I are made of the same flesh and blood, what if we’re not as different as I like to pretend? I’ve only got one life to live, that I know of, and I’d like to be sober for it– or drunk off something worthwhile, like Love.

Songs for Today:

“Ball of Confusion” by the Temptations
“Girl Anachronism” by The Dresden Dolls
“Edit” by Regina Spektor