Saturday, October 1, 2011
Thursday, July 28, 2011
Blood
This post starts with an assumption. That assumption is that a 40-something man with no wedding ring who loves Lady Gaga, Glee, and "Total Eclipse of the Heart" is gay...right?
So I went to give blood today. Walking into the private room for the exam, the nurse (word choice?) escorting me commented upon my hat and immediately followed up with, "Did you see Lady Gaga on Dancing with the Stars last night??" I say no, and he clarifies that she wasn't performing, only judging, and starts to justify his love of Lady Gaga--I have to clarify that I do love her, I just don't watch tv. He segues to Glee. "Do you watch Glee? There was an episode devoted to her, and they all had costumes like her, and they sang, what song--" and is thrilled when I name Bad Romance. Back to DWTS--last night the contestants had to dance to "Total Eclipse of the Heart," which he LOVES, and I said, yeah, I really like the Glee cover. Glee? Well, did I know that some of the cast is leaving next year? And can you believe how much the actress they got to play Rachel's mom looks like her? I don't think he believes me when I say that I always thought Lea Michele was a dead ringer for Idina Menzel even before I ever watched the show. More on Lady Gaga, "she just stands out, you know, not like, who was that British singer who died, I'd never even heard of her." I agree that Gaga is certainly theatrical, but admit that Britney Spears will always be my favorite--and he agrees that she is a classic. By this point he's checked my iron and found me ineligible to donate, but sees me off with a grin.
Why does a gay man work at the blood center? Blood donation is very explicitly discriminatory. Despite the fact that HIV transmits through heterosexual contact more than anything else these days, men are not allowed to donate if they have had sexual contact with another man even once since 1977. (And a woman's not allowed to donate if, within the last year, she's slept with a man who's ever slept with a man).
Maybe he wants to contribute, and all he could do--without the option of donating--was get involved? That's pretty noble.
(Yeah, yeah, or maybe that's just where he could get a job, but don't crush my fantasy here.)
So I went to give blood today. Walking into the private room for the exam, the nurse (word choice?) escorting me commented upon my hat and immediately followed up with, "Did you see Lady Gaga on Dancing with the Stars last night??" I say no, and he clarifies that she wasn't performing, only judging, and starts to justify his love of Lady Gaga--I have to clarify that I do love her, I just don't watch tv. He segues to Glee. "Do you watch Glee? There was an episode devoted to her, and they all had costumes like her, and they sang, what song--" and is thrilled when I name Bad Romance. Back to DWTS--last night the contestants had to dance to "Total Eclipse of the Heart," which he LOVES, and I said, yeah, I really like the Glee cover. Glee? Well, did I know that some of the cast is leaving next year? And can you believe how much the actress they got to play Rachel's mom looks like her? I don't think he believes me when I say that I always thought Lea Michele was a dead ringer for Idina Menzel even before I ever watched the show. More on Lady Gaga, "she just stands out, you know, not like, who was that British singer who died, I'd never even heard of her." I agree that Gaga is certainly theatrical, but admit that Britney Spears will always be my favorite--and he agrees that she is a classic. By this point he's checked my iron and found me ineligible to donate, but sees me off with a grin.
Why does a gay man work at the blood center? Blood donation is very explicitly discriminatory. Despite the fact that HIV transmits through heterosexual contact more than anything else these days, men are not allowed to donate if they have had sexual contact with another man even once since 1977. (And a woman's not allowed to donate if, within the last year, she's slept with a man who's ever slept with a man).
Maybe he wants to contribute, and all he could do--without the option of donating--was get involved? That's pretty noble.
(Yeah, yeah, or maybe that's just where he could get a job, but don't crush my fantasy here.)
Thursday, July 14, 2011
Things I have eaten today:
As of 4:28pm:
7:30am
2 dry waffles
Handful of pretzels
8:30am
Handful of peanut m&ms
8:45am
Peanut butter sandwich
Handful of pretzels
11:40am
Footlong Italian BMT sub
2.5 double chocolate cookies
3:30pm
Large quantity of peanut m&ms
...and this is how one gains five pounds in a day.
7:30am
2 dry waffles
Handful of pretzels
8:30am
Handful of peanut m&ms
8:45am
Peanut butter sandwich
Handful of pretzels
11:40am
Footlong Italian BMT sub
2.5 double chocolate cookies
3:30pm
Large quantity of peanut m&ms
...and this is how one gains five pounds in a day.
Saturday, June 4, 2011
verbatim
(Please note the tag and the date.)
So sleepy.
I meet him at his place. He says, do you wanna get dessert? and I admit I've just eaten birthday cake. So we go inside, he gives me the grand tour. It's a lovely little studio. We sit on the couch and talk and talk and talk, and it's so easy. As time passes we ever so slowly move closer to each other. Our legs touch. Our shoulders brush against each other. He puts his hand on my thigh and our conversation halts. I try to stammer out my sentence. Our faces are very close. We share the tiniest of kisses, short and soft.
More slow motion. We kiss again, make out a little, and he pulls me on top of him. At this point we have the what are we doing/should we be doing this conversation. I don't remember what our reasons are but we determine it's not the worst idea.
Must sleep. More later. Remember:
-500 Days of Summer
-what do you expect from me
<3 a happy marie
So sleepy.
I meet him at his place. He says, do you wanna get dessert? and I admit I've just eaten birthday cake. So we go inside, he gives me the grand tour. It's a lovely little studio. We sit on the couch and talk and talk and talk, and it's so easy. As time passes we ever so slowly move closer to each other. Our legs touch. Our shoulders brush against each other. He puts his hand on my thigh and our conversation halts. I try to stammer out my sentence. Our faces are very close. We share the tiniest of kisses, short and soft.
More slow motion. We kiss again, make out a little, and he pulls me on top of him. At this point we have the what are we doing/should we be doing this conversation. I don't remember what our reasons are but we determine it's not the worst idea.
Must sleep. More later. Remember:
-500 Days of Summer
-what do you expect from me
<3 a happy marie
Tuesday, May 31, 2011
Third-person ftw
She lays in bed, not yet trying to sleep. He's 200 miles and 9 months away but in her mind he's right beside her. Holding her. Whispering to her. Running his fingers over her skin, pausing only for--
She'll never have it back, but right now, it almost feels real.
Her phone beeps, receiving a text. Jolted out of her reverie, she says his name out loud, expectantly. You know, a Jane Eyre moment - she was thinking about him so hard he felt it and reached out to her.
Of course it's not him. She's disappointed that it's not a supernatural cupid, but how could it be? For the most part she subscribes to the idea of "the one," and she never felt it with him. Their love was quite good--amazing, even--but it wasn't supernatural. Divine.
She rolls to her side and he wraps his arms around her, intertwines his legs with hers, breathes "I love you" into her neck. --Her ability to pretend play died at puberty - where did this burst of imagination come from?
Alone, she turns off her lamp and attempts to sleep. 200 miles away, he has no idea that she aches for him; that she loves him still.
She'll never have it back, but right now, it almost feels real.
Her phone beeps, receiving a text. Jolted out of her reverie, she says his name out loud, expectantly. You know, a Jane Eyre moment - she was thinking about him so hard he felt it and reached out to her.
Of course it's not him. She's disappointed that it's not a supernatural cupid, but how could it be? For the most part she subscribes to the idea of "the one," and she never felt it with him. Their love was quite good--amazing, even--but it wasn't supernatural. Divine.
She rolls to her side and he wraps his arms around her, intertwines his legs with hers, breathes "I love you" into her neck. --Her ability to pretend play died at puberty - where did this burst of imagination come from?
Alone, she turns off her lamp and attempts to sleep. 200 miles away, he has no idea that she aches for him; that she loves him still.
Sunday, May 22, 2011
Wondering
Is there a point at which an obsessive feeling lasts long enough that the feeling must be legitimate? I feel like mere obsessions burn out pretty quickly.
a little bit possessive, little miss obsessive, can't get over it
On a related note: I have a facebook status all planned out for May 30. However, that's the day after we move, so A) we probably won't have internet access and B) I will probably be too busy to remember to get worked up enough to post it. what to dooooo! ;)
a little bit possessive, little miss obsessive, can't get over it
On a related note: I have a facebook status all planned out for May 30. However, that's the day after we move, so A) we probably won't have internet access and B) I will probably be too busy to remember to get worked up enough to post it. what to dooooo! ;)
Wednesday, May 11, 2011
Unrealistic
I build myself up a box of fantasy, shutting out my instincts, shutting out common sense, shutting out advice from those who love me. I crawl in and shut the lid tightly and remain there in bliss for as long as I can. Completely delusional. Eventually reality creeps in and I wonder how I ever believed the lies I told myself, because now their falseness is obvious.
But I don't know how to pop the bubble. I can tell when I bury a thought that I'm building up the walls, but I like it. The box is a very comforting place for me. I can't stop.
I guess the best I can do is not drag anyone else in there with me. Breaking my own heart is nothing new. But I can't invite someone else to my fantasy...
And I feel like, "it's not that my instincts are saying 'no' and I'm ignoring it. It's that I can't tell WHAT my instincts are saying." But they said "no" for months and months and months. Why should something have changed? (Rhetorical question. I have all sorts of justification-type answers, of course.) And I don't know how to break down the walls to get a clear reading.
I just get so obsessive.
I always have.
love love love love love
but
surely not?
But I don't know how to pop the bubble. I can tell when I bury a thought that I'm building up the walls, but I like it. The box is a very comforting place for me. I can't stop.
I guess the best I can do is not drag anyone else in there with me. Breaking my own heart is nothing new. But I can't invite someone else to my fantasy...
And I feel like, "it's not that my instincts are saying 'no' and I'm ignoring it. It's that I can't tell WHAT my instincts are saying." But they said "no" for months and months and months. Why should something have changed? (Rhetorical question. I have all sorts of justification-type answers, of course.) And I don't know how to break down the walls to get a clear reading.
I just get so obsessive.
I always have.
love love love love love
but
surely not?
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