Stumbling into the Fault Line

After a violent incident happens to an individual, a race begins. The key players in his or her life line up inside the gates of the carrel and wait for the deafening sound of the shotgun before galloping full speed in the Blame Game. Who will win? Was it his fault? Was it her fault? Was it what she was wearing? Was it where he was walking? Was it who she called to take her home? Was it that he didn’t call anyone to take him home?

Regardless of gender, after an assault, our society becomes obsessed with finding culpability on the individual who was assaulted. The victim. Unlike any other crime, victims of sexual assault are antagonized by loved ones, professionals, peers – everyone – until they can prove that they were not at fault. The game is ruthless and often results in extraordinary difficulty for the survivor.

This morning, my parents and I engaged in conversation about the stupidity of certain college students. This population is the one that will get obliterated on the weekend, the get upset at the college professional staff when they trip down the stairs that we didn’t do enough to keep them safe. I expressed frustration at this attitude and the parents who then call up the school and demand we install railings on the stairwells, childproof gates, or whatever expensive and pointless equipment they can create that might help keep their young drunk safe. Failure to do so is our fault as an Institution.

My parents pointed out that only a few years ago, I held this belief. My mother says “You insisted you could dress however you wanted and you did – like a whore – and then you wondered why things happened to you. Idiotic things happen to idiotic people.” And my father laughed a little, saying how interesting it was that I came to understand their point of view at last.

Now, anyone that knows me knows a few things off the bat. When it comes to anything around assigning blame for a sexual assault, it is never the fault of the victim or survivor. I don’t care who you are or what you were doing, it is NEVER your fault that someone chooses to violate your body against your will. Never. Sexual assaults do not happen in a vacuum. There are tens of people that interact with both the potential victim and potential instigator in the hours before the potential assault occurs. Why don’t we focus our energies on this population? If one person would step in, say something, do something, interrupt this recipe for assault – then the action would be prevented. It’s that simple. There is no point in arguing culpability after the fact – the one is still assaulted and the other an assaulter. Neither are good shoes to fill.

So stop. Just… stop. Stop judging. Stop belittling. Stop joining the masses in the stables and stop placing your bets on the winning horse. Stop. Take one fraction of that time and energy and next time YOU are out and see something that has potential to go awry, do something. Do something directly. Or create a distraction. Or delegate by involving someone else. The whole conversation about blame can be avoided if we stop the potential assaults before they happen. This isn’t a He Said or She Said problem any more. It’s a problem for all of us. We are the people that interact with the potential players involved in the hours before the potential assault. The responsibility to interrupt that potential lies within each of us. So stop. Just… stop. And start doing something that will actually make a difference.

Thrivival: One Year Later

As I sit here in the Chicago, OHARE airport, I cannot help but find myself reflecting on the differences that abound in one year. One year. 365 Days. Sounds like the beginning of a soundtrack song from Rent. But seriously? Wow. What a year!

I am sitting at a delightful little Mediterranean café in the airport, B-wing, as I wait for my flight to board later this afternoon. I am sipping my ice-cold Diet Coke and nibbling on the last slice of the personal pizza I ordered – grilled on tomato-flatbread, Feta and Parmesan cheeses with a host of vivacious vegetables. Yes, vivacious. The taste combination is incredible – something I wouldn’t have thought to bring together in the culinary palate. Okay, minus the diet coke – that’s just my addiction. I am contemplating the frozen yogurt stand just to my left, though the Smoothie King and Jamba Juice next door as calling out to me as well. We’ll see. I’ll get something for the plane ride – it’s summer, right? And I’m on vacation!

A year ago, the thought of eating a single slice of pizza with a basic cheese and tomato dressing sent me into waves of panic and fear. I plotted out ways to remove any offensive item from my plate (meaning most everything created with more than 10 calories). I lied to people about my health. I hid the fact I was in a treatment program again, and I drank more calories through wine and rum than would be healthy for a regularly-nourished person. I was anxious for my first trip back to my parents’ house after my whole eating disordered ordeal. I was scared someone would notice that I was struggling more intensely than ever before, yet embarrassed at my “healthy” size and weight. Basically? I was a wreck.

I have done a lot of living and learning in the past 12 months. I have a successful, stable, empowering and creative job doing something that I love. My artistic expeditions are beginning to pay off, with a recent windfall at a local restaurant that is using my photography and acrylics to cover the walls. I have one of the most incredible girlfriends a person could ever want – someone who makes my heart sing and my soul soar in the wind currents of thrilling new relationships. I am a self-proclaimed food snob, having learned to cook creations that are worthy of such snobbery. Simply put? I am happy. More than that. I am thriving, for the first time in my life.

The sun sprinkles in through the windows above this little terminal-side café. Outside the world continues to move at a frantic pace. Inside? Travelers hurry from point to point, navigating the arduous terrain of airport construction and terminals that remind you when the moving sidewalk is about to end. But in this moment? The world stands still. A point of reflection, a celebration, a proclamation. The restricted, punished life that I forced upon myself for years is truly over. It’s been a journey. It’s been a long and crazy story that continues to unfold before my eyes.

For the first time ever, my life feels more fully mine to live and to succeed in than ever before. I walk around my Nashvillian world saying “I love my life,” except for those stressful moments stuck on I-24 trying to navigate my way home from a long day on campus. Even then, if that’s the most I have to complain about, I’m doing pretty well. I’m free. I’m free to be the person that I’ve always been inside. The person that was masked by anorexia and depression and PTSD. The person that wasn’t allowed to figure herself out because she was too busy being Miss Perfection. I am the same person I’ve always been- just one with a head screwed more solidly on her shoulders and a deeper appreciation for the complexities of life. The delicate balance of mental and physical well being that are necessary for thrivival. That’s my word. I’m not in this to survive – survival isn’t enough for me any more. I want to engage every minute of this life with the full force of a thriving rainforest, rich from a recent deluge and bursting out with energy of every living organism within its realm. That… that is thrivival.

Welcome to the new life. The new energy. The new chapter in this story. But hang on tight folks, because life is moving in high velocity. It’s been stagnant too long – it’s my time to soar.

On my way!

I'm on my way to the family vacation - woohoo!! Much more blogging will commence in the near future, complete with photos of our wild adventures. So please stay tuned for further updates. :)

blah

I'm very in my head today. I need to get out of my head - it does me no good. Just... yeah. Way too much thinking, not enough coffee, and far too much to do today to be stuck in my head. I'm okay... just... pensive.

And a little anxious for going home in a couple weeks. Because the weekend trip took a sizable chunk out of my resolve and grounded place. Build yourself up, people tell me. Fortify your mask. Oh wait, my mask tends to be my body. So that doesn't really work so well for me.

Just keep swimmin' - that's the anthem of the day. Keep pushing, keep moving, keep your gills open and your head held high. Just need to make it through tomorrow and my girlfriend will be in town... and then I won't have a chance to be in my head, I'll be way too preoccupied being in my heart. :P <3

Okay, that felt good to vent. Now, back to work. So much to do in so little time...

Doing the Difficult Thing

Too much of my life I've spent doing things because it would make someone else happy. I've changed how I dress, how I talk, how I act, how I look, how I weigh - pretty much everything - to fit someone else's standards. That other person can change. It's been family members, friends I wanted to impress, and romantic partners. I've worked hard at NOT figuring out who I am because it was easier to be who others wanted me to be.

No more.

This year has been my radicalizing year, at least for my 20s. It's been the year I stand up to myself and dare to be myself. It's a year to push the line in order to discover where that line is. It's a chance to take risks and experiment with who I am - the parts I like and the parts that scared me silly. So far? It's going famously.

I recently left a group of people because I found myself, once more, doing things because I "should" or "ought" or to avoid letting others down. I found myself caught up in what I thought others thought of me or worrying about why someone didn't say or do something at a certain time - trivial things really. Very mundane, high school things. This wasn't an impact of any one person - it was something I found in myself that I didn't like. I'm done doing things for others because I feel guilty or like I won't be approved or liked if I don't. I am me, nothing more and nothing less. Those around me will like me for that person and I won't have to hide any aspect of my personality, lifestyle or path.

So now, I'm faced with a first decision. I have several conflicts with an event on Saturday. I had agreed to go to something because I felt like it was the right thing to do. But it's not something my heart is in. I'd be going because I feel like I should, not because I especially feel like my presence would be wanted or that my contributions would be meaningful. It'd be going because NOT going would be a difficult thing to do. Now, however, I have an opportunity to display my art at a new cafe opening on Monday the 12th. The same Saturday that I'm supposed to be at this one thing, I'm supposed to be loading in my art. I've wrestled with this for a good bit... but really? I need to do the art. This is the culmination of a YEAR of my work and represents something that is true to my spirit and my path.

Added into this, the girl that I'm dating will be in town Thursday evening-Monday morning. I don't see her often and really? I don't want to spend the Saturday away from her. Now, I know that's selfish. But she has my heart in a way this other group of people never did. When I'm with her, time simultaneously freezes and races by at the same time. She's agreed to help me hang my art in this cafe/restaurant... and she'd also said she'd stay by the pool at home if I wanted to go to the shower. So it's not really about her. It's about me. And my decision not to live my life according to the standards of others, but according to my own heart and soul.

It's not an easy thing to do. I'd rather just go back on a diet to please those that care, show up at things because it's easier than fighting, and slide along in my life without causing fuss or argument. Except... that's not living. It's a half-life that has consumed far too much of my existence to date. So no, no more of that. I'm going to keep on doing those difficult things. I may lose some people along the way (I've already lost quite a few), but those that are still with me at the end will be the ones that are the strongest, closest and deepest of relationships.

So here's to doing the difficult thing.

What is American?

I was out to eat with my forever friend this evening at a good ole fashioned diner in a good ole fashioned town. This family came in, with the dad wearing jeans and a wife-beater tank top (that phrase is another rant all together), and had that messed-up hair look aced. He was with a woman I'm assuming to be his wife, who was also very "stereotypically" American. This man says to another man in the party "I'm glad for some good American eatin' at an American place."

That got me thinking. What exactly is American? Why is a diner that has a little bit of everything, but nothing relating to another culture... why is that American? Is this country represented by hotdogs and hamburgers, or by the diversity of ethnicities and individuals that create its backbone? Would my lifestyle be considered American?

I don't wave the flag around, and I don't always agree with those governing my country. I don't believe in war and would never agree to kill someone no matter the reason. It's not legal for me to wed the type of person I would wed in the majority of states. Hell, I can't even walk down the street with my hand in the hand of the woman I care about.

What is American? What counts as a legitimate representation of this country? Would this NOT be the place for someone such as myself? A country founded on the belief that all people should be equal, should have the freedom to practice their religion and their lifestyle of choice. If someone like me isn't American, then what is?

Needless to say, I ordered a Greek omelet with homefries and bbq sauce. I design my own path in life, and I design my own dinner at the diner.

That's so NOT gay

I'm really getting tired of hearing, reading and seeing the expression "That's so gay." People use the word to represent dumb, stupid, bad, horrible, outlandish and repulsive. If a person is acting outside of the gender norms, they are labeled gay. A man that doesn't want to have sex all the time - gay. A tv show that flops - gay. A musical group that people don't like - gay.

Think about it. When have you said it? When do people around you say it? Is it a positive or a negative?

Some have told me "it's just a word." Right, like "nigger" was just a word? Or "cunt" is just a word? It's offensive because an identity is being used as a qualifier for stupid and pathetic. If people went around saying "That's so Black," the NAACP would be all up in arms and there's be a news story covering the incident within 30 minutes. So why do we shake our heads and dust off those ancient rationalizations for this one?

My identity is NOT a joke. It's not funny. It's not stupid, pathetic, bad or horrible. Stop using it as an insult, and maybe, just maybe, use it with respect. People that come out face more discrimination, hatred and callousness. We face people who think they have a right to decide who we can marry, what happens in our bedrooms, and who our hearts should beat for. It's absurd. We are not "less than" our heterosexual peers. We are not better than either. But using phrases like this institutionalizes the same oppression that has us banned from wedding the ones we love, from having rights in the medical world around the person we love, and from walking down the street arm in arm with the person we love. It's hard enough being out. We don't need to be reminded of the homophobia and bigotry of the average American every time we log into Facebook or walk into a movie theatre.

Rape as God's Will?

Please read this article. It's powerful, and infuriating. The senatorial seat in Nevada is open this election round and there is one candidate who sends chills down my spine. Her name is Sharron Angle and she is a member of the bigot-filled Tea Party. She has taken the "pro-life" rhetoric to the next level of nauseam. In a recent interview, she stated that she was "pro responsible-choice." Confused? Click the link and read the article.

Someone please explain to me how any type of spiritual being would want someone to be raped? I may not be Christian, but I remember learning about a loving father figure who gave up his only child to save the souls of humanity. Easter isn't about the chocolate bunnies or the colorful eggs (both pagan symbols actually) - but about this commitment from God the Father to the rest of the world. Perhaps I am biased as I have a very good man for a father - but seriously?!?? A person that believes it is OKAY for someone to be raped as part of the higher plan for that individual? That is not a person I want involved running my government. I may not live in Nevada, but a senator has great influence in shaping national policy.

Pro-Life or Pro-Choice, that's for you to decide. Oh wait, that means I outed myself as pro-choice as I'm willing to give you the right to make up your own mind. That's all it is, really. Being pro-choice. We're not pro-abortion. We don't go out killing babies while we take out the trash and make our first cup of coffee. We sit with women and their families who have unplanned pregnancies. We help them talk through ALL of their options and provide them with as much information as possible. Before this point, we teach them the TRUTH about sexual health and contraception, hoping to avoid this conversation all together in the aftermath of failed abstinence-only education. We help these individuals through the emotional turmoil and empower them to make their own choices. Most will choose to keep the baby or give it up for adoption. Some will choose to terminate. All we do is supply the information. Be pro-life. Make that your choice. But who the hell are you to tell me what I can and cannot do with MY body.

And along those lines. If you really like the whole abstinence-only approach as a solution to pregnancy? Consider changing your stance on gay rights. LGBTQI folks won't have to deal with pregnancy when dating a same-sex partner. So if you're so pro-life, maybe support this large segment of the population that cannot have unplanned, accidental pregnancies (with one another). Gay families are very thought-out choices - the type of family planning that pro-lifers advocate for straight couples.

Okay, ranting done for now. Just... wow. I've known the Christian God before and I'm pretty sure he's heavy hearted by people like this woman. I know the Goddess that holds my heart now is crying.

Weather spirits seek revenge

This year's weather has been some of the craziest I have ever seen. My brother in DC walked around in 3 feet of snow after the storm shut down the area metro and forced them to hike across the bridge over the Potomac. My parents in Philadelphia had over 2 feet of snow on the ground for almost a month. Even Nashville received more snow than we've had since 2002. 8 inches may not be a lot for those of us hailing from the Northeast, but for a city with only a handful of snow plows and ice trucks? It shut things down completely.

Nashville was flooded May 1/2 in the craziest rains that I've ever witnessed. We had over a foot of water fall in two days, launching the city and surrounding areas into total disaster. My exit from the interstate was featured on national news - the one on I-24 with the "house" floating by. Yup, that was less than a mile from my home.

The good news? I live on a hill. I live on the 2nd story of an apartment complex on a hill, aptly named for being like the Chimney Top. I was fortunate. Many people across the state lost everything. Rivers, creeks, streams - everything turned into mayhem. Interstates were shut down, Vanderbilt even postponed the Monday finals for the students. It's being called a 100-year flood - meaning the type of natural disaster that only hits every century.

Now? Now we are slowly melting away beneath a heat that is crazier than anything we've seen in Nashville in years. I was amazed at the reading on my car earlier in the week - astounded that it was triple-digits in June. Later on the same drive home (at 6pm, mind you), I clocked another reading. This is with the air conditioning going and, presumably, cooling down the air right outside my car.

So I'm saying a big "we are sorry" to the weather spirits. I know that mankind has fucked up royally. We have an oil spill gushing thousands of barrels of poison into your ecosystems in the Gulf of Mexico. We have destroyed the protective ozone layers around the planet. We have stripped the forests bare. Whether this is revenge or not, I don't know. But I'm praying the extremes lessen before the next season changes.

Live your own life

I need to vent, and this is my space to do so. If you are someone who is seeking treatment for an issue - be warned, you may not like what I have to say.

I talked to another friend today who is leaving for residential treatment for her eating disorder. I saw this friend less than a month ago and se was talking about how well she was doing, how it was going to be different this time. She'd just gotten out of hospitalization-number-i-can't-keep-track. She's going away to a new place, hoping this one will work.

Too many people seem to forget that the most important component of therapy or treatment programs is YOU. You have to be your own agent for change, your own rope tied to safer ground and brighter futures. You have to be willing do dive in and do the difficult work - no one is going to save you, you have GOT to save yourself. Programs provide structure for people to engage in therapeutic conversations and experiences. But they are not the answer. Clearly - because so few people hold onto recovery after leaving the 24-7 system of a residential treatment facility.

It just... makes me mad. There is so much in this thing called life. But you've got to be part of the game to experience running the bases, catching the ball, and striking out. Life isn't easy. It's an emotional roller coaster that frequently gets off track. But it's the only one we've got and it's ours to experience. People that refuse to live their own lives... that hide in treatment program after treatment program... that supply ample excuses for their inability to do the work... and place ownership of the problem on anything external that comes to mind... drive me nuts!!

It also drives me nuts that so many programs do not work. Why? There is no transition out. That's what I want to do - why I'm going back to school. I'm tired of programs setting people up to fail, and the people accepting that failure as a given. There has to be a better way. I believe more people can fight back a hell of a lot faster than the current status quo.

So in summary, I leave you with a challenge. A challenge to do ONE thing in the next 24 hours that will move you forward. Will create an opportunity, connection or positive experience. Something that will assist you in living your OWN life. And I challenge you to come back her and leave a comment about what you did.

Proud in Nashville

This weekend was the Nashville PRIDE festival - a holiday for LGBTQI individuals across the state, and a few from surrounding areas. Our Office of LGBTQI Life had a table at the event, so all the staff at the Women's Center and KCPC headed down to the Riverfront for various shifts.

Working Pride is more wonderful that words can say. Having a shaded booth to sit under? Priceless! Knowing enough people with influence to have a booth right near the stage? Key. Having colleagues come all day long to say hello and borrow your shade? Entertaining to say the least.

I took the above photo of Nashville while walking across the Pedestrian Bridge. If you park at LP Field, you can get downtown for free without paying the ridiculous public parking fees. Except... when someone decides to get married ON the bridge, you will have a long walk in excruciating heat at the end of your long day of working and sweating. Yup, you read that right folks. Some couple decided to get married ON THE BRIDGE. Which then shut it down, leaving a gaggle of gays stranded on the wrong side of river. How rude!!

So what is PRIDE? It's a celebration of the Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, Transgender, Queer and Intersex community. It's a chance for gay-friendly vendors and organizations to showcase their work, for liberal politicians to solicit votes, and for LGBTQI folks to walk hand in hand down the streets of Nashville without fearing criticism or reproach. It's a musical festival with lots of fair-food - ice cream, bbq chicken on a stick, loaded fries, etc. And a chance to pick up more freebies with rainbows than at a Wizard of Oz theme party.

For me, being Proud in Nashville is twofold. I'm proud of the person that I am identity-wise, and I'm proud of this city that I belong to. Nashville is home to me, it is where I found my voice and my strength to always push forward, no matter what life tosses my way. This is the world where I belong. And I am proud to be in Nashville.

Girlfriends

Apologies for taking a few days off. Thing have gotten crazy in my world pretty quickly, but are starting to untangle quite nicely. My first update comes from a surprise last week.

As you may have read, the week was a bit bumpy. Unexpected drama will do that to you, or at least to me. I talked to my new interest about this for a good bit. Well, Thursday these INCREDIBLE flowers show up at work. I was simply floored. And I do mean floored.

This is just one of the many reasons I greatly prefer girlfriends to boyfriends. Not only is it like I've come home to where I belong, but I'm finally dating a genre of person that "gets it" and enjoys doing these cutesy things. Now, I am not used to being spoiled and I am adamant that I will not be a "kept woman" so to speak. But the romantic factor gets lots of "oooo"s and "awwwwhs" from me. And my coworkers.

Girls are just... I can't describe it. Any doubts I've ever had about the way I roll, the team I bat for, insert euphemism here... gone. I've found where I belong. I've found my niche. I've found the way to live my life and I have found a person I want to spend my time with. It's just dating... or going steady... or whatever antiquated language you want to use. It's beautiful and sincere.

The best thing I did was dare to give it a try. To break from the norms that were hammered into my head. I found out more about who I was... who I wanted to be... and who I've always been. Taste true happiness and you can never go back to mediocrity.

A Request

Dear World,

Please stop talking about how much you want to lose weight, change your body, alter your size, skip meals, or otherwise engage in unhealthy behaviors. Please stop obsessing about what you do or do not look like. Please stop having these conversations outside my office door, while we're out for coffee, or trying to eat lunch. It sucks you're not happy with your body - but do you think talking about how unhappy you are with it is going to make you feel better or worse?

Weight does not define you. It's a number - it's insignificant in the grand scheme of things. If you want to work out, do so because you want to, not because you have a goal to change the way your body is meant to be. And please, stop talking about portion control and how much you admire the willpower of others. It's not always willpower, sometimes it's illness. It's a life-threatening condition that plagues so many more people that you'll ever realize.

So stop. STOP! Stop hating on the body that the Goddess gave to you and start loving it, nurturing it, and learning how it feels to be you. Stop hiding, running and resisting. Embrace the way you are - curves, imperfections, freckles, everything else. You are unique and beautiful as you are. Why do we keep trying to fit ourselves in some unreachable mold?

Okay, I feel better now.

Most sincerely,
me

The first foot is the hardest

In the old expression that describes resiliency by placing one foot and putting it in front of the other, no matter what else is going on, there is one slight oversight. The cliche grossly underestimates the difficulty of lifting that first foot off the ground!

Today, my feet are clad in cute Payless black slides with a small heel to help keep my white pants from dragging on the ground. Heels are a favorite of mine, though I prefer to keep them to boots. I am a self-described boot-addict. If there were meetings - Boots Anonymous - I would attend. Alas, I digress.

The challenge for today is to pick up one of these feet and to place it solidly on the ground before me. Challenges arise in our daily lives all the time. Some are easier to navigate around than others. I find myself feeling quite heavy from the challenge laid before me yesterday, and frustrated that it seems to have clipped my wings. I refuse to wallow and I refuse to let negativity deviate me from my path. It's irritating to me when "constructive criticism" is too vague to be useful and too specific to ignore. It's one thing to be told you are problematic, it's another when there is no "this is how" to follow through upon.

Alas, I'm stubborn enough to move my feet despite the lack of confidence in my dance step. I'll fake it 'til I make it, smile on my face. I am me. At the end of the day, that "me" may need to be adapted for others to understand, but no one gets to make me feel guilty for being myself. That's what happened yesterday. I'm officially rejecting that notion. If I am going to lead any type of successful program, it must be one grounded in authenticity. I am not perfect and I have a long way to go to be the most effective leader possible. But I refuse to let feedback hit me so personally. I refuse to allow the words of one to undermine years of education and experience. The words were harsh - sharp as days-old cheddar cheese. But you know what? That person does not know ME. And perhaps her words were necessary for the improvement of the program, but it was not okay that the delivery created an environment of hostility and extreme doubt. Assess my style of communication and presentation, advise me on ways to improve and to connect with more people. But do not sling words at the person behind the position.

I am me. I have worked hard to be proud of that statement and not see it as an embarrassment or an excuse. No one is going to tear that apart.

A Lesson in Humility

Ever have one of those days when everything you do seems determined to bring you down a few notches? That's been the type of day this one has been, and it's only 2:30 in the afternoon! I'm grateful to the incredible weekend that I just had as it's built me up enough to know that this too will pass. That I am more than any one piece of my parts, and that sometimes difficult conversations are needed to help you grow.

I'm one of those girls that will cry when she's upset - a trait that I've had to nurture over time as I was taught leaking water from your eyes was a heinous, despicable thing to do, especially in public. I've since come to embrace the tears - they are FAR healthier than the alternatives that pop up when you spend a lifetime holding them back. Still, I am reluctant to let the streams flow while in a professional role or environment.

Anyways, today's lesson has been one in humility. Getting a dose of the importance of separating out the person from the work and the reality of working for a cause far larger and greater than you ever can be as one person. There's a balance in this work - a line to walk between giving too much of your spirit to your path, making you vulnerable to critical remarks and leaving too much of your spirit out of the work, creating an emotionless robot that destroys the delicate work you are doing with insensitivity and routine. It's a balance I must continue to work on.

I received some feedback that I have an "edge" to me that turns people off. That I'm not easily accessible and that my image can damage the budding relationships we are creating. The feedback came from a trusted source who was a filter - an honest conversation after a rough conversation she had with someone last week. I admire this person greatly and appreciate her lens to view this feedback from. I admire the person who gave the feedback as well - though I'm left scratching my head as usually I'm told that I'm TOO open and TOO connected with the issue, or NOT formal enough. Honestly, it doesn't make much sense to me. But it is what it is, and any good facilitator must be able to adapt at the risk of alienating your audience. I am a professional and I can mold my presentation style to meet the needs of those needing to hear my message.

It's hard to believe in yourself as confidently as you had when you get this message. It's hard to trust you're doing it right at all. It's hard to keep from generalizing to other areas of your world where you've been less secure traditionally. But really? This is part of life. Accepting that you are an imperfect being and that you are going to have shortcomings, just like everyone else. That certain characteristics that are strengths in the eyes of many can be obstacles in the eyes of an important few. And that really? You are just another player in a puzzle MUCH larger than you.

It's humbling. It stings a little. Like a child running freely who falls on the pavement, scratching up her knee. Blood begins to flow as the first throbs of pain hit the body. Does she give up running outside? Hardly. She takes a minute to pick out the gravel and clean herself up, then heads back out into the world.

not so hopeless romantic

Yesterday was a day from the movies and one that made this hopeless romantic completely intoxicated with happiness. I've been dating this girl, S, for a few weeks now and things are going quite well. I spent yesterday morning getting ready (including the daily dose of vitamin-D acquisition by the pool). S arrived around 2ish in the afternoon and we had some down time together before heading off on our adventures. We went to campus area topick up tickets to the Nashville Rollergirls showdown that night at the Fairgrounds - at Benand Jerry's - and then sat by a magnolia tree eating our ice cream cones. Itried to get on the limb, but couldn't manage to hoist myself up there AND keep the ice cream from falling, so I chose to sit by it instead of ON it.

From there, we drove down to Centennial Park - one of the Nashville hot-spots. I showed her some of my favorite trees to lounge under, benches that I occupy on less-hot-and-humid days, and my favorite places in the park. There's a man-made lake in the middle of the park, so we walked around that before alighting on one of the many covered swings. We watched a wedding get set up and saw the bride arrive in her white limo. We watched a church group sing songs and hold a benefit asking for help for someone in their congregation. We watched people as they passed and made up stories about what they were doing. We chatted about faith

and spirituality, life and dreams, goals and wishes. Our lips touched gently for a few stolen kisses - not wanting to create a scene, but at peace all the same.

We met up with some of my work-friend for dinner at Calypso. Or that was the plan. Michael sent us directions to a place he found - one of the many restaurants in this chain. Except... when we got there... it was nothing by a warehouse and the company headquarters/catering service!! He and Katie arrived shortly thereafter and we made alternative dinner plans. Except then he got us lost AGAIN, before admitting defeat and letting me be the lead car. We landed at Smiling Elephant, a lovely Thai place on 8th Ave an

d I had some of the best fried rice of my life. :) And diet coke never tasted so good as to when you've been out in the sun all day long.

Next came the Rollergirls. How do I explain this one? Imagine a team of women wearing short skirts or spandex shorts, with leggings in various colors, and some with face paint. Now imagine them on roller skates and going round and round the track. It was INCREDIBLE! The audience? A very liberal blend of people - mostly on the LGBTQI spectrum - and very engaged in the derby. Nashville CRUSHED Knoxville, winning by over 100 points. It was awesome, and I'm definitely going to attend the next meet in town. The four of us met up with 3 other work-related colleagues here... sitting together and cheering on the home team. Even S, despite her connection to Knoxville.

Since it was only 9pm and we were already hot and sweaty from the whole day, we decided to head out to Lipstick Lounge - a fantastic lesbian karaoke bar in East Nashville. Only 4 of us in total decided to go... but we had a BLAST! S is an amazing singer, so she got up and did a couple of songs. It was incredible to be somewhere like that with my date... to be able to dance, hold hands, smooch... anything really... without fear or hesitation. To be "one of the family" and at home. I was talking to S later, and she said that was the first time she's ever been with an all-LGBTQI group of people and that it was down right liberating. I must agree. :)

S stayed the night... and we spent about 3 hours today by the apartment complex pool. Incredible times... just laughing, chatting, munching on snacks (aka munchies) and goofing off in the pool. She finally had to head out as I have a few projects I need to work on today for commission-based work I'm doing with my art. We put on a fantastic slow song about Blue Eyes (we both have blue eyes) and that's how we ended out the wonderful weekend. Yes, we're cheesy. But you know what? The hopeless romantic isn't such a dying breed these days!!!

In other news... Saturday was the first time I wore short-shorts like that in, well, forever. Possibly ever. It was too damn hot (95, heat index around 105) for anything else. Body image be damned, I know I look better than I think I do, and my body appreciated having more room to breathe. Besides, I had the woman I wanted on my arms... and there's a confidence that comes from that that makes a person's spirit simply soar.

I won't see her until after July 4... the down side of long distance. Even not-so-long-distance. But we had a great weekend together and I look forward to seeing where it goes. I had my taste of romantic for this month... and that's a taste I look forward to repeating.

A different type of barometer

It's summertime in Nashville and it's hotter than an engine after a day's ride across country outside. I'm the typical person that lives by herself (technically with two dependents, both fur-balls) and tries to save money whenever possible. So on the hottest days, I keep my apartment set around 80 - it's cooler than outside by about 15 degrees, but not ridiculously cold inside or creating possible thunderstorms on my doorway.

Anyways, so I was cleaning out my fridge this morning in preparation to go grocery shopping. You have to remove all the foods that you can no longer eat as they have started to become science experiments... and then take inventory of what you can combine and what's just not going to get eaten this week. That way you have room for new supplies. I noticed a can of biscuits that had migrated to the back-most corner of the fridge. They expired 2 months ago, so I tossed them in the can under the sink.

From here, I got distracted with the temptation of sitting out by the apartment pool in the sunshine before the kids all woke up and took over the serene landscape. I'm just in from a lazy hour or two of bronzing myself (okay, it will BE bronze tomorrow, now it's a soft pink hue). I'm checking my various online accounts when "POP!!!!" happens in my apartment.

First instinct? Cats. Both were in sight and accounted for. Second instinct? That empty coffee can I put under the sink this morning might have fallen over. I was wrong on both accounts (see me modeling how you can admit when you are wrong?). When I opened the door to the kitchen cabinet, there was half a can of biscuits on the other side of the storage area... and half a can of biscuits still in the trash can, dough rolling out gently from the new opening. And dare I say, it was starting to rise!!

That's right folks. In a rare combination of expired biscuit dough, ridiculous external heat, and just the right amount of internal heat... the biscuits started to grow on their own in the trash!!

Definitely means it's time to knock down the temperature a few degrees, and of course, to take out the trash.