Just call me entitled asshole...

If I never hear the term "first world problem" again, it will be too soon. I get it: My husband spent 2 months in the hospital and almost died, hence he isn't allowed to work and is getting jacked around by his disability. I was laid off, am getting fucked over by unemployment, and bust my ass job hunting and going to school full time. I can't sleep at night because I am starting to worry about how we are going to pay bills and whether we may have to move into my parent's basement. So, I get it...it's not nearly as bad as a child starving in Africa or not being able to get clean drinking water. It still really, really fucking sucks and is wreaking havoc on me. I'm a pussy.

My Cock Is a Weapon of Mass Destruction...

i love when people say that "homosex is a threat to national security"…People have always said I was a bit to fixated on my dick, but I had NO idea that my dick was that important.

Queer...

Watching one man shows from Charles Nelson Reilly and Leslie Jordan make me so proud. I don't care how butch or queeny that you are, or how young or old you are.. if you are ignorant enough to think that we should be ashamed of the flamers and drag queens, the bears and dykes, the trannies and leatherfolk, the punks and the gender fuckers...the outcasts are the ones that fought this fight from the beginning...if you think that only clean cut gays that "behave" should represent us...you might want to reconsider...

Wheat Fields and Nose Rings...

Nostalgia can be a powerful thing. Sad, pathetic, dangerous...but sometimes a beautiful catalyst. I am so tied to my senses when it comes to remembering. There are so many smells, tastes, and especially sounds that trigger something in my head that remind me of being 5, 10, 16, 22...Being such a music fanatic, songs, more than anything hold the biggest power over my memory and mindset. Some songs can trigger a smile, a sigh, and a tear all in a few minutes. While I usually break out stuff from my past when I want that feeling, sometimes I luck out and something that I have never heard before sparks the same response. Tonight I listened to a band called Be Forest that did exactly that. They took me back to being an outcast, sexually confused, too smart for my own good freak. There was a moment in my early-mid teens when I realized that not only was I a weirdo, but that I fully fucking embraced that epiphany. Maybe it was taking a paint pen and dying my hair blue in 6th grade...or making out with Cindy Lucas to the smell of patchouli and Kiss Me, Kiss Me, Kiss Me on the stereo. It could have been driving across Lawrence, KS at the age of 17 in a car full of fellow freaks listening to "How Soon Is Now?" or making love to my first boyfriend at 19 while listening to some 4AD album. All, I know is how fucking powerful knowing that I didn't give a shit about being popular or fitting in, and that I wouldn't trade being "weird" for anything in the world made me feel. I'm now 37 years old now and I'm sure many people think that I'm too old for my music obsession, or the tattoo on the back of my head, or the hunk of steel in my septum...The truth is that not only is it not something that I really consider...I also don't care. Despite my self esteem issues, my social anxiety, or my OCD...I'm pretty fucking happy with the man that I am right now. I may not have followed the path that I intended and it may not always be easy, but you know what...the weird punk/goth dork that lives inside the hard working, heart-on-my-sleeve man loves that a scent, a book, a film, an album, and a band can make him feel that all over again...That feeling pushes me to never just accept, but to always push and love where I'm headed...

Another thrilling Saturday night...

I really need to update this and stay more on it. SO much has changed in my life in the last couple of months. For another day...I am contemplating leaving this as my personal blog (and hopefully making it far more interesting) and doing an entirely separate music blog...

I've been thinking tonight...

The Westboro Baptist Church are kind of like AIDS...most people didn't give a shit until it started affecting straight people...

I'm only human...

So, from my random, sporadic postings on here and elsewhere, it isn't much of a secret that it's been a chaotic few months for me. Between the break up with Michael and him moving out, to job hunting, getting myself back into school, and some big financial issues, it's been a bitch and a half. While I initially had a pretty rough go of things right after Michael left, I've been shocked and kind of proud at how I've adapted and completely changed not only how I cope with things, but also my whole attitude and outlook. By no means am I claiming to be perfect or that I don't still have my issues, but I have had this odd sense of calm come over me. This realization that things are the way that they are and no amount of emotional breakdown is going to change that. Wallowing doesn't solve a damned thing and being proactive instead of reactive is such a nicer way to go about it. Where I'd once find myself exploding about something, I know give it some time to sink in and for me to mull it over. Often, I find that it wasn't nearly the big deal that I initially thought it was or, I was way off base to begin with. Cutting off my nose to spite my face never worked in the past. It only took me until the age of 37 to realize that. Finding that balance between being rational and emotional is very freeing. Through all of this, I have found a lot more confidence, security, and peace with myself. Not to be all Dr. Phil about it, but there is something to be said about self acceptance. It's fucking nice...

The one issue that I have been having a bit of trouble with lately, however, is loneliness. While I, by no means, think I'm incomplete without a man in my life. God knows, I have spent the better very large portions of my life alone, even when I have been in some of my previous relationships. It isn't something that brings me down or holds me back, but it does tug at me. Especially at night. I have offers from friends to do things, but my current financial situation doesn't rationally leave me room for going out and spending money. I crave companionship, but I also really miss intimacy. Sex is great and I'm sure I could log onto Craigslist or Bear411, or sign up on one of those hook up sites like Adam4Adam or Manhunt, right now and get laid in no time. That's not what I'm talking about. While I do miss the intensity of sex with someone that knows your body and what you like, what I'm having more trouble with is the little stuff. The kissing, touches, hand holding, cuddling, holding...the mushy intimate shit. Again, I'm sure that I could open up a website and find that stuff as well. Hell, I have offers for cuddling multiple times a night. I just have a massive problem doing that with someone that I don't have some kind of connection with. It's not a prudish, romantic comedy, bullshit Hallmark thing. It's just the design of Chad. I've had some pretty piggish sexual encounters with men whose names I didn't even care about, but I just can't bring myself to curl up in bed with a guy that I don't have something with. This is sadly, kind of the issue that keeps me up at night. While my head is filled with plenty of thoughts about resumes, financial aid papers, and bills, it's the feel of a furry belly against your back, breath on your neck, and a hand rubbing the hair on your chest that I'm a bit more consumed with. It's absolutely not holding me back, putting my life on hold, nor keeping me up teary eyed all night, but I'm man enough to admit that there is a small point every night where I feel like something is missing.