Un-Fucking-Believable

One thing I didn’t write in my blog last week was the HUGE fight that I had with Mel, because she, yet again, thought it her place to come into my room and demand to know if I was interested in anyone else. I refused to answer because it’s none of her business, so she proceeded to act like a complete an utter wretch by accusing me of lying to her the whole time we were together, never loving her, AND…here’s the kicker…that *I* am screwing her over, financially, because I won’t help her pay off the debt that she accumulated in the last two years.

Let me be clear: I have paid off nearly $2500 of debt for her since she lost her job...and I did so happily. Some of it was mutual debt, some of it was hers that she had just recently accumulated since losing her job, and some of it was stuff that she’s had since years before we ever met. She also stays in my apartment. She pays no rent. She pays no utilities. She watches cable TV that I keep for her since I could easily go without it. She uses my computer, my DSL, my phone, etc. The only thing she has to help out with is the groceries.

In turn, I have semi-guaranteed access to her car on Monday…and any other time I need it when she doesn’t. I pay for the majority of the gas.

When she was finished making a fool of herself, I read her the riot act and told her that she had just spat in the face of the most generous and caring person she’s ever had in her life. She came to her senses and apologized.

That was LAST Wednesday. Fast forward to yesterday.

It was time to do some grocery shopping. Not big grocery shopping, but we needed perishables. She asked me to write her a list by noon. I did so and left my bank card for her since it was my turn to pay.

Can you see where this is going yet?

She didn’t leave for the store until 3:30. Nevermind that she knew I was expecting that we were going to the rec. center after work; that is why I bother to haul my workout clothes around with me. So, she starts psycho-dialing me about 4:30 while I have a manager in my office talking about how we’re going to train 50+ people on a huge amount of material. First, she calls my office. I don’t answer and she leaves a message. Then she calls my cell phone; I hit “Ignore” and continue my conversation. Then she calls my office line again to tell me that she’s just now getting out of the grocery store and either I’m going to be stuck at work, without any food, until she can come get me and we can go to the rec. center, or she just needs to pick me up.

O.K. I’m annoyed because, yet again, she’s disorganized and changing plans, but I can workout from home.

THEN, I get into the truck and there is no room to put my bags in the back because it’s full of groceries. She has a 4-door Chevy Trailblazer. I get in the front and stuff my bags at my feet while she’s on the phone, looking of the grocery receipt. It’s looks rather large to me. She tries to fold it up without handing it to me, but I took it and looked at the total:

$274 and change.

I am not broke, but it’s the end of the month. I have rent, a phone bill, an expensive new cell phone bill (the first ones are always a lot), a DSL bill, a cable bill, and a storage bill…all of which are due within the first week of the month. She knows this…and now I have an apartment that is overflowing with food. The freezer is full; the fridge is packed, the pantry is ridiculous; I’ve even got oranges sitting in the stairwell of my apartment because it’s cool there. I have 2 fucking heads of cauliflower; two heads of broccoli…two of every bloody thing you can imagine.

She spent $275 of MY money and has the fucking nerve to act like I don’t have a reason to be pissed at her STILL this morning. She thinks that just because she admits to be embarrassed and wants to laugh about it, that I’m just supposed to forgive and forget like a bloody fool over and over and over again.

UN-FUCKING-BELIEVABLE!!!

I don’t like to make big decisions when I’m angry. As a rule, I don’t, but she is holding on by a bloody thread right now…a tattered thread. THIS is exactly the kind of shit that I put up with ALL THE TIME! Now you know why making the decision to leave her was one of the best days of my life.

I’m going away for the weekend and I’m going to think long and hard about this—don’t be surprised if I come back and tell her to go because there is a thin line between being patient and being played like a fool.

I Am in Love

…with my cell phone.

HA! HA! Fooled you, didn’t I? :-P

Yes, that’s right all of you “I told you so” inclined people out there. Go on and say it: “I TOLD YOU SO, TRACE!”

Feel better? Good.

Now that we’ve got that over with, I can talk about my new found fondness. The reason why I am in love is not so that I can get a phone call in the middle of dinner (hate that) or in the middle of making out in the dark corner of a bar (really hate that…not that I would ever do that...never), but that I now am never without my iPod or a camera. Also very nice is that I get an alert whenever my VIPs email me. I can also respond back, immediately, right from my phone…and even chat, if I was so inclined.

For someone like me whose friends are almost exclusively Gen X’ers, it’s the perfect combo.

So, yea, this is a boring blog, but I don’t care because I love my phone…and my pink raincoat. Yes, that’s right: I have a pale pink raincoat, which I am proudly wearing today, and I love it.

I love my phone and I love pink! Oh, yea, and I love my short and spiky black hair, too! So there! Ha! Ha! Ha!

Brave and Crazy
By Melissa Etheridge

If I could have my way
I'd be sleeping in the alley
On a couch with a friend and a bottle of gin
If I could have my way
I'd be runnin' with the circus
I would be taming all the lions
There'd be no denying I was brave and crazy

If I could have my way I wouldn't be dreaming, scheming, screaming
Oooh, what am I gonna do
About you

If wishes were horses
This beggar would ride
I'd have my cake and eat it
With a little on the side
I'd never want for money
I'd never want for friends
I wouldn't have to make excuses for the shape that I'm in

Shaking and crazy
Before I saw your eyes
I was in control of my soul on the whole
Oooh, what am I gonna do
About you

Cool as a rule I wouldn't play nobody's fool
But I keep on talking
Made in the shade
I had a perfect cue to fade
But I keep on walking

If I could have my way
I'd check out right now
I'd say out to lunch honey thanks a bunch
It wouldn't work out anyhow
But this desire's too much
It's rented out my brain
It's showing previews of your body
Driving me insane
And that's crazy

So all that I can do
Is to beg, plead, won't you tell me please
What am I gonna do About you

That Time of the Month

No, not THAT time of the month! It’s haircut day.

Most of the time I look forward to it, even if for just the excuse to get out of the house and take a walk on my own. I’ve come to think of this day as part of T-time, as in Trace time, but today, at least right now, I don’t give a rat’s ass what my hair looks like; I just want to know that everything is gonna be all right.

To quote Terri Clark:

“I want a road stretchin’ out before me
I want a radio in my ear
I want a full tank of absolution
No fear”

God, I heart Terri Clark. Did you know that she and I don’t only share the same initials, but the same birthday as well? I think she’s older than me, but she was also born on the historic day of August 5.

Historic? Well, aren’t we full of ourselves!

Hey, history buffs, what else happened on that day? You’ve got three seconds…three…two…one…BUZZER!

On August 5: The US dropped an a-bomb on Hiroshima, Japan.

On August 5: Marilyn Monroe died

Anyway, I think Terri Clark is yummy. I’d be her bitch any day, any time, any where. Personally, I think she and k.d. lang should hook up. They’d make a fabulous couple, visually and musically.

Hey, Mel just stopped in to tell me that’s she’s going to get out of here for the afternoon to give me some alone time; “I know I’ve been a pain the butt lately.”

Pain the butt is putting it kindly, but I didn’t argue with her. So, the question now is: what the hell am I gonna do with myself? I honestly don’t feel like being alone, but I *do* need a break from her.

I suppose I’ll spend some time working out, but that only takes an hour. You dirty-girls out there are thinking I should use the caddy, I know you are, but I already took care of that this morning when I woke up at 7:00 (!!!) after dreaming of flirting with work woman, again. God! I’m so fucking tired of dreaming about her! Seriously. I’m over it. At this point it feels like an invasion because there are far better women, in every way, to get my flirt on with in my dreams. Hey, maybe that’s it! Maybe she’s really a telepathic alien!

Yea, that sounds plausible. *sigh…smacks self upside the head*

I am a recurring dream person. I have been all of my life. My logical “therapized” brain knows that she’s simply symbolic for my own longing for my former confidence level, just like my tornado dreams are symbolic of anxiety…and my airplanes falling out of the sky and my mega-tsunami dreams are symbolic of childhood trauma and feeling powerless. Thankfully, I haven’t had any reoccurring dreams about those other things in about a year…and it’s been about 5 years for the last two.

I really want to move on from this one, but I guess beggars can’t be choosers…and I’d much rather have a sexy dream about a woman I don’t even like that much than go back to tornados, airplanes, and tidal waves as big as the one in the movie “Deep Impact.” *shudders* God, I don’t miss those dreams, at all—truly terrifying. It’s no wonder I’ve always had borderline hypertension, even as a teenager.

Well, now that I’ve written an extremely odd blog with no point, other than to reaffirm to you all that I really am a bloody nut-case, I’m gonna go feed my queasy stomach some oatmeal and grab a shower. Maybe then I'll feel like going to get my haircut and having to engage in small-talk. Yea, right...

You: A Poem

I am officially pooped tonight, so I don't have much to say. This week has been extremely taxing on an emotional and physical level. Between a day full of anxiety attacks, drawing a line in the sand with Mel, sinus-induced morning sickness, work, working out, and the challenges of living a real-life version of a Melissa Etheridge song (I'll let you figure out which one), the spark has all but faded in me tonight.

I feel flimsy and transparent, like tissue paper.

But I did manage to quiet the noise in my head long enough to pen the following poem:

You
By Trace Cook

I want to write you poetry
On delicate paper
Flowing, with pretty swirls
Perfect, like how a lady writes

These notions, deep in my heart,
If I could only write them, worthily
Rather than think them, constantly
This would be something worth reading

Yet, I don’t know what rhymes with “you” but you
There’s always “woo”
But, again, that ends with “you” too
So, what’s a fool like me to do?

I want to write you poetry
The kind you only find in old books
Leather bound, embossed with gold
Dusty, like my Bible

These words, stalled in my throat
If I could only speak them, fluidly
Rather than write them, worthily
That would be something worth hearing

Yet, I don’t know what rhymes with “you” but you
There’s always “pew”
But, again, that ends with “you” too
Since I only pray when I’m praying for you

I want to write you poetry
The kind you would never lament
Creatively constructed, simple but profound
Like Angelou, I’d be an original

These desires, cuffed at my wrists
If I could only act on them, tenderly
Rather than speak them, fluidly
I would be something worth having

Yet, I don’t know what rhymes with “you” but you
There’s always “two”
But, again, that ends with “you” too
Two, as in me and you

I want to write you poetry
Because I can’t have you or taste you
Even see you and hear you…and still
Madly, dream woman, I love you!

Copyright © Trace Cook, 2006

Movie Night

I’m home now and have had my dinner. I’ve done everything I needed to do today, so now I’m just gonna kick back and watch a movie on my 12 year old TV.

I think a Bill Murray comedy is in order.

Hey, anyone seen V For Vendetta? I think I might check that out this weekend…it’s been a while since I went to the movies. In fact, I can’t remember the last movie I saw…

Return of the Salad Alien

I feel like absolute shit today—hammered shit, specifically.

I started when I woke up. Yesterday I’d asked my neighbor to turn up the heat some because we were freezing down here (I live in the basement). She happily complied, and by did she comply! She cranked that baby—soon it was a sauna in my bedroom. I was too occupied with the gorgeous woman in my bed to notice, though—oh wait, that just a dream. Anyway, I was too occupied to care, and by the time I was done doing what I was doing, it was time to sleep.

I woke up feeling like a dried prune. But as soon as I stood up, I could tell that my sinuses were irritated. They started draining, and within 15 minutes I was kneeling next to my toilet, tossing my cookies…although, I hadn’t eaten any cookies or anything else. :-x

Well, that did me in for the rest of the day. It was wave after wave of nausea. A lot of it has been plain ole nerves and too little sleep from being so tweaked for so long.

So, when I got home, I crawled immediately into bed and fell asleep. I woke up at 7:30 knowing that I had to eat or I’d be in worse shape by the morning. Since I’d had very few veggies, I made a salad.

Oy! The stupid things I do sometimes friggin’ amaze me—I mean “bloody hell!”

The Incredible Shrinking Dyke

That’s right folks! This spring season’s hottest plaything east of Lake Michigan is not your mother’s Barbi Doll; she’s Trace, the Incredible Shrinking Dyke. Just put her on an elliptical, a stationary bike, or even a rowing machine and watch actual perspiration drip from her forehead as she shrinks right before your very eyes!

Lesbo’s Weekly says, “Simply amazing! Every lesbian needs one! Snatch her up now before she’s gone!”

Available at a gay bar or bus stop near you; Quantities limited.

---

HA HA! As a friend of mine says, “BOO-YAH!”

Well, well, well….what can I say, my friends near and far? I am flyin’ as high as a 747 over Tornado Alley in the spring, and there ain’t nothin’ that can stop me now ‘cuz I’m on fire, too hot to touch, baby.

Hook. Line. Sinker: JACKPOT. Cha-Ching!

Life Is Good

I love technology, in generally, but free wi-fi is tits (meaning the best thing ever)!

I’m sitting in the 24 Hour Laundry Mat on Washtenaw just chillin’ with my laptop and iTunes on my mobile phone. I shuffled the songs and the first one was Melissa’ Etheridge’s “Brave and Crazy.” LOVE that! For a Sunday, it is surprisingly quiet, too, so I won’t be stuck here all afternoon. Maybe because I got here before noon??? People are still hungover from St. Patty’s Day weekend, I suspect.

Oh, I crazy hungry though…where’s my string cheese? There it is. Got it.

Later…gotta go fold clothes.

The Chivalrous Giver

I had an interesting, albeit short, conversation with a friend yesterday about gift-giving. While I don’t know if she’s a gift-giver herself, I do know that she’s not a very graceful gift-receiver.

I think it’s just a put-on, though. I think she secretly like gifts and compliments, but I would NEVER call her out or anything. That would be...well...just too presumptious, I suppose. ;)

Seriously, one of my favorite things to do is to give someone a small, but thoughtful “just because” gift to surprise them. There is little outside of the bedroom and my books that make my soul feel better. Really. I can’t call it altruism, though, because I am often generous believing that it will come back to me in other positive ways. The true definition of altruism is good deeds with no hope or expectation of reciprocity.

So, does that mean that I am philanthropic? No, I don’t think so…at least not to any degree that would make me feel like that would be an appropriate description. I think it means that I am simply a giver.

But good old-fashioned chivalry plays a LARGE part in that, honestly.

Take last night for an example when I went out with a female friend. These are the things that I find myself doing to feminine friends and lovers alike without having to even think about it:

• I always open a door for a woman, whether I know her or not doesn’t matter
• I always defer to the women in my party (whether they are friend or lover) when it comes to making a decision about food or drink or what movie to see unless they insist that I choose
• When a server asks to take our order, I always let the other women in my party go first
• When walking and the sidewalk narrows so there is only room for a single file, I always stop and let a lady go first
• When walking toward a woman on the sidewalk, if there is not enough room for me to pass next to her without invading her space, I will always step off in the grass, the mud, the gutter, whatever as long as it won’t hurt me
• I’ll always volunteer to carry the heavy stuff or be the one to go get something
• I’ll always walk a woman to her car or to her door to make sure she gets there safely
• I’ll usually, but not always, open a car door for a woman if I’m driving
• I’ll always kill a bug on demand
• I’ll always light a woman’s cigarette if I’ve got a lighter on me
• If I’ve got smokes on me, she can have all she wants
• I’ll usually offer to pick up the tab if I’m out with just a solitary woman; the only time I don’t is when I know my companion can afford it easier than I can—but that person has to be a very good friend (basically like family) before I’ll slide the check her way
• When sending flowers to a woman I’ve got designs on, I refuse to spend less than $50 (per arrangement) and I’ve been known to send flowers two days in a row just to make all the other women at her workplace jealous
• If I think a woman is beautiful or something about her looks good, I will tell her so to her face, several times if need be until she hears and believes me

The only time I don’t do some of the things for friends are when I know that my friends/lover would take offense or think I’m ridiculous. If it only makes them slightly uncomfortable, but only because they don’t know their own self-worth, I won’t let that stop me.

There are some things that I don’t like to do though and will happily defer to someone better suited for the job, regardless of gender:

• I don’t like complaining about bad service; hate it! I’d much rather sit back and watch someone else do it. The same goes for the phone.
• I don’t like calling for take out; I’ll go pick it up, but I’d rather someone else call
• I don’t like being the only one who will do things like take out the garbage, replace burnt out light bulbs, tighten screws and door knobs, and clean the cat box and puke. – Speaking of, what did I wake up to this morning: cat puke.

I think all of that makes me a chivalrous giver. And even though it may seem stereotypical, stupid, or over the top, that’s just me. I do those things either because I like to, or they’re second nature to me.

But I only do them when I’m feeling like Trace…not that downtrodden person I was for the last year and a half.

Last night I really felt like Trace again. Old friends who fit like old favorite hats are good for that—they help you remember who you are, where you come from, and what you really believe in when there’s no time for bullshit small-talk.

I’m a talker, but a lot of people think I’m quiet…and it’s because small-talk and me mix like oil and water.

Anyway, it was so nice to see you, T-Knocks! Thank you for your genuineness and personal integrity. You are such a gem and a true friend. XOX – Trace Cock (no, that’s not a typo; it’s my porn star name, silly)

The Day for the Wearing of the Green

Happy St. Patrick’s Day, everyone! In celebration for the occasion of my second favorite holiday, here’s a little classic Judy Garland.

Ah…it doesn’t get any better than Judy…may she rest in peace.

I’m also feeling a little naughty today—so while I’m blogging, I’ll teach you how to swear in gaeilge (gaelic).

It’s been 3 years to the day since I was in Chicago. The last time I went for the St. Patty’s Day parade…and then George Bush fucked up my weekend by declaring war on Iraq. Bastún! Go hIfreann leat! (Bastard! To hell with you!)

Man, I miss Chi-town; wish I was there right now, actually.

Oh.my.god! This lass is SO tired this morning it’s ridiculous. Ciach! (damn)

I slept fairly well, but it took me forever to actually fall asleep. I also had to wake up a half hour early, and I had to take some allergy medication because my sinuses are in full “I’m gonna make you vomit” mode. I almost lost my oatmeal breakfast three times today. B’Gosh, I really hate starting the day like that.

Tylenol Allergy Complete doesn’t make me drowsy, but the Tylenol Allergy Sinus, which is all I have left, really does. I nearly fell asleep in the loo at work! Seriously, my head bobbed.

I had to resort to yet another cup of coffee. Two days in a row is not generally recommended for me because of my acid-reflux issues, which are slowly and surely improving (mostly because of weight loss). So, I’m taking my stomach medication as I type this…which, hopefully, won’t give me a headache like it so often does. Man! Just when you’re body is clean of all those drugs, your sinuses go and feisigh it all up.

Oh well…that’s life: cac happens. And, whatever, ‘cuz when I stepped on the scale this morning is read 195. I’m also wearing a beautiful lime green shirt that fits me better today than it did last year when I bought it. It’s funny, but I’m about 10 lbs heavier than I was then, but I’m smaller because I’m more toned.

Building muscle is good—watch out ladies! I just might sweep you off your feet. ;)

I’m also resorting to loud rock, which I usually reserve for later in the day. Today, at the top of my playlist: Rob Thomas’ This is How a Heart Breaks.

Begora! I really like Rob Thomas. He’s one of few male solo artists that I really enjoy. He’s such a terrific songwriter; that’s such a turn on for me, man or woman.

Okay, I have to try to wake up. I have a meeting in an hour.

Row, Row, Row Your Boat

One of the things that kind of bites about working out right after work is that everyone else and their brother does that, too!

But, when you’re vehicularly challenged as I am at this moment in time, you take what you can get. And, once again, when I got there every single machine I wanted to work out on was full…and there was a line. Even the cycles were taken this time, so I turned to the empty rowing machine and eyed it, disconcertingly, for a brief moment before threw caution to the wind and got down on it.

Ooh, that sounds kind of kinky. Sorry…where was I…oh, yes, the rowing machine. Well, I rowed, and rowed, and rowed some more. Honestly, I think it was a pretty good workout and it felt good to use my back and shoulder muscles. We’ll see how my forearms feel about it tomorrow.

It was nice to see Mel at the gym, too. She’s had good excuse this week not to work out because she had some minor surgery on Tuesday to remove some bothersome moles under her arms. She still can’t swim, yet, but she was workin’ it for a while on the recumbent bike; and I was proud of her. It’s not easy for her to get up and move, with or without surgery, and that made me smile. I SO want good things for her.

Strangely, her mood seems to have improved rather dramatically since last night’s spat. She seems much more jolly and light-hearted. Perhaps it’s just a mask, but we had an enjoyable dinner and she got right to her schoolwork afterward while I installed my new wireless router—that’s always a good sign…her doing schoolwork, I mean.

And, yes, I had to replace yet another bloody piece of computer equipment just so I can sit here in the privacy of my bedroom and do this on a secure network. Just why is it that everything breaks at one time, anyway?!?

Right now it’s friggin’ freezing in my apartment. The gal upstairs, Sara—also a lesbo—has gone for the evening and seems to have forgotten that people other than her live in this house—she controls the heat. Seriously, it’s in the 50’s in this apartment! Burr.

So, I’m wrapped up in bed with my iPod. Currently, I’m listening to Melissa Etheridge’s Breakdown. Wow, that’s a surprise, eh? What can I say, she’s a hell of a singer and songwriter…and sexy. I saw her once in concert—who was I with? Lisa, did we go see her? I can’t remember, but she is truly awesome live.

It’s odd to me that so many of her fans think that when she’s actually happy that her song-writing suffers. Personally, I don’t think it’s true; she just write different songs…more fun and less angst, but always sexy and always rockin’. I do generally prefer her older stuff to her newer stuff, though, but that’s because I can relate to it better. I also have a lot of memories that are conjured with the older stuff, but I wanna relate to songs about finding the one and being deliriously in love…and I look forward to making new memories with the newer stuff because some of it is really great.

Here’s my song for the night:

Cherry Avenue
By Melissa Etheridge

And so you meet me
Down at the bar
7th and Cherry
That's where we are
And I promise not to take you down too far
Beetle takes a dollar
Benz will make a drink
Two will see you hollar
No one wants to think
And it's Que Sera Sera in black and pink

And so we dance
And my feet get lazy
All the stiffs here
They know I'm crazy for you
And so we dance
And the beat gets lost
And this jealous fool
Will pay the cost for you
On Cherry Avenue

Is this a crime
Or just a clear scheme
I want to make you mine
All your roads are green
And I promise not to show you what I've seen
Now it's closing time
Benz wipes down the bar
Beetle kills the lights
Cherry after dark

Lunch Break Blogging

Boy! Today is flying! (whooshing sound ensues)

But, I have an hour now to eat a turkey sandwich, an orange, and a $0.25 bag of Fritos. I love Fritos, and when it comes to chips, they are a great choice. Don’t believe me? Look at the ingredients: whole corn, corn oil, salt…NO PRESERVATIVES

That’s it: just natural goodness from the earth and only 1g of saturated fat.

So, instead of buying a whole big bag of them, I buy the tiny little individual packages. They’re a perfect serving size so I still get that salty crunch and taste, but don’t eat too much.

Anyway…

Well, I’m feeling much better than I did when I first woke up this morning. Not only did I go to bed too late, but I didn’t sleep well due to the argument Mel and I had. *damn* I also woke up with draining sinuses, which always makes me feel like I’m going to vomit. So, once I got to work and settled in, I went and got a rare cup of coffee to help perk me up.

And lo and behold! As I was walking toward the coffee room I ran into none other than one of my missing, who I’ve been emailing and making plans to see on Friday, but haven’t seen for ages. Yea, I know it’s odd that I would call her “missing” when we work for the same company, but it’s a big building and she’s also really good friends with an ex of mine. She’s gorgeous! I love her to pieces and always will (she was actually the first person I came out to), but I’ve felt the need to keep my distance knowing that she would understand since that breakup wasn’t nearly as amicable as this one. The last thing I ever want is for any of my friends to ever feel stuck in the middle. I’ve been there and it sucks!

But it was so great seeing her that I just, instantly, forgot all my worries with Mel and by the time my little cup of coffee was gone, I was wide awake and jolly again.

Ah…it feels sooooooo good to smile.

True Colors
By Cyndi Lauper

You with the sad eyes
Don’t be discouraged
Oh I realize
It’s hard to take courage
In a world full of people
You can lose sight of it all
And the darkness inside you
Can make you feel so small

But I see your true colors
Shining through
I see your true colors
And that’s why I love you
So don’t be afraid to let them show
Your true colors
True colors are beautiful,
Like a rainbow

Show me a smile then,
Don’t be unhappy, can’t remember
When I last saw you laughing
If this world makes you crazy
And you’ve taken all you can bear
You call me up
Because you know I’ll be there

And I’ll see your true colors
Shining through
I see your true colors
And that’s why I love you
So don’t be afraid to let them show
Your true colors
True colors are beautiful,
Like a rainbow

(when I last saw you laughing)
If this world makes you crazy
And you’ve taken all you can bear
You call me up
Because you know I’ll be there

And I’ll see your true colors
Shining through
I see your true colors
And that’s why I love you
So don’t be afraid to let them show

Your true colors
True colors
True colors
Shining through

I see your true colors
And that’s why I love you
So don’t be afraid to let them show
Your true colors
True colors are beautiful,
Like a rainbow

Ides of March

“Beware the Ides of March” said the seer.

“Yea, whatever!” say I—why? Because I had a fucking beautiful day, that’s why: I've lost 2 more pounds. I wore a pink shirt, tucked in, that I havne't been able to wear in a year; I was productive at work; I ate really yummy and healthy food; I drank all my water; I had a great workout, and I finally heard back from the last of my missing. 2 out of 3 were positive…and 2 out of 3 ain’t bad, my friendly friends! Not bad a’tall. That makes me a happy girl and, just as an aside, I find it terrifically funny that the negative response was from a man. The ladies were rational adults—the guy was a drama queen. *hmm* Imagine that!

Sorry, guys...don't mean to pick on you, but you deserve it sometimes! ;)

Yep, havin’ a great day…until about an hour ago when Mel knocked on my bedroom door and asked me what I was doing. I was watching a movie in the background while I caught up on my internet newspaper reading since LOST is a re-run AGAIN! Anyway, apparently she believed that me using my laptop with the door shut gave her an opening to ask me, yet again, if I was “talking” with anyone on the internet.

She means “chatting” as in trying to chat up an available female for lustful sex. Speaking of, any interested parties, email me: tracecook@sbcglobal.net ;)

MOTHER FUCKER! That’s what I really have to say to that! Did you have to start in on your insanely jealous paranoia TODAY? BLOODY TODAY!

Shit happens, I guess. Beware the Ides of March, indeed.

Oh well. It’s really impossible to get me down today, but it is NOT impossible to insult me, and she did and I told her so. For some reason that I can’t figure out, she believes that none of this is terribly hard on me just because I can speak honestly about my feelings and do positive things for myself in the face of adversity while also respecting personal boundaries and privacy. She actually had the nerve to tell me that she thinks that I don’t ask her similar questions because I don’t care.

I don’t care!?!

Yea, okay I admit it: it’s totally and utterly obvious that I don’t care one iota…just as it’s obvious that I’m just another cold-hearted dyke lookin’ for the next piece of ass to sit on my face.

Oh, I’m sorry! Was that crude?

Here are my words of wisdom for the day: don’t confuse personal integrity and inner strength with lack of care and concern. If someone is supporting you, financially, whether they are rich or not, they have much care and concern for you. Period.

So, does this mean that the roommate thing isn’t working out well? No, it doesn’t. Honestly, it’s working out A LOT better than I figured it would, but that doesn’t mean there aren’t bumps in the road and I won’t get insulted and talk about that here.

That’s what personal blogs are for, right? Hey, it’s life: shit happens!!!

I Love Myself Today
By Bif Naked

You left me like a broken doll
In pieces as I took the fall
For you, you dumb chump!
You left me free-falling like space junk
Burning up in the atmosphere of life

Well I sound like a philosopher
but I'm a fool who's off her rocker
'Cause I let you in my heart that one last time

I've had enough, made up my mind
I'm gonna get up and out and wild!

I love myself today
Not like yesterday
I'm cool, I'm calm
I'm gonna be okay! Uh huh
I love myself today
Not like yesterday
Take another look at me now
'Cause it's your last look
Your last look forever

Well look at you you're all puffed up
In that big red truck- but you're outta luck (this time)
Well, that's tough
'Cause I'm on fire- too hot to touch
With a chatroom full of lovers on the line
Gonna step right up; spit shine my soul
I'm gonna be proud and loud and outta control!

I love myself today
Not like yesterday
I'm cool, I'm calm
I'm gonna be okay! Uh huh
I love myself today
Not like yesterday
Take another look at me now
'Cause it's your last look
Your last look forever

I'm lookin' in the mirror and I like what I see:
I've lost the fear & the horror that's been eating at me
'Cause being with you is like a hangman's noose
I was living my life in dead man's shoes

I've had enough. Made up my mind
I'm gonna get up and out and wild!

I love myself today
Not like yesterday
I'm cool, I'm calm
I'm gonna be okay! Uh huh
I love myself today
Not like yesterday
Take another look at me now
'Cause it's your last look
Your last look forever!!

Train Rides

One of my favorite things to do is ride the train. When I was in college, I used to take the train from Flagstaff to L.A. for Christmas break. That was always in the middle of the night, through the mountains, so it was often very cold and difficult to sleep, but I still loved it. I also took the train from Toledo to NYC. That time I treated myself to a sleeper—wow, that was great and I slept like a baby! It was expensive, though. $$$

I’ve taken the train several times to Chicago—once for just a day. That was a hoot—Lynne and I caught the early train for Chi-town, had lunch at the Cheesecake Factory, did a little sight-seeing, visited a friends of hers, and then she was back on the train home. I stayed the night and headed out to my favorite bar, the Closet in Boy’s Town. That was the night I met and made out with Stacey, the uber-hot neonatalogist. She was crazy, I think, but all I could think about was her lips.

Damn! What a night that was! I’ll never forget it.

Anyway, what got me thinking about trains tonight is that I just bought a ticket for the end of March to visit my best friend, Lisa. She’s pretty local, actually—I just take the train from A2 to Royal Oak, which most people find incredibly odd, but it’s a pretty nice way to travel when you live in a household that shares one car. And with gas prices like they are, it costs almost the same as I would pay in gas…and certainly less than a car payment, not to mention insurance.

So, yes, I take the train to Detroit. It may seem a little odd for this area, but it’s cool to me. It also gives me a chance to have a beer and a hotdog while I’m sitting back, letting someone else drive.

Have you ever tried Amtrak hotdogs? They are great!

God Hates Fags

A little while ago I wrote about the fact that being a lesbian isn’t the reason why I don’t talk to my family—while that is true from my prospective, sort of, it is the reason why my youngest sister, Jenny, hasn’t written me back in 4 months. That is just something that I know.

You see, almost a year ago I received a college graduation announcement from her. In my pride, I responded by writing her a letter; I also sent the money I had in my wallet. She’s 6 years younger than me, so she was an innocent in the matter that compelled me to break the ties with all my kin. I knew it was a risk making any contact, but it seemed to me a risk worth taking because this was my baby sister’s college graduation and I had missed her high-school graduation. Furthermore, that wasn’t the first time she’d tried contacting me.

She sent me a letter and a card back not long after thanking me. I was careful in my reply: I cautioned her about the position she was putting herself in by staying in touch with me when I refused to communicate with anyone else. Most people don’t want to be in that kind of position, and I don’t blame them. I also made it clear that I wasn’t interested in getting back in contact with anyone else. I asked her to think long and hard about that, and if she still wanted to correspond, I would keep my end of the bargain.

Not long after she sent me a box for my birthday. I waited a month to open it just because I was concerned that opening any door, or gift, would be like opening Pandora’s Box. She sent me a Wonder Woman DVD because it used to be my favorite show when I was young. She sent me a few other things, too, all of them very childish, but sweet.

I wrote her back toward the end of November. She’d asked me about my family that I had mentioned in my first letter, so I took that opportunity to explain to her that my family consisted of my same-sex domestic partner. Basically, I came out to her because one: I refuse to hide that from anyone…and two: I wasn’t sure whether or not she’d been told. Knowing my family, she was not. I also remember seeing on her graduation announcement that the school she’d gone to in Florida had been a Christian school; so, I told her that my sexuality is not an issue in my life—I refuse to make it an issue, and if she, for whatever reason, didn’t want to still talk to me because of that she should just not write me back and I would get the message.

Well, it’s the middle of March and nothing.

It’s funny, but I’m really sort of surprised: I’m so rarely treated poorly, or even differently, because of my sexuality that I sometimes forget that anyone even cares. It seems so ridiculously small-minded to me…especially from someone of her generation.

It’s also funny to me that some people in my life will make excuses for her: she’s young; maybe she’s busy; she’s influenced by her cunt of a mother—my step-mother, who is a closet lesbian, yada, yada, blah, blah, blah…

This is what I think about that: B-U-L-L-S-H-I-T-!

I’m sorry, but she’s 24 years old. She went to school, by herself, on the other side of the country. She has a college degree and is an intern for a major-league baseball team. She’s old enough to know better, and that means there is NO REASON beyond having a problem with my sexuality that would keep anyone, let alone my sister, from writing me back after I came out to them.

I’ve been thinking about this for a while. When January rolled around without a response I knew it wasn’t coming. I’ve modulated between anger, indifference, and sadness. Some good has come out of it: now, whenever I get a letter from anyone, instead of reading it, I will immediately return it to the sender. That’s it: I’m done. And, the guilt that I’ve been hanging onto for all of these years for walking away from them has also been lifted by this. I guess this was the proof that some part of my brain needed. I always knew I’d be treated terribly for being gay, even worse than I already was, but since I hadn’t been because I didn’t give them an opportunity, some part of me always doubted and wondered.

Well, now I know. It hurts a little—okay, a lot when I really top and think about it. It also hurts to think that my younger sister is such a bigot that she can’t even write a letter to her own flesh and blood just because she likes tits and ass…and pussy, let’s not forget that!

Yea, yea, I know: it’s her loss. I don’t want to hear that bloody shit right now. The fact of the matter is that I am disappointed in her. I’m disappointed and ashamed that I am actually related to someone younger than me who would treat anyone poorly because of who they love. I don’t care who she was influenced by because I was influenced by those same people, but I went to school and I changed my mind. I grew and I learned. She is a privileged and educated woman—the opinions that she has now are her own.

Sound Check

Just wanted to let y'all know that now when I post song lyrics you can click on the title of the song and hear a brief sample in .WAV format. I've tried to keep them under 2 MB for those of you on dial-up.

Some people ask me about why I post song lyrics: are they relavant to my life? Do I just like them? Why do I do it?

It's kind of a mixture of everything. I pick those that have a similar, but not exact, theme as to what I'm feeling or writting about, but I also have to like the song. Rarely is there a song that precisely mirrors my feelings, but there are many out there that we can all relate to. I also try to pick a mixture of different styles, but most of my songs will be songs written and recorded by women.

I like women, and women muscicians, especially rockers, don't get nearly the kind of support that men do in the music business. Check out Amy Ray's Lucystoners if you're interested in a song about just that. It's great!

The Dark Room

I finally got around looking at some of the photos I took on Sunday's outing. Below you'll see a small slide show of some of the better shots.

Hey this is pretty cool! I love technology. Check it out!

Yes, I'm very proud of myself.



If you'd like to see them in more detail, you can click HERE.

Salad & No-Car Woes

I’ve eaten a lot of salad lately. I’m trying to loose all this bloody weight I’ve put on in the last 2 years and get in all my veggies like a good healthy girl: salads are perfect for that, right? Right!

So, I had a nice big salad with my tilapia last night. 2 whole cups with beets, garbanzo beans, cherry tomatoes, a few green olives, feta cheese, and Greek salad dressing. I charted out my calories and knew I needed to eat a good-sized dinner to get to 1500. The good news was that I ate all my calories yesterday and worked out just because I felt like it. Also, the tilapia turned out fantastic—just a dash of peanut oil was all I needed to brown and firm up the cornmeal coating.

The bad news is that 15 hours later I’m still paying for the salad. Oy!

It started shortly after I finished my dinner. Maybe I ate too much or maybe those olives should be thrown in the trash. I dunno but this indigestion is really awful. All morning my stomach has been rumbling unhappily. I even fed it a whole bagel hoping that would help…nope.

Where’s the Alka-Seltzer when I need it…

I guess this means I need to take a break from salads for a few days. Unfortunately, I don’t have many more vegetable options at home…just several cans of green beans, which I dislike rather strongly. I have corn and peas, too, but those are starches. If I had a car I’d just go to the grocery store, but I’m not going to do that this week because I have plenty of food and that kind of detour on the bus can take, easily, 3 hours. I’ve already gotta make a trip to the laundry, and that’s another big whopping time sucker.

Sigh.

I just gotta keep my eye on the future. It won’t be too long and I’ll be able to save enough money to buy/lease a car. I can do it by June.

For now, though, I just gotta take this week one thing at a time. I got to work today with no problem, and I’ve got a ride into Ann Arbor so that I can see my therapist. After that I’ll take the bus home. That’s almost an hour trip, but it’s a straight shot. After that I’ll have lunch and then take a walk down the way to the storage place to pay my rent. That’s not much of a walk, though, so I’ll do some kick-boxing or Denise Austin (if I can stand the bitch) from home. Then I’ll shower, relax, and then head out to Depot Town for dinner at Sidetrack.

Yea, that’s my plan. Good plan.

Hey, I’m wearing a tunic and jean jacket that I haven’t been able to wear with any dignity in a while. I look pretty good in it, too…even better than when I bought the tunic. LOVE THAT!

Oy! Here come the stomach cartwheels again…I gotta go find someone who had TUMS or something…

I Heart Ypsilanti

I’m sitting in bed on my laptop. It’s so quiet; it feels strange and I’m getting that out of sorts lost feeling…

I spent a good portion of the day in my office catching up on some podcasts and making a few tweaks to my wireless router and my firewall. I did make myself a very tasty and healthy breakfast, lunch, and dinner…and even made a few chocolate chip cookies to treat myself. They are my biggest weakness, but today I felt that I deserved a sweet treat.

Around 3:00, after a shower, I put on some comfortable clothes and a light jacket to go for a walk. It was such a beautiful day and I didn’t want to miss it. I took my digital camera and pretended to be a photographer while I walked (more like hiked) along the banks of the Huron River, which is only a block and a half from my apartment. I think I got some nice shots so I’ll post a few this week when I have some spare time. But, at any rate, the goal wasn’t to really get good shots; it was just to have fun and enjoy the day: enjoy my life and my home.

I know some people really don’t care for Ypsilanti; and there are plenty of areas in it that I don’t even like to drive through because of the rampant crime and drugs, but my neighborhood isn’t like that. No, it’s not the safest place in the world, but I’ve lived here for about 8 years and the only problems I’ve ever had were when my car was broken into twice—it was an old ugly truck. I didn’t lock the door because it would freeze in the winter, so a couple of times desperate people broke into it to take the change or the rosary from the mirror. Why someone felt the need to steal someone else’s rosary, I don’t know, but hopefully it’s doing them some good. That’s how I feel about it…and that’s all the trouble I’ve had.

As I was walking today and crawling around the steep and wooded banks—something I haven’t done in a couple of years—I kind of had a peaceful feeling…a familiar feeling come over me. It occurred to me then that this place—Depot Town, Ypsilanti—is really my home. I mean it really feels like home. And that’s significant because I was born and raised in the diverse valleys of Southern California. I spent nearly 18 years there, but it never felt like home like Ypsilanti does to me.

I love being so close to the river and the parks. I love that any time I want to go fishing, all I gotta do it grab my pole and walk, leisurely, for about 5 minutes and I’m there. It’s pretty good fishing, too, and it’s fun to be watched by little kids as I’m waist deep in the river: “Look, dad…it’s a girl fishing!”

I love that a whole bunch of Elvis impersonators come flocking here once a year for Elvis Fest. I love that every Thursday night during the summer there’s a classic car show. I love that there’s a fire engine museum a block from me. I love that there are great restaurants and bars just a short walk across a bridge; that my hairdresser is right next to one of those bars and that one of my best friends is just a few blocks farther. I love that there are big, beautiful, historic houses surrounding me. No, I can’t afford to buy one like I wish I could, but it’s fun to walk buy it and dream a little. There’s one for sale now on Washington—the Louis House. I could see myself in it today.

Yea, I still want to move to Chicago and live in a high rise flat—at least part of the year while I’m writing; but until then it’s nice to know that Ypsi will keep me perfectly happy.

Thanks, home…I feel better now. ‘Night.

On My Own

Well, Mel left today for North Carolina. She won’t be back ‘til Sunday. So, this is it—this is the first time I’ve been on my own for more than 36 hours in over two years!

Wow.

It’s exciting…and scary, to be honest.

The scariest thing will start Monday when I have to get around and try to keep my same, or similar schedule by relaying, mostly, on public transportation. The second scariest thing will definitely be cooking for myself…scary on the level of having to do it even though I really would rather not. I’m trying to change that mindset, though—trying to learn how to enjoy it by focusing on the fact that it’s REALLY good for me.

Strangely, making breakfast or lunch is no big deal really; I feel like I’ve got those down without feeling too…well, lost; that’s the only word that comes to mind. Dinner, though, dinner is just really connected to “family time” with me…and dinner was always something that was very important to Mel and I (sometimes too important if you look at my waistline). Nevertheless, dinner time was a family deal. She did most of the cooking because she’s such a talented cook (again, look at the waistline), and I was, basically, the Suez chef. Even when we were at odds we took time out to eat dinner and sit at the table; rarely did we eat in front of the television. Sadly, we didn’t talk as much as I would have liked, but we still made time…during the week, on the weekends, and holidays.

Even now while she’s living in my spare room dinner is still something we do almost every night; in that way not much has changed…although, I’m continually trying to work in moments where I make my own food. Breakfast is usually where I succeed and I also make my own lunches now, too—because I know that I should. It’s a boundary.

So, the million dollar questions is, then: What’s for dinner, Trace?

Well, I think some lean protein is in order so I’m going to broil some tilapia, grill some zucchini, and make some sticky rice because that sounds yummy and I haven’t had it in a while. I might have a small salad, too, because I don’t think that I’ve gotten enough veggies in for the day.

But, before I get to work on that, I gotta go work out. It’s kick-boxing day, again—hopefully my arm is healed enough from last week. I think it is—it hasn’t bothered me at all, but I guess I won’t know until I get in and do it. I plan to wrap it, though, just to give it a little more support to ensure that I don’t overextend.

Later alligators. And, hey, I’m like alone…so leave a comment or drop a line: tracecook@sbcglobal.net

Fingers and Toes

I feel like I’m crossing my fingers and toes a lot these days—hoping the missing will write me back, hoping I don’t get the heinous virus that everyone around me (including Mel) has fallen ill from, hoping I can stay positive even if I get sick and silence, hoping that Mel doesn’t fall flat on her face and I have to make another excruciating decision. Hoping. Hoping. Hoping.

Sigh.

Hoping is tiring, but I won’t give up. You hear me, universe: I’M NOT GIVING UP.

I’m also trying not to bite my nails anymore because it’s a nasty habit and they really nice when I let them grow. That may prove to be an impossible task, all hope considering, but I’m trying. And since I’m not seeing anyone or getting any, having longer nails shouldn’t pose a problem. If you can’t understand why having longer nails would be a problem for me, just think about it (Hint: I’m a lesbian and it has to do with sex).

Got it now? Good.

My toes on the other hand look fabulous, and I’m already looking forward to my Sunday evening foot massage and pedicure. Not looking forward to plucking my eyebrows, but I don’t think anyone in their right mind looks forward to that. Yea, I know: if I did it every day rather than once a week it wouldn’t be such a pain, but I’m not an everyday eyebrow plucking kind of girl. You’re lucky I do it at all, so there!

Ah…that felt better.

What the fuck am I talking about anyway? I have no bloody idea, but this is what I do when I want to bite my nails and check my email a hundred times a minute. Yes, it’s probably pathetic, but screw you—no on asked you.

Anyway, what’s on the docket for this weekend? Looks like Mel and Crazy Donna (her mother) are going off to North Carolina for a spell. So, that means I’ve got my apartment all to myself! The bummer is: that also means I have no access to my own transportation. In weather like this, that will usually keep me home. I am going out tonight with friends, though—thanks Jo for agreeing to come!

Since I haven’t had the focus to get any writing done all this week, I think I take advantage of the situation and try to do that. There’s a chapter in my recently finished Sci-Fi/Fantasy book that I’m not entirely happy with. So, here’s to hoping I can figure out what’s bothering me about it. It’s in the POV of an Italian-Romanian Psychologist who’s a fairly new character for me. I haven’t been writing her long and I don’t feel terribly comfortable with her, yet, which is probably a major part of my issue. She’s hugely important to the story, and will continue on in the following books, so it’s critical that I get her right. Anyway, if you’re curious, her name is Cecelia Barladeanu. The really cool thing about her character, in my opinion, is that she’s a Roman Catholic with degrees in socio-linguistics and theology on top of psychology. She’s a really spiritual and sensual character—which makes her both exciting and challenging to write. She’s not a pushover and definitely above average intelligence, so she keeps me on my big brain toes.

Okay, it’s lunch time and I gotta head out to the Post Office to pick up a package (No, not the Cadillac, unfortunately).

Ice

Every few years we get hit with an ice storm here in Michigan. Personally, I don’t think there’s much scarier than an ice storm as far as winter weather goes. I’ve lived 7,000 ft. above sea level in the mountains and been through blizzards and major snow storms that dump 2 ft. in a day, but there’s something about stepping outside to see everything covered in a shell of clear ice that’s just…freaky to me.

Today was such a day—although, it wasn’t as bad as the ice storm since I was able to make it to work. The last one was about 3 or 4 years ago, and I refused to walk to the bus because as I was standing outside I witnessed several car accidents and could hear the tree limbs cracking and falling under the tremendous weight.

So, I’m here at work even though my bosses aren’t. Funny that.

I don’t really know what this blog is about, but last night I had more sexy dreams (yep, still waiting for The Cadillac to arrive). This one featured a woman I work with, who I have a strange fascination with. Why? I don’t really know, but I’ve dreamt about her for years. Lately, she’s been in my dreams a lot, which, again, I don’t quite understand because she was a total bitch to me last week…and that’s not untypical. She’s nebulous, though—I can’t figure out of she’s gay or straight, and I think that’s part of my intrigue. She’s also beautiful in her own way, even though her ice queen of the universe personality sometimes fucks that up.

Anyway, so last night in my dream she and I were flirting, big time. And, feeling a moment that I didn’t want to get away, I finally just kissed her. I won’t either gross you out or turn you on with the specifics, but suffice it to say that it was a nice dream after that.

So, this morning when I passed by her desk and said good morning as I always do, I couldn’t help but inwardly laugh because I know that she has no idea I dream about her rather frequently. The really interesting thing is that she owes me a drink, and I’m kind of hesitant to cash that in because I’m worried that I wouldn’t be able to not flirt with her considering the “action” in my recent dreams. Either that or I’d blush a hundred shades of red and just start laughing.

Broken
By Seether (Featuring Amy Lee)

I wanted you to know
That I love the way you laugh
I want to hold you high and steal your pain away
I keep your photograph
And I know it serves me well
I want to hold you high and steal your pain

CHORUS 1
‘Cuz I'm broken when I'm lonesome
And I don't feel right when you're gone away

BRIDGE
You've gone away
You don't feel me here....anymore

The worst is over now
And we can breathe again
I want to hold you high, you steal my pain away
There's so much left to learn
And no one left to fight
I want to hold you high and steal your pain

CHORUS 2
‘Cuz I'm broken when I'm open
And I don't feel like I am strong enough
‘Cuz I'm broken when I'm lonesome
And I don't feel right when you're gone away

Count Your Blessings

This was posted on a message board at that Washtenaw County Rec. Center. I read it last week and felt inspired, so today I took a picture of it with my phone and then put it to paper when I got home so that I could share it with all of you. I don't know if the numbers are true, but it's the meaning that really important. So, take a moment with me to take a deep breath and put it all into perspective as you read this:

Count Your Blessings
source: unknown

If you woke up this morning with more health than illness…you are more blessed than the million who will not survive this week.

If you have never experienced the danger of battle, the loneliness of imprisonment, the agony of torture, or the pangs of starvation…you are ahead of 500 million people in the world.

If you can attend a church meeting without fear of harassment, arrest, torture or death…you are more blessed than three billion people in the world.

If you have food in the refrigerator, clothes on your back, a roof overhead, and a place to sleep…you are richer than 75% of this world.

If you have money in the bank, in your wallet, and spare change in a dish someplace…you are in the top 8% of the world’s population.

If your parents are still alive and still married, you are very rare, even in the United States…

If you hold your head up with a smile and are truly thankful…you are blessed because the majority can, but most do not.

If you can hold someone’s hand, hug them, or even touch them on the shoulder…you are blessed because you can offer God’s healing touch.

If you can read this message…you just received a double blessing in that someone was thinking of you; furthermore, you are more blessed than the two billion people in the world who cannot read at all.

Have a good day, count your blessings, and pass this along to remind everyone else how blessed they are.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Good night everyone near and far. I'm beat. I hope you and your family's are well.

My Inner Butch

I wrote before that I got my haircut Saturday. What I didn’t say is that it’s shorter than ever. Honestly, it’s shorter than I care for even if it is a good cut; my hair dresser got a little carried away. Now, every time I look in the mirror all I can think is “Uh, can we say dyke?”

But like I told my therapist, I don’t know what I’m complaining about because my hair grows so fast, it’ll be fine in a week. Seriously, it grows that fast! I get it cut every four weeks. Still, next time Donelle, darlin’, I’d like a little more sassy and a little less old-school dyke…I have hot pink toenails and dimples for goodness sakes.

However, this, and everything has got me thinking about my inner butch. No, we all don’t have one, sadly, but I definitely do. She’s chivalrous and handy; she struts and smiles, confidently; she laughs more; she’s freer and unafraid; she’s sexier and friskier; she’s strong and not afraid to look a little mysterious; she’s the person I want to be and have been before. She, too, is one of my missing…but, in this case, I know where she is:

She’s hanging at the back of my coat closet, still too small to wear with any dignity. She’s my black leather motorcycle jacket.

You see it’s not just about losing weight and getting “healthier” that motivates me to get to the rec. center every day after work—it’s the sense of loss that I feel for the person that I was at my 26th birthday. That was the year I let my inner butch out; that was the year I bought my motorcycle jacket and boots; that was the year I finished the first draft of my book; that was the year I had a really incredible one night stand in NYC with Alice F. (gasp!); and that was the year I first went to Chicago and fell in love with that city.

I’m wearing my boots today with black slacks, and the day I can zip up my jacket will be a happy day indeed. In fact, that is my next goal since I just met my first goal which was to get below 200 lbs. again. I figure it’ll take at least 30 more pounds before I can wear that jacket, so I’m shooting for my 30th birthday: August 5.

Yes, I know it’s hot in August, but I’ll be happy to sweat at little. In the mean time I’m going to keep doing what I’m doing: take this life one day at a time, and never, ever give up hope or stop trying.

It’s never too late to be what you might have been.