29 November 2012

A Real Friend

I miss him more than I can express. Through all the long years, though all the silent spells and the distance, there was always a chance of reconnection. I don't know that there is now.

We met when I was about 14, and he a year older. We were junior councilors at a bible camp. The staff was small, so we few became fast friends for the four or five summers we worked at the camp.

He moved to Denver before me. And I knew he was having a rough time of it. He often couldn't afford a phone, and this was before it was easy to access the internet. We found one another after I came to the area for university. He would occasionally sit in on a class or two.

Our conversations were always intriguing. He was crass, not at all PC and an aspiring comedian. However, his intelligence really knew no bounds. He may not have done well in school, but he knew how to think. We would have conversations about religion, politics and other random things. Many overhearing us might surmise we were on drugs, but we never did that together. He was almost uncomfortably touchy in the beginning. But it was okay with me.

Things began to change toward the end of my undergrad. He was attending a Messianic synagogue, and I was dabbling in queerness. We were finding ourselves.

I came out to him shortly after I graduated. He took it well enough. I don't know if he was surprised or not, but he didn't leave me. He was against all of it because of his beliefs, but it didn't really change our relationship. We had many more deep conversations regarding my transition and how I felt about religion and the like. There was never a question of whether or not we'd still be friends.

He was Messianic for some time, studying and truly trying to fit his life into the structure of religion. He  ended up abandoning all pretense of Christianity and decided to take the plunge and convert to Hasidic Judaism. 

Essentially, he had to come out to his friends and family as a "non-believer", which is a big deal. Of course it was no sweat for me to accept, as I didn't really have a religious stance. But many of his friends abandoned him because of his decision. Many condemned him for remaining friends with me.

Throughout all this time, we never really saw much of each other. Each of us was busy working and socializing. I was in a relationship and working out the effects of testosterone. He was studying and absorbing all sorts of texts pertaining to conversion. Occasionally, his phone wouldn't work.

But we made sure to grab a beer every now and then. Catch up. Chat.

Things did change. He stopped touching people. It was a religious thing, men weren't supposed to touch women, and apparently I still counted. I respected his uncertainty. But I miss those hugs.

He realized that in order to fully convert, he'd have to leave Denver. He had his tattoos removed. He stayed on the Western Slope with his mom for a few months to save money, then he moved to New York.

Earlier this year, one of my oldest friends left without saying goodbye.

I realize it was probably easiest to do that. To take the plunge and never look back. That doesn't stop me from missing him.

28 November 2012

Why does googling "writing prompts" not work? I don't want to do a word of the day every day, especially when the words are boring. but I want to write more regularly. And I want to write creatively.

27 November 2012


rime \RAHYM\, noun:
A coating of tiny, white, granular ice particles, caused by the rapid freezing of water droplets.

The stars were brilliant on account of being unpolluted by any surrounding light. Lack of electricity in rural Mexico was good for that at least. I could hear the occasional bark of feral dogs carrying across the canyons. But it was easy to sleep, the steady breathing of my classmates and exhaustion after a long day of digging helped.

I awoke early- "Is 6 am, where is my breakfast?" Carlos jokingly prodded us with his feet. On the outside of my sleeping bag a rime of frost twinkled in the morning sun.

26 November 2012

I think I'm going to start back up with the word of the day. It'll at least be writing again.

21 November 2012


I try to stay out of heated debates of any variety, especially religious and political ones.

But I was a Global Studies major and politics and religion are certainly part of that study.

I don't like making people mad. I don't care if people don't agree with me. I'd just as soon keep my opinions to myself.

But the news.

And I've waited until it's (sorta) over to even touch this. But I cannot resist, because it hurts me.

Yes, I'm talking about Israel/Palestine.

And I don't know what to say other than it hurts me. It hurts me that there is death at all, but it hurts especially that the 150+ people seem not to be counted as much as the 5. It hurts me that people take sides because of religion, and not because of humanity.

I will not argue about what is 'right'. None of it is right. I have this grandiose notion that people should just be able to get along.

Why are people so stubborn? Why is it that there can be only one right way in some minds? Why do deaths not matter unless they are on 'your' side?

I don't have a solution to the shit-show that is the Middle East (pardon that language.) I just know that it hurts me. I wish I did know how to help. Perhaps I need to go back to school. Become a diplomat. A relief/aid worker. Something. Anything but watching helplessly and hopelessly.

Today, I'm thankful that there is a ceasefire in Palestine/Israel, however tenuous it may be. I am glad that it was reached even though both sides did not get what they demanded.

19 November 2012

I'm going to write about not writing. Again.

I don't want to do anything. I haven't been eating well. Or exercising. Just reading a bit on my lunch breaks. And playing video games. And losing myself in the myriad quagmires of the internet (tumblr.)

It's been sort of therapeutic. I should probably take a break from most of the internet, not just my wiritng

Anyhow. I will get back to it. I'll find some nice prompts or something and I'll start it off again. Just as soon as I can get out of this slump.

13 November 2012

I should write. And I want to. About Cloud Atlas. About the books I've been reading. About anything.

But I just can't seem to. This is the most for awhile.

07 November 2012

30. List 10 things you would hope to be remembered for.

Wow, 10?

1. Kindness.
2. Honesty.
3. Sense of fun.
4. Ridiculous good-looks?
5. Wisdom.
6. Trivial knowledge.
7. Amazing parkour skills.
8. A bestselling novel. Or a known published work at least.
9. Advocate for those in need.
10. Fighting for what I love.

06 November 2012

29. What do you think people misunderstand most about you?

Hmm, I think a lot of people don't get me because I'm very introverted and not very open about actual things. I think that a whole lot of people don't quite understand the trans thing. Not that a whole lot of people ask me about it or really try to get it. Most just accept it and move on, which is nice. But I can tell that many people have questions that they don't know how to ask, or if they should. And this is added to another misconception I believe people have of me. People don't think they can approach me and ask me things or just talk. In reality, others approaching me is the only way I'll talk. I'm not a first move type. And I'll seriously answer any question that's not completely inappropriate.
I don't want to write. My head is all messed up. I feel okay. I seem to function all right, but I cannot force myself to do anything that's good for me. I cannot eat well. I cannot excercise. I cannot write, or even read. Only sleep. And stare at screens. Only trudge through my work days in a stupor.

I feel empty.

05 November 2012

28. What is your love language?

I remember taking this test in high school. Had to do it again even though I pretty much could have figured it.

There are 5 love languages (apparently.) Mine rank as such:

Quality time
Physical Touch
Acts of service
Receiving gifts
Words of affirmation

Nothing surprising there, I hope.

04 November 2012

27. What is your favorite part of your body and why?

Well, I'm a fan of my brain, how it works and the like. But physically, I guess I enjoy my arms and shoulders. I like that there are muscles there.

03 November 2012

I already failed. Except that I posted over 200 words on the first, so perhaps skipping the second wasn’t so bad.

Anyhow, there is an excuse. I went camping. Yes, it’s November. And yes, it was cold. We camped near Nederland in my Pathfinder. It was Zorro’s first camping trip. He was very confused to be allowed to sleep so near us. Really, too near us. It was a bit crowded to say the least. But it was good. We woke up to ice on the insides of the windows from our collective breathing.

Our intention was to snowshoe, but since there was not a scrap of snow at the trailhead, we decided to simply hike. Turns out we probably should have carried the snowshoes for later. We ended up losing the trail and wading through 8 inch drifts. Oops. Also, we never quite made it to the lake.

It was a good trip anyhow and now we have a very exhausted dog as well as two rather tired people. 

Word count: 170
26. What popular notion do you think the world has most wrong?

Hmm, this is fun. I'm sure the world has a lot of notions wrong. World Peace. Homeopathic remedies. Green energy? But just because they may (or may not) be wrong doesn't mean that they aren't good to pursue.

Anyhow, for kicks, since I have some notions myself, I'll tackle the queer issue. It seems that most of the world doesn't like us. Says we're unnatural and abominable-- er, abominations. It's just dumb logic. And I have heaps of sources refuting it. Why can't people just keep to themselves and let others do what they damn well please?

(also, Twa, I swear I didn't steal this from you! I've been drafting these posts many days in advance the whole time. But it's a good one, regardless.)

02 November 2012

25. If you could have dinner with anyone in history, who would it be and what would you eat?

This is hard. I mean, several people come to mind, but I don't really have any dead heros.

I'll just go with Oscar Wilde because he was flaming and hilarious. We wouldn't eat potatoes. And I would decline his modest proposal of eating babies. 

01 November 2012

Day 1

Halloween. Hallowe'en. All Hallow's Eve. Etc.

I don't have a very strong connection to it. Which is not to say I don't like candy and dressing up.

I grew up in a very Christian home. When I was quite little, my parents allowed us to dress up and go collect candy from neighbors and families from our church. We were never allowed to be anything scary though. I was a cat once. Then a tiger. I remember my brother as a clown (which really is scary!) And once as Dick Tracey. And I guess that's it. I remember exactly two Halloweens as a child.

Then my parents, and my small Christian school, decided that good people don't celebrate that particular holiday. So my mom just bought us candy every year instead. I was happy enough.

In college though, even a Christian university, everyone was back into dressing up. Firstly, there was Chipotle. If you dressed like a burrito (wore any scrap of foil) you got a free burrito. It was great. So I did that. Every year.

My housemates and I had a party the year after I graduated. But I wasn't really even big on that. People got drunk and went all out on costumes and everything. I just wore my cloak (was a hobbit?) and ate candy.

And a year or so following that, I wore the same cloak and went to a party as a Jedi.

This year, even though I did nothing at all last night, I did make a costume for going out the previous weekend. I was Altair from Assassin's Creed.

words: 267

24. Describe your family dynamic of your childhood vs. your family dynamic now.

I had a good childhood. Two parents who quite apparently loved one another. An older brother who wasn't so old as to be unrelatable.  We hiked and camped and played board games. Went to church most Sundays. Ate breakfast and dinner together. My brother and I each had sets of chores. Feeding the animals. Raking grass. Taking trash out. Doing dishes. After dinner we'd have a sort of family Bible reading and prayer. Until high school neither my my brother nor I got into much trouble. Then he did. I feel that a lot of expectation rested on me. I went to college, unlike my brother. I refrained from having a kid, unlike my brother. I didn't get addicted to drugs, unlike my brother. I didn't move back in, unlike my brother. However, unlike my brother, I decided to transition and break my mother's heart. I'm almost certain that's what's happened. We don't talk about it at all anymore. My parents and I are still able to have intelligent and meaningful conversations, but we skip the things that are most important. And I don't think that's a bad thing. It's just a survival thing. I'm glad that they haven't decided to never speak to me. I'm glad they've stopped trying to stop me from being myself. Hopefully someday they'll see me as I am.