plethora!!!

I'm not even sure I told 'you', my imaginary friend, about the sweet little interview we did.

Click HERE!

I wanted to embed it, but for some reason, it ain't happenin'!

So, you'll have to click the link and get to the good stuff there.

It's an online show by RightOutTV that this generous music making couple did with us.

We were part of their 3rd show, and I wish nothing but the best for them in their venture!  It's great to have people who are so supportive in this world.

Tomorrow, we'll be shooting another music video, only this one will be live!

I get to sing my favourite BlueLight song, 'No Pearls of Wisdom', which is the last song on our current CD, "On The Edge," while Lin tinkers away at a grand piano.

It's not my upright baby grand piano, but rather, some fancy dancy one at a super duper studio!

I'll hook you up with it once it's online as well.

Now, I'd like to vent about religion.

Religion pisses me off.

... yeah, yeah, yeah, i go on about zealots ... what fucking ever ...

Being raised around a bunch of abusive nuns who, in turn, trained more of my family to be hateful, my Catholic upbringing was less than accepting of anyone who wasn't just like them.

Which I wasn't.

Here's a young man who has believed in his religion, and has now been failed by it, like many others who have been hurt by their ridiculous views.

Click HERE!

I wanted to embed that one as well, but for some reason, my links keep defaulting to Angry Birds.

... whatever, google gods! i found a way to beat your silliness ...

This lovely young person was invited to be a keynote speaker for his baby brother's graduation, but then his opportunity was revoked, because the Bishop of the school found out he was gay.

Here's a lovely Facebook page to support him on: Let Dominic Speak.

Click HERE for the petition to sign.

Ok.

Have I given you enough to do on this rainy Vancouver Saturday?  Or sunny 'n hot beautiful land in the midwest USA?  Or whatever place in the world you're reading from.

Hello Russia!  Been noticing you hang around a lot these past few weeks!  Welcome to you!

Anyway, I just finished the practise with Lin, and we're ready to go for tomorrow.

I'm so sorry to Papi who is trying to sleep off the Graveyard Coma.

And now, I get to go make more drum loops for us to use.

I hope your day brings you joy.

never let success go to your head and never let failure get to your heart

Success!

So.

I went for my lunch with Mommy Dearest.

It was really nice!

She didn't tell me I wasn't good enough at all during our visit.

These kind of visits are the ones that make me want to see her again.

It is nice when she's nice to me.

It's even better with my baby sister around.  She always brings a new dynamic to the table.

However, my baby sister could only stick around for a quick kiss, hug and vent.

My poor sis.  She's such a hard worker and all she wanted was a lunch date with us.  Her class didn't allow it.  Everyone wanted lunch early, so we only got the flash of her.

While they sat across from me, all I could do was stare at their perfectly straight, white teeth that I didn't inherit from the family.

I smiled to show my mom to see if she noticed the difference since my jaw surgery, but she couldn't.

Papi wanted to know if she brought up the Easter dinner.

"No, no, no.  We don't talk about anything important," is all I could say to my love.

We don't.

As long as we keep things very surface, very much about the weather and keep all the attention off my life, everything is fine.

Today, I get to go for breakfast with some very sweet friends.

I just hope my jaw calms down enough to chew.

You see, last night, I tried to help The Golden up to the bed.  Now that he's older, he has troubles with his front legs, and can't jump up.

As I bent over to place his front paws on the bed to help him out, he decided that this was the perfect opportunity to jump.

With full force.

Straight up into my still healing jaw.

I won't actually have a full bone in my jaw for another 4 months, hence, the pain was swift and the jarring to my already shaky brain threw me to the floor.

From there I squirmed in pain on my back, pushing myself across the hairy, stinky laminate.

That was pain.

It was a rough sleep let me tell you.

I woke up terrified that I'd see this again:

does anyone recognize this chipmunk?

 

But, everything was ok.

My teeth still match.

My jaw still opens and it's no more swollen than it is every morning I wake up.

I guess those little metal plates, pins and screws did their job well.

The worst part about the whole thing was The Bastard Prince knew I wasn't moving and decided this was the time to go through the dirty dishes, chase The Mrs. and torment Sir Bark-A-Lot.

Fucker.

He's no fucking help.

Ever.

Ok!  Off I go to get pretty for my favourite restaurant!  Jethro's Fine Grub! 

i am at peace

Got a straight jacket?

Seriously.  Seriously?  Seriously.

I need today to be better than yesterday.  We don't need another Hurricane Andréa sighting.

Today is that tomorrow I waited for to be so much better.

Yesterday started with my kitchen tap exploding in my face.  That was just for trying to make my coffee to make me smile first thing in the a.m.

It went downhill fast from there.

I won't dwell on the details of the long brutal day that seemed to be fucked up with every move I made.

I went to bed early so that I could just try this day again.

I didn't really get to sleep early, I just thought that if I went to bed nothing could get me there.

It was great until I woke up.

I woke up, wondering how much time I had left to sleep, so I reached for my phone to check and blammo!

Orange juice glass from the night before flew into the wall, smashing and sending OJ everywhere.

I'm going to pretend that the glass was just a hangover from yesterday's hell.

Now that the glass is gone, everything should be better, right?!

As long as I can keep that creep of a cat, The Bastard Prince, away from my eggs.

Just a second here ...

... there.  I ate the last piece.  I'm not going to let that hairy mongrel fuck up my breakfast.

Today will be better than yesterday.  It has to be.

I also decided that for every fucked up thing that happens I'm going to say something nice to myself.

I can't do anything about the things I can't control, like a bad day, but I can be nicer to myself.

While I was searching the house for an exercise bra yesterday, I berated myself for not being organized enough.

I reprimanded myself every time something screwed up.

I almost cried when the 'short bus' left me stranded.  My muscles started to seize from sitting, then standing too long.  The more I got stressed, the more my back flared up and I realized there was no way that my bitch of a back would get me home on public transit if that little yellow bus never showed up to get me.

The point is, I got myself very worked up over being abandoned at my gym.  I was supposed to be there to make my back feel better.

It did feel better until I stood there for 45 minutes.

I thought that it was my fault because I wasn't able to find my good energy to make my day go any smoother.

It really had nothing to do with me.

I don't need to be mean to myself for the choices that life hands me.  I need to remember that I'm human, and that I can only do what I can.

Later in the afternoon, I cranked some White Zombie, Motorhead, I Mother Earth and any other band on that playlist I made for days like that.

It's entitled, "I'm SO Angry!"

I did the cripple mosh pit all by myself and laughed at my feet on the floor dance I can do.

Even if I can't dance like I used to, I can still move to the beat.  That worked for me until the next fucked up thing happened.

Point is, it wasn't a day for crooning along to country music.  It was a day to growl along with some of the heavier music greats that I love so much.

Well, here we are in the new day.

Maybe I'll just bring along my headphones and every time something really warped happens, I'll do my cripple mosh.

Perhaps someone will send me away to that place for nutburgers so I can have a rest.

Or maybe, I'll just say nice things to myself today.

today i will be nice to myself, even if life isn't

halle-fucking-luja

I had another moment of bliss.

Joy of living!  Gratitude for life!  That feeling of elation, because I understand life's secret!!!

It occurred to me at that moment, that I have really lived my life.

I have lived within the permission it has given me, but none-the-less, I have lived.

It doesn't matter that I've had times that have been difficult.

What matters is that even through the turmoil, I still strove to make myself happy.  I didn't do this for anyone else but myself.

I have given myself a gift that nobody can take away from me.

At the same time, nobody else could give it to me either.

I saw my dentist the other day.  Here was this man who has a wife, 2 beautiful children, a breathtaking office view of our amazing city, that consequently, we get to enjoy while he's drilling our mouths, and he really has no money woes to speak of.

All the things a lot of us would kill ourselves with stress to have.

Funny part was, he was envious of the fact that my music is transferable to other countries.

He said, "You are so lucky you can move your talent to the Dominican Republic and do it from there.  I'm stuck here."

I have lived.

I continue to live.

I plan to live a hell of a lot more.

Friday night, I realized that I have created the happiness in my life.

No matter what has been given to me, I find a way to get happier as my life goes on.

I am no where close to believing in some dude up there in Birkenstocks, a toga, with hair and a beard that could use a little trim and dye job.

But I realized, that what I do believe in, the belief in the exchange of positive energy, is my belief.

I could exchange all the beauty other people find in that three letter word I'm supposed to believe in, with the word 'energy' and I finally have a way to relate.

I had tears of overwhelming joy, which were a little embarrassing.  However, My Gratitude Buddy and all the other sweet souls who comforted me made me feel welcome to have my feelings.

You see, I attended the Shul for the 3rd time again Saturday.  What that building lacks in size, more than makes up for it with positive messages and love.

It truly is a place of peace.

I realized that my agnostic verging on atheist struggle has begun to rest.

I am ready to let go of the atheist within me.

I can believe in energy.

I don't have to call it what the zealots prefer I call it.  I have a belief system and it works for me to keep me happy.

The most wonderful part about this, is that in my 3 visits to that place of Judaism, I have found some more people who consider themselves agnostic.

They, too, are searching.

They, like me, are needing more than just a few words in some silly book to tell them how to think.

There are so many free thinking people I have encountered in that building of love, and I realized something yesterday; I fit in.

I've found my place where they allow me to be who I am spiritually.

I have been building my belief of energy since my spiritual breakdown 10 years ago.  I can now say that I'm well on my way to understanding what people mean by praying.

I couldn't get it before, because how could I ask some imaginary dude for help?!?!

I still can't use the word 'pray'.  It's too much of a reminder of the evil in my Catholic upbringing.

But I can say I create positive energy around me.

Those tears of joy washed away my strife of searching for my place.

I have a new path.

It sure is a beautiful feeling.

today's mantra from my MC Guru:

let's live life with joy instead of judgement ~ don miguel ruiz

happy nipples.

"How are you feeling?" I asked Papi.

It sounded like I was just asking because I was just asking, but it really was a loaded question.

Papi and I never got to go to the Sexy Sauna Party last night.  It's a long and boring story as to why.

However, we did get to spend a wonderful evening together.

I had such a desire to touch my love's skin, because I haven't been able to do that at all lately.

We were laying in bed to watch our PVR recorded shows that seem to be creeping toward 100% full.

"I'm feeling ok, why?" Papi asked with a little bit of distrust.

"Can I lay on your chest?"

My love's body language instantly relaxed, "Yes," he said with calmness and a small bit of a smile.  Still, I wanted more than that.

"Can I lay on your chest with your shirt off?"  I just needed to experience my love's skin against my cheek.  I needed to recieve Papi's heartbeat against my temple, so that it echoed in my head.

"Yes," he replied, and removed his shirt.  I laid my head on his chest promptly, in case he changed his mind.

"It's only my tummy that's uncomfortable right now," mi esposo reassured me, and this was his way of warning me to also be careful.

My cheek could feel the raised skin of his happy new nipple.  It felt like a new best friend, and I had to nurture my relationship with it.  Warmth brewed within me, and I never wanted it to leave this place.

My fingers ran along the scars that replaced what was once breasts.

I felt that I needed to put love into his skin.  I needed to give as much love to those lines as possible.

I would feel the raised areas dip into calmer valleys of skin that have given way to healing, yet, I wasn't honing in on those little depressions.

The spotlight was on the raised scars that make my love feel self-conscious.

With every breath, and every stroke, I gave love, and I also took love.  I basked in the pleasure of touching Papi's skin.

It made up for the moment of intensity I felt upon returning home the other night.

My love was acting out, and trying to find every way possible to say he was upset, without getting to the point of angst.

It went from, "You don't do enough around the house," to, "You do too much, and then all I get is the broken Andréa."

I reminded him of everything I've done to keep our home, G'ma and the Fuzzy Family taken care of, and also reaffirmed that I'm always broken.  It doesn't matter what I do I'm broken for fuck's sakes! 

... ummm ... have you not been paying attention to the agony i've been in for over three years now?! ...

But, it wasn't about that anyway.  Eventually, the truth came out, "I don't like it when I wake up and you're not here."

It was my turn to be honest.  "But sweety, you're so depressed and sick, and all you do right now is sleep.  I got tired of waiting around for you to wake up and had to start living my life.  If I knew you'd get up, I'd be here, because I'd be excited to see you.  But I wait for you to wake up, and you don't."

I also had to add in, "I got lonely.  I miss you so much.  But I needed to get out and do things because I was starting to get depressed that I don't get to be with you anymore.  I needed to take care of my heart."

It was a little later on that I admitted via our goodnight text sessions, "I can't stop crying.  I'm worried you're depressed because perhaps you're not in love with me anymore, and feel trapped in our relationship."

Always, it comes back to me feeling inadequate and unloveable due to my lack of confidence.

Mi esposo showed me I'm loved last night

I felt it through his skin and heartbeat yesterday.

Sleep, Papi.

I'll be here when you wake.

today's mantra from my gratitude buddy:

the universe wants us all to be abundant in every way

Oh, Brother. Where art thou?

So, I may have the strangest family ever.

I just found out that I have a half brother floating out there somewhere that nobody thought was information that I should know about.

I've always known there was a brother out there.

I've mentioned it to people quite frequently through my life.

... i'm sure there may be more halves out there as well ...

However, I may never get to find him.  Nobody knows the name of the girl my sperm donor knocked up when they were only 15.

Well, I'm excluding my father of course.  He might.

However, I'm not into being falsely friendly, just to get information out of him.

If I can't honestly call him just because I want to, I don't want to call him because I want something.

That's his job.

But the excitement is overwhelming, even if I will probably never get to meet him.

I learned more about my Jewish lineage as well.

Another well kept secret in my family.

Secrets.

What the fuck is everyone so fucking afraid of?

No wonder I have self-esteem issues.  I have a family who is embarrassed of themselves.

Growing up like that is sure to create a few issues.

I have felt like I don't fit in with the family all my life.

As I go along I find out why.

Having a division of information that each pod has is bound to keep people at arms length with one another.

Anyway, I have a half brother.

I sure wish I had a big brother growing up.

It would have been nice to have some guidance.

But I had some from my aunts.  They were good for that.

Aunts are awesome.

So was my late uncle.  Until he left us.

And the poor soul who overdosed on heroin and is now living back in her young lady years.  She's kinda stuck there forever.

That aunt's not doing so awesome.

She could have used some guidance as well.

I feel like we should have had a reality show follow us around.  It would have been a fucking block buster with all the drama.

I don't have time to tell you all about the drama, because I have to get ready for my day.

My wonderful, beautiful day, with My Gratitude Buddy and then!!!! ...

... wait for it folks ...

... The Annual Sexy Sauna Party!!!!

Yes, it's that time of year again to get naked with a bunch of people in the 'community'.

I'm heading into the lions den tonight, but I'm also heading into a lot of love.

A lot more love than dislike that's for sure.

So, I must run and get all pretty like!

you cannot change what you refuse to confront

Am I Evil?

There's a lot of death talk around me.

I haven't experienced grief the way others have, and I wonder if I'm a callous person, because I haven't cried for anyone who has died.

When a friend in high school died, I didn't cry, I just felt sad for the way he died.

One of my closest friends lost her son, and I cried for her pain.

I can't handle seeing people who are living in pain.  It's almost like I feel their pain myself.

If you're around me long enough, you'll see that I want to heal everybody.

I can't help anyone who isn't ready to help themselves, but I'll try to steer people the right way so they can find the path on their own.

Anyway, back to death.

I haven't grieved over anyone, except my Dearly Departed Gypsy.

My fuzzy, four legged baby leaving me was enough to put me into the full throws of a nervous breakdown.

It was at that point that I finally got on anti-depressants.  Gypsy was really the only thing I felt I had left to live for, and when she was gone, I thought I'd leave too.

Well, I was saved and here I am, and I can now see that I have so much to live for, that I don't want to leave this life.

I have grieved over an ex who was addicted to heroin, and I had to watch her slowly die in front of me.  Then when I left, I grieved for 2 years over the loss of my relationship.

I spent a year grieving over the loss of my 'wife' to a male being that Papi felt he always was.

But still, I've never grieved over the death of a human.  I'm so disconnected from people because of my fear of them, that I tend not to let them in completely.

You would never know it by reading my blog, however.

Thing is, here, when I'm writing to 'you', my imaginary friend, I can talk about anything.  But getting these words out of my mouth is another story.

Unless I'm in therapy, then you can't shut me up.

I've learned that once that door closes, the stage is mine and I'm safe to let it all out.

Yet, I've never talked about death.

I honestly believe that the only people I would ever cry with grief over, would be my baby sister and Papi.

When I console the living people who are left behind, I feel so hypocritical.

When friends have a loss of a parent, and they talk about how much it hurts and that they miss them nonstop, I tend to shy away from them, because I just don't understand how anyone could be so close to a parent.

I just don't know what to say.  I've never experienced that relationship.

Now, Papi and another friend are going to grief therapy and I just don't understand why it's so hard.

Is there something wrong with me?!?!?!

If my father died, I wouldn't grieve, I would feel guilt.

... that's another blob/blab novel ...

If my mother died, I'd feel sad for my baby sister grieving, but I wouldn't experience the same feelings.

Who knows, I'd probably feel guilt there too.

I know it's not my fault.  I was brought up catholic and I feel guilt just for being on this planet for fucks sakes!!!  Ah those catholics.  So positive and uplifting sometimes.

... end sarcasm here ...

Anyway, this is something that bothers me; I have a disconnect from actually allowing people into my heart, to the point that I don't even cry over the loss.

It's so fucked up.

Am I evil?!?

I sure feel like I am.

perception is reality

You get what you need.

Clammy.

Sweating and then freezing.

Sore throat.

Bitchy headache of doom.

It's official.  I feel like crap.

I had big plans for this day.  It's safe to say that the old clichés of, "Can't always get what you want," or "Plans were made to be broken," are very true today.

This was a day to plan, look forward to, and go to bed early for.

Except, there would be not enough sleep to heal my throat that threatened it's destructive presence last night.

I thought I told it to back off, but I guess I wasn't firm enough.

I really thought my sore throat just had something to do with the fact that my mouth is filled with canker sores from my recent braces adjustments, and pieces of metal that seem to be poking holes in my mess of a mouth.

Alas, it really is some stupid fucking virus.

It didn't help that I woke up at 4 a.m. with anxiety.

I don't know what it is, but since being the age where I've had an alarm clock to look at, I wake up at 4 a.m. from nightmares or just plain anxiety about nothing I can put my finger on.

It happened again last night.

It's so strange.  It's always 4 a.m.

Last night, I almost had one of the nasty panic attacks I get, but I managed to ward it off by reading my current book, The Five Books of Moses Lapinsky.

My Gratitude Buddy gave it to me well over a month ago, but I'm so slow at reading since the bonk to my head.

I'm required to look bright eyed and bushy tailed for an interview for RightOutTV tomorrow.

I best be taking care of my body today.

I also think that having some down time will allow me to think about things I need to be working on emotionally.

Oh, speaking of which, Mommy Dearest called to make lunch plans with me.  It's about the only time she can get to see me without Mr. Homophobia finding out about it and making her life hell.

That's what our relationship really is.

Secret lunch dates.

I know that's all I get from my mother, and that's been ok with me for years now.

Hey!  At least I get that, eh?

I'm grateful that she goes behind his back to keep in contact.

... can't always get what'cha want ...

What I really want?

I want Papi to feel healthy.

The grief counselling has him tired and depressed.  The healing from so many months of being sick has him tired and depressed.

His body just wants to sleep and sleep.

I miss my love so badly.  I feel like there's a disconnect when we talk.

I feel like our hugs and kisses are petering out.

I miss our connection we had before the bomb dropped about the male transformation.

I feel like I go in for some love and I'm held at arms length, only able to see my love, not touch his heart.

I really need my love to feel better.

I really hope that when he goes away for a week into the sunshine that it might kickstart his heart.

I miss Papi.

life is 10% what happens to you and 90% how you react to it

Do it!

Gettin' my hair did today.

It's mandatory.

I'm looking like a walking fire hazard.

I am so in need of some time!  I don't feel like I have enough time for writing the way I have been.

I feel like I'm hiding from my issues by doing too much, so that I don't have time to think about what's on my mind.

I do this always.

Too much on my plate and not enough time to get 'er did.

Except my hair.

It's all about my hair.

Truly.

I once had a therapist who said, "You have quite the relationship with you hair."

That's putting it mildly.

It's sorta like having a pet on my head.

I have to treat it good, give it water daily and play with it to give it the right attention.

Yes.

I have a relationship with my hair.

You would too if you had this mop of a Honky 'Fro.

But the point is, I'm doing everything I can to keep from thinking.

You must have noticed it in my blog.

There hasn't been very many times I've talked about what's going on in my mind.

However, I usually feel the need to let it swirl around a while before I barf it out here.

Sometimes it's hard to put into words what I'm feeling, because it's so chaotic that I can't even figure out what's going on for me.

I believe I've successfully switched my mind off from thinking about the rejection I get from both my parents.

Anyway, I have to go get ready.

Every damn time I go see Chad at Moods, I look like I've just rolled out of bed.

Then I get to stare at my pasty face for hours on end, from taking as many pain killers as I can to help me sit for the duration.

Not today!

I'm going to put on my favourite make-up and look at a pretty face in the mirror.

Not this ghostly white one I have because it's going to take another 5 months for the bone in my jaw to grow back.

Having said that, I gotta go if I'm going to look pretty for this round of choppage.

My 'short bus' will be here in 20 minutes.

So!

If there's any spelling or grammatical errors in this here blog, you can point them out to me because I'm not going to edit today.

Off I go!

giving up doesn't mean you're weak.  sometimes it means you're strong enough and smart enough to let it go

My Mushy Family Post.

Let me tell you how wonderful of a family my baby sister has.

First, I was greeted by my nephew, who is now taller than me.

He was a perfect, young gentleman who grabbed all my items from me to help me in the door.  I was so impressed by this.  My nephew has become a true gentleman!

My niece is thrilled about plants and birds!  That made me so happy!  She has a pretty little heart with a tendency for lying or manipulating to get her way.  If that doesn't work, she just asks Daddy.  He'll always give her what she wants.

She's got him wrapped around that pretty little finger in a tight fashion.  He is never going to let go of his little girl.

Then there's my brother in-law, whom I made some homemade pain killers for.  I did it!  I helped him feel better!

But then he passed out.  That sucked.  Oh, how I can relate.

My baby sister was the star of the show, with an amazing spread of food and her no bullshit attitude, I was glued to her side, and if given the opportunity, I would have hugged her all night.

However, she was a bit busy.

Oh, I didn't mention Papi and I brought G'ma and the dogs.

We couldn't leave the old fart alone in the house for so many hours, so we brought her along.

I can't bear children, but because I wanted one, life gave me what I asked for.

Only thing is, it's in the form of 96 years, with Alzheimer's and a walker.

Oh, and diapers.

At least I don't have to change them.  Papi has already said that if need be, he'll be the undies cleaner.

There have been a few accidents from the old bird already and Papi took care of it.

I'm sorta like the man in this sense.  I'll be sick if I try to deal with it.

... yes, as a matter of fact, i am a wimp. whatever! judge yourself! ...

Chaos was in abundance and I think The Golden may have aged about 3 years with this visit, because there was a puppy.

A very, very bad puppy.

Not to mention, there was also a super humper!  Their other dog just couldn't get enough of our one eye's sexiness and was a horn dog for the whole night.

Sir Bark-A-Lot made sure he did his job protecting his herd.

Chaos!

And it felt like a normal family.

My family.

My family, who accepts and loves Papi, G'ma and I.

There we all were, enjoying our meal and nobody knew I felt like I was whole.  I felt I had all I needed, because there was so much love.

And pain.  I don't recommend trying to eat steak a month and a half after jaw surgery.

I also brought my last container of coconut ice cream and ate it with glee, while the rest of them ate apple caramel crumble topped with real ice cream.

Yes, theirs sounds wayyyyyyyy better than mine, but my sweet tooth was satiated and I left feeling sleepy from potatoes and processed sugar.

Today is a new day and I begin to treat my body with the respect it deserves.  I look forward to feeling healthier physically and emotionally, having more energy, and getting rid of the little red spots on my face, legs and chest from too much bad food.

All I have to do is not buy the goodies I want.

This won't be difficult.  I have $3 to last me until the 23rd of this month.

Really, this whole blob/blab entry could be said with one sentence:

I have an amazingly wonderful family.

today, i will keep going inside myself to find joy

Fasting?

So, my sugar fast is going quite well.

... end sarcasm here ...

I've had a few litres of coconut ice cream, a couple bags of wheat free, choco-chip, oatmeal cookies and another  couple of chocolate bars since finishing off the vat of chocolate my fancy Easter Bunny brought me.

I still have 1 more bucket of the coconut ice cream treat left.  I'll have to eat it to get it off my mind.

This is a fast?

Very fast!  I eat these treats like nobody else.

Gorge?  Why yes I am, thank you very much.

I was starving for so fucking long that I just don't give a shit what I'm putting in my body, I suppose.

I wanted that last bucket of sweet, creamy heaven last night, and had to stop myself from getting it by eating a bag of popcorn and a wheat free bagel with peanut butter.

Then I went to bed and obsessed about my peanut butter swirled, chocolate, coconut ice cream some more.

Seems that this morning, I'm still obsessing about it.

Anyway, I think that once I get that last bad boy out of my freezer and into my belly, I'll be well on my way to eating my normal diet of absolutely no sugar.

It's making me a bit crazy.

The sugar that is.

Like I said, if you want a Hurricane Andréa sighting, just add sugar.

Not to mention, I'm on the verge of a candida eruption!

I was not feeling so fresh last night I'll tell ya.

But today, I go see my baby sister, and I'm sure there will be much more sugar to be had.

Normal people can eat sugar all day, every day without it being an issue.

... or so they think ... right papi?! ...

I'm the odd woman out with my healthy diet of whole, organic foods and no processed crap.

I have to work double time to keep my brain thinking of the positive when there's sugar running rampantly through my blood.

I'm one step ahead of the evil demons who plant horrid thoughts in my head.

I was actually paranoid that my baby sister was influenced by Mommy Dearest and her evil sidekick, Mr. Homophobia, and didn't want to talk to me anymore.

Seriously?!?!?

I know my baby sister loves me oodles and I love her even more than that!

Yet, there I was, writing an email asking if she was mad at me, because she didn't get back to me as quickly as she usually does.

Of course she wrote back to explain how busy she was.  She has a family that's more than busy.  It happens all the time that she can't get back to me.

However, because this happened after the dinner I wasn't invited to, my sugar filled blood whispered sweet nothings to my brain, leaving me hypnotized by my demons.

Blammo!

Instant: 'nobody loves me'!

So strange, isn't it?  How can I be so messed up, just from eating too much sugar?

Oh yeah right.  I'm 'special'.  I have the world's most sensitive body.  You can call me bubble girl.

If you want to know if something is bad for you, feed it to me.  My body will let you know in an instant.

But then, you'll probably just keep eating all those delicious yummies even if they do turn me into a monster, right?

I'm so envious.

i love and respect my body

Nirvana!

I don't have a ton of time to chat today.

I didn't even have a second yesterday.

But I had a really great day yesterday, as I do every Friday the 13th.  I don't know why, but there's a really amazing energy that I find on Friday the 13th.  It's always wonderful.

This day hasn't started out too great.

Papi made me laugh and a piece of my egg went from my throat, to my sinus cavity, and out my nose.

Yes.

I had to blow egg out of my nose.

How's that for a day starter?

And it was a burnt egg.

But!

I get to see My Gratitude Buddy today, so it should go much better once I'm out and living the day.

We're experiencing so much positivity in our lives.

We're starting to see it happen in every aspect of our lives, even in the smallest things.

Just amazing.

There was a moment yesterday when I felt what people mean by living at a higher vibration.

There was a twinkle of feeling connected to everything positive.

I was living in a moment of pure nirvana.

My mission every day is to find that place.

If I can find it once a day, I can start to make it a place to live all day, every day.

Well, that's my mission today.  To enjoy the company of another positive living person, and for us to stay in that place of goodness.

I do get to see my second gratitude buddy, my MC Guru on Monday as well!

It's all about positivity this weekend.

This weekend, I'm going to work really hard to live in a good place in my heart.

I'm over feeling hurt by not being included by mean people.

I am included with my baby sister who is having us over for a BBQ tomorrow!!!

She means more to me than any homophobic, resentful person in my family.

I love my baby sister so much.

sometimes, good things fall apart, so better things can fall together

Are you happy?

Yesterday, I had quite the day at the building of teeth.

I tripped through the whole bloody concrete tower with my old lady cart.

First, the orthodontist to take out my wires and elastic chain for the dentist.

Next, the dentist to put my crown back on that fell off during my last visit to the orthodontist.

Then up to the surgeon.  This was fun.  Brain injury looked at the floor in my contacts list about twenty times and couldn't figure out which floor to get off at, so I just bounced from floor to floor until I recognized the door.  So, then I had my surgery check up and he showed me my exercises for opening my mouth more.  OUCH.

After that I went back to the orthodontist to get my 2 back brackets put back on, my little hookie thing that holds one of the three elastics I have to wear, and then my elastic chains and wire were put back in.

I fucking hurt. 

I woke up with huge chipmunk cheeks.

I do not feel pretty.

I'm bitchy.

Hurricane Andréa is kicking up a storm and I don't feel like writing anything today.

However, I am going to therapy again today.  Let's see what she pulls out, shall we?

Doesn't feel like it's going to be the best day for me to stay positive.  Today will be work.

When I wake up in pain in both my mouth and my bitch of a back, I know there's going to be a Pain Med Party later on.

Yesterday I didn't need to take any pain killers.  I'll make up for it today.

Right now, I'm just trying to get through my coffee and eggs without screaming.

At anybody.

At anything.

Anyway, enough whining.

I have to go get ready for my 'short bus'.

Then it's off to talk about all the nasty things I've had to deal with in life.

It fucking sucks that we have a bad thing happen, then it's up to us to barf out the demons later.

I hate puking.

I don't want to deal with all this shit.

I was perfectly happy ignoring it and looking to the future, not the past.

However, I suppose if I want a healthy relationship with Papi, I need to work on this stuff.

I really am only doing this for our marriage. 

My love said, "I wish you were doing this for yourself."

Yeah, I'm not really.

Yet, in the end it will benefit me, no matter what.

Even if it feels like crap right now.

Hell!

I got clean and sober to try to make someone else look bad, ...

... long story ... different blab/blob ...

... but after all was said in done, the only person who benefited was little ol' me.

So!

Even if I am only doing this for Papi, it will be good for me none-the-less.

Ok.

My cup of artificial positive thinking has kicked in and I'm ready to fake my happiness until it truly comes back.

i deserve to be happy

You got shit? We all got shit.

I tend to be normal and dwell on things that really don't matter in the big scheme of life.

I've received so much love from others who either a) have had similar experiences, b) could never in a million years imagine having a mother who would choose a man over her child, or c) don't have parents either.

I also got to thinking about the fact that Papi and I are in a similar situation, only different.

My love lost his mother at the teeny, tiny age of 10.

Papi never got to grow up with his mom, however, she was a loving one while she was here.

Only problem was, there was no dad in the picture.

I won't go into their details, but mi esposo's dad is only starting to be a part of Papi's life in the past couple of years.

I tried that with my sperm donor too, but it just wasn't the relationship I had hoped for.

I needed a father, and I can't get that from my sperm donor.

Papi wants a dad, but who knows if that relationship will ever come to fruition.  It will take both of them to get it down.

Then there's my mom, who really doesn't have a maternal bone in her cancer free body.

But damn is she a good cook!!!

Anyway, we're both a bit in the same boat.

We managed without, and we are who we are because of it.

I don't think that it's bad that I became such a strong person because of it.

Or so I'm told.

Sometimes, I just feel so weak and debilitated from my emotions around the lack of parental guidance in my life.

However, I have surrogates.

I have my wonderful friends, some groovy aunts, a lovely baby sister, a couple of cool cousins and my family I'm now married into.

One of my sweet cousins lost both of her parents.  She had a rough go.  She was a miracle baby!  She had to fight from the moment she left the womb!

I also have an incredibly strong, amazing friend who's mother committed suicide when she was a child.

She was the one who witnessed it.

Imagine?

And she's one of the strongest women I know.  She also lost one of her children not too long ago.

Even still, she smiles the most gorgeous smile every time I see her.

She still carries on with her beautiful life, and life is being good to her in the current moment.

Anyway, my point is, we all have shit.  Just some of us more than others.

It's all about how we look at it, what we learn from it and how we grow from it.

I am so sure, that if I continue on my path of positive thinking and gratitude every day that I will work this through in counselling, amongst my other 'issues' I have to deal with.

If I dwell on the fact that I've never had a mom or dad to be close to, I'll be putting blinders on and the tunnel will become quite suffocating.

There is so much love to be had.

It doesn't have to come from the people I was born to.

It comes from those who choose to be a part of my chosen family, and the people in my family who choose to love me.

I have all of them.

These are the ones I will focus on today, one minute at a time, one thought at a time.

I am loved.

life consists of what a person is thinking about all day

~ Ralph Waldo Emerson

Take shelter from Hurricane Andréa!

Got a few things going on right now.

No fucking doubt I'm so fucking crabby.

I suppose eating a vat of sugar filled chocolate doesn't help matters.

If you want a Hurricane Andréa sighting, all you have to do is add sugar.

Well, that and counselling.

Yeah.

Ever since I started counselling, I have had a lot of past trauma symptoms come up.

I've had insomnia while I shake from thoughts that don't even expose themselves to me.

I've had anxiety to the point of nausea.

I've had sleep paralysis.

I've had awful nightmares.

I've had depression and panic attacks.

I've had a horrible time with the girl in the mirror.

... goddamit! just 2 weeks ago i could handle her!!! fucking anorexia monster! fuck you! ...

There's more, but I just needed to realize that the reason all of this is coming up is because I'm so raw after having opened all my wounds.

That would probably be why when I was dissed again by my mother, it hurt so much.

She's been dissing me for years!!  So why the fuck should it all of a sudden bother me now?!?!?

My sperm donor has never been a father and all of a sudden I'm having guilt about not being there for the person who has never been there for me.

WHAT THE FUCK?!?!?

Anyway, I'm extremely bitchy and extremely impatient.

That's the worst part; being homicidal.

The way I've behaved for the last few days in public is really old behaviour.

I used to be the biggest bitch to every single person around me.

I was this way this weekend.

Yes, I get that way with sugar, but still, there's a hell of a lot more going on for me than just being homicidal.

This doesn't mean I'm giving up my vat of chocolate.

I've got a good 2 days left of choco-heaven.

However, it does mean that I have to breathe a lot more and remember that the person standing in front of me is not the person who harmed me when I was a kid.

I have to remember that being nice, even when I don't feel like, it is one of my values.

Nobody deserved my nasty attitude this weekend, except for mommy dearest and her evil sidekick, Mr. Homophobia.

They were the ones who hurt me.

Not the people in the elevator who wouldn't give the last person enough room to fit.

Oh, I made them fit.

"So, you could fit into this elevator if people in here were polite!!!"

Oh, people moved.

They let the last person fit in, and they all gave Papi the look of, "You poor, poor husband.  We understand," followed by a little 'knowing' smirk.

Then they were all afraid to get out of the elevator at the same time as me.

I have that effect on people when I have issues come up.

It's time to deal with them, even if all my old problems are back to being so bloodied and fresh that I'm pretty sure I'm dying inside.

Today, I will play nice.

crying does not mean i'm weak, but it won't solve my problems either

Crying Sucks.

Sometimes, it really hurts.

Basically, my mother has chosen her husband over her daughter.

Can't blame her.

She's had such a rough upbringing being beaten by nuns and living with certain dysfunctional family members could really screw someone up.

Then being knocked up by my deadbeat dad would've given her more issues.

So, she met Mr. Homophobia and they're living happily ever after.

She's not even so much as allowed to speak her dirty disgusting dyke daughter's name, or the man of the house who rules the roost will start a fight with her.

She can only see me when she has managed to get out of the house without him knowing she's coming to see me.

So, I don't really have a relationship with my mother.

But it still really hurts when I see my baby sister talking about going to her house for dinner tonight.

I should know better than to be hurt by it.

If I allow this to affect me each and every time, I'll only be harming myself.

I get to go to Swiss Chalet with the most wonderful spouse there ever was, and a crazy old bird who will make it quite interesting.

Why the hell would I even want to be over there with Mr. Homophobia?!?!?!

My love doesn't hold grudges like I do.

... yup. another one of my shortcomings that i have to deal with ...

However, my love would never disown his own daughter because his spouse told him to.

Good god!

It just happens everywhere to me!

In my 'community', within my friends, in my family life and even strangers who believe the lies all of the above say about me.

I'm lovely goddamit!

Why do I get ousted all over the fucking place!!!!!!!

No fucking wonder I want to run off to some 3rd world country and start new.

I would rather be with goats.

Knowing my luck I'll get the only fucking goats that know how to judge me as well.

So, while I sip my coffee, hoping that my artificial happiness will stop my tears from burning my skin, I have to remember that my life is what it is.

Never ending extremism.

Either really, really good, or really really painful.

It's been like this since I was a kid.  I should be used to it by now!!!!!

But I'm not.

My sperm donor left me with abandonment issues that are still harming me today.

I see that this pattern of being banished from various groups and people really needs to be looked at.

In life, when we have something to work on, life passes it to us non-stop until we learn how to deal with it.

Any fucking suggestions on how to deal with constantly and consistently being ostracized and banished?

I have started my Victim Support Counselling.  I hope that in the 6 months they allow me my counsellor, that I can deal with as much as possible.

However, I'm really only supposed to be dealing specifically on the sexual abuse of the hands of bio-males.

Does abandonment fit in there?

I fucking hope so.

Because this hurts.

Someone told me crying is good for you.

Fuck you.

i am attracted only to those people and situations that support and nourish me

I met the Easter Bunny!!

The Easter Bunny does exist!

Only it comes in the form of 2 sweet newlyweds, with leftovers from a wonderful wedding.

None-the-less, I now know the Easter Bunny exists.

... still waiting for god to call ... maybe jesus will call me tomorrow on his return?

And I have a wad of chocolate.

It reminds me of when I was a kid and the meanest gift the Easter Bunny brought me was a solid chocolate bunny.

I spent the entire day digging and breaking and shaving, and still the solid bunny was whole.

It took a week just to get down to the shoulders!!

Anyway, this is a brick.

Well it was a brick of chocolate.

But as you can see, I didn't quite get a chance to take a picture of it in it's whole form, because the groom and I were having a feast as soon as it arrived.

AND!!

The bride also brought some left over wedding cake.

Seriously!!

Although that didn't last long enough for me to take a picture of.

Sorry.

Actually, I'm not sorry.

You bitches get to eat chocolate cake all the fucking time.

This was a wheat and dairy free cake.  They only arrive once a year for my birthday, only this year, I got some at the actual wedding and I got more last night.

I was so worried about my bum going missing from the jaw surgery liquid diet, aka: baby food.

Nobody has to worry anymore.

My ass is back, and almost full form.

I kinda like it where it is.  It still looks good, but it fits in my pants a little better.

Normally, I have my eggs with my coffee, but today I followed suit of the groom's actions and put a chunk 'o chocolate in my warm, dark, inviting, spicy Dominican Republic style coffee.

Dairy free, cinnamon mocha bitches!!!

I have enough chocolate for the entire Easter weekend!

That made yesterday a really Goooooooooood Friday.

Oh, don't mind if I have some more!

I hope the Easter Bunny gets to visit you this weekend as well.

Something tells me your bunny may look a little different from mine.

Today's daily mantra is from my MC Guru:

i vow to care nurture and love my body to the best of my ability

G'ma for sale.

Used.

Cheap.

She's still got a few years left in her.

If you can get her out of the house, she's yours.

All 96 Alzheimer's years of her.

She's like a really tall child that can get into everything.  This includes the sherry.

Remember when I thought that perhaps having an extra glass would calm her down?

Wrong.

We better stick to letting her gorge on cookies instead.

That 2nd glass of sherry had her screaming down the 'my didn't they do a great job on the carpet' stairs, asking if we'd fed Psycho Kitty repeatedly.

And I mean, repeatedly.

Oh, my favourite part is when she doesn't get a response and slams the door.

It was 9:30 pm.  If we hadn't have fed Psycho Kitty by then, we'd have a lot more trouble with the troops on our floor.

Especially The Mrs.  She won't let dinner pass by unannounced, and she surely is the only animal in the house that doesn't lie about when she's hungry.

Anyway, enough about the food and the G'ma's screaming about feeding the cat and slamming of doors.

Repeatedly.

My rule is, if she yells rudely down the 'my didn't they do a great job on the carpet' stairs, that I won't answer.

This is my space.

This is my home.

I will not entertain her passive aggressiveness.

And sure enough it works.  She'll pick up the phone to call and ask me a question in a more polite, humane, civilized manner.

Except last night.

I suppose she forgot who she was going to call and nag at, and left the phone off the hook.  I could hear the alert screaming from the phone in an echoing manner throughout those hard wood floors up there.

Only, when I got up there, she was pressing buttons on the Lifeline machine saying, "Stop calling me!!!"

Oh, you old fart.  If you pressed the button, then you called them.

But the saddest part was when I said, "It's ok G'ma.  I'll take care of it," this years past 'with it' old lady replied with the saddest question, "I don't understand what's going on.  Do you understand what's going on?"

Sadly, I answered, "Yeah, I understand G'ma."

Poor old thing is absolutely dependent upon us.

It really hit me just how bad she's getting.

However, when I finished telling the little man in the little Lifeline box that G'ma had accidentally pressed their button, that old bird said something that was the perfect end to this comedy routine.

We were walking out of the dining room of telephone chaos, when she looked down at Psycho Kitty's bowl and calmly says, "I see you've fed him."

Yes.

We fed him.

Hours ago.

I told Papi, there will not be any extra sherry given to the old coot anymore.  This can't happen again.

My love said, "Well, the extra glass won't killer her."

No mi esposo.

It will kill ME.

when you stop chasing the wrong things, you give the right things a chance to catch you

ah, the abuse i endure ...

I decided to kill two birds with one stone.

God I hate that saying!  I would never kill any birds!  But somehow this archaic adage rolls off my tongue and finger tips, as if it were my favourite.

Anyway, I had to wake mi esposo up for a run around, complete with my handy dandy chauffeur extraordinaire, Papi.

I decided, instead of my usual repeating of my love's name, then shaking him, that it would be better to sing him awake.

What I found was, music does indeed calm the savage beast.

Sir Bark-A-Lot didn't nip and bite at me for waking up his number one person.

I'd sing Papi's name with every chromatic scale I would play, and Sir Bark-A-Lot would merely sit beside me and smile his little chihuahua smirk and I got some bass strengthening in.

When my love actually arose from my crooning, the first words out of his mouth, after the moan of dispair were, "You know you talk too much right?"

I had to agree.

Yes.  I talk a lot.  I make up for people who are too shy to blurt things out, or occasionally battle for my voice to be heard over other extroverts.

However, I wasn't expecting this: "So, is there anything you can do about it?"

I'm glad I know my love enough to know that this is just partnered poking as opposed to my last nasty abusive ex who actually meant her horrible words.

"Piss off," I said with the most love I could muster while rounding up our things for our day of supported errand running.

This ridiculousness of a conversation was followed up by my love shuffling quickly into the living room for a panicked computer session before we left the house.

My love was in a Sims-O-Rama-Banana-Fana-Ding-Dong-Land crisis!

I asked mi esposo, "Um, shouldn't we get going if we need to get everything done?"

Without breathing, my love replied, "Look.  I've got important things to do and I only have 3 days to do it."

Life can be pretty stressful.

Especially when your Sim-O-Rama-Banana-Fana-Ding-Dong-Land is in need of attention.

I wish my love put that much energy into his usual DIY projects.

We haven't had one to entertain us for a while, but it is getting nice out, so I'm sure there will be fun to share.

It has taken Papi months to heal from the antibiotic poisoning.

He really is getting better now.

We both are.

I'm hoping that by the summer we'll both be a power house of healing and energy that we can share together.

Here's to hoping.

And here's to a day where I haven't needed pain killers yet!

This is a great day.

And I got to talk your ear off.

i am fully present in the moment

Rolling up my sleeves.

We make our own choices when we decide if we're going to be happy or not.

It may sound like a tall order, but it's imperative that we know this.

Nobody can help us out of our Pit of Doom.  It's up to each of us as individuals to do this.  It's difficult, but it's our own responsibility.

It also seems unfair, that we have a debilitating mental illness when we live with depression, but we're also under obligation to fix it on our own.

Life isn't fair, but it can be beautiful if we look for the good.

I was lucky enough to have an impromptu visit by two of my very sweet friends yesterday.  It was fantastic on so many levels!

I was so happy to find out that my friend wasn't the recipient of a horrible disease.  They don't know what he's got, but at least it's not MS.

Yet here he was, with his beautiful wife, bringing joy to my day, even though they were out to deal with a stress in their lives.

Well, it wasn't only joy they brought me.

It was the reminder that I need to put down all the 'I can't right now' thoughts and get back to what makes me happy.

Or rather, less stressed and whole.

Only two days before their arrival, I was lying in a sugar hangover from another sweet couple's wedding.

I lied down for the whole day, and noticed that all the things on my ToDo list have been creeping up my back.

Actually, they're not really all ToDo.  The majority of them are the things I need to do to remain happy.

I have to remind myself to do these things, or I'll find myself wandering around the house, being distracted by either shiny, or pretty things.

One of those things I need to do to be happy and stress free, is to practise.

Obviously, that should be my first priority, as it has been that way for my entire life up until the accident.

However, now, I have to remind myself that these are the things that keep me whole.

As I lay, shaking off the wheat free, dairy free, sugar loaded wedding cake attack, I looked at my piano.

It's lying beneath more ToDo items, a laundry basket, and two boxes of shame, meant to be taken from the vicinity.

Yet, all I could do was look at it.

This is the way it's been since the accident.  I stare at my instruments and berate myself for not playing them.

Well, my dear friend who visited yesterday has decided to take up guitar.

I was so thrilled for him and thought I'd give him a few pointers about strengthening and positioning on the fret board.  In order to do that, I had to pick up my bass.

I picked her up and the love I felt was like electricity.

Love!

Happiness!

Energy!!

All of this comes when I play my bass, piano or sing, and since the withdrawal of pain meds and the jaw surgery following in it's wake, I haven't touched my instruments.

It's a little hard to do when your face is in a toilet heaving out all the poisons from your body.

Not to mention I couldn't really move much after my surgery.

So there lies my piano under rubble, and my bass hidden by more ToDo items.

Until yesterday.

I picked up my leading lady and played, sang a song, and strengthened my weak fingers while she held the rhythm.

This was all because my sweet friends arrived and I wanted to help them.

My friends have absolutely no idea how much they helped me.

All we have to do is pick up the things that make us happy.  That's really all we have to do.

Every day.

i choose to be happy

Normal.

What's normal?

It's my normal, and I found a bit of it today.

It was scattered as I tried to remember my routine before the jaw surgery.

I need a lot of repetition to do things seamlessly.  This new brain needs the daily echo of things I do frequently, lest I stand and stare at the counter for 10 minutes, trying to figure out what to do first to make my coffee.

My routine was not impeccable this morning, however, today I didn't dump my eggs down between the stove and the counter, in hair and dried onion bits which never made it into the pan many months ago.

Normal is my ability to make myself breakfast, and eat it.

Normal is my ability to exercise for where my body is now.

They've stopped trying to make me what they think is normal.

I have a new normal, and today I got a little of it back.

However, I'm still eating my eggs scrambled.  I still need soft food.

Yet, when I looked in the mirror today, I could safely say I recognize myself.

I was actually a bit worried that those chipmunk cheeks would never go down!!!

They're looking a lot more normal.

That's right.

I said it.

Normal.

Not your normal, but my normal.

I'm proud that I strive for normalcy in my life.

I'm proud that I don't enjoy being unemployed while I fight to get back my normalcy of a job.

I'm a bit like a border collie.  You keep throwing that ball, and I'll keep wobbling around for it, even if my legs are failing and I'm tripping over myself.

I will get the ball every time.

Even if it means swimming in murky, duck pooped water.

I'll get your ball.

I have a new normal.

I'm proud of my normal.

I can exercise with my new body, I can be happy with my new brain, and I can recognize my new jaw.

It does look a little weird, though.  And I may venture to say, my smile feels just a little bit prettier now that my bottom teeth aren't hidden by the shadow of my uppers.

I now look more like my very own baby sister who has the prettiest smile in the world.

But normal.

Normal has the right to reserve changes without notice.

We have to read the fine print.

What's your normal?

Is it attainable?

i have a healthy body

'Community'?!? Not bloody likely.

Not sure if I'm too keen on this 'community' thing anymore.

All my life I've known that one on one friendships have been the best way to go for me.

Since a young age, I've witnessed people traveling in herds.

What I've noticed, is it seems that when people travel in herds, they lose their independent thinking.

Someone will decide that nobody is allowed to be friends with a certain person and the rest will agree and follow.

Sounds a bit like high school, or even kindergarten right?

It's not.  It's right here in the 'adult' gay 'community'.

I'm a one on one person by heart, mostly because I can only trust one person at a time.

As soon as people start traveling in herds and listening to The Grand Poohbah whomever he, she, it or they may be, then they can't seem to make an informed decision by themselves.

It's no wonder I retreat and only share one on one time with people who have earned my trust.

I just found out the Hen Peckers have done the same thing to a third kind-hearted, sweet-souled person I know. 

I have also learned about in fighting and accusations from one person to the next.

Not to mention all the people who decide that anyone who isn't versed well in the transgender community are to be deemed 'transphobic' while they try to learn about our brave new world.

What the fuck is going on here?!?!

Each and every loving person in my life has been affected by this ridiculousness.

Why the hell can't we be kind to one another?  Why the fuck can't we be mature and talk out our differences?  Why the fuck can't we grow up?

I'll stick to my one on one hangouts thank you very much.

Every person I love, who treats me with love, is deserving of my friendship.

I don't give a flying fuck who said what to whom.

I don't give a flying fuck about lies and accusations meant to harm another individual's reputation in the name of jealousy.

I don't give a mother fucking shit about the 'mean girls' anymore. 

... trust me ... 'mean girls' is only a name ... there's plenty of 'mean girls' in the form of male as well ...

They can rot in their stew of hatred that seems to be bubbling and running over the edges.  Yeah, we have to smell the abhorrent burning flesh as it hits the red hot burners, searing in it's fate.

How can people be so heartless?  How can the 'community' hold any one of these individuals up on a pedestal?

We need to open our eyes.

There's so much going on out there with the young ones being bullied, but what about adults?

I'd love to say it gets better to these young ones, but honestly, it can't.  I'm glad I never made my 'it gets better' video for my friend, because it would have be a lie.

Life only gets better if we're lucky enough to not have fallen prey to people who still bully as an adult.

So, no, I'm sorry.  It doesn't really get better.  We just make better choices as to who to spend our time with.

Fucking well knock it off everyone!

We all need to fucking heal from the bullshit that is being passed around our people.

How the fuck can we call this a 'community' when there's so much hatred?

At this point, as far as I'm concerned, there is no 'community'.

There are only individuals who are good-hearted that we can pick and choose to support us, and then there are the bullies in their gangs.

I'm so goddam fucking sick of it.

Grow the fuck up.

when i am surrounded by love, i can do anything