In Search of Femmes

Sometimes straight people are exceedingly stupid.

My last girlfriend and I were making out in front of a Scotiabank security camera, my eyes were peeking at what we looked like, tongues slipping and sliding inside girl mouths, when I heard a surprised man's voice say "Thirza?"

It was some guy from school.

"She's not gay," he said of my sweetie, the woman I had just been macking on, the lady with dildos and harnesses and whips and lesbian porn in her bedroom.

"Well, no, she's bisexual," I said.

"No, she's straight." He was convinced. No way a girl could be that feminine and enjoy the company of other women, much less a rather masculine woman.

Some would argue that queer people are just as stupid. I think I have mentioned before the prevalance of dykes who shun uber-femme women in the community. I can't tell you how many of my lovers told me their pissed off stories about being given dirty looks or ignored outright by card carrying homos.

It does make for some awkward moments, being a butch who likes femmes, who especially likes bisexuals, to carefully choose who is safe to make the moves on. And it's true, in my life there have been many gorgeous femmes who turned out to be straight girls. But that doesn't mean every well coiffed lady is straight as an arrow.

My left Foot

My left foot is in a terrible state of affairs. First I got three itchy red bumps on my sole, then I smashed my second to baby toe into a wheely chair and badly sprained and bruised it. It hurts to walk, which I do anyway, because it's one of those pains in life that is bearable.

But highly annoying.

Neurogastroenterology

It is the study of neurons in your gut. We each have two brains, the big one in our head that gets all the attention, and the little one in your guts. Yes, there are seratonin receptors in the gut, along with numerous other neurotransmitters.

I have often wondered about the effects of bipolar on my body. I know how it affects my thinking and mood, but what about other things? Like when I was a kid, I used to get awful stomach pains before gym class, my all time most hated class. Later on someone told me that stomach pain in children is sometimes a type of migraine, which I ended up getting throughout most of my adolescence. Which I later found out is part of being bipolar.

There are other funny things about neurogastroenterology. Like this thing I have discovered recently where I feel physically ill around women I find attractive. I live in sheer terror of the day I meet someone so cute I puke all over them.

Born Nerdly. Since 1978.

Believe it or not, there was a time when I was a bit shy of technology. I was so anxious, I was sure if I touched it I would break it.

But geekness overcomes all.

I'm pretty comfortable learning tech stuff now, which is maybe why I had so much fun learning PowerPoint for the last three hours. I haven't learned a new program in such a long time. I love learning them, it's like doing a puzzle. It uses my brain in this completely fulfilling way. Anyway, I still have to learn Excel, which won't be as much fun I'm sure. I mean, slotting things in boxes, eh. At least PowerPoint is kind of a narrative medium.

I learned it by going back and forth between my PowerPoint program and an online text tutorial. I've never done online tutorials before, except for website programming. Damn, I should do some refresher courses in websites, I haven't made one in ages.

I've heard a rumour in the arts community that Arts Councils are going to start asking artists to submit their grant applications in an electronic form, ie PowerPoint. Soooo, anyone writing grants may as well learn the silly program now. It's really simple, and you can do some pretty funny things with it.

Excel. Le sigh. I wish I was learning something more fun. Oh well, it's an employable skill to have, may as well learn it too.

Wrecked @ Wreck Beach

In order to get this temping job, I have to do some online evaluations of my skills of an office worker. There's about eight tests in all, including tests on Excell and Powerpoint, which I have never used although I'm sure I can learn quick. So I was going to drink some coffee and spend some time doing the tutorials for these programs, then taking the test and voila, ultimate temp.

It was Saturday night and I figured I would probably just learn it Sunday afternoon and do the online tests that evening. So when my friends invited me to hang out with them, of course I said yes.

We went to Wreck Beach, but it was the evening so people were clothed. There were herons and two seals. The herons had a nest way up in a tree above our section of the beach. The seals would swim up to us, looking at us, and then went away. They hung around for a very long time. They would swim by and stare at us, and they chased away the seagulls. I'd never seen seals in Vancouver before.

I have seen the killer whales though, on the ferry to Victoria, a number of times. I have dreams of killer whales. They're huge.

It was really late when we were finally talked out and shivery and tired. We climbed back up the stairs. There are 390 stairs going from the road to the beach, really windy stairs. We took three breaks on our journey upwards. Huffing and puffing, I wondered what I would be like if I was still a smoker. Ugh.

We reach the top and the car is gone. Then we see the tow truck driving away with my friend's car. Goodbye car.

My friend sits down and puts his head in his hands.

We walked and walked and walked and found an isolated deserted bus loop at two in the morning and caught the second last bus of the night. By the time we got home it was three in the morning.

I feel wrecked, but I still have to learn Powerpoint and Excell, take my evaluations, and go to my screening, all in the next twelve hours.

Crumbs.

Law Office Drag Donations, Anyone?

Well, the job hunt continues. I did get a call from an employment agency looking to place someone as an office services clerk in a law office. It's work I've done before, way, way, in the past, so I'm up to the job. However I don't really have a wardrobe than lends itself well to a law office. It's perfectly fine for a call centre, but eee, I don't think jeans and a t-shirt will go over well in a law office, even though I have gotten away with it before.

Aside from that, I'm just surfing jobs sites and then taking breaks to look up mini dachshunds, like this little fellow down in Washington, or his even more handsome brother. Just coveting puppies. I think either or them would be perfect for me, and oh so cute.

People have been acting pretty funny about my wanting a dog at the end of the summer. Some people are really happy about it, and then others get all grumbly and parental about the whole thing in this really ageist way that flies up my nose.

27 and I'm still dealing with ageism. I guess ageism is always there, it just changes. Whatever. Fuck you ageism!

Stef if you are reading this and it's still Wednesday night, call me.

Tomorrow night Fit of Pique: The Zine will be showing at the Helen Pitt, along with many other zines made by emily carr students and others! It's at 102-148 Alexander, 7:30 pm. Do come and flirt with me. And buy my zine.

My one regret about quitting smoking is I never did learn how to blow a smoke ring.

Thirteen days smoke free, and I am very very proud of myself.

Freak.

Today I had a massive nicotine crave and went for a walk to chill out. As I was walking along I came to a part of the sidewalk that had bushes on one side of it and a fence on the other. And there was one of THOSE sprinklers. You surely know the kind I mean, lean jets of water shooting out in a staccato like an AK-47 gone awry. It was "Shook! Shook! Shook!" coming at me, and there was nothing I could do but run as if my very soul depended on it. So I RAN! And then I stopped just as abruptly, because of course a sprinkler doesn't travel that far.

So I continued on my walk and saw this lanky figure coming towards me with a big bag of laundry on her back, sunglasses, and a straw cowboy hat. Her hair was coming out every which way, and I thought "What a freak."

I get closer and it's my ex girlfriend.

"Were you running from that sprinkler?" she asks me, sort of laughing at me.

"Yeah."

"I didn't see it until now, I thought you were just another freak in the neighborhood."

Another task accomplished

I've finally submitted my final write up of the videos I've curated for this year's Out On Screen. It's the Aboriginal Queer program, a really difficult theme to program because there really are so few aboriginals making openly queer work. It means you have to be a little more lenient about content, because not everyone's making videos that scream "I'm a big queer native pervert." Except for me. Ha ha, no, there are queer aboriginal filmmakers, it's just we're in such short supply.

Either way, it looks like it's going to be a really great program. It's got a nice even mix of men and women, although there's no trans voice in the mix, which sort of sucks. I guess I'm trans, but I'm not super ultra trans. I'm just transgender butch. Whatever.

But at last I no longer have to worry about what's going into this year's program. Now I can just concentrate on looking for a job. Yay. Much fun.

I'm totally wired and twitchy from too much coffee. I drank two cups and a can of coke and it's only 1:43. When my friend Lynn gets off work we are headed to the beach. It's perfect beach weather.

Sick

The other day I was hanging around with some folks when the most disturbing thing happened. I was talking with a friend about getting a dog, and how sometimes it takes a while to housebreak a puppy. I mean, I have raised two puppies in my life, I remember cleaning up poop. Anyway, this other guy just says "No no no. You can housebreak a puppy in three weeks, you just have to rub it's nose in it's shit." And my friend is nodding, and they're all being very "We're older than you and know best."

Ugh, I have never hated a fellow human so much. I did serious heavy duty research in how to raise and own a dog over years of my life, reading all the books, going to obedience class. And if there's one thing I know is that it's cruelty to animals to rub a puppy's nose in shit. What you're supposed to do is keep your eye on it and scoot it outside when it looks like it's going to pee or poop. And be ridiculously vocal and happy when they do it outside. I mean, would you rub a babies face in it's own shit to potty train it? No, and a baby doesn't even have the same highly developed sense of smell that a puppy has.

So I was really mad last night. I really hope they don't expect me to be like that when my new best friend comes home, whenever that is.

The endless saga of my Cell phone

The other day the antennae on my cell snapped right off in my hand.

"Hello? Hello? Can you hear me?"

'What? Hello? Are you there?"

"I'm here, I'm here!"

"I can't hear you at all."

"Arg!"

I am phoneless. Again. I went to the store today to get a new phone, but the one I wanted was too expensive UNLESS Customer Service mailed it to me in 2 to 3 business days, in which case I could save 50 bucks. Why? Why why why? Does that make any kind of sense to you? I mean, there it was, right in the store, I could have just gotten it then. Instead they have to put it in a wrapper and put postage on it and mail it out to SAVE MONEY. Weird.

Besides that, my phone had gotten a bad habit of turning itself off at random moments.

My new phone is really cute, it's a flippy one too, I like those better than non flippies.

Oh yeah, so I get home and call the toll free number to order it AND THEIR OFFICES ARE CLOSED! Yet their store downtown was open? Ugh, I hate Fido sometimes.

So basically, if you call me before wednesday, I will be able to hear you perfectly, but you will only hear fragments of me. It is sad.

Missing furry friends

The other night, when I couldn't sleep, I started really missing Clive. It was the exact situation where he would run up to me and start licking my nose, being goofy and making me laugh. I've always had pets, I can't imagine living without some sweet fuzzy thing to play with and take care of.

And then I started thinking about all the things I could do with a weiner dog, how it could sleep on my bed watching videos with me, where it's food dish would be, how I could rub it's wet little nose on my nose, going for walks, sharing ice cream. I was having a total dog owner fantasy, the likes of which I haven't had since I was a kid, pestering my mother for two solid years to let me get a dog.

I was a persistent person. I'd read "Old Yeller" and "Where the Red Fern Grows" and something about boy adventures with their best furry pals made me yearn for a fellow of my own to romp with. Never mind that the dogs always died at the end of the stories. I mean, they weren't rats, they wouldn't die in three years. So I thought.

Either way, having a dog is more responsibility (and more fun!) than having a rat. And since my biological clock's ticking, giving it an outlet by having a little puppy around to raise and teach good dog manners seems the best option.

But I still don't have a job, eBay didn't get back to me. My next application is at 1-800-U-Got-Junk. If I land the job I'll be able to have a pup!

Puppy puppy puppy.

Never expected to feel like this

It's day 6 of not smoking. While I've pissed out all the nicotine 3 days ago, I am still going through hell! I can't sleep because suddenly my body's getting twice the caffiene it normally gets. As a smoker I'm used to having a high tolerance for the stuff, but no more! I'm moody, I'm crabby, I have cravings and then ignore them. I'm breaking out in big zits all over my chin, and I'm coughing up phlegm. The whole things is pretty disgusting, and I feel like a crazy person. I guess I had never realized how toxic it was.

It's horrendous agony and I don't remember quitting the last time being so difficult. I almost had a smoke just so I'd get a decent sleep, instead of wrestling around with the duvet, getting a slick sheen of desperate sweat. Thrashing around and watching the sun come up.

But today I had to run for the bus, and I didn't get out of breath.

A bottle of milk . . .

A loaf of bread, and a stick of butter.

I need a toaster.

Day four of not smoking. I am still having crappy sleep.

I should go to the store.

Stupid . . .

My fridge was broken. For as long as I have lived here the fridge has been broken. And on the dare of my mother I opened it today and took out three rotten things to throw away which had been sitting in there for some months. Like a block of cheese, which was brown and fuzzy.

And then later tonight I inspected the fridge after airing it out and finally found the on switch.

I'm currently trying to figure out how I can have lived this long without a fridge, and why I never noticed the switch before.

My shopping list tomorrow will include butter, juice, condiments, milk, fruit, vegetables, and other perishable items.

I'm excited.

Unfortunately, now my can opener is missing.

Stench, grime, paperwork, and dust

Cleaning this apartment has been a lot like embarking on an archaeological excavation. I haven't found King Tut's tomb, but I have found the detrius of several unfinished scripts and video ideas. Re-reading some of them has been terribly delightful, though not inspiring. I can see why most of them didn't even make it to tape.

I'm also proud to say that I am three days without a cig! I'm so goofily happy about it. I can smell things, taste things, and I'm not so smelly. I'm more kissable too.

Of course I'm cranky as hell and whenever I'm trying to sleep I end up tossing and turning all night. But this will all pass, so they say. The cravings don't bother me, I haven't been tremendously triggered yet, but the insomnia is a pain in the butt.

I read today that clearing away the clutter in your home is a way to bring new things into your life. Soooooo, maybe I am finally after many years clearing some room for a girlfriend. Or dates anyway. I'm terribly excited to finally have this mess behind me.

And I will be able to invite someone over and say "Welcome to my gracious bedroom."

Of course hooking up me t.v., dvd, and vcr is more difficult than it should be. I don't understand, I thought I had the modulator in the right order. If anyone has tips on which is hooked to what, please let me know. Right now it's DVD to the modulator to the VCR to the television. Maybe it has to go right to the television? ??? Bloody degree in film and video and I can't even hook up my dvd player.

fucking EXPENSIVE!

Well, I am finally starting to feel like I've got a tenuous hold on things. I'm trying to help turn my life around, by doing self-interested good deeds, like cleaning this sty and quitting smoking! Today marks 24 hours without a cigarette! I am very proud.

I've got this theory, this nagging worry, that my smoking was a major factor in not having a girlfriend. I have never had a girlfriend while I've been a smoker. And I've been a smoker for a very long time!

Being smelly is not fun for other people. Oh sure, you get used to it, but whew, around everyone else you're a walking ashtray.

The huge big reason behind quitting though is that it is fucking EXPENSIVE! Apparently I spend over two thousand dollars a year on cigarettes alone. And I'm not even a really heavy smoker. I mean what a waste of money.

Moving In . . . Still

I have been taking advantage of my unemployed status to clean and organize my apartment in between internet searches for jobs. Yesterday I attacked the dirty dishes, the gross countertop, and my very cluttered desk. Today I was going to unpack my cds when I finally found a crucial piece of my bookshelf. La la la, moved things around, and now it's up! All I have to do is fill it with crap and hopefully these boxes of THINGS will finally be out of my space.

I'm excited by the prospect of finally having a home I can invite friends over to. And perhaps even a LADY friend. I've greatly missed having a place to bring someone back to where they won't start thinking there is something very very wrong with me.

I applied for a job at eBay yesterday, being a customer service representative. I haven't heard back yet. Ugh, I really have to work on my resume again. I have a bazillion different versions for various jobs, but some are woefully out of date.

I'm tired of being poor. But maybe having a clean and organized apartment will perk me up.

Julie Andrews is a Lesbian!

My Mary Poppins crush has been sated. I'm kinda lazy today, so I've decided to post a link. Go read some more celebrity gossip, it's better than People!
Get me Gossip!

Safe, Insane, and Consensual

I have the fortune of having friends who are the best conversationalists. This morning over poached eggs on toast we debated the term Safe, Sane, and Consensual, and whether it excludes people diagnosed with mental illnesses from leather communities.

I think I was thinking about it because I had been reading an article by Pat Califia in my old copy of the Second Coming. The topic was abuse within the leather community, which was pretty challenging in itself. People don't want to admit it, but there's some fucked up shit that goes down in our community. Abusers are in every community, and in a minority community why not use our small networks to protect people from them? Anyway, la di da, skip along, reading this article, when I come across this sentence talking about dangerous people and how "there are some women with mental illnesses," implying they shouldn't be in the leather community.

I think.

I was tired and didn't think about the book until the next day over the eggs.

"Does Sane mean you can't play if you're mentally ill? Are bipolars banned from the play party?"

"I think Sane has been used to mean you're not drunk or stoned, but maybe you're right. That's awful."

I doubt very much this means I have to bring a note from my doctor saying I'm sane enough to play, but I do wonder about this linguistic exclusion of Crazy folk. It's just another way to demonize us. And I wonder if there are people getting booted out of the leather community for being out as Crazy.

I wonder if I will get booted out.