kinetic

Since I haven't managed to compel myself to move far far away as is my customary four year habit, I have moved into yet another place. This makes my fourth apartment in almost five years. I actually stayed in my last place for almost two years. This place is pretty great. It's HUGE, particularly compared to my Lilliputian last place. And it has its own washer and dryer...finally, I can collect quarters to spend on things other than laundry. The neighbors are the property are pretty quirky. It's neat.
Though I an enamored with my new place, I've decided that Seattle and the universe are basically forcing me to admit that no, I can never escape my past. My new apartment is EXACTLY across the street from the apartment the ex-boyfriend lived in when we started dating years ago. In a city of this size, with so many places to live, how that happens I just don't know...but it did.
I've decided to give the roommate thing another try as well. Having a roommate certainly helps with getting a bigger place while reducing costs. And I thought that it would force me away from isolating myself like I have been the last year. I moved in with one of my friends. I have suspected for a while that my optimal roommate situation might be with a gay man. We'll see how it pans out. E. is pretty easy going and seems like he will put up with my idiosyncrasies (aka crazy bullshit). And Iniki just LOVES him to pieces. I think he was missing having a regular male presence in his life (not that his mama ain't missin' it a little bit too).
So here we are again, making changes in my life in the hopes that it will help make space for bigger and better changes. Bigger and better apartment = bigger and better things? Guess we'll see.

happy happy joy joy

I went down to Oregon this past weekend to meet up with some family members and to scatter my grandfather's ashes. We scattered his ashes in Florence, Oregon; the same beach where my aunt's ashes were scattered a few years ago after her battle with cancer ended. It was a powerful trip, dealing with the finality of performing the last physical act of saying goodbye. From start to finish, I can't think of many ways in which it could have been more perfect. I got to see a couple of cousins I hadn't seen since I was a teenager and they were kids. The weather was great. It was nice spending time with my family again. In particular, my grandmother was quite the sassmastress during the trip. She was pumping out the one-liners like nobody's business. But I think the best story my aunt relayed to me later when my grandmother started asking about my friend P. who drove down with me to keep me company (because my friends are amazing like that):

Grandmother: Is that her boyfriend?
Aunt: No mom, P. is gay.
Grandmother: Oh. (Pause) Does that mean he likes to laugh a lot?

death becomes her

(Note: I started this post on Sep 25 at about 7am, I am finishing it today, Oct 1)

I am up really early because I was having dreams about my grandfather. He died exactly a week ago today...to the minute actually. Death hasn't touched my life very many times, I've been lucky in that way I suppose. I've known people who have died but nobody I was particularly close to, this is my first "real" death. Not that I was particularly close to my grandfather, but he was consistently present in my life in a way that most people other than my immediate family have not been because of the circumstances in which I grew up.
Not to be terribly morbid or descriptive but I was present for the entire process of my grandfather's death, from hospital bed to casket.* I think that I'm handling it pretty well. It was not a huge surprise that grandpa wasn't going to be around much longer, he was 96. What's funny about the timing is that before he broke his hip, the cataclysmic event that started the whole process, he started to tell my grandmother than he wasn't going to be around for much longer. He told her he had a week left and a week later he fell. Various family members have told me that they began to dream about my grandfather. One of my uncles had a dream in which my grandfather came to him as his 35 year old self. My uncle said that he didn't recognize my grandfather but grandpa told him he was going home. My sister had a dream of my grandmother at almost the exact moment my grandfather passed on. In her dream she was looking around while she comforted my sobbing grandmother but she couldn't find our grandfather and when she woke up she knew he was gone. And I had my dream this morning, where my grandfather was in his death bed, but this time he recognized me (which I'm not sure he was able to do in the hospital) and told me he was going to be fine, that he was okay.
It's pretty amazing how connected we are in life and in death. But not necessarily in grieving. At least not in my family. Everybody grieved alone, throughout the entire thing. Family members went for long walks when they became overwhelmed. I don't think anybody really cried together, my family of stoics. It reminded me that I have chosen and am working on a life for myself where that needn't be the case, that solitary confinement of our emotional selves.
In the end, my grandfather will be remembered for being a great man. He loved his family, particularly his wife of almost 61 years. He loved his god. He loved people and people loved him right back. He understood concepts like hard work and integrity and sacrifice. But he knew how to have fun and could make almost anybody smile. I will always be sad that I didn't get to know him better, that I don't have more memories of him and with him, but I'm happy for the ones I do have.

*This weekend I am driving down to Oregon to help scatter his ashes, the final step in the physical process of my grandfather's death.

resurgence

I think blogging is making a comeback. The world of technological advancement moves so quickly that blogging is already considered retro. I have found old blogs that have been post-less for years with a random recent post about how long it's been since they've blogged. Maybe twittering gave us itch again, though I don't twitter...I haven't upgraded my phone to have such capabilities. There's just so much space in the world of the intertubes to express yourself. Maybe too much space? I have read that sociological theorists have concluded that people of this technological age are more self-involved than previous generations. And I read a few days ago that high school girls are very likely to post nudie pictures of themselves!!! Wow.
I for one am glad to see blogging make a comeback! I am trying to recommit myself to blogging more, but currently that's about as successful as recommiting myself to exercising again. I am still only partially through with my project of re-publishing my old blog, that is quite the undertaking. I am also excited to see other people blogging more. It's a nicer way to keep up to date with people I think.

pretty girls make graves

On Friday night, I hung out with a good friend and her friend, somebody I don't know particularly well but like. We had one of those exceedingly heavy nights where light-hearted conversation was nowhere to be found. At some point during the night, Z. says something along the lines of, "You're attractive. I bet that's made things easy for you." Whoah. I replied that, in actuality, the window of time with which I've been considered an "attractive" person has been relatively small and I often feel uncomfortable with comments about my appearance. Which then went into a whole different conversation about self-worth and accepting compliments an so on.
But I've actually been thinking quite a bit about the original comment, the perception that if you are attractive, life might be easier. I won't deny that there have been times where I have capitalized on my appearance. I've gotten a free drink or two in my time. I got to use the riding lawn mower during military days because the person in charge thought I was attractive while the rest of the guys had to lug around weed whackers. But again, I have never been "ideal" or fit into social models of attractiveness. And frankly have suffered because of that, fatness is probably the last totally acceptable form of discrimination.
I wish none of this mattered. I wish I didn't know that yes, in fact, being pretty is a benefit. I wish I didn't know how much my social standing is directly related, though inversely proportional, to my weight and pant size. I wish that I didn't have to worry about losing fifteen to twenty pounds to get a date. I wish that I have often thought that if I lost an arm or leg, I could go on with my life but if my face were disfigured I would want it to end.
So what to do about it?

there can only be one

I am a tactical observer of life. I know this to be true. I am always watching and evaluating, trying to piece together seemingly random occurences into my own postulations and eventually arriving at some pseudo-science sociological theory of behavior patterns. And I've come to one theory recently that I believe to be fairly accurate. And that is this; that girls at parties predominantly attended by gay men do not like to interact with one another. Now, one would assume that these girls WOULD hang out with one another because people often search out those that they often immediately identify with, in order to faciliate a modicum of comfortability. But I have noticed that this isn't the case, girls at such parties seem more like competing carnivores circling a herd of prey than a band of brethern (sisteren?). They mostly ignore one another while marking their territory, claiming rights to their friend groups. It's fierce and competitive this staking of hag-domain. I would almost daresay that it's even more competitive than girls seeking a lover. Because, well let's face it, in the world of relationships in the city, a gay man-straight girl combo has way more staying power.

work place hell

There is this incredibly annoying woman at work. And she HATES me. This is not an exaggeration either. She loathes me. And the thing is, I could care less whether or not she likes or dislikes me. I would, in fact, prefer that she totally leave me alone. I don't desire to talk with her or relate to her and frankly find her to be a lazy piece of poo who is a burden on our team rather than an asset. And the rest of the team also believe this to be true but because of a long past involving this woman and human resources and management, she appears to be virtually unfirable. But lately she has taken to finding subtle ways in which to harass me. She follows me on break almost every day. She eavesdrops on my conversations with other co-workers and then repeats them to other people. She also has said some incredibly stupid and vile things about me to a co-worker/friend who has since warned me to not say anything around her. But today I reached the end of my rope. If she were a good worker, I could overlook her evilness but she's not even that. So I reported her to my manager and said that I found her behavior harassing. And inappropriate. And uncalled for. And was basically told that it was my words against hers and what could they do? So now I don't know what to do. I know that she is hoping that I will freak out on her so she can remain the victim and I will get in trouble. So I won't play into her game. But at the same time, how am I to stand idly by while somebody harasses me, even on a subtle shallow level? It's not okay. I'm not sure what to do and clearly nothing is going to be done despite the fact that many people list her as one of the reasons they quit when they leave. It's BULLSHIT!