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The Happiness Blog

The things that make me happy.

Spoiler alert: I am an ally. That’s the A in LBGTQA. The following is a bit of a rant from that facet of my perspective: 

Sometimes I am totally stoked when I hear about new civil rights breakthrough legislation for the LBGTQ community. Other times, it makes me seriously bummed that giving a huge population of people the right to love who they love and live how they live is still being decided. 

I don’t care who people love, marry, or sleep with as long as it’s consensual and there isn’t an abuse of power involved. I don’t care how/if someone identifies with their biological gender or doesn’t. I don’t care if someone wants to wear clothing that is traditionally not coded for their biological gender. It’s not my business, just as my gender identification, clothing preference, and sexual orientation aren’t your business. 

What I do care about is that all people are allowed to have the rights that I am apparently privileged to have because how I live my life and who I love and married fall within what society has deemed the “acceptable normal” limits of the gender identification, social, and sexual orientation spectrums. 

Forced to choose within a binary of black and white male/female, heterosexual/homosexual, gender conforming/nonconforming options, my orientations fall along society’s “norms.” But given a spectrum, I fall somewhere closer to the political equivalent of moderate. I basically see myself as a woman, but I have always had a large bit of dissonance with it. While I can’t imagine being a man, I don’t wholly identify with femininity either.  I’ve always been a tomboy and had a more “masculine” attitude towards life. It even took 30 years before I really felt comfortable enough to realize that I don’t look like a moron in a dress. Most of my friends are male because despite being a woman myself, woman are often really confusing to me. 

My sexuality is predominantly heterosexual. I’ve never had a romantic relationship with a woman, but I’ve entertained the thought when I’ve had crushes on women. I just haven’t ever liked a woman enough to WANT to go there. Plus, I have always fallen in love with men, am happily married to a wonderful man, and still have no urge to find out what it would be like to be with a woman. So, I presume I’m pretty darned straight. But knowing that I have this bit of flexibility in myself and knowing how none of this is just a preference or a choice… Well, that shows me just how easily I could have been born with less accepted orientations of gender identity and sexuality, so I recognize just how important it is to support LBGTQ rights. 

But the problem I have is, why does this stuff even matter anymore? Why is it a big deal if a biological woman identifies as a man? Why is it a big deal if two men are in a romantic relationship? If it is consensual, there isn’t an abuse of power, and it’s not creating a burden on society, then why does society feel it has the right to legislate personal identity and love?
People are people, period. And while some orientations may not be what I want or what I like, it doesn’t mean I should be able to infringe on others’ human rights because I don’t have the same feelings, preferences, or orientations. No one says you have to be best friends with the lbgtqa community, but what you SHOULD have to do is respect our rights as fellow humans. The basic rights to food, water, shelter, and love are integral to being human. This basic respect for humanity should be equally applied to those who identify as pansexual genderqueers as it is to heterosexual men. 

So yes, it’s great that our laws are very slowly catching up to the reality of discrimination a HUGE segment of our population faces… but damn, it’s sad that this is even still a question.

Spoiler alert: I am an ally. That’s the A in LBGTQA. The following is a bit of a rant from that facet of my perspective:

Sometimes I am totally stoked when I hear about new civil rights breakthrough legislation for the LBGTQ community. Other times, it makes me seriously bummed that giving a huge population of people the right to love who they love and live how they live is still being decided.

I don’t care who people love, marry, or sleep with as long as it’s consensual and there isn’t an abuse of power involved. I don’t care how/if someone identifies with their biological gender or doesn’t. I don’t care if someone wants to wear clothing that is traditionally not coded for their biological gender. It’s not my business, just as my gender identification, clothing preference, and sexual orientation aren’t your business.

What I do care about is that all people are allowed to have the rights that I am apparently privileged to have because how I live my life and who I love and married fall within what society has deemed the “acceptable normal” limits of the gender identification, social, and sexual orientation spectrums.

Forced to choose within a binary of black and white male/female, heterosexual/homosexual, gender conforming/nonconforming options, my orientations fall along society’s “norms.” But given a spectrum, I fall somewhere closer to the political equivalent of moderate. I basically see myself as a woman, but I have always had a large bit of dissonance with it. While I can’t imagine being a man, I don’t wholly identify with femininity either. I’ve always been a tomboy and had a more “masculine” attitude towards life. It even took 30 years before I really felt comfortable enough to realize that I don’t look like a moron in a dress. Most of my friends are male because despite being a woman myself, woman are often really confusing to me.

My sexuality is predominantly heterosexual. I’ve never had a romantic relationship with a woman, but I’ve entertained the thought when I’ve had crushes on women. I just haven’t ever liked a woman enough to WANT to go there. Plus, I have always fallen in love with men, am happily married to a wonderful man, and still have no urge to find out what it would be like to be with a woman. So, I presume I’m pretty darned straight. But knowing that I have this bit of flexibility in myself and knowing how none of this is just a preference or a choice… Well, that shows me just how easily I could have been born with less accepted orientations of gender identity and sexuality, so I recognize just how important it is to support LBGTQ rights.

But the problem I have is, why does this stuff even matter anymore? Why is it a big deal if a biological woman identifies as a man? Why is it a big deal if two men are in a romantic relationship? If it is consensual, there isn’t an abuse of power, and it’s not creating a burden on society, then why does society feel it has the right to legislate personal identity and love?

People are people, period. And while some orientations may not be what I want or what I like, it doesn’t mean I should be able to infringe on others’ human rights because I don’t have the same feelings, preferences, or orientations. No one says you have to be best friends with the lbgtqa community, but what you SHOULD have to do is respect our rights as fellow humans. The basic rights to food, water, shelter, and love are integral to being human. This basic respect for humanity should be equally applied to those who identify as pansexual genderqueers as it is to heterosexual men.

So yes, it’s great that our laws are very slowly catching up to the reality of discrimination a HUGE segment of our population faces… but damn, it’s sad that this is even still a question.

Amidst the chaos of rearranging bookshelves (and taking them apart and putting them back together in a different room), I can’t help but appreciate my 1892 edition of The Count of Monte Cristo that my husband got me several years ago. It not only looks and feels gorgeous, but the aged pages have a wonderfully seductive vanilla scent to them. Sometimes I need to stop and smell the roses (or in this case, books) to ground me to this moment in time.

Amidst the chaos of rearranging bookshelves (and taking them apart and putting them back together in a different room), I can’t help but appreciate my 1892 edition of The Count of Monte Cristo that my husband got me several years ago. It not only looks and feels gorgeous, but the aged pages have a wonderfully seductive vanilla scent to them. Sometimes I need to stop and smell the roses (or in this case, books) to ground me to this moment in time.

He woke me up to surprise me with birthday cake and an “it’s my birthday” tiara and then he went back to sleep. He’s my favorite birthday present I ever got for myself.

He woke me up to surprise me with birthday cake and an “it’s my birthday” tiara and then he went back to sleep. He’s my favorite birthday present I ever got for myself.

Too strong, too bold, too you.

image

I just ran across the last few lines of a poem (by Warsan Shire, a 24-year old Somali poet) that has been trending recently on Facebook. The last lines really spoke to me, so I decided to look up the whole poem. Here it is: 

"you are a horse running alone
and he tries to tame you
compares you to an impossible highway
to a burning house
says you are blinding him
that he could never leave you
forget you
want anything but you
you dizzy him, you are unbearable
every woman before or after you
is doused in your name
you fill his mouth
his teeth ache with memory of taste
his body just a long shadow seeking yours
but you are always too intense
frightening in the way you want him
unashamed and sacrificial
he tells you that no man can live up to the one who
lives in your head
and you tried to change didn’t you?
closed your mouth more
tried to be softer
prettier
less volatile, less awake
but even when sleeping you could feel
him travelling away from you in his dreams
so what did you want to do love
split his head open?
you can’t make homes out of human beings
someone should have already told you that
and if he wants to leave
then let him leave
you are terrifying
and strange and beautiful
something not everyone knows how to love.” - Warsan Shire

And where the last few lines spoke to me, the rest of the poem screamed at me and tore my insecurities from my heart and laid them bare.

It’s rare that words so perfectly capture a feeling in such a way that they scratch the itch of my soul, leaving behind such a resolute feeling of satisfaction, an “ah, that’s better” feeling that only the best art evokes in me.

Basically, I love this poem. It illustrates how I view myself and the strong, bold women I admire. It reminds me of the many men I have loved or tried to love and who tried to love me back, but couldn’t accept my boldness, my quirks, my needs, and my wants.

It reminds me that I have these impossible demands to be impossibly close and vastly separate all at once. People need to be virtually clairvoyant to know that I am terrible at asking for help, so when I do ask for it, I really f%cking NEED it (and woe is he who refuses to help or asks, “have you tried _______?” instead of just helping). My need to be strong and independent but comfortably vulnerable is balanced on a razor’s edge and it is only the acrobat of a person who can delicately walk the line. 

Because of this, I’ve always felt difficult to love. I struggle with feelings of being too ________. (fill in the blank with every personality trait I have). 

I know nothing worth doing is easy and no one worth loving is simple. And so the words in this poem bolster me and remind me that it’s okay to be difficult to love, because when someone manages it, it’s magical. For that, I’m incredibly grateful for my husband, friends, and family who take the time, effort, and energy required to love me. I am honored they have chosen to do so. I love their difficult natures, too.

Thank you for loving difficult me, difficult you. 

 

 

I woke up early this morning to the sound of constant rain and feeling wistful for my grandmother’s sassy attitude, hilarious nonsensical one-liners, and macgyver-like creativity under pressure. Last night, I dreamt I was painting “happy trees” with my grandmother while we sipped on sake and laughed at how vintage/trendy/hipster we were being. What a character she was!

This morning, I felt inspired to relish the calm of my rain-shushed apartment with a cup of coffee and a creative project as my grandmother would have done. While my grandmother would have had a smoke to go with her pot of coffee and would be more likely to be found crocheting endless blankets and writing in her journal, my take on this ritual was to decoupage a cigar box with B’s 30-year-old comic books his grandmother bought him as a child in Sweden.

When B’s mom unearthed the box of comics from his childhood, B looked them up to see if they were valuable and, when they weren’t, planned to throw them away. I, on the other hand, couldn’t bear to let him! Comics are so striking to me. The nostalgia of them being his childhood comics, coupled with the cool factor of having them in Swedish meant that I HAD to rescue them from the recycling bin.

And now, a couple weeks later, I’m so glad I did. Yes, there was a geeky part of me that has an inner golden rule of thou shalt not harm books that was basically screaming as I cut apart the pages… but the maniacal glee of the DIY crafter in me won out and I am pretty happy with the results.

I think my grandmother would be proud of me if she were still here.

I love Halloween, so I did a fun little photo shoot with my pups. Happy Halloween!

Sometimes the dollar section at #Target has gems like this awesome-sauce sign for my kitchen that pairs perfectly with my zombie head cookie jar #iamachild #braaaains #eatlocal

Sometimes the dollar section at #Target has gems like this awesome-sauce sign for my kitchen that pairs perfectly with my zombie head cookie jar #iamachild #braaaains #eatlocal

Tagged with:  #eatlocal  #iamachild  #target  #braaaains

vampmayra:

onceuponakatie:

erinbowman:

Little Villains by Vivianne DuBois

Maleficent
Queen of Hearts // Ursula
Cruella De Vil // Evil Queen
Gothel // Drizella & Anastasia

These are just adorable!

(via sdupreebemis)

A pic I took of the wedding party at my grandpa’s wedding a few weeks ago. My cousin refused to smile, so I decided he was posing for an old school black and white photo. It works better that way. Lol

A pic I took of the wedding party at my grandpa’s wedding a few weeks ago. My cousin refused to smile, so I decided he was posing for an old school black and white photo. It works better that way. Lol

I got crafty today to decorate my apartment for fall… Can it be October every month?

I got crafty today to decorate my apartment for fall… Can it be October every month?