Or at least I did for….oh, season three. Before and after, she’s a bitch. Was it because of Moira? Or was it just because Carmen and Shane, and Dana and Alice had me so distracted?

And Ilene Chaiken said she modeled Jenny after herself? Scary. But what’s even scarier…is I can see myself in her. Meaning that I am whiny, a wuss, and more than a little odd in the head. The only serious thing of her’s that I lack is the narcissism and the serious bitchiness (and the delusion that I’m a great writer.) I think the only other person I could handle changing myself into right now is some dependable, boring little future housewife type thing, though. I’ll guess I’ll stay with crazy psycho chic?

But the great thing is, I’m also quirky little insecure Alice, with her obsession about LGBT topics (and even have her hair.) I’m also down-to-earth, in-the-closet Dana (without the coordination) and sex-crazed (sorta? I guess anybody would be when they hadn’t gotten any in a while?) Helena, who gives without thinking of how she’s going to pay it back. So what does it say about me?

That I need to quit watching those damn L-Word DVDs and get started on my stats homework.
Which leads me to more cutesy, interesting things to do with my time, instead of actually getting something done. I remember when I used to be smart enough to do stuff like this:

And it was love.

I just moved out of my mom’s house and in with my sister, that knows I’m gay/bi/queer/whateverthefuckIam. So now while it wouldn’t be the best idea to be out right now, it wouldn’t be impossible. My sister’s not thrilled about it (she’s ten years older than, and I think she was always waiting for me to grow up so we could gossip and talk about guys together) but she’s accepting, and my brother-in-law is definitely a little too overenthusiastic (i.e. thinks it’s hot.) But my mom and me – we have a pretty good relationship, and I don’t want to break her heart (along with her voicebox, when she starts yelling at me.) I’m still a…a babydyke? Is that what they call it? And I’m definitely not ready to be out. I’m a wimp, and not ready to talk all the shit from my rural/small town surroundings. But I want to so bad.

There is a awesomely bee-yuu-tiful couple that I see every now and then at my job at the drive-thru. They have a three-year-old daughter, who’s absolutely adorable. They are maybe the happiest couple I see all day. And I’d be happy to drunkenly make out with either lady – if you know, they weren’t married. And if I wasn’t such a prude that I don’t do things like that. But Hypothetical Mequella, she would be ecstatic, if you gave her some Jack Daniels, a gay bar, and those two.

I want to be like that. I want to be out, in a town full of bigots. I want to have a beautiful kid, an awesome wife, and look happier than most of the straight couples that I encounter. And maybe I will, some day. But anyway, on to my pledge: (play close attention, older version of me, when you come back and read this to see how stupid you were when you were young. Don’t break any of these, you swore.)

1. If I do end up living as a gay lady, be out to everyone. Even my mom.
I can’t imagine the colossal courage its going to take me to do this. (Not to most people. Fuck them if they’re bigots.) But what do you do when the people that you’re close to are the homophobes? I don’t want to tell my mom to go screw herself. (I probably wouldn’t be alive very long after.) In all probability I’ll probably just get upset, cry, and avoid her until she stops being angry. Yay me.

2. Respect others’ right to stay in the closet.
Certain people that I know thinks its just imperative that rent a billboard, get a tattoo, and stand on my head in the middle of Times Square and let the world know, “I’m a dyke!” The only ones that are supportive of me (that are gay) are the ones who are in the closet too. Been there, done that. It’s awesome if you can come out, be an example, all that. I don’t know about ya’lls closets, but mine’s pretty comfy. And I’m probably going to stay in there for a good long time.

3. Attend pride every year when humanly possibly, because it was amazing.
My friend’s mom, who somehow suspected (how does that woman know?! She finds out everything!) that we were going to Atlanta Pride, told her not to be anywhere near it. Our story was that we were going to Six Flags over Georgia, for the halloween stuff. (They’re pretty close to each other.) She kept going on about DEBAUCHERY! and how it was like Mardi Gras. (What’s wrong with Mardi Gras?)

So this is what we expected:

And this is what we got:

There were a couple of guys in cowboy boots and speedos (for a beer stand, I think?) and a few of Atlanta’s Sisters of Perpetual Indulgence, but otherwise…debauchery free, sadly.
It was effin’ amazing.

I have never felt so…in place? Everyone was just beautiful, there wasn’t anything gross anywhere, even the people kissing were just so. Damn. Cute. Pride made me happy. Oh…and did I mention that I got to touch a girl’s panda? XD (There was a woman taking donations for pride wearing a panda shaped backpack purse.) And ohmygod, funnelcake.

Later we went to the Peach Mega Dance Party. I was the third-wheel twelve-year-old-looking white kid dancing very badly near my friends. We got there when it first opened, at nine. And I guess that’s not what the cool kids do, because hardly anyone else was there.  We sat there for about an hour. I don’t think I’ve ever really appreciated older lesbians before, but they’re pretty brave, and can dance…well, at least better than I can. They were the first few couples on the dance floor while the rest of us sat around and waited for everyone else to start dancing. After about an hour of songs from a previous generation (I really should’ve stuck with those, easier to dance to than hip-hop), they finally opened the upstairs, which had more of a club-type atmosphere. And if anyone knows a really cute Asian girl of indiscriminate age that hit on a scared little white kid – tell her that she was really very lovely, and to PLEASE CONTACT ME SOMEHOW BECAUSE OH MY GOD WHY WAS I SO STUPID AND RAN AWAY TO MY FRIENDS?! Because I’m a wuss. Triple A status pussy. (Pussy isn’t always a good thing.)

So anyway, my friend’s mom called, we had to think up a plausible story for being late and race home so she wouldn’t get her car taken away because she’d been using the GPS in her phone to track where she was, yada yada…(thank God my mom’s not that tech savvy)…and hopefully we’ll do it all over again next year.

Thank you, all of you guys that are out (and will never read this. Don’t worry, I’ll tell you in person when I meet you.) Thank you for giving me an example. Thanks for taking shit from people while I pass as straight in my comfortable little closet. Maybe one day I’ll find the lady balls to be out there with you.

I want to know why I wasn’t taught this shit. The Horrifying American Roots of Nazi Eugenics My sociology teacher finally mentioned it to us in passing. I know its a very long article, but trust me, its worth the read.

This makes me feel ashamed that I’m worrying about things that seem trivial to me now, like DADT and gay marriage. And I’m not saying they’re not both very important – if I was voting, those issues might even be a higher priority than the economy to me (especially since everyone’s tried to fix it and nobody’s gotten anywhere.) But people actually died. Americans, people who hold equality and liberty and freedom and so many other wonderful ideals close to their hearts – they first suggested gas chambers. Oh my god. I just can’t – can’t fathom this.

Please, please read it. And teach our hidden history to others. Who would want to be doomed to repeat that?

Find out why marijuana’s illegal here.

One problem with being bi is that when you’re with a girl, you’re a lesbian. When you’re with a guy, you’re straight. You can’t see how firmly in the middle of the Kinsey scale I am, you’re stuck with the evidence in front of your eyes.

I’m “talking with” a guy right now, and I’m nervous because its the first time I’ve dated in a really long time. Actually, maybe the first time ever, for real. Once I had a boyfriend in tenth grade, that I did the grand total of kiss one time on the back of the bus. I had an all of two-week relationship with my ex-best (female) friend and first (and only) love. I don’t think making out with that guy from my AP class when I was drunk a few times counts as a relationship, right?

Apparently dating these days (I sound so old) consists of texting 100+ messages a day instead of saying it all in phone calls, like I did in tenth grade. I have yet to go on a date with this guy. But of my admittedly limited pool of people that I know that are actively dating and didn’t just fall into their three-year long relationships…wait, basically that just leaves my serial-dating manager. Whom I asked, who said, “Yep.”

She’s not very wordy. She prefers to text me when she needs to call me in when I’m not scheduled.

Anyway-

I’m flipping out. How am I supposed to start the hetero-masquerade section of my life when I never hang out with guys? All of my friends are girls. Since we’re going to the movies, is he expecting to make out on the first date? Is it even okay to? He seems really nice, is that bad? I thought all guys were at least a little bit of an asshole.

And before you say that I only like girls because I’m biased against guys, hush. Tila Tequila is just too hot for that to be true.

I was going to carry on with some barely coherent thoughts on bisexuality and going out with a guy (who’s okay that I like girls too, I made sure to ask) but you know what, I’m too wired.

Any advice for a first date? I could sure use as much as you have.

Response rant to people that gripe about entitlement programs:

If you’re low-income and at a loss for rent controlled housing, go to your local McDonald’s. Half of the employees there (the half that aren’t still living at home with their parents) probably live in places like that and can point them out to you.

I work on the dayshift since I go to college. Most of my dayshift coworkers are in their twenties or thirties and have children., work 40 hour weeks, and some have two jobs. Most of them also use food stamps, get Christmas presents for their children from the sheriff’s office, don’t have healthcare, drive old cars, etc. Even many of the managers are in this situation.

I know I couldn’t live by myself right now, even when I was getting 40 hours a week back in the summer. (I can’t now because of school.) Or I’d be sharing a cramped apartment with a roommate, eating ramen, and my broken down car would stay broken down.

Next time you complain about welfare, just think about the people I work with. They earn minimum wage, and just can’t find somewhere else to work right now. I myself don’t need it, since I live with my mom. I honestly don’t know how they do it.

Just sayin’.

When I got older, I was scared of people like me.

They’d walk down the hall, holding hands when the teachers weren’t looking (because even the hetero couples had to do that, our school had a no-touch policy.) They were always girls, because if any of the guys had had the balls to do it, they would have been beaten up pretty regularly. The ones that were out all looked anti-establishment, goth, or emo. They had a go-to-hell look on their face, because they had to where I live. And I, being the wuss that I was (and still am) mistook this for them being bad-tempered, and stayed the hell out of their way.

Oh, and of course, there was the whole going-to-hell-if-you’re-gay thing. Yep, I was quite the little hypocrite. Of course, I didn’t know that I was just like them. Okay, so a go-to-hell look seems very odd on my cherubic twelve-year-old’s face, and I prefer pink, dresses, and ponytails,  to trips, a black wardrobe, or bitchun’ hair. I’m still on the same team, maybe just a cheerleader instead of a quarterback.

But I’ve been on both sides of most of the issues, and part of me still longs to side with the homophobic arguments, simply because I used to be HUGE Christian, and still believe in all of it, including the fact that unless I shape up, I’m going to hell.

I am two minds about everything. I believe in gay-rights, but am able to reconcile it with my Christian homophobia only because we have a separation of church and state. And really, gay rights aren’t about attacks on families, or anything else that people claim. It’s all about religion.

But you know what’s great about my country? We have majority rules with minority RIGHTS. So keep religious views out of it people. Because I should be able to marry whomever I want, and live with my decision, and my Christian guilt.

So am I an ex-homophobe? I think so. Or if I am, the only person who I’m not okay with being gay is myself.

What I want to know is how long it’s okay to feel sad, and how the hell I’m supposed to stop. Is the rest of my life going to be haunted by this person? Is it going to take new people, new places in my life to drag me out of this? Or am I stuck? Six months and counting.

I did something really shitty and mean and stupid, and one of my best friends (and also the first person I ever loved, though she didn’t reciprocate it) and she’s unable to forgive me…

I hardly ever see her anymore, but we have mutual friends and every time I run into her, I feel just like I did at the beginning…