I'm Moving To Another Blog

I hate to do this to people, but I can't stand the word "atheist" being in the address of my blog any more. My focus, when I started this blog, was that it was okay to not be evangelical, like my family and school wanted and thought I was.
But now I have more important things to focus on. I discovered, only a few months after starting this blog a few years ago, that I wasn't straight. (My body really fooled me with that one--I was twenty-three!) So now the focus of my life is, "It is okay to not be straight." And not only okay--it is good, just like being straight is good! 
And I now know from experience that sexuality is much harder to accept in oneself than doubts or non-belief. Knowing that you are okay, and feeling okay with yourself, are two very different things.
Atheists are not my target audience anymore. I don't care what one believes or doesn't, for the most part, as long as they are LGBT affirming, or at least don't stand in the way of our rights or protections.
I don't care about labels in regard to beliefs anymore, and the word "atheist" in the address feels so constraining to me. So I got a new blog called http://ajslifejourneys.blogspot.com/. This is what I have to do, to protect my creativity. I may repost some of my favorites from this blog, but I will leave this blog up also, so that anyone can see my old posts if they like (there are almost 200 blog posts on this one, so reposting every one would not be practical).
I don't know what I am, exactly, in regard to belief, what my label is. But I don't care anymore. Sexuality is a much bigger deal, at least in my life, and I'm sure for many others too. The word "atheist" in the address bothered me and restrained me, so I'm doing what I have to do.
Always protect your creativity. Do whatever you must, to protect your creativity. If something is constraining you, even if you think it shouldn't, you don't have to go along with it.
I don't know if this will work out in the long run, but in the meantime, I feel so much better. I feel more free now to write about LGBT issues, getting rid of stuff, and caring for disabled chickens; or anything else that strikes my fancy. This blog has served me very well; I have had such a good time with it! But I'm also glad to move on. Here is the link again, if you wish to follow me to my new blog: http://ajslifejourneys.blogspot.com/
Thank you.

My Love Has No Buts: The Absolute Best Case For An Affirming God

Though I try to avoid discussing LGBTQ issues, almost all the time, I recently found myself in such a discussion, in the comment section on a video of a trans man's transition. And surprisingly, this little argument did not upset me, because I realized something while discussing this--and told the other person as much.
(Though first, I shut another transphobe up by telling him that it would be all right, that he would someday be able to come out and transition, and that in the meantime, I could be his friend if he needed one. Haven't heard from him since. Maybe he really DID protest too much, as I suspected! I certainly hope she is all right.)
I think my great discovery will become apparent in this exchange:

Transphobe: "Because we should all love and support a mental illness"

Me:  "Even if you think that, they are harming no one, and Leelah Alcorn killed herself because her parents tried to "treat" her against her will. She's not the only one, either, by far. It's either supporting a "mental illness" or dead trans kids. And I guess we all know what you would rather have.
With this attitude, you will kill your child, if it is trans. I'm not joking or exaggerating--no one intends to kill their kids by driving them to suicide. But it happens, and far too often. And it CAN happen to you and your kids."

 Him: "I'm saying that we shouldn't encourage people to be trans. We should try to help them be normal, but we should never actively praise and love a trans person. I would still love my child if he was trans, but I would much rather he be normal"

 One particular phrase stuck out to me here: "We should never actively praise and love a trans person."
I think that was a Freudian slip, right there! How many times have Christians (I don't know if he is one, though he unfortunately sounds like one) said that Jesus was all about "actively loving" people (even if they don't use those exact words)?
Jesus went out of his way to love people, especially those judged sinful by society.
(And remember, also, that he only told people to stop sinning literally two times--once when he saved a woman from the consequences of her sin--death--and another time when he had healed a man of chronic illness. What have anti-gay Christians ever done for LGBTQ people, especially of that magnitude? Jesus earned that right; he didn't just sit on his butt and judge! He even told a young man that his sins were forgiven, before the man had said anything at all about repenting. He also said it was faith that saved/healed people, not repentance. People make repentance an idol.)
The man I was arguing with, though, said that we shouldn't "actively love" someone! I still can't believe he said that. He said that we shouldn't go out of our way to love someone. I don't think he meant to--but subconsciously, I think that's what he really meant. At the very least, he is very much hobbled in his efforts to love a trans person, because of his beliefs. And that's why I don't think his beliefs true at all.

Me: "We should never actively praise and love a trans person." I can't believe you just said that! You literally said we shouldn't love a trans person--then you want me to believe that you will love your kid if they are trans?...Have you ever listened to a trans person's story? If so--then why are you hurting people like this?
And most of all--why wouldn't you just be grateful that your child was still alive? That's what I would be! Why wouldn't you?"

Him: "I will love them, buy I would never want or like them to be trans. We should treat it as any other mental illness, which it is. You can still love them, but you should never praise people who have it"

Me:  "BULLSHIT. They are being themselves, and harming no one. And it's often down to either being themselves, or killing themselves. So YES, I will praise the shit out of them! And your trans kid will turn to someone like me for help, and not you--because your love comes with caveats, and mine does not."

I had gotten upset at first, but now I wasn't.
And I will praise the shit out of them! :) I realized that I am at an advantage here. I can simply say to a trans person, "I love you," while he can't. He has to say, "I love you, but..." I win! =D
 And frankly, I think that is the best case for an affirming God I've ever heard of. Not having to say, "I love you, but..." My love has no buts.
I don't have unconditional love, with conditions (caveats about behavior/identity/love are conditions). I don't have to hurt people, in order to love them. Especially when they are harming no one, and my potential objection would be to their very identity, their very self--or their love.
I remember wishing, many years ago, that I could be LGBT affirming as a Christian. And now I can, though my relationship with God and the concept of God is a bit more complicated now ("Atheist Journeys" is an old name, so you can see where I've been in my personal journey, and I now feel stuck between the affirming Christian and atheist worlds). I can be affirming. I can just love people, without hurting them (if they are not hurting others, which is the case for most LGBTQ people). I don't have to contribute to a culture that often drives people, especially teens and kids, to suicide.
And I can praise the shit out of them, if the occasion calls for it. :)        
And that is just one of the many great gifts that comes from losing a very conservative faith.

Too Much Hetero--Needs More Gay

I hate most romantic stories in tv shows and movies. Almost all of them are filler, something the writers have to resort to when they run out of ideas that are actually good (or something they do when they're too lazy to think of something better). When it's done well, romance can be an interesting part of the story. But at least nine times out of ten, it is not. My dad calls it "gratuitous romance." And I like romance, but only on the rare occasions where it's well done, and not the whole point of the show.
I resent the writers trying to manipulate me into rooting for Ross and Rachel (Friends), Eric and Donna (That 70s Show), Jim and Pam (The Office), Ron and Hermione (Harry Potter), Leonard and Penny (The Big Bang Theory), Rachel and Finn (Glee). And these are just a few examples, off the top of my head, of couples I'm supposed to root for, when I can't stand either of them (except Ron and Hermione; they're not so bad--but I hate them together).
Most fictional couples have absolutely no compatibility. Either the book or movie  simply makes them get together, or the actors do not go well together. Even Ron and Hermione feel nothing but jealousy and insecurity towards each other, not actually liking each other. They're not in love; they have fragile egos. I am halfway through the sixth book in the seven-book series, and I get the sense that they don't actually want each other; they just don't want anyone else to have each other. And there is no foreshadowing for Harry and Ginny Weasley, except that...he likes her perfume. Yeah, I'm sure that's plenty to go on! We don't even see him thinking about her, except as a Quidditch player. At least with Cho Chang, he thought about her and had a crush on her.
But the best I could possibly say about most of these couples (other the the Harry Potter characters) is, "They deserve each other," and sometimes I can't even say that, because the man is a jerk and the woman is just bland. Except in the case of Rachel and Finn (Glee), in which case, he is just bland and she is spoiled and selfish.
And have you noticed one thing that all of these different couples have in common?
That's right, everyone--they're all white.

But there's another reason I can't stand any of them. None of them are matching.
It's refreshing to see couples that are matching--boys with boys and girls with girls. Anything else just looks weird. (I have never seen any seen any non-binary characters in tv or movies, though I'm sure a handful exist. I'm not so sure if two "enbies" or N.B.'s, even exist as a couple in western media. I imagine it would neat to see that, but sadly I don't know from experience.)
I like straight people, but sometimes, I just look at a couple of them, and think, "That is so weird! They don't even match!"
Now, I'm bi, so I may not be in a matching couple someday. But that doesn't mean I want to look at other non-matching couples. Matching couples are more aesthetically pleasing.
And no, I'm not trying to make a point about people who are "okay" with us being gay (meaning they don't want to stone us to death, arrest us, or try to change us against our wills), as long as we hide our love and who we really are--when they don't have to. (This point is just a happy byproduct of what I'm talking about here.)
My main point is, that there is way too much hetero-saturation in media. I get sick of romance in general, especially straight romance. Almost all of the time, even the parties in the romance are not bisexual at all--not even one partner. It's not even mentioned. And ironically, the fictional gay couples that I have seen have seemed to actually love or even just really like each other, though a few times it has seemed as if they only liked each other's looks (like in the movie 4th Man Out, on Netflix, in which one man simply likes another man's looks and is therefore infatuated). For the most part, though, gay couples just seem more convincing. Maybe I'm just sick of so much hetero with no inclusion of LGBTQ people at all (except for when we're the butts of jokes).

Even Disney has made us the butts of jokes. A few days ago, I finally got around to watching Disney's Enchanted. It was funny, sometimes, and yet...
 The straight couples get to sing and dance and kiss and live happily ever after--even the background characters that dance with Gizelle while she sings about true love. The one apparently gay biker, who appears for five seconds to smile at the prince...his capacity to love is never even acknowledged, and we never hear from him again. He is nothing but a joke, without even a follow-up "joke" later in which he smiles at a man...and the man smiles back. Even that tiny little thing, would have satisfied me. But no, apparently, they forgot that we have the capacity for real human emotions--true love included.
Of course they didn't mean to snub us--that's not the point. You can be rude and hurtful and non-inclusive, without even meaning to be.

I avoid fictional straight romances, as much as I can. And some people would say that that means that I am being rude and hurtful and exclusionary. As if fictional characters can have their feelings hurt by my actions.
But the fact is that the most popular movies and tv shows, in general, do not feature very many gay characters, much less gay romance. And I as a consumer can seek out what I want to watch, without harming anyone. And it's not exactly easy to constantly see people who almost always are included, when you often are not.
Some people say that tv shows and movies are "catering to 10% of the population," when they include LGBTQ characters. As if that's not literally dozens of millions of people! But they also forget that these shows are not just "catering" to us, but to everyone who loves us--AND accepts us, and affirms who we know ourselves to be, and wants us to be happy. And those people are about 60% of the population, from what I've read. And that is hundreds of millions of people, in America alone.
But I don't just want gay characters and romances. I want good gay characters and romances. I stopped watching Glee in part because, although I enjoyed Kurt's (the gay boy), Santana's (the lesbian girl), and Unique's (the trans girl) coming out stories, I got tired of Kurt and Blaine having their little dramas, and Santana singing love songs to Brittany. Combine that with Rachel and Finn, who both made me gag, and not even the beautiful and hilarious Jane Lynch could keep me watching.
I have found a few great movies and such about LGBTQ people, which I will get into at another time, since I don't think I have the space here. But almost everything, as my new favorite Youtuber, Rantasmo, says, desperately "Needs More Gay."

Almost-Inclusion: Dumbledore Revisited

I call this entry "Dumbledore Revisited" because about ten years ago, when I was 15, I was on a panel of teenagers that my local newspaper printed, called "Truth of Youth," in which we answered questions put forth by our editor or the readers. I was asked what I thought of the then-recent announcement of Professor Dumbledore from the Harry Potter series being gay.
Back then, I was confused about what I thought, or should think, about LGBTQ issues, but desperately wanted to believe that God was not someone who burned people in hell for something that harmed no one and gave people love and happiness. I desperately wanted to be a Christian, too, but I just couldn't see how I could ever read my bible or pray any more. It was not a good time in my life.
I also had conservative relatives who read my entries faithfully, and I was not at all ready for the religious onslaught that would await me if I dared to voice my hopes about God aloud; or my uncertainty that homophobia was right at all; or my own confusion in this matter. I just wanted to figure this out for myself, and not be told what to believe or what was true (according to them). And I wasn't ready to give this issue much thought at all, because it was so emotional to think about--much less to say these things aloud. I didn't want to serve a sexist and homophobic God, who had more rules for women than for men, and who insisted on his own way, even at the expense of others' love and happiness. And most of all, I didn't want to believe God was like that. This issue was all wrapped up in the issue of my own faith, and the crisis I was going through at the time (and still am, sometimes).
I did not know what to do. I was stuck. I thought it was annoying, that Rowling had simply made that announcement without actually putting it in the text. I thought she was just trying to get more attention and therefore sell more books. But I secretly wanted to be gay-affirming. I did not know any gay people at the time (that I know of, of course--and other than my mom's lesbian coworker, who was fired shortly after Mom started working there). It was so foreign to me, the experience of being gay. (My, how times have changed!)
But I liked to read about other people's experiences, which I think saved me from being indoctrinated by my Christian school, even after I started homoschooling (I left that typo in, because it actually seems to make my point even clearer). And it was hard to imagine growing up gay in a conservative or homophobic home. (Boy, was I clueless! Bisexuality must be the most confusing sexuality, because your straight side fools you for so long.)
But I felt compassion for these people, even if I couldn't imagine their struggles and feelings. And I hoped that God would not punish love (or femaleness).
This must be part of why LGBT issues are so personal and dear to me--because in addition to affecting me and those I love, it also reminds me of this struggling, uncertain time in my life. Even just writing about this is more emotional for me than I thought it would be.

What I said back then was, "Well, I don't know who Dumbledore even is, but if he's gay and happy with himself, more power to him! His lifestyle doesn't affect my life, so why should I care what he is?"
It was the shortest answer I had ever given. They wanted us to typically keep our answers around 150 words.
I meant it, too. I thought Rowling was trying to sell more books, and she may have been. But I hated Christians' efforts to change or pester gay people. I wished that they would leave them alone. I wished a lot of things. This was before I discovered the very freeing fact that bible scholars had different theories for how God inspired the bible, and not all of them were literal! My life changed, the day I read that in a very conservative (A-beka) Christian curriculum. I was finally free! I knew that no good god would ever inspire homophobia and sexism, after all.
But this was before I read that interesting little fact...so I quietly, secretly disagreed with the bible, and with God, if he inspired it. I couldn't help being born female, after all, and so shouldn't have additional rules, restrictions, and burdens. And the gays were harming no one, so why shouldn't they be allowed to simply live their own lives?

Now I am about halfway through the sixth book in the Harry Potter series, Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince. And the only indication, so far, that I have seen of Dumbledore's sexuality is based on a stereotype. Through magical memory peering, Harry sees a much younger Dumbledore, wearing a "flamboyantly cut" plum velvet suit. Now, I get the appeal, since I own a pair of plum velvet overalls. But I doubt that a straight man would have the courage to wear a suit of such material, though straight wizards may dress like Oscar Wilde all the time.
And though I'm glad that Rowling took a stand in favor of...acknowledging that gay people exist and can be good, I guess?...and I did not appreciate at the time how hard it might be to do so--I can't help but be disappointed. This isn't exactly representation. This isn't exactly having two young wizards or witches cuddling up and holding hands in Hogsmeade (a nearby village to the magic school, which the older students take trips into) on Valentine's Day. This isn't exactly a trans-wizard or trans-witch going to St Mungo's (a magical hospital) for magical gender reassignment. This isn't exactly a student feeling like a witch one day, a wizard the next, and acting or looking accordingly.
Everything about this is so frustrating! I have no idea how much control Rowling really had over her writing, especially when it became successful and was picked up by Scholastic Publishing. But this is not enough!
For goodness' sake, I shouldn't have to be grateful for the scraps of recognition we get, that aren't even in print. I know this was ten years ago, but LGBTQ representation is still woefully lacking--even magical LGBTQ representation!

I cannot believe how my feelings about this have changed. I used to think that people were forcing gay or trans characters into media, in order to win points with certain people. But now I see the controversy whenever any character is even hinted to be LGBTQ.
Now, when there is an LGBTQ character or gay romance or coming out story, I eat that shit up. I specifically seek out entertainment with these storylines. I write about Buzz and Woody as a couple, and Bo and Jessie as a couple, and gay and transgender superheroes. I can't get enough of it.
I get so sick of most straight couples in media, who have practically no chemistry except for being in close proximity to each other, and maybe hating each other (yeah, that's healthy!). And nothing brings out my lesbian side more than straight women in movies and tv whining or talking all about guys. And now that I know I'm not straight, I know how much I'm erased.
And I consume all of the real and fictional coming out and romance stories that I can, because I want to learn as much as I can about this subject. I have only known I was bisexual for about two years now. And I have a feeling that this is a subject that one may never stop learning about. The more I learn, the more I want to learn.
And I want all of the media I consume to have characters like me. I don't want to be left out of love stories, or any stories. I want to be represented, or have people similar to me represented.
And in one of my now-favorite series, there is not one indication save for dressing like a typical wizard--Lockhart in the second book was more stereotypically "gay." (With his flamboyant dress and his flirtations with his hordes of middle-aged female fans, he was probably based on Liberace, in fact--my own theory.)
Not one throwaway line about a man Dumbledore was in love with or something. And his time is running out--I know our ONE single gay character out of hundreds, who is apparently supposed to represent transgender people too, bites it at the end of the book I'm reading.

So I changed my mind--I DO care about the announcement that Dumbledore is gay. And I hate it!
I hate it--because it had to be an announcement. It is almost-inclusion. And almost-inclusion is simply not good enough. It's not even almost good enough.
This is so very frustrating!

More Restful Sleep, With Simple Hand Placement

I went to what is called a "polarity therapist" a few months ago, for help with coping with the shooting at my school, Umpqua Community College, and losing a beloved kitten about a month before that. I was unfamiliar with what it was, but basically (as I explain it, as an amateur), it's about putting your body in balance with itself.
The left hand has a negative "charge," the right hand a positive "charge." The left hand is associated with calming one's system down, the right with adrenaline and gearing your system up ("fight or flight"). Some people may not believe all this, but she really helped me, so it works for me.
The middle finger, interestingly enough, has a positive charge, the pointer a negative charge. The fingers alternate, with the thumb being neutral. There was so much that she showed me, but since this article is about sleep, I will talk about what has helped me with that.
One trick to calm down your nervous system, whether you're going to sleep or not, is to place your hands, right over left, in the center of your chest, and rest them there. Since the left is negative, and the right positive, the left hand will calm you down, and the right, on top, will let you know that you are protected.
This has been a problem for me, when sleeping, because I start out on my stomach, though I always wake up on my back. But for the past few days, I've been doing this anyway, moving my hands over a bit or stopping when my fingers get numb. Sometimes I have turned over on my back, too, though it is not the most comfortable position for me.
I still have trouble with anxiety, when I first lie in bed (most of the time, it's hard to tell what I'm even anxious about). But at least now, I know that I won't always have anxiety; it will change in a few minutes. I have put off going to sleep for a long time, before, staying up very late, because I was afraid of lying there and being anxious or grieving. I still have problems with the negative emotions, lying in bed, but now at least I know the anxiety will end in a few minutes.
And doing this is soothing. Try it right now. It is soothing to put right hand over left, over the center of your chest--over your thymus, which is one of the most important pieces of your immune system. I think it helps your immune system, to soothe and support your thymus, and give it lots of love.
I have just discovered I could still do this while lying on my stomach a few days ago, and so I don't know the long-term results yet. But this has helped, so far. I do this sometimes when I feel anxious, whether I'm lying in bed or whether I'm awake.
I still stay up a little late, later than I want to theoretically--but for the past few days, I have been more rested than I'm accustomed to being. I have had more restful sleep, even if I don't yet get enough. And I always had the feeling that tiredness contributes to my anxiety, which makes me not want to go to sleep, because I know that I'll just lie there and be anxious--so that the more tired I was, the later I stayed up, ironically. I have a feeling that being more rested will actually make it easier to go to sleep earlier.
In any case, this simple hand placement--right over left, center of chest--has made me feel much better physically and emotionally. And I'm hoping that it will create a cycle of feeling good physically, mentally, and emotionally, which will lead to me feeling better and better.

How To Respect My Relationship With God

 I wrote an article a few days ago, in which I talked about possibly telling my family to respect my relationship with God, if I must--especially after they find out that I'm bisexual. I was thinking a lot about that entry in the "Bi-Laws," and especially about my ex-friend, Pastor Assclown, and all the other condescending and awful people on the web and in real life.
This site may be called "Atheist Journeys" on its address, but my own journey is a bit more complicated than that, so for the interests of simplification, and being acceptable to my religious family, I refer to my spiritual journey as my relationship with God. I don't think of myself as an atheist anymore, but simply as me. However, I think these guidelines would apply to anyone, atheist or otherwise.
And I don't debate anymore. I am sick of it, especially because most of the people who want to debate, violate many of these guidelines. So these guidelines are in the context of everyday interactions, not debate. I am tired of debate, tired of not being listened to, and tired of inevitably being hurt. In fact, trying to make me debate is another way of disrespecting me and my wishes.

This is kind of a way to vent about the things I've seen and been subjected to over the years, so that's why it's not as happy as some other posts. I also write this mostly for myself, so that I know what I think disrespect looks like--what I will take and not take from others. Hopefully this will also inspire others to think about what they will and won't take.
I don't plan to tell any of these rules to my family, unless I have to. Hopefully, I will not have to. I honestly don't know what to expect from them, much less from each person individually, but I don't want to accidentally convey that I expect them to do these things. But I've got them written down now, so I know what treatment I'm worthy of (the opposite of these things), and I see the warning signs and won't be mistreated.
Here is what I think respect looks like. If you have any other ideas, put them in the comments.


How To Respect My Relationship With God:

1) Don't talk down to me. 
Don't talk to me as if I'm a child in Sunday School, as if I'm a new believer, as if I don't understand Christianity or the bible, or as if I've never read the bible. Saying that you disagree, and why, is one thing, but saying, "No, you're wrong, and here's why," is quite another, and very disrespectful. These are beliefs that I have come to after years of very active, very pious Christianity, after all.

2) Don't try to find something wrong with me. 
Don't ask me if I've ever accepted Christ--as if I simply forgot to pray the sinner's prayer and mean it. Don't ask if I was a Catholic (if you're a Protestant), which is Protestant-speak for "Did you try to earn your way into heaven with works?" Don't try to find something wrong with me or my faith, in any way.

3) Respect my "no."
Don't try to debate me, if I don't want to debate. Don't try to "witness" if I say I don't want to talk about it. Don't try to force a message on me that I don't want to hear. Even if you think that indicates something negative about me--don't do it.

4) Don't make pronouncements about my Christianity/character/relationship with God. 
This should be a no-brainer, but don't claim to know my heart. That is very disrespectful.

5) Don't accuse me. 
Anything starting with "You're just..." or "You just want to..." is probably incredibly disrespectful. Likewise for accusations of idolatry, making God in my own image, etc.

6) Don't make pronouncements about my eternal destination.  
I don't give a crap if you say you think you're warning me. Everyone thinks that they are warning others! If you do this, you won't be in my life. This includes "What are you going to say to your maker on judgment day?" (To which I usually reply, with lots of attitude, "I'll say, 'Thank you very much,' because he will have said, 'Well done!'") 

7) Don't use prayer, or anything else, to be passive-aggressive.
I've never had this said to me, to my recollections, but there is the infamous case of "I'll pray for you" being used as a passive-aggressive insult--either to atheists, or those other Christians who don't agree. But it's not just that. There is also talking about "God's laws," etc. This is much like number one. Don't use Christian or religious rhetoric to hurt others.

8) Don't expect me to believe or listen to you, while you are not willing to listen to or believe me.
If you want me to believe you, when you say you don't hate me, then you get to believe me, when I say I don't hate you. You are too old for the "I know you are, but what am I?" defense.You also get to believe me, when I talk about my own story, or love of God, or anything else. If you don't listen to me, I won't listen to you.

9) Don't use "Christian insults" and think I'm too dumb to notice.
Don't call me "lukewarm." Don't call me a "Cultural Christian." Don't call me a "Cafeteria Christian." Don't ask me if I am anything that you know is considered negative to Christians. Don't ask me if I pick and choose what I want to believe, or if I don't care about God's laws. Don't accuse me of these things.

10) Don't use excuses to do other things on this list. 
I don't care what your excuse is, or how much you love me, or whether you believe you are speaking the truth in love, etc--I'm not taking any of this shit from anyone. End of discussion.

11) And most of all, don't be hurtful. 
I know it's hard to stop and think about your words when you're in the middle of a conversation, but most of what this list boils down to is this: If it would be hurtful for you, then it's probably hurtful for me, too. And, well, don't try to hurt me, for any reason. I shouldn't even be having to say this, to people who try to claim the moral high ground in everything. :) Don't try to hurt me, or others, and don't make excuses for trying to hurt me or doing unintentionally hurtful things (see the last entry). You might say that you would want someone to warn you--but I know that you wouldn't want someone to continue bothering you, if you said no (see number three), even if they believed they were saving you (see number ten).


I'm not sure if someone is capable of treating another with respect, if they do not feel respect for them, especially in religion. I used Christianity, because that's what I'm most familiar with, but anyone is capable of doing these things--even, for some of these things, atheists. But the question of how one feels about my relationship with God or spiritual journey, and how that affects how they treat me, is another matter entirely. All I know is, if anyone in my life (even my family) insists on doing any of these things, for any reason, they're not going to be in my life.

As for anyone else, remember to stay positive, and dwell on good and happy things whenever possible. Lists like this are a necessary part of life, but remember that that doesn't mean that life itself is bad. Vent as much as you need to, and then, when you feel better, try to be as optimistic as you can be. Dwelling on negative things is not good, but sometimes talking about them, to a journal, a therapist, a blog, or simply another human, can be cathartic.
If you have any other suggestions for boundaries, please add them below, so that others can benefit from them. Thank you.

The Bi-Laws: My Thoughts On Coming Out

My mother tells me that the last time she saw my uncle, her brother, he wanted to gossip about an acquaintance who, at 72, "decided to be gay" and had gotten a boyfriend.
"Good for him," she said (and the way she related it, I could tell she really meant it). "If he's happy..."
My uncle walked away.
I love my mama. 

Ever since then, I've been thinking a lot about how our family will react when or if they find out that I am bisexual. I don't want to hide the fact that I like both men and women--that I am, well, blessed, or at least that's how I feel. (Not that straight and gay people aren't blessed or fortunate, but personally, I feel doubly so.)
This is not the whole of me by any means, but I don't want to hide it; I want to be confident and unafraid to be open about it.
If I ever have a chance, I would love to do what I call a "Pied Piper Coming Out." It's named after one of my favorite comic book characters (who was one of the first gay comics characters, and one of the first already-established characters to be "made" gay), and his very casual approach to being open about who he is.
It was in The Flash Volume 2, number 53, all the way back in 1991. Piper was sitting with his friend, the Flash, on a random rooftop, playing with his pipe (literally, not a euphemism). I will paraphrase their conversation here:
The Flash says, "Hey, Hartley, you're a former villain--have you ever met the Joker?...Do you think he might be gay?"
"No, I don't think he's gay, Wally, just psychotic. In fact, I don't think I've ever met a gay villain."
"Not one?" Wally asks.
"Nope. Well, except me, of course...You knew, didn't you?"
 I always loved his approach. He acted like it was no big deal--because it was no big deal.
 I want to do likewise. I did shock my grandfather once when I used the term "husband or wife" to refer to my future spouse, but I can imagine him simply putting it out of his mind. (Ironically, that day, after having lunch with my mother, grandmother, and Papa, my mother and I walked into a store where Madonna's "Papa Don't Preach" was playing. I think that explains some of my baby-themed coming out dreams since then.)

My mom says not to worry about them--that my grandfather will get over it if I fall in love with another girl, and that I don't need my homophobic uncle's help to become a mechanic. So this has made me feel much better.
I also had a dream a few weeks ago that I spontaneously developed the ability to breastfeed, without ever having to have a baby. It was amazing! I was making so much money as a wet nurse, and helping babies, without the responsibility of motherhood--until my grandfather found out and was very grieved by it. To him, it was like prostitution, even though I "sold my body" to feed babies, not to satisfy dirty old men. It was not  rational at all; it made no sense.
When I woke up, I realized that the dream was trying to tell me something--that his knee-jerk reactions might not make sense, that he might even be hurtful, but that that was not my fault. And that I could try to help him see reason, but that it wasn't my fault if he didn't. This dream really helped.

I also thought of another thing that makes me feel better, an idea which I plan to use in one form or another, even if I only have it in my own mind. I thought I would share it, in case it helped anyone else.
I wasn't sure where I was going with this idea, but it came to me the other night, and I started writing it down. I call it The Bi-Laws (The Bi-Briefs? The Pan Papers? The Lesbian Laws? The Trans To-Dos?...The Gay Agenda?)
They are a few simple rules for how I expect to be treated when they find out. I don't know if I'll give them a copy, or if they would even want to listen to me if I tell them about the rules, but I feel better just having them written down. How I want to be treated is now formally set in stone, and I won't settle for anything less.
Here they are. They are only a few, but they are most stripped-down, important ones:

1) No matter what you say about me, don't talk crap about my friends. Thank you. 

2) I don't debate. I will answer questions, though, if you are nice about it. 

3) I have my own relationship with God/Jesus, and it is very important to me. Please respect it, just as I respect yours. 

4) There is no reason we can't still treat each other with love and respect--like family. 


Other than forms of physical, emotional, or verbal abuse, which I thought were obviously a no-no, I think this covers just about everything.
Treat me with love and respect--no yelling or other abuse. Treat me with respect, just like always--and I will do the same for you.
 Respect my relationship with God (or, my spiritual journey, but that's none of their business). Don't tell me I'm not a true Christian, or try to dictate how I live and with whom I find love (or try to prevent me from finding love). Don't try to make me lie and say that I'm straight, don't try to make me hide in the closet, don't try to change me, and don't try to get me to deny Christ. This covers so much, potentially.
Don't try to debate me--no baiting me with your questions, or asking pointed questions designed to wound me.
Don't talk shit about my friends--no blaming my possible future girlfriend for turning me gay, or my theater friends for making me think it's okay (I thought it was okay years before I ever knowingly met a gay  person, not counting my mother's lesbian coworker). 

I obviously won't get to explain everything all at once, and I wouldn't want to. But when I encounter behavior that somehow violates one or more these four basic laws, I'll recognize it. And I do want to nicely communicate some of my expectations to them up front, if possible--even if I don't do it in writing. With the one about my friends, I may or may not have to communicate that one right away. I also want a chance to answer my grandfather's concerned questions, but I'm not interested in my uncle's possible questions that are designed to be hurtful.
I will have to think a lot more about how to use this list, but I am glad that I put my rules, the bare minimum of what I will tolerate, in writing. At the very least, I know the rules for others, and I will not forget or second-guess myself. It's in writing now, and it is official. And I feel so much better.

When A Tragedy Comes Along, Focus On The Little Things

I went to Umpqua Community College last year at the time of the shooting. For the first few days and weeks afterwards, I obsessively went through my room, getting rid of things. I cleaned everything in my room that I could. And I spent time with my two new kittens, which my mom bought for herself and me the day of the shooting.
And now this thing has happened in Orlando, which brings up all of the bad memories for me again. Now I'm focusing on cooking all of the food in my freezer and again, cleaning my bedroom. Among many other little, seemingly insignificant things. They have become very significant, all of a sudden.
Cleaning is very good for one's self-esteem, I believe, though I'll share my complete thoughts on that another time. But cleaning enables one to feel good about themselves, regardless of mental or physical disabilities (when they clean as much as they are able to), career or job prospects, money issues, other issues, etc. It gives a certain piece of mind, even when you're only able to clean a little bit, or only a small space such as a counter top. As long as the space is your own, and you do it for yourself and not for others, it is very rewarding, when your life is in chaos, to have or make some order.

I sometimes think that is why I'm near-sighted, if psychology has anything to do with eyesight, as some people think. My world becomes smaller, so I don't have to look at what upsets me.
If I did look at how I felt, I would think, "Okay, I'm upset, worried, angry, grieving, and scared by this--now what do I do with that?" I wouldn't break down; I don't break down. I would just feel unhappy and miserable, and that's it. It's not cathartic, at all; so why be unhappy, if it doesn't lead to any kind of closure or feeling better?

Sometimes I feel sad--grieved--for seemingly no reason. And I think it's because of having to deal with two shootings in one year, and the year is far from over now. A friend on Facebook remarked that she didn't even have time to get over one shooting, when she had to deal with another. That is exactly how I have felt, for what seems like years. I always seem to have multiple great losses stacked on top of each other. And I wonder how many of them I'll have to deal with in my lifetime, and whether I can ever have just a few years of peace. For once, being young does not seem like a benefit.
The world is getting better and worse at the same time. If this keeps up, almost all of the population will soon be wearing rainbows for equality--on our everyday wear, or what we currently know as bulletproof vests. I understand now why movies set in a dystopian or apocalyptic future are so popular; they are much like our own world. It's the same old shit, served up in a different way so that we don't get bored or burnt out on it.

So I focus on the little things. I get rid of some hats that I no longer like. I try to use up all of my beads. I watch more TV as an escape. And when I feel sad, I talk with my mom or allow myself to cry on the inside, even if I can't on the outside. I just focus on the little things, things I can control, and that's what keeps me going. Sometimes that is all I can do. So I focus on these things, and that makes life a little more bearable, at least for a time. And sometimes you really must take it one day at a time.

The Creepiest Bridal Shower Ever

When I was about eight or nine, I went to a bridal shower with my mother. I remember this party vividly, because there was something about it that confused me, and still confuses me to this day.
The guests at the party played a game where they guessed trivia about the groom. The groom wasn't even there. I didn't like this game; this party was supposed to be about the bride, not the groom. The man had his bachelor party, and even then, I could never see a bunch of men answering questions about a woman. Why all this attention, when the party was about women, and one woman in particular, and her man wasn't even there?

( I'm really proud of my little baby feminist self; can you tell?)



The answers were baffling to me. And boring, when they weren't creepy. It didn't help that the groom had the same first name as my dad, and so I imagined my own dad giving these strange answers as his favorite things (though I knew it was a different person)
Favorite car? I thought it should be the Batmobile, naturally! I can't remember what the groom's favorite car was (probably some sports car), but that wasn't it. I was extremely disappointed; what a boring answer. Typical grownup.
Favorite song? Apparently, it was "Hit Me Baby One More Time" by Brittany Spears. I remember thinking it was incredibly off-putting, that he liked a "girl's song," and one loved by young girls like me.
That party was creepy and un-feminist on so many disturbing levels. In my admittedly limited knowledge, I've never heard of another party like that one, before or since.

But when I was there, I did what I always did when I got bored, which was make up Buzz and Woody stories in my mind. (I still do that, after a few years of giving it up because I loved it too much and thought that God would surely think it was an idol. I now have permission to be my childhood self.)
In this particular fantasy, I imagined Jessie and Buzz were getting married, and Bo threw her a bridal shower. The women there answered trivia questions about Buzz's favorite things, and Woody happened to be walking through the room at the moment. He started easily answering all of the questions, that the bride herself didn't even know, because he knew Buzz best. He stole the show and made everyone angry, and proved that he was closest to Buzz, and not her.
And looking back on the things I came up with, I can see a whole lot of homoerotic subtext there. Woody was obviously Buzz's true soulmate all along, even if convention said that Buzz should marry a woman. I now laugh and symbolically pat my inner child on the back. Even before knowing much about gay people at all, she sure knew how to ship them! She may have even known something about my bisexuality, too, before I discovered it only a few years ago.

Pastor Assclown In Drag

I wonder, just a little bit, if my ex-friend, the closeted/homophobic Pastor Assclown, tried to put a "hedge of thorns" or some other "spiritual warfare" thing in my life, a few months ago. I had this very strange dream at that time, in which he tried to curse me, and I broke the curse in the name of Jesus.
I know that the address on this site contains the word "atheist," but it is an old name. I don't know if the atheists will have me, anymore, since I hope God is real, if God is good (and I don't think God is all-powerful, if she is good; there's no way).
I still don't know for sure if Jesus even existed or not, and I probably will never know. But I am grateful for the useful psychological trick, if it is nothing else. That's one of the few good things left over from my desperate-for-God's-approval evangelical background.

I had a dream that I had a roommate, a young woman who called herself Divine. She was trying to put a voodoo curse on me, which I discovered by finding her chocolate voodoo dolls. (Yes, I ate them! They were delicious.) But later, we were eating dinner together, and the food kept spilling all over me. I realized that she had cursed my food to do just that, and she was laughing hysterically at me.
I got tired of it all, so I looked down at my plate, and said, "I break you, cursed food, in the name of Jesus!"
She stopped laughing. Then she took on her true form, which to my surprise was Pastor Assclown. I looked straight at him, and said, "You picked the wrong girl to fuck with!"
He just stared at me in astonishment, so I went on, "You know how you're gay? I did that!"
I told him that I cursed him to be gay, since I knew that he couldn't break that in the name of Jesus. I was confident that that would not happen, since if it could, my kind gay Christian friend, Michael, would still be with his wife, and not his husband. Even the husband would still be with his wife.
And I wanted to look powerful, more powerful than Pastor Assclown's magic. I also wanted him to realize that since he couldn't break that with spiritual warfare, then maybe it was something that was not actually a curse or from the devil.

I woke up, and realized that he had been disguised as a girl. He had been in drag! And he had called himself Divine, after the drag queen that Ursula, the Sea-Witch from The Little Mermaid, was based upon. And he was a witch, trying to curse me!
He was also closeted, like I suspect all homophobes by default. He had not denied that he was gay, had not even been able to answer me--had simply stared at me. I then realized that I had a plastic figure of Ursula literally sitting on a shelf in my closet. This was in real life. I still have that Ursula statue.
The layers and layers of meaning are incredible, to me at least. But I do know one thing for sure: If he did indeed try to declare spiritual warfare on me, then he picked the wrong girl to fuck with. I couldn't have said it better myself!

A sea-witch and a mermaid. And lots of cats.

Minimalism: How To Get Rid Of Books

My ideal situation with books is to have a relatively few number, that I like to read over and over, and enjoy every time. And I'm almost there, now. I like to read a little bit of one book, then pick up another, etc. It takes a long time, usually, for me to finish a book, this way. But I like it. I don't get bored so easily, this way. I hate checking out library books, since I only have three weeks to finish a book, if I can't renew it. But I haven't bought a book brand-new in years, and I don't buy books often, so I don't spend very much money on books, anyway.
And I don't feel obligated to finish them, to start reading at the beginning (unless it's fiction), to read them straight through, or to read the boring parts or chapters. I pick up a book, read a little (opening to a random page, if it's non-fiction, because I like to do that), see if it's interesting to me--and with most books, I immediately get rid of them, because they don't hold my interest. It's taken years to get where I am now, with my attitude towards books, but anyone can work towards getting here, if this is what they want. And I still sometimes struggle with feeling like I have to finish a book, or wondering what information I will miss if I throw it out.
But I'm also very lucky, in that lately I have a lot of books that I love to read, even if it's just in tiny pieces here and there. I've got rid of thousands of books over the years, but I have about two or three hundred that I would love to read (and that includes everything from Chilton's car repair manuals, to "I Spy" picture books, so they're not all wordy or "smart.") But I'm always alert, when I'm reading, for whether a book is becoming boring and needs to be culled, so two or three hundred books is not as overwhelming as it sounds.
Yet I often have a dilemma: Do I choose to read the books I like first, or the books I don't suspect I will like, so that I can stop reading and get rid of them if they're bad? That's the question I struggle with all the time. I try to balance both approaches. Sometimes I even think, "This is good, but after I finish this section, I'm getting rid of the whole book." Or I decide that after I read it again once, out it goes.

With some books, I want to learn the information they have in them, but in spite of being excited about the subject of the book, the book itself is not that interesting. This happens a lot with feminist and LGBT books. I skip around, looking for interesting parts, and sometimes I am very thorough. But ultimately, if it is disappointing, I get rid of it, and vow to look for another book on the same subject that looks better. (Almost all used books, especially a few years old, can be bought on ebay or Thriftbooks.com for about $4.00, which includes shipping.)
Just because I don't have many (or for that matter, any) feminist or LGBT books, doesn't mean I'm not a proud feminist or LGBT ally. Don't think that the book is the part of you that you like about yourself or want to become.

Some books have been keepsakes, because my little brother (twelve years younger than me) teethed on them, or my late baby bunnies tore them up. But I didn't want to read them, much less keep them. So I took pictures of them, so that I could remember the bite marks or the shredded pages, then I got rid of them. If I really miss them, I can get books of the same exact title, and tear them up in a similar way or have the almost-thirteen-year-old Cody bite them again. Fortunately, I have not had to do these things so far. I'll bet Cody would bite a book for me, though; he's a pretty good kid.

If it's hard to get rid of books, you can have a notebook with a list of books you are getting rid of. You can write all of them down, or just the best ones, but if you want them back, then you can remember what they are, and get them back. I have a notebook that is designated only for this list, so that I have plenty of room to add to it, and I know exactly where the list is. I write the book's title and the last name of the author, or one of the authors. After a while, you may not feel the need to write down every book title anymore. I only write down the best of the castoffs, anymore. Some books are really good to read--but only once. Or sometimes I want to see what else the author has written, but I don't want to keep her books that I have already read. This makes it much easier to part with them.

With fiction, I personally am very picky. Literally the only fiction I have right now is the Harry Potter series. I also have two fiction books, in German, since I enjoy the language and like to read them aloud, even if I am out of practice and don't understand all of what I'm reading. But I don't count them in the same category as the English-language fiction.
If an English-language fiction book bores me from the start, then I skip around, and if I still can't find anything interesting in later chapters, out it goes. I am reading the Harry Potter series straight through from the beginning, but that is rare for me. I often skip entire chapters, to read only about my favorite characters or plot points (with the rare fiction book I like). I dog-ear the pages I skip, but I never go back to them, anyway.
I don't have too many German-language books, either (fiction or non), since I would rather have one or two favorites, to read over and over, than be overwhelmed by many books.

Some people say to get a Kindle and read books that way, but that's nonsense. Kindle books are usually much more expensive than regular used books, I (like many others) like regular books better, and if a book is older than the 2000s (or even if it's newer), chances are that it's not on Kindle, anyway. The selection is relatively small, the prices are relatively big, and paper is easier on the eyes. I have a Kindle (a gift, which I still like having, just in case), but I rarely use it.
There are many Kindle books available for $0.99, but the ones I've gotten are not worthwhile, anyway. Some Kindle books are free, though those are classics that have no copyright. If you like those, and have a Kindle (or Kindle account on your computer) already, go for it. But if you don't have a Kindle or account already, you can probably find them online. The website for my local public library has a lot of books you can read online, that have no copyright--and thus, you can read as many as you want, at once, and they don't count on your checkout limit, like the newer online and audio books. Check out your library's website, and see if it has a similar system. I know in Oregon, at least, all libraries have that.

And most importantly, please don't feel the need to finish any books! Life is too short to read boring books. Sometimes it is hard to realize when exactly a book is getting boring, but you will get better at it as you practice. There is also nothing wrong in reading only what you want out of a book (even if it's very little), and then getting rid of it. It's your life--the one and only life you know for sure that you have--so read only what you love! :)

Your Disabled Chicken, Part 5: Turmeric The Miracle Spice

Normally, I do not pass on information about disabled animals unless I've tried it, but I don't currently have turmeric, and when I get some, I will let everyone know what happened. But I wanted to share this, as soon as possible, so that others could help their chickens. 

I have a disabled chicken, Antonia (who sometimes crows, or rather roars, so I suspect "she" is actually a trans-rooster), whose feet are crippled up, but who is very active, nonetheless. He lives in his own house at night, and is out in our front during the day (unless it is cold, in which case he does not want to go out). I find him everywhere in the yard: Under the front deck, in the shade of the butterfly bushes, even on our sidewalk (which is about five inches high; it's quite a feat for her to get up there, but she does it!).
I have done a series on how to take care of a disabled chicken here, here, here, and here, And I recently discovered something else which I hope will help my chicken, especially with her/his feet. Maybe it won't cure her, but I hope it will help. And when I can get the stuff, I will try it.

I was reading a blog today by a nice lesbian couple in South Africa, who write about minimalism. They are also vegan, and like to write about that. Apparently, the best natural anti-inflammatory is ground black pepper and turmeric mixed with water. I got excited, wondering if I could feed turmeric to a chicken, for her joints. Apparently, you can, and it's very good for them in treating joint inflammation, bumblefoot infection (where their feet get swollen; Antonia had this once, and it went away almost by itself, before I knew what it was and started treating it with iodine; I suspect it was her good diet), and a host of other ailments, including a paralyzed neck (wry neck, which I suspect another, "paralyzed" chicken that I had, had gotten somehow; perhaps he would not have had to live in a box in my room for a few weeks until his death, if I had known about turmeric!).

I can't go to the store and get turmeric, right away, and I could not find it in my house, even though I thought I had it. The pepper gave me pause, though, because I was afraid it was spicy, and I don't want to cause my chickens pain. But I had ground black pepper on hand, so I decided to try the pepper part out on myself first.
If it makes a difference, the pepper I had was not freshly ground; it came already ground, and the expiration date is October 22, 2017. So it is not stale, but it's not fresh, either.
I mixed up a little in a small glass of water. I didn't measure it, though I suspect it was about the right (human) dosage according to Angela Horn's blog, half a teaspoon.
My mom says that the best way to get drunk without tasting the beer is to take a deep breath right before drinking, drink as much as possible, then let out your breath after swallowing. (This was from her partying days when she was younger.) So I did that. And yes, there was some spiciness in the back of my throat. So I don't know if I will feed my chicken pepper. I suspect that turmeric might be a little spicy, but I can't imagine it being as spicy as the pepper.
I did not notice any anti-inflammatory effects right away, from the pepper alone. I guess the pepper is mostly there to help one absorb the nutrients in the turmeric. The pepper did make my face a little flush, for a second, though not nearly as much as taking niacin supplements does.
(I take a lot of niacin for menstrual cramps, and it works wonders! If your face is flush, you're doing it right. I suspect that it pulls the excess water out of my system, so I'm not retaining it.)

I also saw this story about the wonders of turmeric, in treating a chicken with a paralyzed neck, and I thought I would share it. And I wanted to share it before I forgot to.
I'll let everyone know if there are any dramatic effects for my disabled chicken. I don't expect that it will cure her (it might have if I had known about it when her feet first started giving her trouble--who knows?), but hopefully it will help her. I don't know how long it will need to take full effect, though. I plan to put some on her food, about half a teaspoon a day (since s/he is a big chicken), as per the instructions on this natural chicken care blog. And even if I don't notice a change, maybe it will make her feel better, at least, even if I can't see it. In any case, it doesn't seem like it will hurt her, so I will throw everything I can at the problem, like I always do. :)

The Masturbating Banana Doesn't Like Me

 I once read a joke where a cucumber, and pickle, and a penis were talking about how terrible their lives all were.
"Every time I become big, fat, and juicy, they cut me up and put me in a salad," the cucumber moaned.
"That's nothing--every time I become big, fat, and juicy, they put me in vinegar and put me in a jar," the pickle said.
The penis glared at them both bitterly. "You guys have it easy!" he said. "Every time I get big, fat, and juicy, they stick a rubber tarp over my head, put me in a dark room, and bang my head against the wall until I throw up and pass out!"

So that's what I thought of when someone online named BreathlessBanana decided to be mean to me. It made me laugh, wondering how breathless their banana was!
This person made a rather confusing comment on the epilogue for my "Buzz Vs. Woody" storyline (on my Deviant Art page here), and I'm still trying to figure out their logic behind it. I mentioned that I was doing a sequel, with Evil Emperor Zurg's ex-wife (the only person in the galaxy who's scarier than him!), and BB said this:

"You say sequel like you put up a full story that has 100,000 fans...
I think you mean "Chapter two"

Also, OOC, poorly written, wtf."


So...apparently, I'm supposed to "earn" the title of "sequel" by getting 100,000 fans? I've never heard of that idea.
She obviously didn't realize that I had 62 previous short chapters, which was why it was called an "epilogue." And most of all, that I can call my stories whatever I damn well please! :) I'm now working on my "Epic Blockbuster Earth-Shattering Majestic-As-FUCK Sequel."
And that I can be as arrogant or stuck up as I want to be, about my own story, especially if it's not arrogance at the expense of others. I wrote it in such a way that it is the perfect story for someone who shares my taste. Probably no one will share my taste exactly, but I think it's damn good, even if I'm the only one in the world who enjoys it (which I'm apparently not, since a few people added chapters to their Favorites lists).

Deviant Art, and other sites on the internet, are supposed to be places where people can just relax, enjoy themselves, and not have to worry about whether something is "well-written" or not. I have read fan fiction stories where the writer obviously is still learning English, or where it is written by a native speaker but is full of typos, and I have loved them! The content of the story is what matters, to me.
And I do try to remove as many typos as I can, in my own stories. But some people are still new to writing, or drawing, etc, and they should still have a chance to get their work out there. And it can still be enjoyed, even if it's "poorly" drawn or written.
In a similar vein, some Youtube channels have videos of people singing terribly. And yet, who cares? They still have a right to sing, and enjoy singing! :) And others can enjoy their progress, or even if there's no progress, their passion for singing.
If you wait until your writing, singing, or art is "good enough" to get it out there, it will NEVER get out there! PukingPlaintain's comment, ironically, reminded me that I just need to relax and not worry about perfection. I don't want to end up like her--whether I would treat myself this way, or others!

I remember taking a Figure Drawing (human body) class about two years ago, when I first started this blog. I went to the haunted Umpqua Community College at the time, as it was well before the shooting. I remember one of my classmates, an older woman about in her mid-thirties, I would say. She didn't seem very confident at all. And I once overheard her tell our teacher, "I'm afraid to draw that. I'm afraid it won't be any good."
That was exactly how I felt, with drawing, and how I still feel, sometimes. I remember being shocked, once, reading someone describe drawing as "relaxing," since it was so stressful for me! :)
But my art teacher, another woman about the same age as her non-confident student, said, "Why? It's just paper! The worst thing that's going to happen is that you'll make it ugly!"
And that always stuck in my memory. It's just paper. Or it's just a blog post or story on the internet. Or it's just a video. The worst thing that can possibly happen is that you make it ugly, poorly written, poorly sung, or not what you had in mind when you started it.
I remember that often. And it helps me to banish my perfectionist tendencies, when they give me grief about something. It's just...fill-in-the-blank.

I remember, also, that I used to wish I had a mental disability, because then I would be able to be easy on myself, if I couldn't do something very well.
Now, that wasn't very sensitive--but I still remind myself that, if I was disabled somehow, I would know to be easy on myself, and love myself, no matter how "bad" the things I tried were. If I was disabled, physically or mentally, I would just love my efforts. So why not just love my efforts, right now?

 There are going to be some people who seem more naturally gifted than me, or who do it easier or "better." But that doesn't make me worse. That doesn't mean that I don't have considerable talent or potential. And most of all, it doesn't make my contributions any less valuable or worthy.
Society is understanding of people who have disabilities, and rightfully so. But it's harsher on people who are not disabled, or not visibly so. If a comedian is a beginner, and still learning about timing and jokes, then they "suck" and should not be in comedy! If a singer is a beginner, and their voice is untrained, then they are screechy and awful and should never sing again. (Notice that THEY are considered screechy and awful--not their singing or sometimes even their voices.)
People don't say that someone is a beginning, out of practice, or doesn't draw in a style they like--they say that the artist "draws terribly." And yet if they knew that the artist had no arms and was drawing with their feet, or had a pencil in their mouth, it wouldn't be "poorly drawn." It would be great, for what the artist was capable of, especially at the beginning of having to draw like that.
People have differing abilities, whether they are disabled or not. And everyone should have the right to simply enjoy themselves. And perhaps their abilities will improve. But even if they don't--who cares? Get your work out there, tell people you are a beginner, or disabled, or whatever, and you will find people who are supportive, who encourage you. Some people will be haters, but block them, keep doing your thing, and get as far as you can with it! If you can't find anyone to be encouraging to you, then encourage and love yourself. (And you can also leave a comment below, and I will be encouraging to you, because any effort should be celebrated, not torn down!)
Remember, this is your hobby! You should have fun with it, not be worried about performance!

That comment above has just reminded me that, now more than ever, I need to not worry about whether something is good or bad, and just have fun or enjoy writing it. I don't want to end up like this person! I don't want to feel like my story or my writing is unworthy somehow, or inferior, just because it's not famous or other people think it's poorly written. Other people may simply have not heard of me, or they simply may have a different taste in writing, or not care for the subjects I like to write about (or be more picky about "imperfections" than I am, with my passion). And none of that is my fault, either. I don't want to end up like this person, measuring my success and self-worth by what others think of me, or my writing--even if they're A LOT of others!

So the night that I read that comment, I pitched an article to a site I've always wanted to write for, Cracked.com. And if it doesn't get accepted there, then it will be published here. The article is "6 Things LGBT People Wish Christians Knew About Them." (I also have two fan theories that I will post here, if they don't get accepted there. They want theories to be convincing, but I like theories that are creepy or make the story better, whether they're convincing to others or not.)
I thought at first that my LGBT article idea would be too controversial for Cracked--but I have to try! I have to try, and I have to simply enjoy the process of trying, every step of the way.

It's vitally important that I not become another Masturbating Banana, judging myself and others very harshly--for something that is a mere hobby!  Something that should be fun, that should bring joy and purpose to the creator's life--and hopefully, joy to those that share her taste.
And Wanking 'Nanner, apparently, judges her art based on how many fans she has, or some whim of her inner critic. I must avoid becoming like her, at all costs!
So I guess it was good, in the end, that she said that, because I was reminded of exactly what I don't want to be, and I've redoubled my efforts to be the exact opposite of that. I'm not going to thank her, because she's being awful, but I'm glad to know what I don't want to be. I now have the living embodiment of my perfectionist tendencies--and she can kiss my ass. Because I'm going to enjoy my life, and I can't enjoy it fully unless I get all of my work out there. :)

(And one more thing: I would suggest that anyone who is curious whether my story is "poorly written" or not, should read the story here, and judge for themselves. My work speaks for itself, and I am still just as proud of it as ever.)

The Only Thing Worse Than Hell (Is Thinking You Deserve It)

I remember, from the time I was in third grade to the time I was fifteen, being almost constantly afraid of going to hell. I remember praying, when I was smaller, that God would not let me die before I knew all of my sins, so I could repent of them all. I was afraid that I would die, not knowing that I had sinned, and so have unconfessed sin and go to hell.
When I was older, I was scared to death of losing my faith and therefore, going to hell. I had heard very bad things about teenagers, that they were frivolous and didn't care about God at all. And I was scared to be one. I was scared, as my thirteenth birthday approached, because I had heard that teens were bad. I didn't want to be a teenager, because teenagers went astray, lost their faith, and disrespected their parents--when they weren't doing drugs, having unprotected sex and getting pregnant, or becoming Satanists. What should have been a purely happy time, looking forward to my birthday and later just enjoying life, I dreaded immensely. After all, in a church play in which I was involved at age thirteen, I remember very vividly that literally ALL of the teenage characters in the play went to hell!
But through all of that, I realize now, I wasn't truly afraid of hell. There was a much deeper, more sinister fear, one I still struggle with today, in spite of not believing that hell is likely to exist. Underneath it all, I was truly afraid of being a bad person. Underneath my fear of eternal torment was the fear of being someone who deserves eternal torment. (And it didn't help that I was told I did, anyway, no matter if the speaker believed themselves to be just as bad!)

I still fear being a bad person, and it comes out in so many subtle ways. I nearly hate myself if something bad happens to one of my animals, even if it's not my fault. And even if it's small, like the cat being trapped in my car for a few hours at night, or my disabled chicken possibly getting thirsty.
I worry sometimes that I don't work hard enough if I don't have a traditional or full-time job. I feel compelled to help people as much as I can, even if I need to help myself, first.

This also comes out in my perfectionist tendencies. I failed my driver's license test five times, and each time, it was devastating. It was hard to ascribe that to being a bad person, but I felt like I was a failure, not my driving (even though I wasn't "supposed" to feel that way). That I simply couldn't measure up to what was expected of me--what I expected of myself. It didn't help that I didn't want to take my driving test, for years, that I had a real phobia, because...well, can you blame me? I was homeschooled, too, so failing so publicly, in front of a stranger, was especially humiliating.
I felt like I should "just do it," and I felt so weak for not being "tough" enough to punish myself like this.

I think a lot of what reinforced my fear of being a "failure" or "loser" was my snooty aunt. She seems to, even now, measure the success of her children by how much unlike me they are. I remember when my youngest cousin was fifteen, and showed no interest in getting his learner's permit, that she blurted out, "He's going to be just like AJ!" right in front of my mother. My mom has never thought of me as a failure, and she didn't care what her sister said. But I think that was so telling. My extended family is very close, so it's hard not to care what they think. To this day, I sometimes find myself measuring myself against what I think she will think, even though she is not involved in my day-to-day life. It's a hard habit to break.

I must have gotten the notion that hell is where people go who hate God, and so I thought that if I went to hell, it must mean that I was a selfish, hateful person. A bad person.
I saw how Christians did not believe people, when they said they didn't hate God. When they said that they did not simply want to sin. That they weren't selfish, or hypocrites, or too self-centered to give their lives to Jesus.
These people were not believed about their own moral state, about their very thoughts and feelings. They were assumed to be lying, or lying to themselves. And they were condemned in the name of "discernment." And of course, Christians expected to be believed, when they said they weren't judging or condemning, just "telling the truth in love." But it wasn't the truth. In order for Christians to be telling the truth, all unbelievers had to be evil, hateful, selfish liars--ironically, what Christians claimed to be before being saved. The Christians thought they could throw stones BECAUSE OF their sin, not in spite of it, or because they had none.
So I didn't even believe myself, or believe that I was good, in spite of doing bad things, or in spite of a part of me not wanting to pray or read my bible that day, etc. I assumed that I was lying to myself. I was not allowed to trust my own instincts, even in spite of what other people said.
So when my brain was tired of reading the bible--in King James for a while, no less--I automatically assumed that it was my bad "flesh" trying to get out of reading God's word. I assumed that the devil was tempting me, and I was being susceptible. And this is just one example. I had severe insomnia for years, because I was so vigilant about my mind and not having one un-Christian thought, that I could not simply relax and let myself go.

I didn't realize that sometimes, it's hard to know what the right thing is. Even with all of the rules of Christianity, where your "relationship" with God is defined not by spending time with God, or even just talking to God (as if he answers back), but by how you live your life, whether your clothes are modest enough (though my family and I thought ankle-length skirts were cult-ish), and whether you can witness and have perfectly Christian conversations all the time.
It's hard for Christians to see prayer, meditation, and bible study, so they judge whether someone is a "real" Christian by outward appearances, or by statistics about said prayer and bible study--how many pages read, how long one prayed or "listened to God" or choose-your-euphemism, how "great" was the spiritual experience described. No other "relationship" is measured in that way.
Or by how one party lives or their personality. No one says that I don't love my mother, if I cuss, even if my mother hates cussing (she doesn't). But they certainly say that I don't love God, if I cuss, because they think God doesn't like cussing.

My biggest fear, to this day, is being a bad person, or being a "failure," or not responsible enough. But my mother never thinks that I'm a bad person, or that I'm a "failure." And there are many others in my life whom I'm sure wouldn't think that, either--even if my uppity Christian aunt isn't one of them. So I try to see myself through the eyes of people who love me, and who accept me and like me just the way I am. If this was someone else's life, I would not be judging them, I would be happy for them! So I try to be easy on myself. And I'm getting much better at it, though I seem to keep finding little insecurities every day.

Sometimes I tell myself, over and over in my own mind, "I am good. I am good." And it feels like I am getting high off of those words. I was never taught to believe that, not by my mainstream, "normal" evangelical Christian school, anyway. It was even frowned upon. And I'm sure they would wonder why I had such low self-esteem for so many years, and why I was depressed.
I'm supposed to love myself because God loves me so much and made me, and blah, blah, blah. But I'm also supposed to know just how fundamentally bad and depraved and evil I am, at least on my own. I'm supposed to love myself and have joy because God makes no mistakes--but I'm also supposed to hate my "sinful flesh." I'm supposed to love myself, while believing myself to be fundamentally unlovable. I'm supposed to love myself, while also hating a part of myself that I can't just get rid or choose not to have. (LGBT people, does this sound familiar?)
But love cannot be mixed with hate. The hate is the part that will shine through. Especially if the person you both love and hate is yourself.
The fear of hell does not scare me much at all, now. It took years, and my faith being "broken," to get to this place, but I've finally arrived. But the fear of being a bad person, lingers, and it will probably take years to get rid of completely--if I even can get rid of it completely.
I wonder how many other people, from both religious and non-religious backgrounds, have this fear, as well. I know some Christians who take it for granted that they are good and moral, because Jesus makes them that way. And I know some atheists who try to help others, as much as they can. Perhaps part of that is really wanting to think of themselves as good people, or perhaps they simply like to help others, in whatever form that takes for them. Who knows?
In any case, I do believe that most people do not think of the question, "Am I afraid of being a bad person?" But I think they should. Because I believe more people struggle with this, and don't realize it, than people that do not--especially if they are or have been very religious.

Minimalism: Create A "Mess Box"

I like to watch minimalism videos on Youtube, including ones where people are cleaning out their rooms and closets for the camera. I've seen them lament that their countertops or dressers have become a "catch-all" for all kinds of things that are out of place. But that puzzles me, because I think that catch-alls should be built into any system of organization.
I have a "mess box" that I put the mess in, temporarily, so that it doesn't clutter up my dresser and floor. I keep it under my bed. Anything that is out of place, that I just bought and need to put away but am too tired to do so, or that I find on the floor, goes in the box. If I did not have a mess box, then the mess would be out in my bedroom, cluttering it up and cluttering up my mind. I have a designated catch-all, so my dresser and floor don't become accidental catch-alls and let things get in my way.

I have at least two mess boxes, in fact, at any given time. I have one for bigger things--comic books to put away, things that I've purchased that day, papers, craft supplies out of place, etc--and one for smaller things. The smaller one is only about the size of a small shoebox, and all of the little things go in there--gum, mustard packets, beads that need to get put away, lip balm, odd bits of ribbon, etc. I fill up the little one before using the big one, unless the item is too big.
In this way, the mess is contained, and I keep my clarity of mind. I like to go through my stuff, so when I have the time, I go back through one of the mess boxes, putting things in the appropriate piles and putting them away.
 If my bedroom is so messy that I don't know where to start, I put everything in the mess boxes (as many as I need), and then go through the boxes. It is much less overwhelming to go through a box of stuff than to go through the top of a dresser. Everything unnecessary on the dresser goes into a box, and I deal with it then. And it's not overwhelming anymore! It's such a relief!
Anything I have to deal with later, goes in the box. Anything I stumble around, goes in the box. Anything that is hard to put away at the moment, goes in the box. It makes everything so simple! There is a danger that the boxes will fill up, but when they do (and most of the time, well before they do), I simply go through the boxes.
Sometimes I go through the big mess box, and put the little things into the little mess box, to deal with later. It helps to deal with the big things, if you're not overwhelmed with the little things, and vice versa! Little things are particularly overwhelming to me, so I especially love the little mess box. But the big things are also so much easier to deal with, if they're all gathered in a box.

I have many different kinds of mess boxes too. I have one for art supplies--pencils, charcoal, paper pads I'm not using, anything like that goes into that box; I don't have room to put all of my art supplies in one place, so they go here before being put away. I have one for herbs and teas, one for non-perishable food, one for yarn and other crafts. A drawer in my dresser is a catch-all for clean clothes that I could wear again, until I put them away into the other drawers. And of course I have a hamper for my dirty clothes, until I put them in the laundry room. I also have an arts and crafts mess box, near my chair where I work, so that I don't scatter little things around my side table and floor.

My life has become so much neater and simpler since I discovered this trick. It is so much easier to put everything into a box, even if I am putting it away right away. I scan the floor or dresser, figure out the things that don't need to be there, and put them in the box. Then it becomes easier to deal with them, because I know when I'm done cleaning and organizing and putting things away. I am done when the box is empty (or nearly so, though it is only a temporary home for stuff). It's much harder to determine when a dresser or the floor is clear, however.
This also makes it easier to group like items together, before putting them away. If there is an eraser on the dresser, and one on the floor, you have to get out the art-supply box twice just to put them both away while cleaning. But if everything out of place is in a box, then all you have to do is go through the box, picking out all of the brushes, erasers, charcoal sticks, and other art supplies, and putting them away all at once. And this is just one example.

This makes getting rid of stuff easier, too, since you are going through just one box, and not a whole room at once.

This also makes finding things so much easier! I know that if I'm missing something, there is a good chance that it is in one of the mess boxes, since I put everything in there. The only things that lie scattered about my floor are cat toys, and I try to limit those to the ones I actually see the cats playing with.

Now, this mess box is not the same as the box where everything goes, that does not have a home elsewhere.
Things may go from the mess box to the miscellaneous box, to be put away, but I don't put the messes in the miscellaneous box. That just creates more confusion. Little things might be put in baggies and go in the miscellaneous box or some other place, but I don't leave them in the mess box as their home. That just creates more confusion.
The mess box is a temporary home. It is a box that, if everything is put away, it is intentionally left empty, to be filled in case of mess or if something else comes into the house.
And I have at least two "empty" boxes at all times, a big one and a smaller one, because nothing makes a big box seem messy and overwhelming like little things cluttering it up. And some things are too big to be put in the smaller box, and so end up becoming messes in my room and my life.

It is such a relief, since I discovered this system. When my bedroom is messy, I feel overwhelmed. But now I have a simple solution, and even going through the boxes is much easier than sorting through a whole surface, floor, or room. I can go through either mess box, while watching Youtube videos and relaxing, and I don't even have to get up to sort through these things! I do have to get up to put them away, but I only do that when I've found all of the items in a given category. And when I do put them away, I know exactly where they go, and I'm not wandering aimlessly looking for something among the things that are actually supposed to be there.

LGBT: Bigots Hate Onions

I was reading an article (I can't remember where) about the healing properties of herbs, recently, and the entry for onions (which I absolutely love, but only if the spiciness is cooked out) mentioned that they were sometimes used for "magical protection" from enemies.
I laughed aloud, thinking of the greatest "enemy" in my life, my Uncle 'Phobe. Onions are probably the only thing, other than maybe the Chicago Cubs (the "scumbags," I don't know why), that he hates even more than (his own) homosexuality! They would certainly protect me from him!
Ever since I was very small, I have heard the words, "I hate onions!" or "I can't believe they put onions in this! I told them not to!" literally every time I have been at a restaurant with him or one of my aunts. Every. Single. Time.
I honestly think that he and my aunt, his sister, are allergic to onions. But that doesn't excuse the way they act about them. They live in a pro-onion world, but are not understanding about it at all. The amount of disgust and vehemence they save for onions, and any mention of onions, is truly ugly. They consider it a great personal insult if the waiter forgets that they said, "No onions. I can't stand them!" in a busy, noisy restaurant while pressed for time. Uncle 'Phobe says that he can taste the onions in the pizza crust even after picking them out (and he makes sure you know what he thinks about that!).

My aunt actually sends food back, if it has onions in it, in a quite blunt way. I don't like eating with her, because I'm afraid they will think I am like her, and I don't want my food spit in. She once said, "No guacamole. It often has onions, and I hate onions. I can't stand them at all," rather quietly, in a noisy restaurant, while the waiter was busy and pressed for time. He obviously heard "No guacamole," while writing down her order, and got that right, but then she got offended when the food had onions, and sent it back.
I don't know where she stands on LGBT issues. She has been homophobic before, but more recently made rather neutral comments about my kind gay Christian friend ("I don't care if he's gay."), so I don't know. It might be different if she finds out that someone in her own family (me) is gay (or in my case, bisexual but "mostly" lesbian).

And ironically, my grandparents' house, the place where my Uncle 'Phobe lives, and where most family gatherings take place, is abundantly blessed with wild onions, growing all over the place! So I have a wonderful opportunity here.
I love digging them up, and I wonder if I can make a nice necklace out of them, daisy-chain style. Even if onions are not "magical," they would certainly act as a subconscious repellent, if those two saw me wearing onions, or subconsciously smelled it on my skin. They would not want to mess with me, probably even if I disagreed with them. I guess this herb really does provide protection!
And my uncle and my aunt are the two people in my family that I am most afraid of being both homophobic, and very angry. I have always been afraid of their anger, especially his, which almost got violent once, when I was small and called him the devil for physically picking on me.

What is also interesting, at least to me, is that my grandfather ("Papa"), loves to eat raw onions. I remember once I hugged him, when saying goodbye, and his breath stank. I turned my head away. He laughed and said, "You smell my onion?" and I laughed too.
And he is the one that I most fear grieving, and worrying, if I end up coming out in the course of disagreeing with someone. I can't live my life for him, or hide my wonderful, beautiful rainbow light under a bushel--but I hope if this happens, I have the chance to address any concerns he has and reassure him, somehow. And I also hope that he isn't "put off" by me, after seeing me in a certain (straight) light for so long.
Hopefully, the onion will repel whom it's supposed to--and make me palatable to the person or people it's supposed to.

I also am very fond of onions, particularly tiny wild onions, because of a fond memory of my late "heart-cat," Feezl. She was a very active cat, and she once found a dried wild onion, from my grandparent's house, that I had dropped on the floor. She started playing with it, attacking it as if it was a feather. Then she realized that I was sitting on my bed, and jumped up to come see me. I started petting her, then started laughing, because she had my Papa's onion breath! It was truly awful, and that was what made it so endearing. I love onions even more now.
I once "prayed" to Feezl, asking her to come home, when she was missing. The next day another cat, who had been missing for six days, returned, to our great surprise. She did not come back, herself; perhaps because she was dead. But it was as if she sent Sebastian home, even if she couldn't come back herself. Ever since then, I have been so grateful to her, and I have the feeling that she is watching out for me. She cared about me in life, a great deal, and it seems that that has not changed. Perhaps I can wear wild onions for my patron Saint, and she will look out for me as much as she can.

I went to a metaphysical bookstore, last week, with my mother, because I wanted to look at their herbs. I also bought some small, beautiful amethysts that I absolutely fell in love with. They are also my birthstone.
"I don't think they're magic," I remarked to my mom as we left, "but I love them so much!"
"If they make you happy, aren't they magic?" she asked.
I had never thought of it that way! If something makes me happy, or it has a "placebo effect," then isn't it "magic"? And if it has a placebo effect, then weren't those healing or psychological potentials within me all along? Perhaps some people are right, when they say that certain things "channel one's energy," or have energy, themselves.
Onions mean so much to me, in so many ways. If any herb is magical, for me, then this is it. With the onions, I can banish the bigots and bring on the blessings--and then eat them. :)