Part 4, Chapter 3

Borrowed from WoosterScott.com

Kindergarten is a right of passage for most children. Our little school in Hidden Valley was a wonderland for me and it was also the first place I discovered what an awkward child I was (but in a good way).  My dad decided because this was a big day for both of us he would drive me to school and skip daycare. Spending more time with my dad was always a plus and something I cherished. I was without doubt a daddy’s girl. My dad made me breakfast which was his childhood favorite, white rice, sugar, butter and milk. We ate together listening to John Lennon’s newly released Double Fantasy while my dad sang “Beautiful Boy” changing the lyrics to Beautiful Girl. He brushed out my thick hair while my eyes watered in pain and let me pick out a mismatched outfit of tan corduroy pants with a koala shirt. We got into his blue Monte Carlo with the continuing music of “Watchin the Wheels” in the background. My dad held my hand as I cuddled up next to him on the blue dusty seats.

We pull up to the side parking lot closest to the classroom which was the long way to the campus. The fear set in as my dad killed the engine. A child’s anxiety is different from an adults in that a child does not have as much experience to draw on but it is also more terrifying because a child has raw imagination. The gravel cracked under our feet and my hand was sweating in my dad’s hand as we walked to the classroom. Mrs. Rowe greeted us with a big smile, short blonde hair, blue eyeliner, blue mascara and a gold chain which bounced off of her shirt that clung onto her glasses. She was not someone I liked immediately. She seemed strict and succinct in her dicta; she barely addressed me. Mrs. Rowe was busy wondering where this child’s mother was as she showed us around the classroom and my dad was trying not to be affected by her obvious judgment. I did not spot any toys that caught my wonder but I did catch familiar faces from the daycare. I looked up at my dad for permission to be released from his grip so I could head out to the playground. He bent down, told me to behave and then released me to a group of little people who I would journey through life with all the way to high school.

I watched kids flip from the bars, sway their bodies to glide across the monkey bars, kick balls, throw balls and run from each other in pure delight. There were 18 of us total and even though we were pint size we felt HUGE on our first day of school. Allegra was there from daycare but she was busy showing the boys who was boss by kicking the ball further, running faster and pushing harder than any of them could hope to compete with. I spotted another blonde haired innocent who was alone and just observing the rest of the kids on the sidelines as I was. She was more like me. Introverted preferring to be invisible while walking through the children. We connected instantly. Marion was a girly girl. She liked dolls, dresses and all things pretty. She was delicate and quiet but as we held hands through the play ground she was my new best friend; to a small insecure girl, anyone who paid attention you was in fact your new best friend. We climbed to the top of the jungle gym and delighted in the birds flying above, at the sighting of the school neighbor taking her horse for a walk across the field and at the clouds running past our heads. When it was time to start class we insisted on sitting on the mat next to each other.

Mrs. Rowe introduced us to the rules of the room which were basically: if you get out of line, you will sit in the corner. We had stations of learning reading, math, spelling and nap time. If you completed each station successfully, there could be a prize…. bubble gum! I had a head start on most of the kids in reading. The family story is that I taught myself to read and by 18 months old I was spelling too. So, when it came time to sit at the reading or spelling station I shined as I reaped in the booty. This served me well for bringing me out of my shell since I was happy to give it away. Sugar never really excited my picky taste buds so I was more than happy to trade it for attention from my 17 classmates. One child in particular that seemed adept at instantly knowing my weakness for friendship and wanted my bubble gum was Erida. Erida was a child who I was friends with on and off throughout my life. All of my memories of her are soured pain because she was a cunning bully. Highly intelligent but completely unable to empathize with anyone unless they were giving her what she wanted; she was a person who alway made people feel bad about themselves and I was a consistent victim of hers. She was probably one of the coldest people I have ever met and it always amazed me how much people accepted her (and still do). She and I were forced friends because of our proximity of homes, the fact that her mother was a stay at home mom so my dad always could locate a babysitter when needed under the guise of playing at her house and because she was able to manipulate me constantly into making me feel less than her which she delighted in. There would come a point in our lives where I saw opportunities to hurt her as much as she had always hurt me and I jumped at them. It’s not something I am proud of but I always found it perplexing how Erida was so smart and yet confused at my betrayal of her.

As I think back to my classmates, I recall the lack of childhood diagnosis available. We did not have an option to label a child ADHD, conduct disorder or depressed. The kid was just simply unruly or odd. Why did Arthur put ketchup on his head during lunch time (and no I am not kidding. There really was a child who one year our senior who was so disturbed and angry he used to put ketchup on his head)? As a child you do not think about these things because at age 5 it just does not matter. With the exception of Erida, a 5 year old has not learned to be cruel and is not trying to herd people into conformity. We were all innocent quirky children who were more than happy to be friends with each other. Even with Arthur who never seemed bathed and always on the brink of meltdown was accepted by his minor peers.

Kindergarten is the point of your life where you are socialized to the order of things. You start at the bottom of the food chain, work your way up and once you get to the top you are forced back down so you can climb back up again. Kindergarten you’re at the bottom, 6th grade you have worked your way up to the top, middle school put you right back down again, high school and the circle just keeps going on and on and on.

This is what family looks like

Happiness is a little girl loved by her two daddys

A very happy father’s day to all of the daddy’s out there. I am blessed with two father’s who continue to love and support me as I do them. Which is all that matters to a child…do their parents love and cherish this child? Will they do everything in their power to protect their child? Gay parents, straight parents, adopted parents, transgendered parents, lesbian parents, bi-sexual parents and plain ol parents all feel the same way. Yes they will and do.

So a special HAPPY FATHER’S DAY to my two wonderfully loving dad’s who continue to guide me through the best and worst of times! I love you!!!

Gay Life…the first memory

One of my first memories is when my mom and my dad were together. I was about 2 years old and we lived in the same apartment complex as my mom’s youngest sister, aka my babysitter. I remember that my dad hung out at his friend’s place a lot where interestingly enough there were only men around. This was my first clue that my dad was gay. He would take me every now and then. I remember enjoying this apartment because they all treated me like little doll. They enjoyed holding me and catering to my requests. I was, after all, a Princess in Training. I was a tiny blue eyed blonde object of affection for all of his friends. I could not get enough of them and their cooing. They bought me toys and books for my visits. My uncles took care of me. They read to me, they cradled me in the blanket my grandmother knitted for me and they would talk to me as if I was the most important person in the world. The best part of it was that I was near my dad. 

Anywho, one of my very first memories is my mom and my dad getting into an argument. I remember they were yelling at each other, I was scared with the screaming and then the worst thing that could have happened occurred…my dad left. I ran after him. He was walking quickly and all I could see, being as that I was vertically challenged at the time, were his red stitched leather ankle boots and his jeans swaying around them. I tried to follow him past the pool and to his friends house, but I kept falling. The pathway had a slight incline and for reasons I cannot remember I had an inner-tube around my waste that I was desperate not to lose. I finally relented to the ground and started to cry. I cried the abandonment cry; ya know the one where you hyperventilate? Through my stinging tears I saw what I had hoped for. My legs stopped their brisk walk, turned around and great big hands scooped me up. He pulled my head to his neck and whispered “Honey, I didn’t know you were behind me.” Everything was instantly better. 

A year later my dad left my mom. Their arrangement no longer worked for him and her acceptance of who he was waned. My dad was my world; daddy’s girl does not quite describe it. I worshipped him and was addicted to his love. He visited me after he left but not as often as I wanted. I was only 3 years old and the world I had known was constantly changing. Actually, I don’t think it had ever been stable. My dad was gay. My mom knew this but in her desperation for love and consistency, she was willing to accept anything and any circumstances. I was not planned, but I was planned manipulation. This was not the first time my dad had left her. She had seduced him one night after what he thought was his final departure and I was the result. My dad was not surprised at the news because this had been resolved before, but this was the first time she had said she was keeping the baby. My dad’s reaction was a shock to her; he was elated. I often wonder what she had hoped for, but in truth it is painful to ponder. They were back together, my mom was happy and my dad was excited about becoming a father. Life was tolerable for them after I was born. I was their glue; the only thing they seemed to have left in common. My dad was in complete wonderment of me, but my mom was jealous of his attention. Oh she adored me…there is no doubt of that. Her affection was infectious and she never held back on telling me how much she loved me. My family says it was the happiest time in her life and her journal reflects this. My dad, however, became more distant and my mom resorted to drugs to soothe her pain. He would no longer give into her requests and attempted seduction. After 2 years of this game, my dad had met someone he could not stay away from. The problem was that this man lived in California and I lived in Washington. My dad decided he could visit and moved to California to follow his heart. He did not think my mom could handle if he took me from her. 

To be continued……..

Twilighting

So, I stayed up waaaaay too late last night finished the last book in the Twilight Series. Oh and by the way, if you have not read them and want to you may not want to read anymore. And I ask for your forgiveness in advance as I digress into my 16 year old alter. 

I kinda feel like the whole kitchen sink in the last book. She’s a vampire now, she has a power, they have a baby, the elitist vampires get mad and come to get em, they fight back and now happily ever after. Oh, and she learns how to let Edward in her head. And, I totally called that Jacob was going to imprint on Nessie. I felt kind of like: that was it? No more? All done now? I feel like I have been kicked out of the telescope as life goes on for these characters. What will happen to Renee’? Will more join their coven/family? Will Nessie ever slip up and become a rebellious teenager? Will Jacob stop being the Alpha of his pack? What happens when you mix a half vampire with a half werewolf? Why are there no gay vampires? 

And then I read on the author’s website that she had begun to write Twilight from Edward’s perspective ….who, is like totally my favorite character…but, then the book got leaked and she felt so betrayed that she could not write that book anymore. So, it is indefinitely shelved. Ummmm, exsqueeze me? Skunk you very much? So, the rest of the fans get punished because someone from her camp leaked the book. Ya – I don’t think so. LAAAAAAAME! I really think home girl needs to reconsider this act of treason and punish the correct people instead of the people who are thirsty for more (notice my reference??). Listen to the fans Stefenie. Listen. 

I almost picked up her other book, but because I am reading books for publishers and providing my feedback before the book comes out I opted not to. I have 3 that I need to read in the next 3 weeks so off I go into the land of unknown authors. Which can be fun…but I have a few books I have on my shelf waiting right now.

A Gayla

I am so impressed with an event I attended last night. I attended a fundraiser for The Center Orange County. They provide outreach, education, HIV testing, support groups, etc for the LGBT community. They honored Peter Paige (Emmett Hunneycutt in Queer As Folk) and Jane Lynch (L Word, Christopher Guest movies, etc) for their advocacy in the Gay Community. Cybill Shepherd introduced Jane Lynch and wowza! These ladies are GORGEOUS!

I went with my best friend who sponsored a table. It was just lovely. The celebrities there were very generous with their time and fan photos. They provided thoughtful acceptance speeches for their awards and seemed genuinely by the adoration they were receiving. 

I spent sometime chatting with Peter Paige and he was probably the most tender celebrities I have ever met. He did not seem eager to get away and he was actually quite interesting. I was a fan of his acting before and now I can say I really just like him. He was fun. No, I don’t think we will be going out to coffee but I did not feel the smug that usually comes from celebrity events. 

What I really walked away with was a renewed commitment to fighting the fight. Even though the heels I was wearing were like modern day foot binding, I still felt the message of we need all the help we can get and we need all the friends we can get. Civil rights are exactly as defined: they are a RIGHT. It is time for me to jump back in the game. I have been a side liner too long. I will do what I can to support and be present in this movement. Watch out bitches….she is back!

Teabaggers Unite

I’m having a hard time understanding people who listen to Limbaugh, Hannity, Beck, etc. I just cannot get my mind around why people believe these guys. Do people not understand that this is all an act? A show? Entertainment? Do they not understand that these shock jocks are not passionate behind what they are selling? And yet, people follow them blindly.

I was watching a show on Democracy Now( http://www.democracynow.org/) about these guys and I was flabbergasted to hear clips of them being….dare I say? Liberal. They were talking about how to get more viewers and the only way to get more viewers was to get more extreme with the rhetoric. They were also talking about what a fucked up job Bush was doing and how he was destroying our civil rights. Believe you me, if the media was so Lefty this would have been on the Evening News. But, it was not.

I never paid much attention to this clique of entertainers because quite frankly I do not enjoy listening to their lies and contradictions….even it is for entertainment purposes. 4 years ago when “The Left” was protesting about various Bush doctrines Hannity was on the news calling them terrorists and how dare they go against their president. Now, he is covering the Teabagging event and saying it is our patrotic duty to voice dissent. What the fuck?? This is what I am talking about – IT IS ALL AN ACT.

Again, this is why I take such issue with people who follow these people. And no…before you get your pantyhose all twisted I am not someone who follows Left Radio or rhetoric. I think the news in general is full of shit and does not actually report any news. If they did we would not have been subjected to Brittany watch last summer. If you really want the news, you have to go find it and it is certainly NOT on Fox or CNN.

Religion and Gay

While conceptually I understand why so many religions take issue with Gay People, emotionally it just pisses me off. Let’s go back to where some of this bullshit started. And, by the way if you are religious and feel that your religion justifiably can discriminate against gay people (or anyone else for that matter), I do not apologize for what I am about to say – I do invite you to comment but I warn you, you should probably educate yourself on the foundations of your religion before you start quoting scripture with me. I will give you a clue…HISTORY. Don’t start quoting your book. 

Let’s take it back….way back. Homosexuality has been around since man/woman.  You can find homosexuality documented from any continent you research and find times throughout history where it was accepted: In Africa there is a depiction of Khnumhotep and Niankhkhnum, a gay couple, kissing from the 5th Dynasty; In China you can find stories as early as 600BCE where they wrote stories of gay sex (which was accepted by the way); Ancient Greece a man taking on a male relationship, in addition to his wife, was something many wealthy and powerful men did; Ancient Rome both men and women took on same sex lovers; Some Native American tribes held gay men in high honor. They were often the shaman’s. Others, encouraged their gay men to take on the role of a wife with another man. This was documented both in their stories and their art…need I go on?  The point is this, all of these societies had some sort of religion and religion condoned and practiced homosexuality. 

So, when did religion start to get its panty’s in a twirl over homosexuality? Mostly, I think,  it had to do with procreation. You will find that when a religion is just starting out or when a famine/war has hit its population, suddenly and quite calculatedly the heads of the religion need people to stop practicing in pleasure and start getting it on with havin’ babies. Time to start pumpin out those new parishioners! If you do not have followers, religion cannot survive. You got it, I am saying that it was a survival tactic. No more drinking, no more playing, no more wasting precious semen on whores or on men, no more special women relationships…time to stop the fun and start birthin’ da new crop. Think I am full of shit? Research it. I did and I was shocked as shit. But, it makes sense…does it not? When times are good…anything goes. When times get rough…well, fuck it we all suffer together. 

Now you say….but wait, what about what my religious doctrine says on Saturday’s and Sunday’s?? What about the book that we read from? Lets be practical here folks – men wrote these books and they picked which stories stayed in and which stories were cut out. Many of the religions are founded on some rebel’s teaching (Jesus was a rebel, don’t get it twisted…so was Buddha) and these books were not written until 30, 50, 600 years later. Are you seriously trying to tell me that with an oral history being passed around from the time these radical ideas were being espoused, that someone trying to gain rank and power did not alter the words of these prophets? It happened and there is documentation of this in any religion. People try to gain power and they twist belief into assisting them gain this power (does Jim Jones ring a bell with you? How about Jim Baker?). Most people could not even read at the time these books were being written and there is absolutely no doubt that these books were NOT written by the people they are following. Jesus did not pick up the pen and write down his thoughts. DID NOT HAPPEN. 

So why on earth would religion continue to say being Gay is baaaad??? My opinion is that in order to say that you are good, you must show what is bad. You must pick out a group of people and say: Now this, this is who is not like us and because they are not like us they are BAD. Not Michael Jackson “Bad” but more like unholy. Mormon’s did it quite successfully with African American’s. They picked out a group of people and said: Ya see, God has marked them with a different skin tone to show they are bad! Jehovah Witnesses point the finger at anyone who does not subscribe to their beliefs. No socializing with them. Catholic’s feel that being gay is bad but continue to support their priests foolin around with kids. Again, this is just my theory. 

What infuriated me recently was the Proposition 8 movement in California. What the fuck people? I mean seriously, what the fuck. We voted to discriminate against an entire group of people and do you know who funded this hate vote? Religious folks (and I hope someone sues their ass to have their tax exemption taken away). I have maintained that I will continue to “discuss” with my religious friends the basis for their discrimination, but it hurts more than you can imagine. To think that people would have preferred that even though their parents could not stick it out together, they would rather have my parents have no rights at all. None. Domestic Partnership you say? I’ll talk about that another time. This is an attempt for legalized discrimination. Sure, let’s make Gay People contribute to the social services we are take for granted, but we will treat them like Second Class Citizens. No marriage or property rights can be held in that relationship….no spouses can collect Social Security Benefits should something happen to their 20 year partner. Nope. But, these people can enjoy the fruits of gay people’s contribution into that system. Again I say…what the fuck.

Growing Up Gay

When I either share with or people find out I grew up in a gay family, they have 2 immediate questions: were you adopted? what was it like to grow up without a mother? 

Well, I was not adopted. I grew up with my biological dad and my step dad. And the answer to the 2nd question is that I don’t know. You don’t know what you didn’t have. I had a mom who was struggling with demons up until her passing sometime ago. So, I didn’t see her (complicated and sad story…I’m still debating whether to blog about it) and she was not a “mother-like” figure in my life. She lived in a different state to make matters more or possibly less complicated. What I did have was a family that stayed together and I lived in the same home for 21 years. As I sit here right now, I can’t think of any of my friends who did not come from a divorced home. Oh, wait – I just thought of 4, but these 4 were not in the circle of friends I hung with. To give you an idea of my upbringing…I grew up in a small community where if you did not know someone you knew someone they knew. 6 degree’s of separation? Try 2 degrees tops. I graduated from a high school that had about 100 – 150 people in my graduating class…actually it could have been less. I knew ALL of them. I had known most of them since elementary school. We had 4 high schools in our whole county. All of the girls I hung around came from a divorced home and moved every couple of years. Me – you knew where you could find me. I had the same address and phone number for 21 years…no joke. God I miss that house…*sigh*

Like I said….I am/was the Princess of the house. I was sheltered from a lot of things but I was also introduced to so much diversity that most kids would never experience. It was wonderfully different. Gay Pride Parades, I knew of Harvey Milk before the movie, Drag Queens, trips to Europe, struggles for equality, being a part of a community that loves you for you (and I mean LOVES and supports you no matter what…totally different from religious love), closeted actors, artists, writers. Because the area I grew up in was fairly culturally diverse and definitely “different” (it was colonized by artists and hippy’s who somehow found a way to may a shit load of money…it was the 3rd richest county when I lived there – you could be poor there and fuckin rich anywhere else), you literally did not “see” color lines until they were brought up from some movie or song. Well, I digress…back to the mommy issue. One thing that was lacking was that I did not have a mother to teach me to be feminine. Yes, I had 2 guys who were incredible decorators (oh you should have seen our house! Antiques, paintings, rugs…*sigh* GORGEOUS!) and our yard was the belle of the neighborhood. But they did not know about dresses, a vagina, a period, boobs hurting due to growth spurts, hormonal issues, or any of the wonderful growing up experiences girls go through. Thankfully I had some wonderful girlfriends who were willing to loan me their mom’s for such occasions. What I did not experience was body issues, growing up thinking I had to impress men to be happy and a sense of dependance on a relationship. Of course I was an insecure teenager, but my insecurities were different from my girlfriends. 

The only reason I knew I was different was because other kids told me so. But ya know what? If I was going to be taunted about something, this wasn’t so bad. Sure there were other things: I had terrible acne, I have a big nose, my name was a target for fun by children…but, I grew stronger because of all of it. And, ya know what? Kids are openly gay at school now and open about their parents being gay. My point is this…..I had a mom, but just because I lacked a relationship with her does not mean I was any less loved. I would, in fact, argue that I was very loved considering I am a part of a community that continues to support and love me. That’s right…HALF GAY!

 

Not my dads....but they are yummy!