Tattoos

This is the tattoo I am getting hopefully within the week in Boston or whenever I have the opportunity to come home next (which is up in the air, since I'm coming out to my mom between now and tomorrow evening, and I have 3/4 of the weekends in October booked).

My quest for my next tattoo began with this:

Only in place of the Earth in the centre I would have a peace sign. I went to the tattoo place today and they priced it at around $300 ($150 per hour) and at about the size of putting your index fingers and thumbs together in the shape of a circle (unless you have freakishly long or short fingers). My mom was horrified, mostly, because she doesn't want me getting a tattoo that big or that expensive (at least in one sitting). "Professional women aren't supposed to have visible tattoos." IN ANY EVENT after I cooled down after that comment I went back to the interwebz and looked around.

That butterfly tattoo is brilliant and I love it. I think it will serve the purpose I want it to serve, as a rememberance to my father that isn't just "Daddy" or something to that effect. I need to get some prices around school, but I have the "ok" from the madre so I'm going to look into getting it in the near future.

I'm not really a butterfly girl, so to speak, but I'm also not a dragon girl. I think that particular butterfly design is very tasteful and really neat, I just need to work on what colours I want them to be and the exact placement (on my right shoulderblade/shoulder). I can't wait to play lacrosse this year and be the person knocking chicks around with the pretty butterfly tattoo.

But I am getting a peace sign/rainbow themed tattoo at some point in the near future.

How Do I Get Myself In Situations Like This?

Yesterday was kind of a crazy day. I had class from 9:30 until 3:00, with about an hour lunch break between my research methods class and the lab. We had to come up with ideas for a research study, one that we are actually going to conduct. My thesis at this point is that individuals with the perception that they have a strong support system (either from family, society or both) are better able to cope with stress. I'm still working out the kinks but it'm pretty pleased with it, and I found a meta-analysis that is REALLY going to help me out (I almost did a backflip when I discovered it).

Anywho, after research methods and that craziness I went to this woman to talk about studying abroad in the fall of 2009. I'm hoping to study in London, that way I can go all over Europe on weekends and holidays. I really want to study in Italy, but I'll get there if I study in London. I just want to go all over the place, see the world. And it looks like it's actually going to happen!

I was practically doing cartwheels down the hall when I remembered I had to go talk to the activities director. She was my RD last year, and we have a pretty good relationship, so I went to her office and we got to chatting. I was there to ask her if our orchestra (of about 6 people) could play in the tavern some night, since she is in charge of the schedule of activities. She said sure thing, and proceeded to print off the calender for the next three months.

We were chatting while she was printing off the schedule, and I all of a sudden burst off with "Hey, you know what we need here, a GSA!"

I go to a very small Catholic college, complete with nuns and priests and the whole shebang, so I didn't expect my notion to come to fruition.

Until she said "You just made my day!" and she started typing away. "I've been waiting for someone to volunteer themselves to start a GSA FOREVER!"

I wasn't aware I had volunteered myself, but I mean it's cool and all, I'll parent this new club if nobody else will. No lie at all, she was so excited about the fact that I was interested in a GSA that she emailed about a million people, asking them how to go about starting a new club and to get back to ME. I have to write a constitution for the club, go in frot of the student activities panel BY MYSELF and tell them why I want to start this club, how much money I will need, what I plan to do, how I plan to bring back to the community, etc. I need to get names and signitures and people interested in the club. So far I have lots of S's and a few G's who say they will join. I think I need ten people to be official and to get money, etc. But I definitely had no concept of what I was getting myself into. We really do need a GSA though, and I'm more than happy to be the person to start it, I just had no idea that I would be thrust into this position.

So during our, oh probably 45 minute conversation, I was nominated president and parent of the new GSA, the student activities director emailed one of the sisters and told her I am going to join Campus Ministry, I basically was talked into getting an Environmental Club started on campus (because I opened my big mouth and told her I had been president of the environmental club in high school), I was given a phone number to a local philharmonic orchestra that is looking for musicians, I join the activity board for my school (the people who plan everything that goes on around campus) and I got the calender for the next three months so we can decide when we want to play in the tavern (the only reason I went there in the first place).

And I'm double majoring, taking 20 credits this semester, playing lacrosse, planning on studying abroad next fall, trying to get into a seminar next semester that will consume most of my life/go to Italy on spring break. I realised the other day that with my majors, I need three seminars for my English major and I think two for my Psychology major. I'm also in the honors program, which has its own seminar I believe (maybe two seminars, I'm not sure), not to mention community service components and other requirements.

I also got an on campus job the other day tutoring people in writing for five hours a week. Which means I'm making money (albeit not a great deal of money).

And I'm home now, and all I want to do is sleep and forget about the giant mess I am creating for myself to be spread out over the next three years.

But I'm having fun and learning a lot, and that's all that matters right?

Oh and I did something to a muscle (the same muscle) in both of my legs last night at the gym. I don't know what I did or if there is even a name for it, but it hurts, and I'm a fool. Note to self: the hot girl at the gym doesn't care if you can (or in my case, can't) lift a shitload of weight on the leg press. I feel like subconsciously, I am aware of the fact that A LOT of people at my school are nursing majors, and overdoing it at the gym isn't so much masochistic as it is my mind intentionally trying to hurt my body so I have to lay around while the nursing majors take care of me. If only things worked in the real world the way they work in my mind :D

Camera Wonders

I just plugged my camera into my computer and I am overcome with a desire to post my fvourite pictures on my memory card. I have something near 900 pictures on the memory card, and these are my favorites by far!


Rob and I being amazing




The waves don't care if your bathing suit is coming off, but your best friends think it's HILARIOUS


Puppy!


My friends being awesome on a bridge in central park


Kitty


Kitty at one of our tea parties


Buns!




The pictures make me miss summer, but at least I have a piece of home here with me, and lots and lots of fabulous memories!

Rachel the Wonder Lemur

Sometimes I like to skip.

Sometimes I like to pretend I'm a lemur who switches from skipping on one side, to the other side, in mid air.

And sometimes, more often then not, I end up falling on the ground.

Usually when I get the brilliant idea to skip like a lemur, I'm on the linoleum in my kitchen, or on the grass outside.

Nope, not tonight. Tonight I decided I was a lemur in the mail room at school, skipping in between the rows of mail boxes.

And I fell, hard, on the ground. Which is totally fine, I fall all the time.

But I landed on my left hand, i.e. my left wrist.

I tore a ligament in my left wrist last year (when I couldn't move my wrist/hand/fingers for just over two weeks and then decided I should go to the doctor) when I was knocked over by a friend of mine when we were wrestling in the hallway. I still remember my RD taking me to one side the next day at lunch when she saw me wincing in pain and telling me she was emailing my professors and telling them I was going to the hospital to get checked out. Several ex rays and one visit to a bone doctor later they discovered I had a torn ligament. Which is cool, it doesn't really matter in most people and it tends to happen in old age, but I play the violin, and lacrosse, and stuff. And I'm 19, not some old lady walking around falling apart at the seams.

So I'm cradling my left hand right now, hoping that the swelling dies down so I can sleep tonight. The feeling should come back in an hour, and I'm supposed to have it in a brace right now, but I can't find it.

But I'm still a freakin awesome lemur.

An Oh My Gosh Moment

So my friend is visiting from another school today, and we were hanging out in our other friend's room (which happens to be right next time mine)

So I'm sitting on a vacant desk, we're all just hanging out and talking.

When I see out the window, a man step out of his car, turn around, unzip his pants, and walk just far enough into the trees to pee without being too conspicuous.

Not to mention the fact that I'm almost 100% sure IT WAS A PROFESSOR.

So my eyes bulge out of my head, and I tell my friends, and we all stare out the window in wonder and amazement.

And shout obscene things.

Really cannot even believe that just happened.

Step 3: Coming Out to the Family

I came out to my sister tonight.

Officially. None of this "oh of course she knows" bullshit.

I told her, and she knows, and she will always know, and life can go on.

I want to puke, but I stopped shaking finally. I never felt this way before. I got excited when I first started coming out, but this is a different feeling entirely.

My big sister, who I've always admired and looked up to, the first person in my family who I've sat down and had this conversation with.

I always assumed they all knew. As she said "It's unexpected, but not surprising," which I guess catches me off guard. I assumed they knew because I never hid it, I just never talked about it.

But now, soon enough, the whole family will know. It feels so good to have told her though, and to be talking with her about it. Now I have someone in my family, someone who I trust, someone who watched me grow up and help my hand at our father's funeral, who knows that I'm gay, and that I'm out and that I'm proud. And she respects me and she loves me for me. It feels so fucking good.

I'm telling my mother on Sunday. I have an email drafted to her, because I am not brave enough to tell her face to face. I don't really care about bravery. It's easier for me to get my thoughts out when typing. I'd stutter all over the place any other way.

Here's the email I have drafted to my mother:

Mom,

Hi, it’s Rachel. Hope you’re having a wonderful day.

I’ve been trying to figure out a way to tell you something for a while now. Should I tell you when we’re driving, or when we’re out to dinner, or when we’re watching a movie or swimming or any number of the things we do together. But I’m too cowardly it seems to simply tell you. So here goes nothing. Mom, I’m gay.

I never imagined “coming out” to you in an email. To be honest I never really gave coming out to you very much thought, until recently.

I really hope this isn’t a shock to you, and I don’t think it will be. You know me better than anyone knows me. You know I haven’t dated a boy since I was a sophomore in high school, or even really mentioned “liking” a boy for a long time. The fact of the matter is, I don’t like boys and I never really did. Boys have always been friends for me, and many of my best friends have been and are boys. But I’m not attracted to boys. I have always been attracted to girls, and it was only recently (later in high school) that I came to the realization that I was gay and that it was okay.

I’ve been pretty certain I was gay since I was fifteen. I came to terms with it by myself by the end of senior year. It’s not a phase, and it’s not something I take lightly. It is a part of my life, yet at the same time it isn’t. I don’t feel like I should have to come out to people. Being gay is the same as being straight. I, like many people, am attracted to women. Some people like men, some people like women. I happen to fall into the latter category. But I’m also a Christian, and a student, an American, a woman, a daughter, a friend.

I wanted very badly to tell you, to talk with you about it. It’s very lonely to think that you did something wrong or it’s your fault or you won’t be accepted by the people you love the most in the world. I’ve gotten to the point where I don’t really care what other people think about me, even the people who I care most about. I value your opinion a lot, obviously, because you’re my mother. But I don’t feel like I need to justify something about myself over which I have no control. I’m gay, but that’s not who I am entirely. I’m Rachel, I’m the daughter of Stephanie and Jerry. I love my family and friends. I love to learn and laugh and live.

It’s scary when you’re young and you feel like the whole world is against you. In many ways the whole world is against the gay community, but there are many, many people who are not against us. It isn’t a matter of trust that I didn’t tell you sooner, it’s a matter of being ashamed, of feeling like I did something wrong.

But I’m not ashamed, and I’m not going to hide who I am. I am me, and I am a beautiful and wonderful person who has as much to bring to the world as a heterosexual person. I love everyone for who they are and what they contribute to the lives of others, regardless of race, gender or orientation. I expect the same courtesy from others, but I know not everyone is so optimistic about the goodness in people.

I trust that you will continue to love me as much as you have loved me for the past nineteen years.

I love you mom, and I always have and always will. You made me the strong person I have become. I can face anything, but I’d rather face things with you at my side.

I’m not looking for anything from you in telling you this about me. I simply think you deserve to know, and that I need for you to know in order that I can grow as a person and we can both move on with our lives.

I’m the same person you talked to on the phone yesterday, the same person you kissed goodnight for nineteen years, the same girl who plays the violin, the same girl who loves watching Princess Diaries with her favorite person in the world. I’m good enough for me, and it is my opinion that I am more than good enough for the world. I love myself and I’m happy with my life. I think that’s the best anyone can hope for in life.

I love you.

- Rach

http://community.pflag.org/Page.aspx?pid=539

People Who Should Stay Five Years Old Forever

My niece recently started kindergarten, and I mist just thinking about it.

I remember holding her for the first time in the hospital, being afraid I was going to drop her. I remember when she was a little older and she would jump off the couch and land on my chest, thinking it was the funniest thing when I would recoil in pain. She loves piggy back rides, and she used to love nothing more than holding my hand when we were walking around together. Everything seems so right with the world when she's with me, when there is a concrete reason for everything I do staring me in the eyes and calling me "auntie rachel."

Apparently she isn't adjusting very well to kindergarten. It's the first time she's really been on a schedule, the first time she's had to deal with kids in her face all the time. I don't really know what it must feel like for her, because I was in preschool (daycare, whatever you want to call it) from six weeks old on up.

My niece has had her neighborhood friends, her little cousins, and her baby brother up until this point. Otherwise, she really hasn't developed any skills in dealing with her peers. Which is a real shame if you ask me. I think all children should be in daycare, maybe not as early and as much as I was for most of my childhood, but daycare is very good for developing skills that kids not in daycare don't develope.

My niece is perfect and brilliant and I trust that she will do very well in kindergarten and everything she does in life. She certainly has a family that supports her 100%.

Living and Learning

It was an interesting weekend to say the very least.

I ended up not being dd for the party Saturday night, which led to my sprawling out on the front porch and entertaining my sober friends for most of the evening until I was taken home around 1 in the morning.

My roommate had to go in my car back to school because she was sobbing uncontrollably about things she should have been telling a therapist ruther than telling a bunch of people, many of whom she barely knows.

On Sunday the poor girl went out to lunch with the Glee Club, and I guess went over to the stables where one of the girls keeps her horse. She rode the horse, and ended up falling off. She's alright, other than a scrape and some bruises, which is much better than it could have been. It was a traumatic weekend for her.

I feel bad because I have no patience with people who feel sorry for themselves, and no patience with people who can't see that everything is going to be okay.

It doesn't matter how much I've been through in my short life, no one believes me when I tell them everything is always going to be okay. No matter what happens, everything will be alright. I'm trying very hard to be patient with her, but she doesn't have a spinal cord injury or a broken bone or brain damage. She is scraped up a bit.

The only time I ever got noticed for being hurt was when I broke my arm in the fifth grade, everything else kind of blends together. I was ignored if I cried about a scrape, or anything that wasn't life or death or permanent damage.

I'm trying really hard to be understanding that other people function differently than I do, which I suppose is one of the most important lessons in life.