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.
Tuesday, September 16, 2008
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.
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.
Monday, September 15, 2008
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
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%.
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.
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.
Saturday, September 13, 2008
Sister Christian
I just remembered something hilarious that happened the other day.
Thursday night, we just got back from Boston and we had to take a wicked piss so we ran into the main building to go to the basement bathroom (the most centrally located bathroom on campus).
My friend goes "Rachel, I don't want you to listen to me pee so sing or do something like that."
So I start singing the first song that comes to my mind.
"I don't want anybody else, when I think about you I touch myself."
I'm totally going to town with this song, belting it out obnoxiously loud and quite out of tune. But it's all in good fun.
It was going for midnight so I figured no one would be around, except possibly campus police, but they're used to my antics by now.
When I finish "singing" (if it can even be called that) there was silence for a minute.
"Uhm... Rachel... there's something in the bathroom with us."
I was so horrified, and in a fit of giggles.
So I leave the bathroom and find a hiding place down the hall to scope out who the mystery person was who heard my obscene song.
It was a sister. Not like "oh hey that's my sister." I'm talking about the married to God kind of sister.
I'm still mortified, and we're still laughing about it.
Thursday night, we just got back from Boston and we had to take a wicked piss so we ran into the main building to go to the basement bathroom (the most centrally located bathroom on campus).
My friend goes "Rachel, I don't want you to listen to me pee so sing or do something like that."
So I start singing the first song that comes to my mind.
"I don't want anybody else, when I think about you I touch myself."
I'm totally going to town with this song, belting it out obnoxiously loud and quite out of tune. But it's all in good fun.
It was going for midnight so I figured no one would be around, except possibly campus police, but they're used to my antics by now.
When I finish "singing" (if it can even be called that) there was silence for a minute.
"Uhm... Rachel... there's something in the bathroom with us."
I was so horrified, and in a fit of giggles.
So I leave the bathroom and find a hiding place down the hall to scope out who the mystery person was who heard my obscene song.
It was a sister. Not like "oh hey that's my sister." I'm talking about the married to God kind of sister.
I'm still mortified, and we're still laughing about it.
Somewhere Between Nothing and Everything
Lacrosse yesterday was so awesome, and soooooo needed. It's the first time I've played since June, but I picked it back up right away. We had a scrimmage going, played keep away, laughed a lot. It felt so good to be around the team again, and to meet two of the new girls who are playing. Two freshmen girls showed up, and they are REALLY good and so sweet. We're a very... open team, which will take some getting used to for them (it would take some getting used to for anyone), particularly because it's only their second week of college, but they'll like us. One of them saw me at dinner afterwards yesterday and waved, it was so cute. So I guess despite my initial feelings on the matter, the freshmen are alright. We were just soooo much cooler when we were freshmen, it's hard to follow perfection.
A lot has been going on lately, besides lacrosse which will soon enough consume my life. I went into the city a few days ago to visit my friend's friends, and it was nice. Northeastern is huge, and I swear I saw someone from my high school smoking on a stoop.
I bought my last pack of cigarettes in Ptown over the summer for something close to $7. The fact that I would pay that kind of money for cigarettes alarmed me, and I haven't bought them since. I had my last cigarette on move in day (September 1). I miss smoking, but I don't miss how expensive it was or how I couldn't run a mile without feeling like I was going to die. I don't miss how the smell lingers on your clothes and in your hair. I don't miss that sick feeling you get when you go hours without a cigarette and it's all you can think about.
I have developed a pretty bad cough since coming back to school, that I think needs to be checked out by health services. In any event, being around a bunch of people is not good for your health.
When I was in the city I saw a chipmunk. It was dark and I saw something frolick into the bushes and, because I live in suburbia, I figured it was a chipmunk, so I was like "awww it's so cute." My friend goes "Rachel... that's a sewer rat." Needless to say, I need to get out more. I've never seen a rat outside of a cage before.
I'm going to Tegan and Sara in a few weeks (October 4) in Worcester and I can't even wait. It's going to be an awesome concert, probably nowhere near as good as Celine Dion (I say probably knowing that it will be absolutely nowhere near Celine) but it will still be a lot of fun.
Then the following week is Canadian Thanksgiving and I'm going to St. John's Newfoundland to visit my uncle Paul and stay there for the long weekend. There is no place in the world where I would rather be at any given point in time than in Newfoundland. It's so beautiful, so perfect. And Paul is the best cook I know, which will make this trip all the better (considering that at school I'm lucky if I eat twice a day and going hungry isn't uncommon).
The food at my school SUCKS. Not only is it just plain bad, but I can't eat most of it. I was a vegetarian until Lent last year (I gave up vegetarianism for Lent, beat the system) and I haven't eaten red meat since... well for a very long time. I refuse to eat cows, pigs, goats, or bottom dwellers (like crabs or scallops). I eat chicken and fish and everything else that wasn't once a living breathing thing. The people who cater our meals can't cook, have absolutely no variety to what they offer, and aren't at all interested in making sure their vegetarian/non-standard customers are taken care of. You can only eat tofu so much before you actually become a tofu. And a slice of pizza for dinner, every night of the week, is not okay.
I very much look forward to eating real food when I go home for MOLLY'S BIRTHDAY NEXT WEEKEND. I miss my friends from home, but things are weird this year.
Last year we at least attempted to stay in touch, and I realize it's only been about two weeks but I've spoken to my best friend once, and my other best friends hardly at all. I love my friends at school, but they're different then my friends at home. We can just be hanging out doing nothing for hours and hours, just enjoying each others company at home. Here something has to be going on, we can't just hang out or sit in the same room and go conversationless.
I'm going to a party tonight and I'm dd, which never works out, so we'll see how that goes. I'll be safe and make good decisions (don't worry Molly).
My mom just told me that my roses and my tomatoes are doing wonderfully and she's already brought two of the tomatoes in to the house. I wish I was there to see it. I slaved all summer over the tomatoes and my roses and I'm not getting to see this. Arrrg it's very frustrating.
Per usual I have too much going on in my brain right now to write an interesting blog. I need some inspiration.
A lot has been going on lately, besides lacrosse which will soon enough consume my life. I went into the city a few days ago to visit my friend's friends, and it was nice. Northeastern is huge, and I swear I saw someone from my high school smoking on a stoop.
I bought my last pack of cigarettes in Ptown over the summer for something close to $7. The fact that I would pay that kind of money for cigarettes alarmed me, and I haven't bought them since. I had my last cigarette on move in day (September 1). I miss smoking, but I don't miss how expensive it was or how I couldn't run a mile without feeling like I was going to die. I don't miss how the smell lingers on your clothes and in your hair. I don't miss that sick feeling you get when you go hours without a cigarette and it's all you can think about.
I have developed a pretty bad cough since coming back to school, that I think needs to be checked out by health services. In any event, being around a bunch of people is not good for your health.
When I was in the city I saw a chipmunk. It was dark and I saw something frolick into the bushes and, because I live in suburbia, I figured it was a chipmunk, so I was like "awww it's so cute." My friend goes "Rachel... that's a sewer rat." Needless to say, I need to get out more. I've never seen a rat outside of a cage before.
I'm going to Tegan and Sara in a few weeks (October 4) in Worcester and I can't even wait. It's going to be an awesome concert, probably nowhere near as good as Celine Dion (I say probably knowing that it will be absolutely nowhere near Celine) but it will still be a lot of fun.
Then the following week is Canadian Thanksgiving and I'm going to St. John's Newfoundland to visit my uncle Paul and stay there for the long weekend. There is no place in the world where I would rather be at any given point in time than in Newfoundland. It's so beautiful, so perfect. And Paul is the best cook I know, which will make this trip all the better (considering that at school I'm lucky if I eat twice a day and going hungry isn't uncommon).
The food at my school SUCKS. Not only is it just plain bad, but I can't eat most of it. I was a vegetarian until Lent last year (I gave up vegetarianism for Lent, beat the system) and I haven't eaten red meat since... well for a very long time. I refuse to eat cows, pigs, goats, or bottom dwellers (like crabs or scallops). I eat chicken and fish and everything else that wasn't once a living breathing thing. The people who cater our meals can't cook, have absolutely no variety to what they offer, and aren't at all interested in making sure their vegetarian/non-standard customers are taken care of. You can only eat tofu so much before you actually become a tofu. And a slice of pizza for dinner, every night of the week, is not okay.
I very much look forward to eating real food when I go home for MOLLY'S BIRTHDAY NEXT WEEKEND. I miss my friends from home, but things are weird this year.
Last year we at least attempted to stay in touch, and I realize it's only been about two weeks but I've spoken to my best friend once, and my other best friends hardly at all. I love my friends at school, but they're different then my friends at home. We can just be hanging out doing nothing for hours and hours, just enjoying each others company at home. Here something has to be going on, we can't just hang out or sit in the same room and go conversationless.
I'm going to a party tonight and I'm dd, which never works out, so we'll see how that goes. I'll be safe and make good decisions (don't worry Molly).
My mom just told me that my roses and my tomatoes are doing wonderfully and she's already brought two of the tomatoes in to the house. I wish I was there to see it. I slaved all summer over the tomatoes and my roses and I'm not getting to see this. Arrrg it's very frustrating.
Per usual I have too much going on in my brain right now to write an interesting blog. I need some inspiration.
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