This is quite different from my girlfriend. She would rather spend time alone. Or with 1 of 3 or 4 close people in her life.

I admire this about her. I admire that she is happy spending time alone, doing her own thing. She is kind of a misanthrope. And not that I don’t enjoy alone time also, but I need much less than she does. Most of the time, this is perfect. I spend time with friends and she has her alone time and then we meet in the middle.

But sometimes, it just irritates me.

See, I think I have unmet expectations. Ones that I have set-up and probably not even told her about. This is a habit I am working on fixing.

Example: I want to go to an event. I want her to go with me. She does not like crowds. But I don’t always like going alone to events. At one point, some friends said to me, “Do you actually HAVE a girlfriend?” because she would never want to socialize. She has definitely been working on this…and it is better. But sometimes I hate having to try to convince her to go somewhere with me. I want her to want to go.  

And here is where I think I have the expectation. Because it is not how I operate, I don’t understand how awful or hard it is to just go with me. I’m not asking for a million bucks or to be fed from a silver platter… just go with me.

I also know this is SO far out of her comfort zone. So how much can I push her out? Because I have very different comfort zone levels, most of the requests she has of me, I can meet. My memory sucks and I can be absent minded or a space cadet. She prides herself on her fantastic memory. So, of course it drives her crazy that I cannot remember that she told me she has a Dr appt at 2:30pm 2 weeks from now on Thursday afternoon. I may remember the DR part but not the day and time…yadda.

So in her defense, she would say…”why can’t you JUST REMEMBER?”

So, we compromise. And I try to not expect that she will agree to go with me. Or understand that she would rather stay home. And she tries to be patient when I don’t remember that she got new vitamins last weekend at GNC while she was out getting dog food because the old ones were potent enough. I may remember that she got new vitamins but I won’t always remember all the details.

It’s certainly become much better in the 2 years we’ve been dating. And therapy helps tremendously.

Compromise is not always easy…but I’m learning it is a very good thing.

I’m 36. I finished High School. Even got a decent GPA. But…

The truth is this: I hated High School. I was miserable. I was a weirdo misfit. I’m actually pretty smart – though some may never know this due to my forgetful-spacey-and-sometimes-absentmindedness. I qualified for advanced placement classes and even took a few….but I just didn’t want to do the work. Now I could equate that to being a total freak in my white upper middle class conservative schoolmates’ eyes and having a bunch of personal/family issues going on (Hi- why, yes, I do have a gay dad and lesbian mom in 1989) and sure I bet that was part of it, but I also didn’t apply myself. And several of my teachers knew it.

My English teacher, Ms. Hale…most hated her. She was strict. They called her “Hale the Whale” because she was a very large woman. She could be mean. But I appreciated her because she saw me flailing, knew I could do better and called me on it. She even called my parents on it. She helped me love John Steinbeck. I am forever grateful for that. She also let me read books that were not on her “approved” list, because I could not, would not read “Moby Dick”. Still, I was getting a C in English. In English!!! My best subject! It was not good.

Also, Instead of PE, I had study hall, so another English teacher asked me to be her TA. I graded my schoolmates’ papers! I’m not sure this was OK, but I liked the work…much more than my own homework.

So I went to Community College with Sizzle. I struggled. I didn’t apply myself, yet again. I felt like I was missing out on the world, stuck in a classroom…when all I wanted to do was drive to Santa Cruz, with music on, singing and laughing with friends or San Francisco, shop on Haight Street in the secondhand shops I called my 2^nd home.

I’d been working at Michael’s and so instead of working part time and going to school, I quit school, went full time at Michael’s, and proceeded to stay there for 6 years. Bob helped me get a job at Navteq when I was 23 (I think) and I stayed there for another 4 years. I had a few funky jobs and then I got into Recruitment/Staffing/HR…then the rest of my career just sort of…happened.

I watched many of my friends finish college and I felt envious. I wondered why I couldn’t get into it. I’ve tossed around many ideas over the years, why I chose work over school. Some are legit reasons…I loved working, I wanted to travel, I felt more “in my life”, but really some part of me always feels like I have done myself a disservice.

Don’t get me wrong, I have been plenty successful over the years. Even more successful that folks I’ve known who have finished college. I’ve had well paying jobs, got promotions, accolades. … so would college bring me more? Is there more? I guess there is always more, but what kind of more is there?

These are things I think about when I wake up, yet again, from the dream I have had many many times: The one in which I am flunking out of High School.

So I’m thinking about college, once again. It’s scary. It’s been 16 years. I have so many fears: would I qualify for school loans? How much? How long would a degree take? Do I want to be in debt? Could I handle the workload? What kind of degree? Do I want the stress? Could I balance it all?

Basically, I’m trying to figure out what I want to be when I grow up. At 36. Hold me?

So lately, what has been weighing heavily on my heart is a friend and her children.

My friend has a son from a former marriage. He is a great kid! But she always wanted more kids. Even thought of having them on her own. She had taken steps to start the process and then met her former partner. She told her of her want for more kids and it began. You, see she conceived her babies in a common queer way. She and her former partner tried IVF several times with no success. My friend decided to ask a friend, a man who was/is part of their spiritual community if he would be open to donate to their cause. He agreed…and also agreed that he would be involved in the children’s lives if they wanted him to, or be hands-off, depending on everyone’s level of comfort. Initially, hands-off was fine by everyone. It seemed to work quite quickly, so soon, my friend became the biological mother to twin boys. Yay! Sadly, shortly thereafter, the relationship between my friend and her former partner turned sour. I won’t go into the awful details, but I’ll just throw out a few words like: intimidating, bullying, controlling, etc. My friend was seriously concerned for her mental well being and the welfare of her children, so they split and the former partner filed for custody of the children. The donor got wind of the news and felt pulled to return to their lives…and become active with the babies. They adore each other. It’s quite beautiful really.

So, I know this all sounds kind of odd and completely unconventional, but I believe things happen for a reason…and that there is a plan by a higher being.

The most frustrating piece is that the former partner has turned this into a giant gay rights plight. She has a Lesbian attorney and the NCLR working for her to fight for the children. In normal circumstances, I would totally support fighting for my/our Queer rights. Hello, I am one too! But in this instance, it is not about that. It is about what is right for the children. And the former partner having full custody is Just. Not. It.

Here is a link to the details: Save Our Twins

Some days I just feel helpless. I’ve sent letters. I’ve told friends and family. I supported her from day one. And I still I feel like it is not enough. Living so far way, I cannot even go to her house to help clean, feed, change, do errands…even just let her be quiet, take a nap. She does have some support from family and a few friends…but people have really taken sides in all this. It’s been a hard, tiring and painful road so far. And some days, she feels like just giving in. I might too. But it is hard to give up when you are fighting the well-being of your children.

Can you just hold her and her family in your thoughts? I’d be really grateful.

One of my best and closest friends, Sizzle, well more like family now…I think 20 years of friendship gets you family status, don’t you think? …had been talking Kerrianne and LongStoryLonger about heading to Cannon Beach for 2 nights. We could rent a cottage just steps (yes, really) from the beach. In fact, it was pretty much on the beach, which may or may not have slightly freaked me out (hello, Tsunami?), but mostly it didn’t because, yes, I did it. Well, we did it.

We packed up 2 cars full of comfies, food, blankets, wine, games and books and headed out in the post-random-snowstorm-rain to our sweet 2 bedroom cottage on the shore (jeez, I sound like a country-club member).

So it began…the “checking out of the big city”. I’ll admit, we were not without technology, but we managed to not turn on the TV once. We spent most of the time reading, playing cards, eating, drinking wine and talking.

When the clock struck midnight on December 31^st, 2009, we all changed into swimsuits and (at LSL and K’s suggestion *ahem-insisting*) fled to the waterside and jumped into the (20 below-ish) water (ok maybe not that cold, but it felt like ice cubes had suddenly replaced my legs).

Over the course of the next 2 days, the rain pelted against the windows and the wind felt like it would shake our cottage off its roots. We watched the tide crash against the rocks and push wood and other ocean debris to the shore. We stayed in and watched Mother Nature do her thang, while we took cover in warm blankets and the light switch fireplace (I pretended to add wood to the fire).

On day #2, I took a long walk on the beach in my favorite rain boots near Haystack Rock. I have visited this area before, but this time the fog was thick and cool, with sprinkles of cold rain and a fierce wind. The beach was covered in driftwood and the tide was mellow for a short time. I watched as adults and kids and dogs walked by, enveloped in coats and hats and gloves (well, the dogs had sticks). And I pondered my world.

I thought about how, although I was freezing my ass off (I forgot my scarf and longer socks), I could walk back to the warmth of the cottage. How I had the choice and luxury of “coming in from the cold”. And I thought about how everyone on the planet does not have the same luxury. Some live in the cold and on the streets every day. I’m sure I often take this for granted. Sometimes, I get stuck in my head how I don’t have *this* or *that*…and forget to have gratitude for what I do have. Apparently, I really needed this reminder in this way because all the other millions of ways I get this message were not working (I guess sheets of rain which started to feel like tiny needle-like pebbles being thrown at my bare skin did the trick…) I eventually met up with Sizzle, told her of my gratitude-reminder and in  apropos timing, we headed back to the cottage to feed the wild (socialized) bunnies some lettuce and carrots.

I think we talked and laughed for hours and hours each day (and night!). We created a space where we could all open up and share, debate, cry, laugh…we talked, spewed, processed. Oh yes, we processed. And it was all good. Really good.

So, thank you. Thank you for sharing the beginning of the New Year. Thank you for sharing of yourself, your stories, your secrets, your laughter.

I am grateful for every minute of it. Every. Single. One.

Thanksgiving for every wrong move that made it right.

Thanksgiving by Poi Dog Pondering