Absent

"I have the choice of being constantly active and happy or introspectively passive and sad. Or I can go mad by ricocheting in between" - Sylvia Plath

It seems I am going to choose the latter. It seems I am going to choose to ricochet in between these two options. I came across this quote at a time in my life when I really needed it. I have been passive and sad for most of the last four years. I have made the decision to slip out of my brain. To detach myself from the world and just live each day in the same brainless way. I decided not to think too much about anything. Things I was once passionate for, like politics and equality and people, just fell to the wayside. I no longer cared. It was easier that way. It took me a little while to not care, especially about people. But eventually it became quite easy. Eventually I was able to go through the motions of my day without much thought. Each day blended into the next, each day was the same. It took a lot to get me really fired up, and at best I was only half as fired up as I let on to be. My life was easy, I was decidedly absent. I went on this way for quite some time. I was on an even keel, which is where I like to be. I am always striving to be level headed, even and collected. This level of detachment made that very easy.

Then my second semester of sophomore year of college I made the brilliant decision to be happy. I made the decision to be an active participant in my own life. Something in me snapped. I realized that I am always running out of time. Something is always ending - the class I really like, the time in my life I can't get enough of, the friendships I am trying to foster/keep alive, the way things are. With each day we lose something and gain something. And I wanted to be there for it, I wanted to see it and feel it. I wanted to enjoy every day. I was no longer wishing away the days, just hoping for them to end so I could move on and tackle the next one. My second semester was amazing. It still flew by, but I can only imagine that those 13 weeks would have gone by in a blink had I not made this decision. I was really happy for a change. Maybe even outwardly happy. This made it easy to pretend that everything was okay. Being happy definitely gave me the opportunity to sort some of my issues out and maybe find myself a little. But it didn't cure all my problems. And it certainly didn't eliminate my underlying sadness that I fear will always be creeping just below the surface.

Now, as I am home for the summer, I can feel this passiveness creeping back into me. I can feel myself slipping, losing my grip on happiness and active participation. Maybe I am doing this on purpose. Maybe I want the days of this summer to fly by so I can get back to the city I love. Or maybe I am just exhausted and tired. And some days it's just easier to not actively participate. Sometimes it's too hard or painful to really want to feel and react. Sometimes, it's too hard to maintain an even and level head with all those emotions floating around. So I will continue to bounce in between these two options, because it seems that's what life is. When I am actively participating I am feeling and reacting and watching the world change around me. When I am not, I don't see the changes, I just let the world fly by me. But when I do eventually wake up I realize things aren't all that bad and that I should want to actively partake in this thing called life. But then there are times when active participation is just too much, and I need to be an empty shell. If my mind can't take it then it's okay to check out for a little while, as long as my body is present and the appropriate responses are uttered, not too many people notice.

Graduation

On this Saturday two years ago I graduated from high school. I am reminded of this because my cousin graduated this morning. Congrats Justin! And the class of 2012! You may not know it yet but this is just the beginning, not the end. I remember my senior year everything was marked by - "this is the last time I will do this..." and that is true. That is the last time things in your life will be the way they are. But, you have so much to move on to. For me, it certainly felt like it was the end of everything I knew, and in a way it was, but that was for the better.

The hardest thing was knowing that the four people I called my best friends would never be the same again. And I think that as I read these Facebook updates, that is what comes to mind. I was so sad at the thought of losing my friends, my best friends. I was afraid of losing them in the capacity that I had always had them. I was convinced that everyone was full of shit for saying that you make the friends you have for the rest of your life in college. I was hell bent on saying that I already found my best friends. I found them in high school and no matter what that would never change.

Well, it did change. And I'm not upset about it. As I get older, yes at the ripe old age of 20 I've decided this, it has become more apparent to me what makes people friends. Shared interests. And obviously some other things like attraction and maybe some biology is involved. Either way, my friends, my very best friends, do not know me anymore. They know who I was and they know a lot about me. But they have not seen me grow and change and really come into who I am. This is scary. The thought of this happening two years ago was enough to make me so incredibly sad. I dwelled on it, posted sad dramatic song lyrics and spent as much time with these people as I could before we all went our separate ways.

So things have changed. We are not nearly as close as we used to be and its hard to come home in the summer and have to become reaquainted again. But its okay. Everything is fine between us, really. Its hard to look back and see how we were in high school and compare it to how we are now. But everything has worked out. I have met some great people at college, and so have they. But that doesn't change what we had at one time, and it doesn't change the bond we have now. Its a beautiful time to look back on and remember. And sometimes, like today, the nostalgia hits me like a ton of bricks. But I don't miss it. I don't miss high school. I miss the people. But thats it. And its taken me about two years to realize this. So like I said already, this is not the end. Its the beginning! And I could not be happier with where I started.

Babies Make Everything Better

Babies make everything better. Whenever I am having a bad day or just need to relax, I go hang out with these baby goats. They make me laugh and smile and ease my heart. The little guy on left, the White Pigeon, lost his brother a few weeks ago. My mother also lost her brother a few weeks ago. I may be putting too many human emotions into this, but when I dragged my mother over to the farm in an attempt to make her feel better, her and the White Pigeon had an instant bond. That day was the first time in a few days I had seen her smile or heard her laugh. She sat with the goats for maybe 15 or 20 minutes, but in that time I think all of us felt a little relief from all the stress and sadness.

I am weary to say this, as I am not the fondest of children, but even human babies seem to have this easing capability. At my uncles wake there were two children there. One was three and the other almost a year old. They were the children of one of my cousins. And just their presence, them being passed around and talked to by what seemed to be an endless stream of adults, made everyone feel better. Even in a time as sad as the loss of a family member, something about new life makes it all better. It was as if in that moment, despite the sadness, people were able to forget about what they were feeling and were able to enjoy the healing qualities for a minute.

I personally am more in favor of baby animals, as they are cuter and less demanding in my opinion. But whatever works for people. Babies are an awesome therapy or stress reliever, unless of course they are the cause of your stress in which case you should find a different baby to mush on for a little bit!

Coming Out... Sort Of

At about 15, after various events in my life, I knew I was gay. I was a freshman in high school and had just lost my best friend, someone who I cared deeply for. I did not feel I could be a lesbian at this time. I hated that I could not control my feelings. I hated that I was going to be different and that my life would not be as easy as if I were straight. For a long time I was absolutely miserable and quite angry. I never told anyone, until recently, that my best friend and I were in some twisted sexual relationship. It was as if we were dating, as there was both the emotional connection and the physcal one. I thought about it all the time and would get defensive when someone would make a comment and did my very best to hide it.

The summer in between my freshman and sophomore year I went to North Carolina, still miserable but getting better. I met a boy there and was instantly in love with him. I don't know what this means for my identity, but I will tell you that at the time I was so relieved. It was just a phase! I actually did like boys. This then ignited the only two relationships I had during high school. I didn't care about these boys, the first one especially. Even at this time thoughts like "it's because you're a lesbian" would creep into my head. They bothered my every time. It was like my own brain was antagonizing me.

By the time I was a junior and senior in high school I was over it. I hardly thought about it and I was in heavy pursuit of some kind of action. And by this I mean I wanted to make out with some boys. By this time I had effectively mastered not thinking about things and pushing things out of my head. So this method of survival was in full effect. And therefore I was able to freely not think about my evident lesbianism, I was able to pursue my men. But the one thing I couldn't deny was no matter what, I just wasn't that into them.

By freshman year of college I was still in denial. Every time anything to do with being a lesbian or just lesbianism in general, got brought up I got really uncomfortable. I would get this feeling inside of me that let me know that no matter what I talked my brain into thinking, I was what I was. I went a little crazy first semester, got drunk, made out with a lot of boys. I did my very best to make out with as many boys as possible. If I enjoyed it then clearly I was straight and clearly if I was macking on anything with a penis, I could not be questioned as gay. I won't say that I didn't enjoy my time making out with strangers in clubs, but I will say that it was not sustainable or fulfulling. I liked it, but only in a drunken haze in a too loud atmosphere with too many people around.

Then in my first semester of my sophomore year of college, I ended up in a class focused on transgender studies. Obviously this class was centered around trans topics, but there was also a lot of discussion about identity and presentation. At this point I was already borderline with my presentation. This meaning that I was choosing to dress how I was comfortable while still maintaining a shred of femininity. This class caused me to look into myself and see what I really wanted, who I really was and how I was going to be really happy. By the end of the semester I had started to take walks with a friend and we would both discuss our questions about our sexuality. I can't really speak for her, but she helped me talk through things that I hadn't ever discussed with anyone. I told her about my potential lack of straightness, which turned into a definate lack of straightness. She helped to work through my identity and embrace it to some extent. By second semester we were really questioning things. We started to become active in our university's LGBTQA center and started to make friends within the community. As the semester went on we both became more comfortable, I became more androgynous and life was good. I was happy, finally. I am out to some people. My close friends, some other people I am not all that close to but happened to be there, and those who ask. These people exist both in New York City and in my hometown.

And now to get to the point of all of this. Am I really out? When people look at me they just assume I am gay. Which is true, but does that make me out? Does it count if I don't actually say it? I don't know. I wonder what people think when they first meet me. I wonder what my professors think on the first day of class. I wonder what people in the halls think when I walk by. I wonder what the people in my hometown think when I show up to a baseball game in my varsity jacket and shaved head. I wonder if I am really an out lesbian. And therefore, I feel only sort of out. Like out to some people and not to others. It's like I myself have told certain people, then the people I have told have told people and the cycle continues. So a lot of people probably know I am a lesbian, or they think they know. This is okay. I just don't know if it counts.