welcome to the next chapter...

once a long time ago, i read on a blog, "i am a lesbian but thats not all i am". i was then just teetering on the edge coming out as a lesbian. back then, although i understood what she was saying, i was completely drowning in that one dimension of my identity. i knew then i was more than also but such turmoil tends to shrink your field of vision. it is scary and exciting and anticipatory and it is exhausting.

i am almost 5 years out now. some things look differently in my life. some things are the same. but i revel in the knowledge that i am a lesbian and in the knowledge that i really am more than just... my field of vision has grown to include the wide open spaces of life's endless possibilies.

for those of you who know me, you will be able to find the familiar places of my old writings which i will have on the sidebar. for those who stumble upon me and find yourself confused by fragmented references or are struggling to come out later in life, you will find the Closer to Fine link most helpful. I recommend reading it from the beginning, it makes more sense.

one more thing, blame my lack of capital letters on e.e. cummings...

Monday, June 27, 2011

and a gathering of butterflies twinkle as i fall asleep....


"Only Hope"

[Written by Switchfoot]

There's a song that's inside of my soul
It's the one that I've tried to write over and over again
I'm awake in the infinite cold
But You sing to me over and over and over again

So I lay my head back down
And I lift my hands
and pray to be only Yours
I pray to be only Yours
I know now you're my only hope

Sing to me the song of the stars
Of Your galaxy dancing and laughing
and laughing again
When it feels like my dreams are so far
Sing to me of the plans that You have for me over again

So I lay my head back down
And I lift my hands and pray
To be only yours
I pray to be only yours
I know now you're my only hope

I give You my destiny
I'm giving You all of me
I want Your symphony
Singing in all that I am
At the top of my lungs I'm giving it back

So I lay my head back down
And I lift my hands and pray
To be only yours
I pray to be only yours
I pray to be only yours
I know now you're my only hope


dear God, its me, nina...

Sunday, June 26, 2011

right where you fell...


Welcome to the planet
Welcome to existence
Everyone's here
Everyone's here
Everybody's watching you now
Everybody waits for you now
What happens next?
What happens next?

I dare you to move
I dare you to move
I dare you to lift yourself up off the floor
I dare you to move
I dare you to move
Like today never happened
Today never happened before

Welcome to the fallout
Welcome to resistance
The tension is here
The tension is here
Between who you are and who you could be
Between how it is and how it should be

I dare you to move
I dare you to move
I dare you to lift yourself up off the floor
I dare you to move
I dare you to move
Like today never happened
Today never happened

Maybe redemption has stories to tell
Maybe forgiveness is right where you fell
Where can you run to escape from yourself?
Where you gonna go?
Where you gonna go?
Salvation is here

I dare you to move
I dare you to move
I dare you to lift yourself, to lift yourself up off the floor
I dare you to move
I dare you to move
Like today never happened
Today never happened
Today never happened
Today never happened before

Saturday, June 25, 2011

the end of repetition

deaf to words spoken
drown in your prideful resolve
hate will feed your soul.


Friday, June 24, 2011

all i need...



All I need is a bitter song
To make me better
Much better
All I need to write is a bitter song
To make me better
Much better

It found me to hold me
But I don't like it at all
Won't feed it,
Won't grow it
It's folded in my stomach;
It's not fair,
I found love;
It made me say that.
Get back,
You'll never see daylight;
If I'm not strong it just might.

All I need is a bitter song
To make me better
Much better
All I need to write is a bitter song
To make me better
I feel better
I feel better

i want to,  i want to write a bitter song,  i want to be filled with vengeance, with revenge, with hate and a well laid plan to lay bare flesh straight to the nerves.   it hits me but my higher power is always there to put a hand on my shoulder to remind me that it is the bigger picture that matters.  not today, not tomorrow but my entire time that (s)he has given me on the stage that will be measured.  that every one's time will be measured not in drops but in the waterfall we create.  it comforts me because i know that we all have a chance, a choice, everyday at living without living in fear, without creating fear, without hating, without living with hate, without betrayal, without living with the betrayal done to us.

i fall into peace for a while.  i can see a day that i will take a breath that will fill every inch of my lungs and be able to feel nourished.   but it seems as if the minute the hand is lifted from me to attend to others who need even more than i, the blackness comes back.  slowly. i begin to wonder if i made the wrong decision to hang up on T when surprisingly enough she contacted me, asking for another.  asking for information.  my blood at that moment ran cold even though i had been living for a long while with my temperature hot with rage.   mama bear raised up and wanted to eat her alive.   i still wanted to protect.   i began to wonder why.  i began to wonder if i should call that number back and regurgitate all her personal information.  an eye for an eye.

then the hand, reaches for me again. and i realize i would never subject someone else to the hell i am going through. 

~this song has been interpreted as the refusal to ever let love come into her (songwriter) life.  i can relate to this feeling as well.  when everyone is privy to your every move and threats are made to those who dare to try to get to know you.  when you don't know the face of your enemies,  you better believe i understand it. i do hope that one day i will trust someone again.  i refuse to let others isolate me~

Wednesday, June 15, 2011

roses fade...

yesterday the landlord came over and trimmed back the bushes for me.  before i knew it though they were on the front west side of my house "trimming" back the rose bushes.  i say "trimming" that way because when they were done every bloom was gone and the bushes were knee high.

i have been comforted by the smell of the explosion of roses i could see from my bedroom.  i cut one of its best when i visited my pastor and  delighted watching her appreciate it's fragrance and her insistence that she find a vase to put it in.  its all gone now.  i don't like the wind but because of the roses i had made my peace with it.  its brought me delight with every movement of my drapes.   now though, its just wind.   i think i hate it again.

it reminded me that this is not my home, its my landlord's.  i am just paying for the privilege.   though i am blessed to have a roof over my head for me and my girls,  this is not my home.

Sunday, June 5, 2011

opa!

 our day turned out to look a bit different than planned.  different work, more play.

we walked to the dollar store to buy a bat and a ball that won't break windows.  we came away with a little bit more than that but we had a blast buying crap and i made up a bieber song using my own words about how the girls were going home to clean their rooms.  the customers were laughing, my tween was pretending not to know me and surprisingly enough the little turtle suddenly pulled her head back out of her shell and got into the groove of the moment, even though she didn't like the message of the song.

by the time we got home, i couldn't bring myself to make the girls to go downstairs to clean their room.  it was 80 degrees today...  no rain, it was a weather miracle!  so we went outside and played baseball.  now when playing baseball with only one person  on your team, you pretty much know you're gonna tank.  it does make the other team very happy and giggly though.   also if you are playing baseball on the lawn it becomes a diamond and thus does not require mowing (sorry man servant).

of course, my two cannot play too long before they get in a fight, even if they are on the same team and winning by 9,  so eventually, i did send them downstairs to transform their pile of junk into a room.   wierd thing is, they did!

by then we couldn't resist the smell dancing around us coming from the Greek festival just blocks away so off we went for shopping, dining and dancing. 


first shopping (of course).  all this beautiful silver jewelry.  my girls ooooh'd and awww'd over everything.  at one point they made me try on this beautiful thick silver wristband.  it was stunning but it was $70 which was also stunning.  besides that while wearing it, i had an odd mental image of me as wonder woman.  only without the crown the impossible waist, long thighs and the CFM boots.  my girls know we are on a tight budget but i asked them after they had given it all the once over, "if they could have one thing what would they want"  (not something they are used to hearing)  and they ran over to a little basket with stretch rings with beads on them.   they carefully picked out their bling and left beaming at the unexpected treasure.

then we waited in line for the deliciousness.  we feasted on the macaroni dish and green beans in a maranara sauce.  oh and the entire sampler box of Greek pastries.  and we enjoyed the entertainment. oddly enough the turtle got into the groove again and got up with me and danced.  they tried to teach us a traditional dance and although we tried our feet were always flying in the wrong direction.  we laughed as we kicked each other in the shin.   its been a long time since i have danced.  longer still since i have danced with one of my daughters.




prayer in the chapel



"is God here in this church too?" over heard from a young child. "God is everywhere." said parent who saw i was enjoying her child's question and smiled at me. "how does he have time to do that?" said the puzzled child. "frequent flyer miles" begged to pop out of my mouth but i censored myself. i didn't hear what the mom said to the child but it was late in the day and she had that look, so i am sure it was something generic. i don't blame her. i have been a tired mom of an inquisitive child before and i remember feeling generic as well.

when we got home and getting ready for bed, my youngest was remarking on the fact that she still had a dollar.  "no you don't honey,"  i said,  "you gave it to God when you lit your candle."   suddenly remembering, she got a thoughtful face and asked if i thought God gives refunds.  i burst out laughing but didn't say anything to her because frankly,  i don't know the answer to that question either.


Saturday, June 4, 2011

a girl can dream... (*addendeum.... she would be waiting for me)



i know that i am almost 50,  a little worn and torn around the edges but a girl can still dream.  if a girl  ever comes my way who doesn't care about the list in the negative column and she asks me to marry her, if i am as crazy in love with her, with us,  as i was once with a brown haired beauty, whatever "married" looks like to lesbians then,  i will be wearing this...

*SHE... strong,  beautiful, gorgeous,  feminine in just the right places a voice that is baritone with a thick sweet after taste...  yep,  a girl can dream.   this girl does. 

just a day...

a visit to the Greek festival, a stroll to the dollar store for baseballs and other treasures,  trip to walmart for 2 bike tubes and a pack of hot dogs for tonight's wiener roast.  and mow the front lawn before my man servant comes back and freaks out that i have ruined her putting green.  

Friday, June 3, 2011

my dad strikes my funny bone....

recent email:

Good Morning Dear,
   I  got your message. I was out late working on building sets for the Outlaw Trail Theater play “Wizard of Oz”. They put me in charge of designing & building a Platform 5 feet high with stairs and a trap door with counterbalance  allowing the Wicked witch to descend appearing to melt. I hope I don’t kill her in front of all those people. I should be more careful what I ask for. But really I am flattered by the faith they have in me. See you…….Dad

Thursday, June 2, 2011

technology is a pain in the ass...

i remember as a girl, my girlfriends and i would call boys we liked and waited for him to pick up the phone and then we would hang up.  squealing with delight and burying our heads in our pillows and giggling with delight.  we knew they knew it was a call from a slumber party because back then everyone knew what everyone was doing.   anytime i had a slumber party, we would sleep out in our trailer and the whole world knew we were out there.  water balloons would go flying....   scary scratches on the side of the trailer,  and sometimes, sometimes,  if we were really lucky,  some of the really cutest boys would be hiding in the bushes and calling out our names.  we would quietly sneak out and we would stand in the beautiful moonlight in our best pj's and our hair done and make up perfectly touched up.

rarely did any of us get a kiss by one of them but there was always that thick sexual attraction, the intentional touch of a shoulder,  muffled giggles and the heat of the sidewalk that would warm you from your toes to your face.  but at a blink of an eye, a car came down the street or a sound of a door opening from the house and we scattered and the night was over.  but what a wonderful night it had been... we had a time.


life isn't so easy now.   you can't call up boys just to hear their voices.  it started with *69.  (seriously, with as uptight as our society is i am surprised they didn't make them change it.  but again we as a society was still naive.  is it possible that our parents didn't "get it", right?   the sexual connotation?  or were we unaware that there wasn't anything new under the sun?   then of course, caller ID and after that the mystery was over.   well unless you were smart enough to know how to make the caller ID say " UNKNOWN NAME UNKNOWN NUMBER".   but most of us were/are savvy enough to know that an ID like that just doesn't get picked up.

so now,  when you desperately want to hear the voice of someone who you love but hates you,  there is nothing you can do.    prank phone calls...  seriously... dead and buried.  its sad sometimes because in the middle of the night there are numbers i long to call just to hear the voice on the other end of the phone.  i don't want anything from them.  i don't want to rekindle a fire that gave us 3rd degree burns in the first place. i don't want to reminisce over the "good ole days" cause the truth is,  they weren't all that good.  they just were.  they belonged to us.   i just long to hear their voice,  know they are living and breathing and still a real person.

often i laugh at the innocence of the midnight sleepover clandestine meetings.   they were so exciting,  i would love to experience that once again....   a rock against my window or a voice whispering my name and sneaking out to sit in the shadows and flirt and feel sneaky and delinquent.   sadly, i don't think those things exist anymore.  they are called "booty calls" and have a lot more intent than any of us ever imagined the meeting to be.   but god, in those days we really did have a time...  we really had a time.

Wednesday, June 1, 2011

how long is long enough? how lost is lost enough?

writers of all sorts and poets of all styles write with passion and  longing and despair over lost loves.   we read them and we feel all the pain, the desire, the death of an unwanted ending.  but we are so far away from their time, their place.  we can only speculate on the who was behind the death throws of unrequited or  unattainable passion.   we just cloak ourselves in the melancholia and tear up at the grace of the author as he/she explains how his/her  heart dies.  hope dies. dreams die.   they are untouchable with the splendor and safety of antiquity.

we can't say "oh yeah, that was mary and ethel down the street.... gossip gossip gossip"    we cant talk about the blood flowing out of their veins over a moment in time IF we realize that life just hurts too much and we want a way out.  my god the gossip and horrible names one would be called if one fell so low that one would harm themselves.   what would be a tragic romance from  100 years ago, would be turned into a  situation where one can mock, or pass over in indifference with a shot of whiskey at a local venue.   it will not be poetry to them.  if they have the least amount of humanity they would try to reach out,  if they were able.   call authorities, if they were able.   but would anyone stop to assimilate the emotion, understand the fine line we all walk,  would anyone be honest with their friends about our hidden similarities?  would anyone stand up for  the need  the author has to tell the story.   by God i hope someone would at least sadly shake their head once before ordering another round and then changing the subject to something more comfortable.    not many  would read it over and over again,  feeling the chill of the scepter by the sea, the crashing of the resounding waves surrounding  his beloved Annabell Lee.  Not without a snuggy anyway.

the literature,  the style, the time that has passed has robbed us today from waxing poetic,  speak of a love that will kill slowly from the heart.  or cause the mournful indian maiden to to jump to her death from Mt Timpanogos.    or a maiden who could jump to her death from any bridge that speaks to her.   now if we read anything of that nature, especially if we "know" them, they risk ridicule.   i wonder if 100  years from now, someone will, being far removed from any connection between the characters might read the story, poem, essay or cry for help and instead of rolling their eyes, will internalize and empathize and remember strangers who loved, lost and felt the emptiness that being human is able  to experience among those brave enough to put pen to paper.

nina

Are we bound for glory?
sadly we may never know
until the light fades
completely from our eyes...


   ~nina~