pissyrabbits

its my M.O.
i always prepare for the worst and hope for the best.
But what happens when you actually needed to prepare for the ‘best’?

last summer i sent a letter

i received the return reply today.
I was NOT prepared for it.
i almost felt angry
because i wasnt prepared
because he was never actually ’supposed’ to write back
I was never supposed to have to think about what was next
i never expected to have to figure out what to do with the ball that was now in my court.

I was surprised to see his handwriting.
it made me feel something in the family of giddy.
that went away pretty quickly.

i told everyone i knew
then i called alex.
if anyone could give me anything that i could hold
it was going to be her.

“you don’t have to do anything”
thats all she had to say.
“the nice thing about this is that you dont owe each other anything at this point”

it would be nice to have this person who knows my history back.
but i dont even know what i would say?
i have had dozens of dreams where we run into eachother and everything is fine
and we stand right where we met up
and talk for hours
and its like nothing has passed between us
and i tell him about my genius neice
and i tell him about my wonderful life
and i tell him what happened with moufa
but i also tell him about B

however, neither of us is ready for all that
but i dont know what we actually ARE ready for.
so until i know
im keeping it to myself.

im trying to balance my happiness with my absolute disgust with how stupid people are.

the thing that makes me most sad about being gay is that i would not be able to have a baby that is half me and half the person i love most in the world.
there has been a surprising amount of research done on this.
and “making men redundant” might be the funniest and most ludicrous 3 words ever put together.

i can see it now…..straight woman all over the world saying
“i know!!!! instead of having sex to have babies….im going to go through all this scientific mess to have a baby!!!!!”

brilliant

i cant wait until we have no more need for men
even to open jars.

i was tearing up my apartment yesterday and ran across a bunch of things that I wasnt prepared for
and actually it was Breakfast that found one of them.

Under my bed is a small wooden box that has some of Moufa’s things in it.
His collar and tags and 2 of his favorite toys.
Stuff i havent had the heart to get rid of

She pulled out his ‘purple monster’
it is a rag of a thing
and he would carry it around by a tiny string that used to be the seam that held its head on.

watched her smell it for a long time
then she picked it up very carefully by what is left of its arm
and carried it to her blanket
she groomed it for about 20 minutes before she fell asleep on it.

he will be gone 3 years this summer

i think she misses that terror as much as i do

I found myself angry for the first time today.
i think its been coming for awhile

angry
for canceled vacations
for the purging of our ‘virtual archive’

angry
for photos that make my heart break because of the passion contained in them
and for photos that are not mine that make me feel dismissed.

my anger surprises me and angers me more
because i have been so diligently searching and analyzing and tip-toeing
to make sure im not being reactionary in my new life
and in that work, and distraction and peace and happiness,
somewhere,
i skipped the part where i get to be angry.

ok…
so, since the beer defense is thin
i will help

if the strange, nerdy robot programmer looks like this:

and can do this:

i’ll take it

YP: “if you want dorky links for your post, this is what i was doing with the other dorks here”

hmmm
girls who program robots

who knew i would think that was hot?
(besides Glenn)

maybe the nerdiest strangest text message i have ever received came to me last night
it read,
in part,

“yes. I’m still at work. But its ok because I’m programming robots”

im not sure that i will ever get another one quite the same again.

in my previous life as a blogger, i did my fair share of writing about the state of the world.
or
at the very least,
i wrote about things also not related to being drunk with gormley.
but i cant read the news
and i cant bear to watch whats happening
and i feel like i havent had the energy to yell loud enough
so ive been hiding my head and pretending that we are not watching the world fall apart at the seams.
this last year has drained me more than i was able to fathom.
i am just now starting to recover from the constant banging of my head against a wall that was not going to change on my schedule.
tonight, i read some news
it was the first time in weeks
its going to take me a little while to catch up to anything unrelated to Anna Nicole-Smith
but i’ll get there.
then im probably going to be pretty mad.
and?!?!?
please, if someone already made Dubya king while i wasnt paying attention, tell me so i dont have to read it in the style section of the Times.

the clouds were (fucking) ridiculously beautiful today
they looked like the ones that i drew when i was a kid.
the sky ending up being the color of the only blue crayon i had,
which would never have been the one i would have picked if i had all of the 64 crayolas.
but the “right colors” were broken or lost
so i made due with the colors i had.

and they ended up just as pretty.

i was decidedly not doing the stations of the cross this morning.