Life's a bitch.

“Life’s a bitch, living in the first world.” My friend Becky says this often, when picnicers complain about the everyday, the mundane. It seemed…appropriate.

Three people have now responded to the various pieces of writing that pecked out of my tired fingers today. And all three had the same thing to say: “You should feel lucky. You live in America. You have rights and freedoms others only dream about.”

How very, very true. There are a host of different rights and privileges I do enjoy on a daily basis, many of them with a great deal of enthusiasm – like writing how I really feel about yesterday’s results.

To me though, it all seems like comparing apples to solid-state booster rockets. It’s not that I don’t appreciate the rights I already have – that’s not the point. I am tired of the hypocrisy. Of this American Dream, and the freedom of choice and expression, and the host of other ideals that we tout worldwide – not all get to participate and I find the most dissatisfaction with that. “Don’t piss on my shoe and tell me it’s raining.” Don’t tell me you’re protecting traditional marriage, while you really try and marginalize my people. It insults my intelligence, and makes me write these terribly long passages that cause everyone so much concern.

I’ve also been asked to see all the beauty that surrounds me, to not give up on the wonders of everyday life. It’s been said that all of life isn’t one big storm cloud.

I agree.

My life is one of the best around; or at least I’d like to argue. I have two wonderful families. I have a wonderful boyfriend and a quirky feline companion. I have kind, considerate, and compassionate friends. I have plans for the future. I have been blessed with more opportunities than I can count. I am well provided for. I have people watching over me.

Life hasn’t always been that way though. During the dark times, feeling was something foreign, a non-issue even. Pain, suffering, anguish, hurt, pleasure, passion, love, happiness, and even joy…they did not exist for a period much longer than seems possible in looking back today. And that is where the thoughts of today rise.

I debated long and hard before sitting down in hopes of expressing my hurt and anguish. Was it appropriate, could I be sincere and honest? I believe I was. So often in this life, I have taken horrible occurrences and brushed them off, but for once I had to feel it. I had to allow the hurt and pain and torture to overcome me and then flow out in order to return to a state of grace.

I had hoped those that read what I had to say would have found the glimmers of hope, the call to action, the pleas to not forget the ones that are most affected by what has happened, our children. Perhaps though, it all got lost in the storm of emotion.

The clouds are clearing. Come walking with me, in the light of the new day.

Good things come in threes...

So I had a chat with my friend Scott today:

Jake: I'm sorry if I missed you, I'm still a bit dazed from yesterday
Scott: what happened yesterday? other than prop 2
Jake: Well, with 100% of precincts reporting in, we've discovered that 76% of Texans are f***heads.

Jake: I for one intend to be the first to take a leak on Chisum's grave
Jake: I don't know if that's the anger and hurt talking or my innate sense of poetic justice:
Jake: "Don't piss on my shoe and tell me it's raining"
Jake: which is not to be confused with: "We're only trying to protect traditional marriage"
Jake: B
Jake: S
Jake: you don't like gay people, just say it, it's not going to hurt our feelings. Oh! We'll take turns!
Jake: Mr. Chisum, you're a short little sprite of a man who looks like he might enjoy a bit of sodomy one in a while

Scott: lol traditional marriage... u mean where women marry men because society puts them in a position where they cant survive on their own?
Scott: i thought THAT was the marriage we were trying to get away from!
Jake: oh gosh no!
Jake: we want women subjugated!
Jake: and for proof, let me show you the 18 passages in the Holy Book
Jake: that endorse my position
Scott: lol
Jake: which I totally oppose being able to quote the Bible for evidentiary support
Jake: it's not like I can pick up an issue of OUT or The Advocate
Jake: and start quoting random bits as reasons we should do this and that
Scott: lol
Scott: but silly
Scott: god didn't write OUT
Jake: oh
Jake: and I suppose God is that smelly hippy sitting in that corner cafe in Paris
Jake: frantically typing away
Scott: blasphemer!
Jake: PLEASE
Jake: any idiot knows the Bible was written by men here on Earth
Jake: and the whole New Testament was written by Jesus' friends
Jake: we all know what happens when our friends tell stories about us…
Jake: they tend to exaggerate
Scott: lol
Jake: Disciple #1: “And there was this one time...Jesus just walked out on the water"
Jake: Disciple #2: “No way man! You're totally smoking dope if you think I'm gonna believe that one."
Jake: Disciple #1: “Yes way dude! I saw it with my own two eyes! Swear to Jesus' dad."
Scott: it was probably a f***ing sand bar or something
Scott: lol
Jake: I think it was an elaborate array of mirrors
Jake: ...or Jesus was an alien
Jake: one of the two
Scott: or maybe he was some descendent of a higher power who was begotten by a woman who claims to have never actually had contact with the second zygote that is needed for the procreation that this higher power himself invented
Scott: ...
Scott: naw ur right, aliens sounds more likely
Jake: haha

Scott made me laugh a little. High five, Scott. High five.

Everywhere I Look

My face is everywhere I look today. My face is on every university newspaper I see. Prop 2 passes, by an incomprehensible margin – and my face is everywhere.

I’m masking the pain, claiming that this doesn’t hurt so much because my city, my county turned it down. It’s an empty attempt though, this does hurt, and those that hate us merely laugh that Travis is alone in this fight. Liberal Haven isn’t much threat to the Believers.

I have come to realize many things in just the few moments I’ve allowed myself to experience this stinging. I now see why we can’t manage to hold stable and meaningful relationships, I see the slippery slope, I feel the hate, the contempt.

My solitary and most cherished fear in all of this is dying alone. It always has been, and always will be. A man can be comforted by his wife as he dies peacefully, or painfully, while strapped to a hospital bed. Her face is the last thing he can see before the end. He will know love in his very last moments on earth. I might not. I might not see my love’s face, to feel his tight grip on a weakening hand as I slip from the bonds of this life, no kiss.

They claim, “This would never happen!” “Doctors could not keep you apart!” “That’s not the intent of the law!” And he claims, my family claims, “We wouldn’t let that happen!” But the sobering reality is – it could. I could lie alone, despised in my last moments on earth, while they argue with some bigot who is intent on gaining entry to Heaven by denying their requests, their pleas.

They claim that we don’t deserve the same things because we don’t have committed relationships – that we don’t know how – that we don’t want to. Put aside mentions of the scores of us that prove this wrong, that we love each other all the same. Their slippery slope keeps us from doing that. Their protection of those things sacred to them fundamentally denies us the very things they say we should have.

I cannot lie. They make me question my fitness to love, my fitness to have a meaningful relationship. You hear their lies enough and you begin to believe everything – even if they are just lies. I fear marriage, I fear commitment because of these things, and because I cannot promise to him that beyond any reasonable doubt that I can be at his bedside when he leaves me. How can I promise to love someone like they say I should, If I can’t even do that simple of a thing, not to mention easily protect each other from legal and financial attack, adopt or have children, hold hands in public.

Hold hands in public. Not just “friendly South Congress” public – I mean everywhere public. We simply can’t do that. We would feel the hate, sense the contempt. Does anyone have the faintest idea of the strength it takes to maintain self-respect, a sense of dignity, a cherished grace from day to day?

It is often pled, “Why do you have to call them ‘your people.’ Aren’t we all the same? There isn’t any difference between what you are and what we are.” And no, there is not – in such a Technicolor view of our world. But we are different, because we are called abnormal, told we are going to unspeakable places when we die, told that our love is not real. You do not have that. And for that I admire you every day of my life.

From you though, we find sympathy, we find compassion. We find love, support, open minds, and a willingness to stand. You willingly put yourselves into harm’s way, risk much to stand for my people. And for that I will be eternally grateful.

From our people, we find empathy. We cry together, we know the pain, we share the hurt and toil. This binds us together as a different kind of family, but a family nonetheless. And in that way, some of us are lucky. We have you, we have our people; we are people lucky enough to have two families.

I fear though what happens to our children. The ones that see all that goes on, see the evil and hate, see that they are not wanted. Children will die because of this – they will see that their love isn’t cherished, isn’t wanted. They are told their people will bring the downfall of the family and society. Is it any wonder they will take their lives in order to spare the world, commit the ultimate act of self-sacrifice in order to save a world they feel their existence dooms?

I grieve for myself, I grieve for the one I love, I grieve for those that love and support me, I grieve for both my families. None of this compares though to what I know our children feel. Right now they are hurting more than any person should ever have to hurt.

All that is left to do now is talk about these things. Be there to support each other, continue to love, to take a stand. As is often the case at these times, we feel like giving up, calling a stop to everything, resigning ourselves to the fate which those that hate us have convinced us we should live with.

But that won’t do. That is unacceptable. We won’t play that game anymore. It is time to change the rules. It is time to heal. It’s time to start talking.

They claim that theirs a battle for the hearts and minds of America. Ours will be a battle for the souls of our children, our families and ourselves.

We win. They lose. That’s how we play this game.