He popped the question...

He popped the question Friday night. He totally caught me by surprise!

I opened a slew of birthday presents. The last one was homemade. He always makes me something. They are always good.

This time it was a poem:

my best friend jake

my best friend jake has beautiful eyes
you can look at them and see forever
you can see the happiness, the sadness
and, if you look closely, his cat

but most of all, you can see his love
love abound for friends, family, his can
and, oh yeah, me

my best friend jake has a beautiful smile
he was born that way
a genuine, warm and very cute smile

my best friend and i were meant to be
we were waiting to be found
we came to each other at the right time
just when we needed to be together

we started innocently enough
one wanting to know more about the other
and within a few short days
we fell in love

could this be true? am i dreaming?
i knew he was out there, but i wasn't for sure
yet, he is true, he is real
and, i can't let him go

we've have done so much together since that day
in so short of a time, yet it comes natural
it seems as though we did this before
possibly...another time, another place

he's become my best friend
i can laugh with him, joke with him
push his buttons

and, at the end of the day
we love each other more

i have work to do
i have people to tell
i may tell too many people
but there's nothing wrong with that
because i love him

there is one final qustion i want to ask
one that will solidify our love
"will you marry me?"

Of course I said yes.

You should see the ring. Everytime I look at it, it sparkles and I think of him.

I'm excited about what this means. Not that we weren't going to spend the rest of our lives together - it's just that now everyone else knows it.

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.

Belated thanks...

A letter to a long time friend.

It has been years now, a long stretch of years, too much time passing, but I still remember that feeling. Though it has been long since we’ve last talked, it is rare that long periods of time pass without me thinking of you.

There is little that I remember about you, regrettably, but I still remember your face, your smile. I remember that from the moment I met you I knew you were “good people.”

And then I get to the same point I always do. I was blind, yet you led me to safety. You brought me home.

For someone like me, that has lived the life I have, that does not easily trust under any circumstances – to give up that kind of control was excruciating. From a detached point of view, the whole thing seems silly to a random passer-by, you led me just as everyone else was led, but there was a difference, there was grace.

To this day I don’t know if was your heart that made me so at ease, your sure directions in the darkness, or just knowing that you would lead me as best you could, that you would fight with me, instead of for me, to get me where I was going.

You gave me back my faith. I had been broken and bruised in time with things so dark I rarely speak of them now, for they are things I would rather not remember. Faith in others – you let me trust again.

I suppose this is the part I’ve been having the most trouble with. I still remember the advice someone gave us during those short days we were at the camp – at various points in your life to write to those people that helped to shape your life – to thank them for what they’d done.

So this is a thank you letter, but at the same time it is not. I get a feeling that thanks in a situation like this isn’t what matters, it is you knowing that you’ve done well for the world – you have touched someone and you have helped him in turn touch others. You’ve helped me become who I am. You needed to know.

You will always be the girl that led me home.

Jake

Missing you...

I roll over, groggily feeling around for you, patting around - searching for your shape in the darkness. My hand glances off something warm, and furry - damn cat. His green eyes light up as he glares at me, annoyed at being woken from his kitty dreams.

I pull myself from bed, cold air from the AC set too low hits and I go full-goosebumps, hairs standing on end trying to escape the chilling. How am I going to make it until that time I dream about...when I get to fall into bed next to you every night?

I walk to the kitchen to get a drink of water, feeling around, flipping on the switch, blinding by the light, swearing softly under my breath. This would be so much easier with you here.

I stuble back into the bedroom and plop myself down at the keyboard, trying to find words to write to you and instead tap away something completely different.

You are what I dreamed of and never thought would possibily come true. Now you are here and I don't know what to do with myself. I still don't quite believe it, a constant tug on the mind, fearing that a pinch would wake me from this dream and that you'd disappear with it.

But that doesn't matter does it? Because we'd find each other anyway...

"..if I have to hijack a space ship to find you on the planet Nebulon, then I'll do that too..."

That's still my favorite.

I am happy.

The emails and news reports keep pouring in. I’ve actually come to dread that little chime telling me I have messages waiting, simply because I know that interspersed between sale ads and personal correspondence, there will be more emails about things I’d rather not think about.

In fifteen weeks people across an entire state will go to polls and vote. They will be voting to place my people into a status as second-class citizens. I would be incorrect to say that it doesn’t hurt. It has hurt for millennia, every time one group of people tries to overpower another. Now it is our turn to take our place at the whipping post, to be the ones put at the very front of society and beaten down like so many animals.

They think what they are doing is morally correct, that they are saving their families and children, that they will be praised in their version of the after-life for what they are doing now – ridding the world of an evil, or at least keeping it at bay.

Many think I should hate them for that, and hate those that agree that we should be placed on a lower rung of society, but the simple truth is that I cannot. For all the harm and hurt they cause my people, I do not hate them.

Their holy book says three things which I hold dearer to my heart than they could ever, three passages that allow me to go about my life free from the pain and weight of hating so many people.

First, that their god commands that they love all people as they love themselves. That passage didn’t come with disclaimers, there are no riders, no exclusions; all people are to be loved, so I will be the bigger person and do what they are seemingly incapable of.

Second, when their god, in human form was crucified and hung on the cross now symbolic of their faith, he called out to his father high above, in a timeless act of grace and humility, begging his father to forgive the people because they didn’t know what they were doing. In that selfless act he saved entire generations of people, he became the ultimate martyr. I do not wish to become a martyr, but I can follow his example. Every day I beg their god to forgive them. It allows me to live. I cannot blame or judge them for what they do not know. They don’t know me, my lover, my friends, my family, my community, our values, our faiths and beliefs. To blame them for not knowing, would be like blaming a small child for not knowing how to read. I cannot blame them for things which they haven’t been taught yet, for things they don’t yet understand.

And third, the admonishment that they not judge because they would be summarily judged on entrance to the afterlife. I have no right to judge these people, and though the human side of me still does from time to time, I believe that they will be judged, whether here or there, and that I need not complicate my life with such matters.

Perhaps this life is all we have. If so, I would so hate ruining it by hating other people and going about making others and myself miserable. Perhaps we are all born into hell and are reincarnated lifetime after lifetime until we learn the fundamental truths of existence and are allowed to move on. If so, I would like to think I am already ahead in the running. And perhaps their faith is correct, that when this is all over there are two places one can go. Whether I go to eternal salvation or eternal damnation, the people here will still live on, they will carry my memory, even if for a short time. I think it best to set an example and try and leave those who are living with an example that might allow them to live a happy life.

That all being said, I have but one point left to make. I am happy.

After a carefree childhood, the dark years, the reemergence and on to today, it hasn’t been an easy life, but it has been fun. Nothing will make them angrier than to hear such a thing. That someone like me, despite their best efforts to break my people down, is still happy, will likely make them hate me even more.

I say let them. I have but one life ahead of me, and I intend to use it as best I can. They squander theirs away trying to make others just as miserable as they themselves are. But I will be happy.

I have love, family, friends, community, and a knowledge that lets me see this world for what it is and what I want it to be. I am happy.

But it must also be said that what they now do will make life much harder for both my people and myself. Things that were once simply difficult will now present odds of success that are slim to none.

I don’t know about you, but I’ll take slim to none any day.

The times ahead are tough, but me must be happy, we must be strong, we must love and support one another before everything else. The fights will be fought. They will be won and lost. The wars may rage, but back home we will still be together, we will still be family.

And for that, I couldn’t be happier.

And so it begins...

"I wake up every morning both determined to change the world and have one hell of a good time.
Sometimes this makes planning my day a bit difficult."
- E. B. White -

It will start in 4 hours. We will start fighting something big, something bigger than ourselves. We fight for the innocent, we fight for what's right...

I drove back in the dark of night, the light from the streetlights passes through the windshield and matches perfectly with the lyrics floating from the stereo,

...lights will guide you home and ignite your bones...

How approprite. I came from one of those meetings. One of those times in your life when you sit down with good people, you know what you're doing is right. There is ignition. My heart is alive. I feel like I could stay up for hours.

This is me. I was put here to change the world, I am here to lead my people. I think it is about time I start listening to that calling.

This will be a wildly fun ride. Someone clear my calendar.
I have work to do.