Maybe I could think of some things to say. They mostly involve the liking of several boys and the dismal situation on the butch lesbian front. My little “sister” is getting married, I’m almost finished with my third of FIVE baby blankets, and one shawl for someone dear to me who had to birth her baby and say goodbye to him all in one day at five months gestation. I’m prepping items for a fiber art show. I’m working a sucky part time job for an attorney who can’t pay me enough or give me enough hours or, you know, any benefits to speak of. If I don’t get proper fucked soon someone’s going to get punched in the mouth. At the risk of sounding like a whiner, I am menstruating again for the third time this year. That is three times more than in the past five years combined. I mightmightmight be getting back to a place in my health journey where becoming a biological parent could be possible. Toughest part so far? Finding a coparent.

Come find me. Let’s be friends. IRL if you will. If you’ll have me? Funny dutch last name, crooked smile, curly hair, curves and all.

I love you.

Facebook.com/missavarice
twitter.com/missavarice

(This is from some time ago. 2007? 2008? It happened when I was getting my freedom back. I’m feeling a lot like this these days, too.)

Greg was one of the first bloggers I began following regularly when I started writing here in 2007. If I recall correctly, that is also about the time she started writing also. We even went halvsies on a secret santa gift for a young person at a center for homeless lgbt teens that year. She has warmed my heart many times with that dang cute smile, a persistent search for truth and self-appreciation, and her brilliant femme sensibilities. The box that arrived on my doorstep was probably one of the best, most thoughtful things to happen to me in a long time. Everyone loves presents, but for a vegetarian foodie strapped for cash, a box of quality food is golden! It has taken enormous strength to refrain from eating all of the cookies. Also, I have hidden them from my housemates. Yom! I’m still devising a plan for reciprocating or paying forward this delightful gift, but I’ll be sure to report on it.

In some other news, I played the part of bedroom guest this weekend to a couple I’ve known basically since I was born (they are only a couple of years older than I am). It was playful and good, exactly the type of interaction I would have hoped for. There have been some encounters with the ex I love so dearly, and with my gent. Strangely, I have been the giver in all of them and did not receive anything in return. That will really have to be remedied as soon as possible.

Must away to bed now, my lovelies. Be well and stay safe.

I can’t even remember April. I think I did a lot of homework – somehow my student loan money disappeared. May was occupied with trying to find a job – which I did, accidentally. My car’s transmission was broken for a month. I emptied my IRA to pay for it to be fixed. I’ve been trying to apply for food stamps but I haven’t heard back from them yet. I stopped taking Wellbutrin because I couldn’t afford the $50/month and they don’t have a patient assistance program for the extended release and I can barely be trusted to take it once a day, let alone twice. I was out of diabetes medicine for 2 weeks because my university’s health clinic wanted me to pay a fee to use the services except that my doctor said she didn’t need to see me until september and we didn’t realize that I needed a refill until after the semester was over. Speaking of school, the department of education still thinks I’m below 67% completion and I now have to prove that I had a legitimate reason to drop all of my classes last Spring before they will allow me to get federally subsidized loans again. This is why I’m not taking summer classes. I had to overdraw my checking account to pay for my mobile phone, which was when I found out that after 11 years of membership, my credit union had no problem closing my account and refusing me a new one if it had stayed overdrawn for over a month. Luckily I was able to deposit enough money to preserve the account. I have had a tire with a slow leak since late April which I can’t afford to replace so I’ve been keeping my gentleman friend’s tire pump, which I have to use about every 4 days. I’m surprised I have been able to keep enough gas in my tank to get to/from work. Speaking of work, it is more than minimum wage, but less than what I need and only 28 hours a week. I think I’ve gotten the hang of it, but I still think I need a second job. Although it is office work, I still come home exhausted. I’m getting used to waking up at 8. I’m ill suited for mornings. Plus I’m trying to pack this week for my move on Saturday – even further downtown – into a 2 bedroom house with margarita and her beloved. Although the rent will be considerably cheaper, my sewing studio is going to be in a garage with no windows or a/c. Speaking of sewing, I have a client that needs four business casual separates pieces by next Wednesday which I have not started – plus it turns out I don’t have money to buy some of the materials because I had to pay bills with the deposit she gave me. It’s hot. I still need to pay for car insurance, which I had to drop down to the lowest legal amount and I still can’t pay it.

The food situation is maddening. This week I’ve been eating rice and canned beans. margarita has been feeding me leftovers because she’s already had her food stamps approved. I’ve spent a total of $40 on food over the last six weeks. One day I came home crying because I was so hungry and all I wanted was some fucking bananas and I didn’t even have change for a banana. Of course every time I come up with an excuse to be upset about something, someone else turns up with a worse problem than mine, which is what happened that day. I have a friend whose family kicked him out for not being able to get a job, another friend whose job is so far away that the last bus stop is over a mile from her employer’s location.

See, I’ve got my head above the waters but is that a true metaphor? I’m curious about the life under the surface – what will I find? New friends I never knew I had? Beautiful experiences that I’m missing out on because I’m so adamant about struggling back to dry land?

I feel like every time I catch my breath I get knocked down again. I just have to keep getting back up.

While I’ve enjoyed my gentleman friend’s company very much, I’ve concluded that I really am oriented to female bodied people. Had an unfortunate experience with a man nearly twice my age recently. He backed me into an “I love you” corner after our first outing and then pitched a huge fit when I told him 2 days later I was not ready to take things to the next level. I’m looking for the old school butch to match my classic femme. Someone close enough to my age who’s ready to start building a future. Who doesn’t believe in unrealistic expectations of love & relationships, but still appreciates romance and (feminist) chivalry. I’ve been missing Dana – the one who loved me and cared for me even when things were tough – especially because in less than a week I’ll be moving out of the home we have shared for the past 3 years. She is my friend and we fit like puzzle pieces. We love each other, and yet in this phase of life we cannot be partnered to each other. I worry for her as she branches out on her own, but I have to finally let her go, especially since it has been over a year since we ended our relationship.

If you got this far, I’m sorry for writing so much. I hope to be reporting brighter things before summer’s end. Life is good, I’m just learning my lessons.

<3

P.S. One good thing about May was my birthday party. margarita got some of my friends together to celebrate on my birthday with wine, tea, cosmopolitans, crudites and cake. I had a lovely time and it is definitely one of the bright spots over the past 2 months. I’m still dreaming about walking in the door and getting handed a martini. That’s a happy thought!

Four years ago, on the 12th of March I drove home from my mission base in Appalachia, a 13 hour drive. I had spoken to the base leaders to ask to resign the 2 year commitment I had made weeks earlier in order to continue my education, with the intention of returning to my post on staff eventually. But by the time I had packed my things, I had decided I was never coming back. I spoke with the mentor who had been assigned to me from the start, a girl who was 11 days older than me. I told her I had made peace with the fact that I was gay, that I had prayed and agonized over it for 7 years at that point and that I was going to love myself for who I was. She said that it would be wrong of me to not disclose this dramatically variant doctrine to the base leaders because they are spiritually responsible for me. I thought that was absolute crap, so I decided I would just leave. Eventually, a couple months after I left, she told the rest of my brothers and sisters why I had essentially deserted without warning or explanation. I guess I understand why, they wanted to know why I vanished.

Thee years ago this week, I met my first big love. We instantly connected, had so much in common, and got along so well.  I wanted a family and a future with Dana. It wasn’t perfect, but we knew how to communicate and that skill took us far. Even still, as housemates, friends, and former lovers, we understand each other deeply and support each other as best we can. I learned so much from her, and I know she was changed by our relationship as well. I am so proud of all the changes I’ve seen her make in the ways she relates to others, and I know I’m making progress in my pursuit to stay organized and avoid clutter and messes. Two years ago we were so happy and in love, I was finishing school and she was working hard at her new job, we had a beautiful little house and a our dear animal companions to keep us company. When I told her I would always love her, whether our not we could stay together, I meant it. A year ago we were having trouble and it only got worse, but the hardest part about it all was that we loved each other. It would not have hurt as much if we were sick of each other, but our spiritual, emotional and psychological paths simply diverged. Now we are having to relearn how to be affectionate, and it’s going ok, but sometimes I have to harden my heart. If I don’t, the ache of longing for things as they once were might be too great to bear.

March has always been a big month for me. Some things are going on astrologically that seem to be a big deal, important activity in the areas that affect my work especially. I’m excited to see what’s going to happen. In the mean time I’m going after the things I want, like sewing jobs, and developing my apparel design and alterations business. Things are gonna change. I can feel it.

Femme in the Kitchen #1: My nutrient packed breakfast includes Oats for Wellness and Whirled Berries
Femme in the Kitchen #2: Sugar is a synonym for affection in the South. Too much of a good thing, however, can become an obstacle to good health.
Femme in the Kitchen #3: Sometimes taking care of oneself means taking the time to cook healthful meals, even when you’re already hungry.

I Was Femme All Along: There was a period of time when I was a kid under the age of 10 that I refused to wear pants. Skirts were the only option. I now realize that wasn’t the only evidence of femmeness before I came out.
Femme Community: Scattered: In this post I talk about my relationship to the femme community, but it’s a bit complicated since I have only really identified with the term femme since 2007.
My Femme Role Models: A lot of my femme role models weren’t even queer. Does that still make them my femme role models?

Each month at the Femme’s Guide, my colleague posts a writing prompt to help keep the TFG community thinking, learning and growing. Follow us on twitter, @femmesguide or add us to your usual blog reader/rss feed.

Have a great week! I’ll be back soon to write about my feelings, which I’m sure you’re getting tired of hearing.

Also, I need a job. Anybody got a job I can do remotely? Broke doesn’t even come close to where I’m at right now. *sigh*

<3

Attention all Femmes that are strapped/poor/broke ass/working class Artists! Performers! Writers! Activists! Wanderers! Seekers!

We are looking for submissions for our zine compilation of stories and art from the road that we are calling Bus Fare To Kentucky.

Show us how do you feed yourself artistically and otherwise. How you afford plane tickets, train tickets and gas money. How you make it all fit in your suitcase. Show us your tour romances, hook ups, art inspiration and friends you made along the way. We want your struggle and your triumph. We want to know your hilarious, raunchy, heartbreaking and fierce stories of touring and traveling with your art (whatever that looks like for you) and making it work while maintaining your standard of Femme in the process.

We accept all visual art, photography, stories as long as it can be emailed. Stories must be submitted in Times 12 point single spaced. Art must be a reasonably high DPI and viewable on a Mac.

Femmes of any gender encouraged to submit. Tell your friends!

Deadline for this project is March 15th.

Please email kentuckybusfare@gmail.com.

Kiss Kiss,
Alysia Angel and Nicky Click

We’re having a short graveside service tomorrow. Brother arrived last Wednesday and got to spend the day with Uncle in the hospital. I’m really glad to have him here. I’m glad I did not tell him to come a day or two later like I was planning to. He would have missed Uncle’s last hours. It’s hard to relive my father’s death through my Uncle’s, and to have to face the facts about my family’s Muscular Dystrophy (which carries through females yet only affects males). It’s forcing me to think about my cousin, who is 35 years old but in the same state that my father was in at age 45. His heart is failing rapidly, he needs a heart transplant, and the likelihood of it happening any time soon is slim. I’m not close to my cousin by any means, but it is still distressing to think about how

this is what my sons will endure.

The sons that I might actually have one day, since my menstrual cycle decided to naturally restart, on its own without the help of drugs, for the first time in 6 years. Didn’t see that one coming and my inner angry feminist lesbian doesn’t want to accept the fact that it just might be due to all the extra time I’ve been spending within 5 feet of an XY male. I’ve thought about it and thought about it, and that’s the only explanation I can devise. I’ve been in better health than I am right now, so it can’t be my health. Or my weight, or the degree of sexual activity because all of those have been higher within the past 6 years.

I don’t think I’ve accepted Uncle being gone yet. I’m sure it will happen tomorrow. I’m awful at funerals. I weep bitterly even when I hardly knew the person who has gone ahead of us. Uncle had no wife or children, and I recently found out he had put me as one of his medical power of attorneys in his living will. He cared so much for me, but never found the words to say it. He taught me to play scrabble and had a special nickname for me, and his eyes always lit up when I came to visit. I think I was like a daughter to him in some way.

I should get back to my homework. It feels good to write about this.

Remind me to write about my healthy friendship with Dana, who will remain my housemate until just over a year after our separation. Our anniversary is coming and I don’t know what I shall do for it. I wish I could better articulate how I feel about it. We love each other so dearly and yet there are some major reasons why we simply don’t work together.

Remind me to write about my recent sewing projects! And about my small business, small being an understatement. And remind me to write about school, my future, and my boyfriend (<— weirdest thing I've ever said on this blog). How is it that I have a boyfriend and yet I'm deeply situated within dyke culture? I still don't understand it all. I'm just letting it happen. He's helping me keep track of homework and money and job applications. It sucks that I'm no good on my own, and I'm thankful he doesn't mind working with me to organize my life. He is a good man, and that, I hear, is hard to find.

Sorry there's not much queer femme, sexuality, smut, health education information or feminist critique around here. It's been so long, I know, but I do feel like I am returning to those things.

Love to you all.

On a happier note, I just finished knitting a pink and raspberry striped off-the-shoulder boatneck short sleeved raglan sweater. It is quite a knitting win.

Sending my love and affection out into the blogiverse. As well as my best wishes for the revolutions underway in the middle east.

There is another boy too. Can you believe it? I don’t think I ever knew before recently that I any more lessons to learn about sexual freedom. I’m getting free of my binaries, giving myself some wiggle room within my queer identity. I’m still trying to figure how to respect and value all the work I put into developing my femme lesbian identity while allowing myself the freedom to love whom I chose. I am entrenched in lesbian culture. Can’t fucking get away from it. Even today I had to purposefully disengage from the smoldering ashes of a lesbian drama train wreck that had absolutely nothing to do with me except that I am related to each party in one or more of the following ways: roommate, former roommate, former schoolmate, ex-girlfriend, ex friend. Agggchhh! Wow, okay, so I guess I have some struggles to resolve in that area. Anyway. So I’m entrenched in lesbian culture. But I really really really like boys. And I don’t know how to talk to them, to express my interest, to flirt with them or to draw out their dominant tendencies because they are not lesbians. Also boys are weird and it seems as though even when they try to be communicative, I still miss the big cues (while picking up on the subtle details! Wtf?). I’m learning.

I have some things in common with this new other guy though and that helps. We both endured a protestant Christian upbringing and religious indoctrination programs in our early 20s. We both moved away from that lifestyle and are now in the business of empowering young people to think critically about society, institutions and power. His outreach is more formal as he is a high school sociology teacher while I prefer to form friendships with people while slowly introducing radical-ish concepts to them until they suddenly realize how much freer they could be. This boy has long well-groomed hair, handsome facial hair, and kind/mischievous eyes (like me!). He is a renaissance man (seriously, he’s a rennie) who knows how to cook and sew. He rides a motorcycle, though, and that makes me nervous but he’s super safe about it and wears lots of armor (which is why he’s still alive!). Also, his riding boots look SO tasty. Have I mentioned how much I love to kneel, kissing and licking and worshiping boots?

He is SO thin, though, and that makes me so nervous because/although I am a confident curvy lass. Less curvy now than I’ve been in a long time. I lost 20 pounds over the summer just by walking.

Tomorrow I’m bringing him cookies. He liked the others I made. I have no idea if he’s even interested in me at all. I don’t know how to read boys, I don’t know how this boy/girl stuff works. But I’m going to keep trying to express my interest in ways that are tasteful and timely.

Sooo. I like boys. And now, it matters less and less what’s inside a boy’s pants, as long as there is boy in their heart/demeanor/appearance.

Oh, P.S. I got a seasonal job, and have lots of homework for the next few weeks. Updating Femmesguide.com is definitely on the to do list.

All my love. No really. All of it. <3