Posts Tagged ‘drag queen’

Bring It

February 15, 2016

It was brought.

Of course, I don’t remember what I brought.

But it was brought.

It’s best when I don’t recall what I said, then I know that I was speaking from love, from my heart, that I have become a conduit for the message and not the mess.

Because, frankly.

I am often the mess.

There’s nothing wrong with that.



It’s messy.

My heart, it’s a messy place, but at least I get in it, I try, I stumble, I get hot and flushed and flustered and say something and cry.

And that’s in school.

But hey, I’m going to school to be a therapist, processing the pain is a part of it.

Being in the pain, meeting you in the pain, holding your hand and walking through to the other side.

Or just through the Castro.

I had the distinct pleasure of hanging out with a girlfriend who’s husband is out of town for the weekend she came with me to the Castro.

We had Philz.

Which might have been a mistake, I am not sure how I am going to fall asleep tonight.

I am a bit keyed up.

A wonderful early evening with a dear friend, a meal with my fellows, and meeting new friends and having old friends surprise me and so many hugs

So many.

My day was filled with hugs.

That is such a gift.

I gave a Valentines Day card to each person in my cohort and it was just the best feeling.


Well, when you’re told to bring it, I do and I was all gussied up, my new teal dress with the big flare skirt and the sweet heart neckline, loads of flowers in my hair my black and cream cardigan with the hearts on it (I literally wore my heart (s) on my sleeve all day long) and it was so much fun to deliver Valentines to my cohort.

I felt like the Valentines Day Fairy.

I got such wonderful response and it felt really good to give and not have asked for anything in return.

The return was the feeling I had when I was writing the card and thinking of the person and wishing them light and love and joy.

It was more for me, I think, in the end so much of it is, but I also know that the gesture touched a lot of my classmates and that felt special and joyous and I am grateful I took the time to write them all out.

31 Valentines.


I also got a surprise text from an old friend back in Wisconsin wishing me a happy Valentines Day.

There was a time when getting a Valentines Day wish from this man would have been a loaded gun to point and shoot at my unrequited love trigger.


It was just a sweet message.

Not an offer to fall into fantasy land.

Not an invitation to get miserable for the love I did not “think” I had.

I have so much love.

I mean.

I was inundated with it today.

These are your friends.


I gave myself lots of love.

I took some actions and really let myself feel the love that was there for me, I was available to take it in, to touch, to hold a hand, to pat a shoulder, to be present, to be of service.

It was an amazing day.

I practiced good self-love too.

I treated myself to lunch out during my school break and ended up having the most amazing lunch with two of my girlfriends from the cohort and a professor and a TA and it was just out of this world fun to hang out and eat lunch and connect with these incredible, smart, talented, creative women.

I felt like I held my own and added to the conversation.

I want to bring my best forward and I really felt like I was able to do that.

On the day that celebrates love I choose to do just that.

I will choose to do just that again tomorrow.

I choose it for this moment.

For all moments.

I may falter.

I may forget.

But I have faith that I will always get back up and dust off and do it again.

I may get heart broken.

But the heart grows bigger.

And that’s good.

I had a basket full of love to give out today and it felt extraordinary.

The noise of love.

The thrush in my heart.

The swallows swooping in the skin of sunset.

My face lifted to the smattering of stars riding into the indigo night.

I run rampart through the cacophony.

I am a part of this world, I don’t feel separated, I feel joined and loved and blessed and lucky.

Oh, so god damned lucky.

I have a vase, a Mason jar, but who’s counting, full of flowers on my table that I let myself buy for myself on Friday, I participated in class, I showed up, I was my best self, I tried.

I dressed pretty for myself.

And to say.

Hey, this is me and I’m done apologizing.

And I let the day happen the way the way the day was supposed to happen.

I got a pinky promise from a drag queen sitting in the window of a restaurant to continue to be so fabulous, “Girl you got it in that dress,” she said.


That’s something coming from someone as fabulous as she was.

I mean, I was flattered.

And best of all?

I am almost there.

One half day to go.

I’m going into work at 9 a.m. and I plan on being done by 2p.m.


Six days off.


Oh glorious time off.

Time off that I have promised to let myself enjoy and have fun and continue in the vein of self-love and self-care.

Valentines Day is once a year.

But my love.

The kind that sustains me.

Is always.


Valentines Day.

Every day.

Times infinity.

To the moon and back a thousand times.

Like that.

To Thine Own Self

January 19, 2015

Be true.

That’s what it says on the metal coin I was handed this evening.

I like that.

I spent a lot of time doing that today in small ways.

I slept in.

I ate my favorite breakfast.

I read some things and said some things and asked for another 24 hours of sobriety.

I meditated.

Outside, in the sun, fourteen minutes.

I had set the timer for twenty minutes, but a neighbor started having a very loud argument with someone on the phone about how she was going to “fuck them up” and that sort of disrupted the meditation.

However, it was really nice to sit, to be still, to let the feelings come.

I had more feelings today than I did yesterday.

I was so busy yesterday being busy that not too many of them managed to sneak in.  I did, however, realize they were there, although I tried to keep a cap on the lid.

I am not very good at suppressing my emotions though, they tend to flow over and that’s alright, they are allowed.

I received some very sweet messages, texts, phone calls, and e-mails regarding my relationship status returning to single this morning and that sort of brought on the waterworks for a moment, but then passed.

Which, fyi, I am grateful did not get blasted all over Face Book.  I remember quite well the last time I was in a relationship and then turned it back to single and everybody in the entire world chimed in.

There was not a peep when I went back to single.

Just maybe a few sad squawks in my heart.

I deleted the photos, took him off my news feed, and deleted our text message history.

Which in the moment was easy and now, well, now I wish I had read them one last time.  There were some extraordinary messages he sent me that I wouldn’t have minded perusing another minute or two.

But that just prolongs it, I know that it does, so it was best.

I have to delete the messages on Face Book as well, but for whatever reason seem unable to do so.  Although I was able to remove him from my instant message feed and to not look at his page at all.

I have to stay away and let the feelings run their course.

I also got to be true to myself by taking out my scooter, starting her up, and going for a ride to the Castro where I had a meeting with someone near and dear to me for an hour and a half.

We’re not suppose to meet that long, but he made me talk, and talk I did, and acknowledge that I was walled up and tight and did not want to open up.

I knew I would be crying at some point today, that’s what I do, so I wore no eyeliner, but I had some mascara on and despite it being waterproof it still flaked off onto the tops of my cheeks.

I got to be present and sit and talk it out and then do some reading and talk some more and let myself get talked into staying in the Castro–I had parked my scooter next to Most Holy Redeemer and knew I needed to stay put.


It was the best thing a heterosexual girl going through a break up could do.

I was safe, I knew I  could just wander around and look at pretty things in pretty stores and window shop and eventually I got a book at Books Inc and then sat in a coffee shop with a big cup of tea and read for a few hours.

I cannot remember the last time I did that.

I kicked through a good portion of the newish Stephen King novel, “Doctor Sleep.”

I love me some Stephen King.

I also bought my best friend in Wisconsin a Valentines Day card.

We exchange those and I saw one that reminded me of her and then I got walloped with emotion.

Valentines Day.




I don’t want to think about Valentines Day.


And then a quiet voice, a still voice, the voice of reason, was like, sweet child, stop.  Get in the moment, you’re in a bookstore, one of your favorite places to be, enjoy it.

So I did.

I walked around and browsed and smelled the good smell of new books and I got the card and the new novel and left feeling quite happy about getting back into a book.

It made me realize that there were a few things that fell away when I got involved in this relationship.

First, the blogging, then the reading, then my voice, then I got small.

“You sort of disappeared,” my friend texted me last night.

“You got so quiet,” another observed.

“You were mute,” he said to me across the table, “and then you weren’t.”

And then I wasn’t.

Things happened exactly how they are supposed to and I won’t stop being grateful for that.

But I did have some other feelings come up.


That surprised me.

I realized I was mad, that I had wanted the ex to work harder at the relationship, that I, oh.

There it is.


I want.

I need.

Do it my way.


I got to bring it right back to me and see where I was in the wrong, where I wasn’t vocal about some things, and where I get to have a voice in my next relationship.

There will be another.

I am getting back on the horse.

“What I noticed with __________ and also with _________ (the man I dated a few times before hooking up with my ex) is that although you approached them, they ran with it really fast, I mean, really fast.”


I need to slow the roll.

I do have the disease of faster, faster, more, more; but it has to be tempered and slowed down.


Coffee dates.

And walking dates and lunch dates and getting to know the person and keeping my autonomy and being me and being fabulous.

That was the other thing that was nice about being in the Castro today, feeling fabulous, yes subdued, but still fabulous, in my red lipstick and curly pony tails and red leather vintage letter man’s jacket.

“I know you from somewhere,” she said to me as she was walking out of the gated entrance to a walk up on Castro Street.  “Are you a drag queen?”


But I play one on tv.

I might be too much for the average boy.

But I am just perfect for me.

To thine own self be true.


%d bloggers like this: