Missing School Already

I'm getting towards the end of my bachelors degree.

This hit me while I was sitting in class last night. I thought about a previous class I'd had in that same classroom, where we had talked about Beowulf and British fairy tales...and then of other English classes. In them I've enjoyed tearing into books, sharing my thoughts and hearing what others think, particularly when they came at the readings from angles I hadn't considered. That's what I love about school. That's what I really, really love. Just sitting down and digging into stories with classmates.

I'm going to miss that.

Sure, I can get people who will peek out of beloved books long enough to talk to me about them elsewhere. For example, at the H.P. Lovecraft Festival (also known as Cthulhu Con). But how often does that come around?

It's my senior year, and I'm really close to graduation. (I would have graduated already if anxiety/depression hadn't messed me up.) I'm already missing school, despite how difficult it has become for me. I'm trying to console myself that it's possible to audit English classes once I've got a bit of money down the road.

And I find myself thinking...I remember being a bit bemused when a classmate wanted a group photo on the final day of summer term, explaining that it was her last day at Marylhurst University. Now I finally get it.

Marylhurst in July 2009

A Celebration of White Hairs

When I first started getting bookmarks of my life in the form of white hairs I'd happily count them. I made vague plans about dying them red someday because that sounded like fun, and why not have fun with them? And I hoped I would get a streak of white hair since white streaks look lovely.

By now I won't even try to count those bold white hairs, though they're still few enough that they aren't always noticeable. I'm not so sure about my former plans to dye them red, because yeah red is awesome but so is the contrast between my dark almost black hair and the white. Plus, I can tell that I'm getting the beginnings of a white spot on the top and center of my head. This last fact has me quite delighted.

Oh...and I'm reminded often enough that most people don't see white hairs as a good thing. In fact, they're often viewed very negatively.

I won't claim that aging has never bothered me. I have had the quarter life crises thing where I was saying to my boyfriend (pretty much word for word ) "I'm a quarter of a century old and what am I doing with my life‽‽‽"

Despite that, I'm perfectly happy with my white hairs.

In response to this culture I live in, I came up with this awkward idea to find a way to showcase how beautiful white hairs are by photographing them. Though, I have no idea where to share these photos or how even photograph them in a way that people know what they're supposed to be looking at. Hence, why I feel like this idea is awkward.

Awkward hasn't stopped me from trying to take such photos a couple of times, and I sort of wonder if anyone else might want to join in this celebration of bookmarks in our hair. Anyone?

my white hairs

Bi Week

This is Bisexual Awareness Week. It's a time dedicated to discussing bisexual issues and also covering the important little detail that, yeah, we exist.

bi triangles

At first I wasn't sure what to write about bisexuality, since yeah I can't help but think about it daily, but I wasn't finding myself with any new thoughts that I hadn't already written on. Then I observed two things in myself that are worth mentioning, simply to discuss the bisexual experience.

First is probably a non-issue for those who don't experience depression. It probably isn't such an issue either for people who don't take it personally when people miss seemingly obvious points and seem incapable of freaking listening to facts (that this gets under my skin is something I finally figured out about myself recently).

Thing is, I get so exhausted and frustrated and even depressed from people spouting stupid stuff about bisexuals, and by bad news in the queer world, that this prevents me from engaging in the bi community at times. Actually, for much of the past year or so. Which is sad when I think about it, since I do want to be talking to other bisexuals about bi related stuff.

What's the solution? I don't know. But I know I can't be the only one feeling like this (and I'm sure there are others who feel like me for each of the letters in the LGBT+ world) so I thought it an important point to bring up.

The other thing I noticed is that I still have the habit of making assumptions about sexual orientations. This is despite the fact that I don't like it when others assume I'm straight...something that's inevitable when I'm out with my boyfriend. I was reminded that I do this, however, when I found out this week that someone I've assumed to be straight is actually bi like me.

What really amazes me is that this happened despite a similar thing happening last summer. As I was talking to a new friend who I knew had a boyfriend, she mentioned previous girlfriends. That took me off guard, and I'd thought I learned my lesson about making assumptions. Obviously though, I'm still learning.

The moral of this particular story? I guess it's that people can try their best, and still fall short of what they want for the world. But the important thing is that we keep trying.

I'd like to end this particular post with a poem that illustrates why it is that I think about my sexual orientation daily, as I mention above. It's written and recited by Ashley Mardell, someone who is gay/bisexual/pansexual/queer...she uses different terms at different times. It's a poem I keep returning to.