Land of the Free and Home of the Brave

Something is missing.. As I sit here quietly preparing to spill the words of wisdom I hope to procure, I ask myself. Why? Why do I write? Why do I continue to apply attention that may or may not ever develop into anything? The answer is simple. I love it, and life is about love.  So then I ask my next question. What is the point? Well when I first opened up to the thought of writing a blog I wondered what to call it. I reflected on my own life and wondered what I would want to read. The biggest thing that came to mind was that I wanted advice. Maybe not even advice necessarily, but I wanted perceptions. I wanted to process thoughts of other people and compare them to my own beliefs. I wanted to grow in my own opinion. Listen to each belief and relate that to my own. Figure out who I am.

The hardest thing since graduation for me has been realizing that I'm no longer a child. I have real responsibilities. Not only does society expect me to develop and mature, but there is a constant yearning inside of me to BE. It's difficult to explain. I am becoming. Becoming.... Becoming what, I don't know. I just know that I appreciate the constant change and accept it as a natural part of life. Better yet, I welcome it. Who am I to think that right now I'm at my prime. How selfish would it be to believe that I am the best now that I'll ever be? I know without a doubt that the ampleness of the worlds wisdom will occupy me for a very, very long time. 

I was talking with my best friend... Beau. That's what I'll call her. She's been one of my closest confidantes over the last 3 years. We met my freshman year, and naturally I hated her. She was talented in every way, great looking, and as we would eventually find out... Gay. When I was young I hated a challenge. Anyway, Beau and I hung out last night. We try to have nights occasionally where we just sit. Reflect in each others company. A few years older than me, she is also much wiser. She brought up a very valid point that I've often felt, but never verbalized. She asked me a very serious and haunting question. She asked me, "Does it ever feel like you were born into the wrong time? Like maybe you were supposed to be born into a different era?" After I listened to her realization, I realized I felt the exact same way.

She pointed out that she felt as if she was to simple. She was content with love and happiness. She was also deprived of the passion found particularly in the seventies. I completely understand. I have always felt a little to deep, a little to overwhelmed with the sense of urgency behind life. To stand for something. The need to be a part of something much bigger than myself. I've always wondered how it would have felt to be a part of a time where love and peace were the ultimate ideas. Where kindness was not only understood, but still expected. A time where honesty and trustworthiness weren't foreign. Everyone was an activist and an optimist, and disbelief was abnormal. I long for a time where selflessness was offered without reward. Then I remind myself that there were exceptional people who started that movement. People just like me, and just like you who put faith into their hearts and lept into their own dreams hoping to create a wave of familiar passion around them. That faith rippled, and before we knew it there was a movement. A need to be better. That movement is slowly becoming extinct.      

We all know someone in their forties or fifties who has been doing this for a while, but it just didn't go the way they had hoped. Someone who when they look back, realizes that they wish they would have done more... Do you want to be that person? Are you going to settle for mediocre, or are you going to capitalize on your youth. Take into consideration that maybe its possible that you're supposed to be incredible and just go for it. After all... What do you have to lose? Just the other day I was watching an interview of Michael J. Fox and he said something that really intrigued me. He said "You don't always have to say yes, but say yes more than no because no doesn't get you anywhere." He's right. You can settle for mediocrity and allow yourself to dissolve into the routine monotony society has accepted as the norm, or you can take a chance. Chase a dream. Reach for a star. I suggest that you make life a little challenging. Don't pick the easy way out.

 Right now gays and lesbians are suffering from hate. We have advanced far enough that we can walk down the street holding hands without being beaten or stoned (sometimes) but we haven't gotten far enough that we're considered equals and enjoy all of the same rights the every other American has. We're not asking for anything extra. Nothing special. Just the ability to live, and die free. Now I have to ask. Did you vote in the last election? Have you ever protested something or volunteered for a cause? Are you a part of the movement in our generation doing what you can to help the freedom of yourself and others or are you someone who claims that you're "not into politics" and just waits for change to take place? You my not be interested, but politics are certainly interested in you.

Could you imagine what life would be like right now without the generations before us who fought in the streets, picketed with signs, sacrificed their reputations to stand up for what they believed in which was the right to freely love whoever they wanted. The Matthew Shepards and the Teena Brandon's who were caught in the crossfire. I have already had 2 encounters with Westboro Baptist Church, multiple encounters with discrimination and hate, and live everyday as a second class citizen because "I'm not normal".

Which side are you on. Are you going to float through life riding on the success of your predecessors or are you going to stand up and help set the example for the generation who follows. As few people that care in this generation, the next generation scares me. We've become so selfish, believing that we're entitled to everything, when we've done none of the ground work. What if we had to start over each generation to fight for our rights. What if we as women couldn't vote now until we fought for it. Couldn't wear pants. Couldn't go out in public with our girlfriends. (some of you might still be going through that.) so what do we do about it?

We fight. We love. We search for peace , happiness, equality and all of the other beautiful things that make this world an amazing place. We're in America. Land of the free and home of the brave. Isn't it time we reflect that?

Remember me... I'm Tennessee.

Twin Time

My family came in for the weekend. Well I say family, but it was really only like a fourth of them. My mother, step-father and adopted twin brothers got into town Friday and met me at my house with half of my co-workers to move my furniture in to my new apartment. I have amazing people in my life, because that could have been an awful experience without a little help. Basically I revolved the weekend around the little guys.

Friday after move-in, Lo and I took them to Shakespeare’s for pizza. It’s this Columbia specific pizza spot that lets the kids watch them make pizza through the glass. They also throw a ball of dough out for each of them to play with during their wait. The boys loved it. After that Lo and I played Frisbee with them on Campus. We waited for the Student run Summer Theatre Children’s production that our Theatre majors were hosting. They got to do all things that little kids love including run around the room, draw on the walls and sit in my lap. We went to the hotel after to meet back up with my parents, and took the boys swimming. My mom said when we left, they fell right to sleep. The next day I picked them up around noon. It was like heaven for them. We got happy meals, then relocated to “Bonkers” which is this Chuck E Cheese on crack children’s play place. They wanted us to climb through the obstacle course with them, so an hour of my time was spent angling my body to fit through nooks and crannies that the National Guard couldn’t have achieved. After that we went to the upper level and played video games. I’m always amazed at how smart they’ve become. Six years old, and they’re reading words that my step-father still struggles with. They picked out a toy from the counter with their tickets (of course they didn’t have enough for the toy they wanted, so I bribed the manager to let me purchase them.) Then we went to Toys R’ Us and they got to pick out $20 worth of toys each. By the end of the day as they carried their very full bags up to the hotel room, I realized how well I had been played. J I’m a sucker. I can’t help it. Finally we ended the evening with a movie at the theater. Avengers. Now you can look at this experience in one or two ways. It either went really well, or really poorly. They fell asleep 45 minutes into the movie and slept through the whole thing. Again, it’s not so great that they found no interest in the film, however Lo and I really enjoyed it and the peace and quiet on their end was fantastic. My parents caught up with us after for dinner. Every family vacation deserves a fine dining experience, so where did my father choose? Golden Corral…

The weekend went by way too quickly. They left before I ever woke up Sunday morning and were back home not long before I started my day. As I’ve gotten older a few things have become apparent. I will never live at home again. I will never wake up every day and see them. Hug them. Wrestle with them in the yard. I will never get to see the seconds tick by in their lives as they age before me. I will only be graced with these incredible glimpses in time to cherish the memories we produce. They mean the world to me. I think I’ve become so close to them because they remind me a lot of myself.

At age 7 I had my IQ tested for the first time. I was very far advanced intellectually. I read and comprehended at the level of a student in the 8^th grade, and the only subject I wasn’t excelling above and beyond in was math. I spent every free hour with a book in my hand, and my Christmas wish list to Santa usually consisted of a list of books, and microscopes/ chemicals for experiments. Had I been given the education that would have challenged me I might have been exceptional. I can see that in the two of them. Except my mother didn’t get sick until I was 12 which meant for the most important part of my childhood she had a strong mind that could push me. Now she does well to stay awake during day light. My step father never even graduated high school, so he isn’t much help academically. I sometimes wish that they could live with me, and then I have to remind myself that I’m simply not ready for that type of responsibility. After my two day weekend with them, instead of finishing my laundry and taking the trash out, I rented a movie and melted into my best friends couch before going home and falling into bed.

I think one day I would like to be a mother, but for now I’ll just figure out adulthood.

Remember me. I’m Tennessee.

North Vs. South

It's terrifying how you can be in a heavily populated area one minute with diversity, some equality and intellectual human interaction and then you take a wrong turn, drive fifty miles and you find yourself on a gravel road approaching what could be the inspiration for the film Deliverance. That doesn't happen in real life you say? Well I suppose it depends on your definition of real, because it was certainly real to me. That's where I grew up. I was born in Corinth Mississippi about 5 miles from the rail road tracks. Corinth played a huge role in the civil war. The Union won nearly every battle there and some say that Corinth was one of the primary reasons that the Confederate lost the war. Thank God. (For all you bible belt, bible thumpers out there you can relax. I'm not taking his name in vain... I'm genuinely thanking him. Then again, if you've read any of my last 6 or 7 posts you've now realized I'm a liberal lesbian and how i take his name is the least of your concern.) Back to my point. Why is Corinth so important you ask? Well, it's known as the Crossroads of the South because the Memphis and Charleston Railroad, running east and west, and the Mobile and Ohio Railroad, running north and south, crossed in its downtown. Whoever had access to that point had access to travel and supplies from every direction. History lesson is almost over I assure you... It's my personal belief that the most vile of Confederate Rednecks fled the Union controlled Corinth and headed for the rolling hills of Tennessee.  Particularly Olivehill, which is where my mother moved me to at age 5. Now before I get into that please understand that I don't think everyone in Tennessee is an ignorant hick, nor is there proof to  back up my theory (historically), however life experience and generations of inbreeding tell me I am correct. See where I'm going with this? My area was known for two things... The best catfish you've ever tasted, and the most meth ever produced. I find it unbelievable that African Americans are stereotyped as drug dealers and dangerous thugs. I assure you nothing is scarier than a family of 4 generation inbred, uneducated meth making rednecks with shot guns and bear traps who've spent their lives casing the 10 miles of woods they grew up in and still sign their name with an X.. Even gang members have to be able to spell blood or crypt. These people, many supported by their drug production and welfare are not the type of people you want to mess with. Now my family never produced any drug of any kind. Just hay, and purple hull peas. However the extended family that my mother married into was often related to each other in more than one way. And the drugs weren't far away. My mother raised me to know that college wasn't an option for me. It was a requirement, which was a good thing. My high school didn't really encourage college attendance although some of the teachers tried their best. I remember one instance where my graduating class (there were 27 of us seniors total) went to the local community college to a "college fair". There were 3 representatives present and they spoke for 10 minutes each. That was the extent of our college preparation as I remember. Maybe 25 of us graduated high school. Nine of us went on to some sort of higher education (tech school and 2 yr university included) and the last I heard 6 of us didn't drop out. Only 3 of us graduated college on time. I haven't started Grad School yet, but when I do I will be the first and only one to do it. I was the only student to go out of state, the only one to play two Sports on scholarship and the only one to not have any of my accomplishments announced at Graduation. (Let's just say they weren't so fond of my sexuality.)  I went home this weekend. I surprised my mother and step-mother both for Mothers day. They were both in shock. They laughed, they cried. We talked. We reminisced. I enjoyed it, but at the same time it was really sad and hard for me. As I get older and look back on the way I was raised I understand how poor we were. I understand why I never had the nicest clothes and family vacations were a fantasy. Our closest thing to a vacation was my parents renting a local hotel room for the 4th of July so us kids could swim in a pool instead of the creek for a change.  Two months ago my step-father took a trip with his son to New York City. My step brother delivers materials to different companies in an 18-wheeler (a job that didn't require a degree of any kind). It was both of their first trips up north, and my step-dads furthest trip away from home. He didn't want his son to make it alone. When the got to NYC the were early (it was 2 am and they couldn't unload until 6) so they parked on the side of the street in the middle of downtown to wait until morning. Dad wanted a coke (I'm southern. We call every carbonated beverages coke. He saw a man standing outside of a bar so he got out and asked him where he could find a drink. Fortunately the man wasn't a drunken psycho and politely directed my father down the street. He told him there would be a convenience store on the left past the subway. Of course the man was talking about the underground form of transportation however my father walked five blocks looking for the yellow and green sign of the sandwich shop. He never found a subway but he found the convenience store, got a drink and returned to the truck only after passing three hookers standing at the top of the subway staircase. It was his first and only big-city experience. He is 49. That is the reason why I can't seem to remain in one place, the reason I won't settle for anything less than the best. Life is meant for living. We only get one chance to do every thing we've ever wanted. At our college graduation the president said something to us that I will never forget. She said "Say yes first and then back track to no." You have to take chances and risks. You have to step outside of your comfort zone.  No one ever achieved greatness by sitting back and waiting on it.  People tell me all the time "I'm not like you. I can't do the things that you've done." That's simply not true. If I can achieve my dreams, then anyone can. I'm not even there yet. I have a really long way to go in life, but I think I'm off to a good start. Think about what you want in life. Don't think is it realistic or not. Everything in life is possible you just have to determine what is important to you. If you want to earn six figures then you have to go to school. You're probably not going to win the lottery. People say that they can't afford an education, but will you really be able to afford the life you want  without one? There is an avenue to take to get to every possible scenario in life. Two wise women once taught me you don't have to reinvent the wheel. someone somewhere has done it before you. Figure out how they did it and run with it. Life happens exactly how it is supposed to and just the way that it should, but if you don't put any effort into it then it is supposed to be mediocre.  If you want it to be incredible then do the things to make it that way. Ultimately I want to change lives. I want to inspire people. I have no idea how I will do that, but in the meantime I'll gain as much experience as possible in every situation that I can. By doing so I'll be able to relate to more people in different predicaments. I believe somewhere along the way I will find my purpose. Either that or my purpose will find me. I am as average as possible.  It is my strong will and love for my fellow man that makes me exceptional. If I can be great anyone can. Thank you for hanging out with me on this Sunday afternoon. I'm looking forward to making this a Sunday tradition. I enjoy writing but I've enjoyed comments even more. I love connecting with my readers. You're the reason that I write. If you have any questions or suggestions on topics I should cover please feel free to leave them in the box below. I would love to see what you all come up with.  Until then... remember me. I'm Tennessee...

Little thing called life...

In this moment, while listening to “Fine By Me” by Andy Grammar, I lay in bed smiling. How cute would that be? To have someone permanent…

Ironically “Build Me a Girl” followed it. Now this guy has the right idea. He knows what’s important. What are we here for if it isn’t to love and be loved? Take a step back for one minute and take a look at the overall picture. We as children in the ideal life are free to read books all day during the summer, and spend our afternoons talking on the phone or playing outdoors. Life is so simple. We never think twice about the troubles we cause our elders. I for one know that although I was a pretty good kid, I’ve been a pain in the ass a time or twelve. Not to mention as I got older, I became hell on wheels…

It’s amazing how angry a 22 year old can get. You spend so much time thinking about the decisions your parents made, and how you’ll never be that way. I know that I thought that I was better than where I came from. Who I was. I was going to change it. I moved to California, bought some skinny jeans, and stopped wearing a bra. All of a sudden I became this entirely different person. I was better than Tennessee. Better than my past.  

I took on the position of Executive Assistant at a Non-Profit production company, and next thing I knew I was hanging out with celebrities, attending Hollywood events and for some reason more and more people knew my name. I developed an attitude and stopped calling home. I was grown.

What I found was I lost myself out there. I wasn’t mature enough to be on my own yet. I still felt like the world revolved around me, but the truth is it’s much bigger than you and I. A million miles away there is a little boy in Africa crying because he can’t count how long it’s been since he ate a meal. Not to mention the little girl who just can’t count because education isn’t that important. In many countries women are still considered property, and people have to hide in their homes for fear of being a victim of war. First World Problems has been trending on twitter, and I’ll admit that I’ve used it myself but the thing is it’s real. I recently spent two weeks without a cell phone. For the first two days I was nothing short of going through withdrawals. By the end of the two weeks I hardly thought about it. Mind you I had my work phone, but only my mom and best friend used it to reach me. No games or apps, no texting. A lot of people have never seen a cell phone, much less owned one. For a quick moment it was just me and life. One on one. I found that I’m not so bad at it… This life thing. I love life. I love everyone in it. I want to help everyone. I want to love. Bringing me back to my first point. What is life about? It’s not to see who can earn the most money, just to die and give it to someone else. It’s not about how many people realized how awesome you were or who wanted to be you. It’s about loving someone. Anyone. Everyone. It’s about taking responsibility for our actions and helping our fellow man/woman. It’s about accepting each other’s differences and hating only hate itself. (Kudos to Obama's public announcement.)

It’s about each and every one of us putting our hearts out there with the trust that no one will break it. If everyone was vulnerable then it’s no longer vulnerability. So live, love, prosper and find happiness within your hearts. If you can’t find your own, I have plenty to share.

Remember me... I'm Tennessee.

Around the World

I talked to my best friend today. I know that usually might not sound like a big deal, but my best friend is a Peace Corps member and currently the hottest English teacher in the Ukraine. We met our freshman year of college. She was a Bob Marley listening, Aretha Franklin sounding, urban hippie from Chicago. And she was intoxicating to me. I of course was a small town redneck in a 4 inch wide belt buckle and Ariat boots. My “Good Jacket” was a carhartt.

We we’re opposite in everyway. She was cool. She smoked hookah. She drank alcohol from Mini bottles and sang the most beautifully of any voice I have ever heard. I used to sit outside her door our freshman year and listened to her when she cleaned her dorm room to Karaoke tracks.

 I of course was obnoxious. I was loud and proud. When I started college I went from my small town home in Tennessee to “Collegetown USA.” There were 35,000 college kids in one town and I was determined to be myself…. My overly exaggerated oober-gay self. I was actually known on campus for turning straight girls. They called me “The Metric System” because I convert.

My best friend was the “Ultimate Straight Girl” for me. I was in love with her. We stayed best friends all four years of college. (She’s actually in the wallpaper of my twitter background.) That was about how long I spent hitting on her... every day. Now it’s usually just once every week or two. I still love her. I even drove to Chicago one summer to see her. We both grew up, and I’ll give credit to her. Her passion, and innate greatness was a huge inspiration to me as I got older. The summer after our Junior years we had to do our College Internships. She ran off to Atlanta to work for CNN and I headed out to LA to become the assistant for a nonprofit LGBTQ company in L.A. She graduated that next December and I had been much to caught up in my own life since I’d been back. We hardly saw each other that semester, and now I regret that more than anything.

She is flying in from the Ukraine to see me! We haven’t seen each other since last February, and in July we will be reunited for a total of 4-6 days. Pre-planned events include  a 6 restaurant tour, an either great or terrible decision to get matching tattoo’s (I have 6 and she has more) and a case of beer for her brother who determines if I can keep her that last two days. (I’ll even go imported. This post is supposed to be worldly right?)

I can’t wait. I’ll be in my own place by then. My best friends here in Columbia are the greatest. They’ve been letting me couch crash for 2 months. 5 people in one apartment, plus who they’re dating and pets. Needless to say I am very grateful, but I’m sure we’ll all be happy when I relocate.

It’s funny. We talked today about how since she has been overseas, she’s decided she wants to go to Med school. (I told you. This girl is incredible, and never ceases to amaze me.) We joked that we could share an apartment in Nashville. She wants to attend Vanderbilt. The thing is it may not be a joke. I’m so uncertain about my life right now. Who am I? Where am I going? Thus far I’ve been a wanderer. School in Missouri, summer in Maine, Executive in Los Angeles, passing through Mississippi, back to Columbia and still moving. My life in Columbia is temporary as of now. I wonder when I look across the Map where I’ll be next. The truth is I have no idea. Should I try my hand at LA again? Or maybe Nashville. It would be nice to be near my mom. Especially with the changes back home. I’ve not done New York yet and always thought Atlanta was an option. Maybe something bigger? Maybe I’ll venture to a foreign country for the first time.

I wish there was a logical equation that I could just plug the values of my life into and it produce the best answer. Like 23 year old graduate+ film major+ medium to large city+ job required= Casey’s Life Plan. I think my biggest problem is I don’t really know my options. I guess I keep sitting back waiting for an answer, but it’s not going to just come. I’ve always considered myself a fairly lucky person, but the truth is so far I’ve played a large part in making my own luck. I’ve just got to get back to it. Instead of relying on my best friend to inspire me, I’ll just have to find that fire within myself.

What do I like? And how am I connected?

Animals- I have a friend who knows someone at Animal Planet.

Music- My school has a connection to MTV

Decorating and Design-  HGTV.  A Stephens Alum works there. (Located in Tennessee)

Atlanta- I know someone who used to work at Tyler Perry Studios. I had a meeting on the studio lot last May, but lost that connection. It would take a little work and digging.

Being a College Admissions Ambassador- I’ve really learned to like this new job, but since my spot at Stephens is temporary, I don’t know if I could ever be this passionate doing my job somewhere else. I think the only reason I like it this much is because it’s Stephens. I was a part of that.

British Accents- If you know me, you know I would love to meet a girl like Adele. Mmmm. (Now to find that job that’s required.)

Sales- I hear there is a really nice Real Estate Company in Dallas that sales A-list apartments with my name on it.

L.A- I’ve already got a job offer from BET but it was for July and I can’t leave that soon.

Basically I have NO DAMN CLUE. All I know is that life is too short to just spend every day in boring repetition doing something you hate watching the days pass by, but without making a significant contribution to the history of our world. I’m not saying you have to be a Martin Luther King, a Whitney Houston or Steve Jobs. I’m just saying that even if you just touch those around you, you’re being productive right? I want each person who meets me to feel like the five minutes they spent in my presence was a contribution to their lives and mine. I want to make a difference. I want to live.

I think what I’m going to do, is a month or two before the end of my job I’ll put my name into as many pots as possible, stir it and see who pulls my name out. Someone somewhere wants me. I’m certain of that. Everything in life happens for a reason and exactly the way it should. You'll hear me say it more than once because I believe it.  I’m lucky in the sense that my entire life I’ve had this deep seeded confidence in myself… Maybe it’s because so many people had so little expectations of me that I never felt pressured. I could shoot for the moon because no one would be disappointed if I let them down. I could always go further than they expected. I believe in fate. We are provided with options, and based on our decisions, life ticks along as intended. Sometimes wrinkles and wrencehes are thrown in to make sure were paying attention. I think that they're there so we get practice facing difficulty, for those really tough times in life.

Basically what i'm getting to, is we are all capable of greatness. Never limit yourself. I'm just 1 in a billion of us who have many days left to live....

How will you live yours?

Remember me,

I'm Tennessee <3

Never let go.... Or if you do, let go of yourself.

I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to write. I think it comes in spurts. Much like the day I first created my blog, I’ve sat down many times staring at this blank sheet and the words just wouldn’t come. Today, I sat down, and I’m not sure if they’re actually coming to me, or if I’m just so tired of being sick/asleep in bed that I’m forcing myself to do something. I have no voice, my lymph nodes are terribly swollen. I look like a train wreck, but I have Disney Princess shaped chicken noodle soup and I’ve been watching Titanic so it’s difficult to complain. I try to look on the bright side. Unlike Jack, I will survive. I’ve always wondered though. We literally see almost every part of Rose. We know that she’s not a big girl, however that door she’s floating on is pretty large. Why in the world didn’t she move over? I mean for real though? They both could have went to America, lived happily ever after and had sickening cute little Jack Rose babies. Instead however she just sat there on a board by herself and watched Jack (being stabbed by a thousand knives “cold water”) sink to the bottom of the Atlantic Ocean. It’s crazy to think that something so terrible really did happen. Obviously not that particular story, but the story of the Titanic and the many unsuspecting people on it. No one ever thinks anything like that could ever happen… Which is why we have to live each day to the fullest…

I want to find her. My Rose. Celine Dion will forever be the sound of love for me. The two of them combined make Heaven on film for me…

Okay so maybe I want more than a few hours. Maybe I want more than a Rose. I want a girl who is in love with me. One who looks at me the same every day, and that’s just as in love as she was the first time she said it. Someone who wants to hold my hand as much as I want to hold hers. I want a girl who calls me beautiful and does cute things for me too. I’ve been in the one sided relationships. Is it to hard to ask for something more?

A girl who lays her head on my shoulder, but is also ok with me laying my head on hers. A girl who realizes that we’re both girls. I’m not the man in the relationship. Or the only woman. We’re just in love. A couple. Two people who fit perfectly together regardless of gender.

I want a girl who spends each and every day unfolding life with me. I don’t know what’s in store, and neither does she.. But why not watch it play out together? A girl who has great taste in music. That doesn’t necessarily mean my taste. What if it’s a taste that I haven’t heard of? It could still be great. Which brings me to my next point. I want a girl who can introduce me to new things. A girl who is confident in her own opinion. I’m starting to see the pattern here.....

I want a woman…

I know we all have those days where we think to ourselves, I need to grow up. But what if we really do? What if it really is time. I’ll be the first to admit. I’ve been that girl. The “stays out all night girl” who shows up to class still drunk. The girl who bartended just so she could drink for free. I’ve been the girl who didn’t care who I was dating.. I had someone else lined up. Now was it always the right girl? My record shows…… Never.

So maybe it's time. I'm 23. I'm right on the cusp of college kid, and grown-up. It's weird you know? I remember the days of how I felt in under-grad. Some days it doesn't feel that different... Some days it feels like i'm in a whole new life. So why not start over with someone who wants the same things?

I know she is out there.

I’m not giving up. You couldn’t show me a thousand failed relationships and see my opinion change. I believe. I'll find her.

Can You Hear The Ocean?

My mother called me tonight. I had just gotten back to the hotel room, and selfishly as soon as I answered the phone I took over the conversation. I told her stories of business dinners and awkward admissions experiences… When she didn’t laugh I became offended. And like most self-involved people my age, I became defensive.

“What’s your problem?”

She began to choke up. I immediately broke into a sweat. I might be sensitive, but my mother is the strongest woman I have ever known. She was the head nurse for a hospital 6 months after graduating nursing school. She went through labor with me alone because my father walked out of the delivery room and didn’t come back (for two years). Literally he stood up, walked to the elevator, passed my grandmother on the way down and never looked back. Did it phase her? No. She raised me by herself. Last year, even after being out of the unit for 12 years, mom pulled over on the side of the highway, and was a first responder to a terrible car accident. She literally had to search for a man’s arm on the ground while holding pressure to the remaining limb to stop the bleeding. One of the paramedics told me later that she was the reason that man is still alove today. I’m telling you. If the woman in V for Vendetta hadn’t have been a pansy ass whiner in the beginning of the movie, that would have been my mom. She was an Idgie Threadgoode if I’ve ever seen one. (Fried Green Tomatoes.)

Yet, here she is crying muffled tears on the phone with me tonight.

“It’s your grandmother.”

Now I referenced this woman a few seconds ago, but here’s the truth. My mother’s real mother died right before mom turned two years old of cancer. My mother was raised by her aunts and grandmother, along with her father occasionally. She had two older brothers, one of whom married pretty early on. His bride was the most beautiful real life Barbie doll my mother had ever seen. Her name was Glenda. You know, like the good witch on the Wizard of Oz. And good she was. She bought my mother (who grew up in rags picking cotton) beautiful dresses and toys. Not often, but when she could afford it. Before she and my mom’s brother, Robert Grant we’re engaged, Glenda was pursued quite often. When she finally agreed to the engagement she had to give back 2 class rings and one bracelet to her other suitors. R.G knew how lucky he was. They’ve been together now for 47 years… That’s more than most people can say in a lifetime.

Fast forward back to my mom’s pregnancy. She knew I wasn’t going to have a grandmother, so Glenda offered to be that for me. From that point forward they were Granny Glenda and Papaw Robert Grant, and god did they love me. I was their Grandbaby. The light of their life. Neither of their sons had children so I was it. She made sure to tell me every time she saw me that I was her favorite and how special I was.

I remember as a kid going to stay with them during spring breaks and things. She would take me to dinner, then to the Y. We would walk for a while then she would go swim while I’d go shoot around. She made sure to stop everyone to point out her precious grandchild. They never knew that I wasn't really hers.

As I got older, she did too.

When I came out as a Lesbian, they we’re the only two people I wasn’t allowed to tell. My mother was certain they would both have a heart attack. I used to get so frustrated.

“This is stupid. If they love me they won’t care.” I would say.

“Casey, they just grew up in a different time.” Mom would reply.

When I began driving I went all over the place. When I went near my grandparent's house, mom would suggest I drop by. I was actually a pretty good grandkid so I went fairly regularly when I was home from school. At least once every visit I would pick her up at home and take her to dinner.

“Helllloooooo Da-hling.” Granny would answer the door. “Where are we going today?” She would ask in her sweet southern drawl. She always knew the answer. She had a favorite Mexican restaurant where the waiters knew her order and would playfully tease her when she would ask them to teach her Spanish. I used to laugh so hard at her.

“Let me get those Fajita’s. And honey, bring me some Peek-o Day Gal-Oh. (Pico De Gallo). The men would roll laughing.

I loved her, but I hated how stubborn she was in her beliefs. No tattoos, No piercings, No drinking, No Gays. If you broke one of these rules "God was frowning." It was how she was raised. My Junior year she finally noticed my tongue ring. She nearly flipped out of her chair. Slowly, one by one my tattoo’s showed themselves and before long she was asking my mother if I was on drugs. Have no fear though. I was still the favorite. I wondered what would happen if the gay thing just happened to fall out as well.

I think I had rather have faced that phone call than the one I received tonight.

“Casey, it’s Granny Glenda. She’s sick.” Mom wheezed through ragged breaths.

I knew this. She has been having dizzy spells lately so she hasn’t been able to walk on her own. She gets a little confused and flustered, but it was because of her blood pressure. So we thought. Last week my mother was giving her a bath and she began screaming at her all of a sudden.

“Get out of here! Only my sister in law June gives me baths! You have no business seeing me like this! Leave!” (June is my mother.)

Then when she couldn’t close her lipstick mom tried to help her. Granny threw a handheld mirror at her and it shattered across the wall.

My mom thought maybe she was just under a lot of stress until my grandfather called her crying. This man never cries. I was pretty sure if he ever did the tears would be made of melted iron. He took a ragged breath and began....

“We were standing in the bathroom. I was helping her brush her teeth and she looked me dead in the eyes. She was so sad and lost. She asked me longingly, ‘Have you seen my husband?’” He whimpered.

He has been fighting emphysema for two years now and spends most of his days in a wheel chair. Slowly, day by day they are withering away. I hate to say it, but in a way I guess they’re doing it together.

She has Alzheimer’s. You hear about the disease. How it ruins lives and breaks apart families. How the gentlest soul becomes a terrified monster overnight. You never think it could happen to someone you love, until it does and then you never think you’ll survive.

My mother told me that by the time I got home she probably won’t recognize me. It just increased this badly over the last three weeks, and I’m stuck at work for the next two. The tears are rolling off my cheeks as I think about it. They’re not made of iron. Nothing about me is. I’ve cried over every episode of Undercover Boss and Extreme Home Makeover, so how in the hell am I supposed to withstand this? I’m angry. Why her? I need her. PaPaw needs her… And my Mama. How am I going to walk into a bleached cold nursing home and feel normal? I won’t. Things will never be the same again. I’ll never be the same again. A little part of me died tonight. A bigger part of me is still dying. We still have her, yet she’s not herself. I don’t know who this woman is. I want so badly to climb up in her lap, my hands on her beautiful porcelain cheeks and beg her….

“Please Granny. Come back. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have gotten the tattoo’s. I’ve pulled out all my piercings. I’ll be better. Just come back.”

I can see myself 3 years old sitting on top of the tractor in her back yard. Papaw is holding me up as Granny is clapping alongside us.

“See that pretty baby? That’s my baby Casey.”

Yes. I’m your baby Casey. I’ll always be your baby Casey… And you will always be my sweet, sweet Granny Glenda. As I lay my head down tonight I can feel the grass between my toes. I hear her laughter in the distance as she calls me inside for a snack. My pink and white sippy cup on the kitchen table next to her can of 7UP. On my way through, she scoops up the seashell on the counter and puts it to my ear.

“Do you hear that? That’s the ocean. Isn't it beautiful?” I wanted to tell her that’s silly. The ocean can’t be trapped in a seashell. It makes no sense. But here I am, my grandmother trapped in a withering mind, which makes no sense either. I want so badly to go back. I want to stop everything for one moment and hold her here. Just to tell her I love her and it make sense one last time. To tell her I hear the ocean. I hear it loud and clear.

I want to see her eyes and not her confusion. Her smile and not her tears. I want to see my past…. Yet the past is passed, and now here I am. Crying in a hotel room like a little child, Little Baby Casey longing for her Grandmother. Alone.

"If It's The Beaches"- Avett Brothers

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kVtkOUJhpcA&fb_source=message

Calories and Construction

I have an addictive personality. I know this about myself.
It took me four years of college and 10 months of straight sobriety to realize
that I am capable of being sober although I have to actually work at it. If I
have one drink, I want two. If I have two… Well… I want 6 drinks, four shots,
two beers, and to sing and dance on stage (naked, though most of my friends
stop me.) And it doesn’t necessarily have to be in that order. That’s why I had
to consciously limit myself. What I have found is my sanity means more to me
than a good time. It’s fun to go out with your friends and “forget the world.”
It’s not so fun to forget your debit card, ID, name, address or dignity. Nor is
it fun to wake up and piece together the events of the prior evening. If you
are genuinely embarrassed by the stories your friends tell you, yet you can’t
recollect them on your own you have a problem. When it happens more than once
it becomes dangerous. By allowing yourself to do this, you are giving up what
most women struggle to maintain which is your own control.
Now I’m not suggesting you join a convent. Everyone deserves
to cut loose every now and again, but if your entire day revolves around
consuming large amounts of bread or protein to coat your stomach (or whatever
other bullshit myths we’ve taken into daily practice to pretend we’re
protecting our bodies) for that evenings
“alcoholic hydration process” then you need to rethink your schedule. It’s
easier said than done I know, but last May I put the bottle down. From June 1st-
February 10th/ish I didn’t drink. AT ALL. Between that, not eating
like hell all the time, and running once or twice every two weeks I lost 30
pounds. I wasn’t anorexic by any means. We ordered out 2 or 3 times a week and
I never held back on the cheese or sour cream. I went from 147 pounds to 117.
In January I began lifting/running 5 days a week. I felt great. I gained 5
pounds (mostly in muscle) but it was the best I had felt in years. I have never
been obese. Pudgy and thick yes. “Built like a softball player” definitely, but
by applying myself and cutting out the booze I began to develop my best self. I
started drinking socially again when I moved back to Columbia. It became my
stress reliever and quickly I added another 5 pounds to my weight.
Now understand that
while I’m a lesbian, I’m still a woman. My weight, as well as my appearance,
etc. are still very personal/embarrassing to me, however I hope that by sharing
I might be able to help encourage someone (maybe myself) to try. If you’re not comfortable with where your body
is at then take a step back. What can get you there? I don’t mean developing a
drug habit or bulimia, and don’t think that I am taking these serious problems
lightly. That’s not what I’m saying here. I’m saying that there is a healthy
way and an unhealthy way. I’m saying that each of us have a “temple”. (Forgive
me for the religious reference.) I don’t mean Sunday morning temple. Nor do I
mean you are going to hell for drinking/ doing drugs. I mean that we have this
temple that we experience all of the grand pleasures of life from. The giddy
moments, the deep breaths, the first kisses, and the cold tears. We feel
remorse and grief. We feel pleasure and excitement. All of that from inside of
our skin. We have to protect our temple from the destructions that slowly decay
our walls. The effects of drugs and alcohol are very real. Some more serious
than others. 1. (The one most of us can relate to.) The fluctuating weight
gain. Lets be honest, I’m never going to quit drinking entirely. I like to have
a casual drink every now and again, but if you look in the mirror and are
reflected with disgust (While I can tell you all day that you are beautiful AND
MEAN IT.)
Most of you aren’t going to believe me. So instead of being
repulsed by your reflection, actively (and naturally) pursue a reflection that
you enjoy. Go for a walk. Eat grilled chicken, not fried. Drink water instead
of sodas/beer. Eat an apple instead of a chocolate bar. Drink less alcohol
(sugar!). Think of it as a life choice not a diet.
Mind you I had a cheeseburger and fries for dinner. Was it
the best choice? No. But I had an apple for breakfast, and grilled chicken stir
fry, light on the sauce, no rice for lunch. It’s good to live a little, but don’t
expect results without application.
I feel like I just went on an open testimony for Jenny
Craig. Not my intentions. I have minimized my drinking again to nearly nothing which is why I brought up this topic.
…… @&^*&#*&@&*#(*@*&%*&!(*_)#(!@^(
That’s how I feel about that.
Next thing on my mind. (I jump around a lot.)
What is love? How do we know when we feel it? In the past I’ve
thought “this is love. I love her. Definitely.” Then we break up. It almost
always ends terribly, and I second guess my assessment. Did I really love her
or did I love the thought of her? (I hear people do that a lot.)
What sign pops up in front of us with flashing lights and a
siren that says “Hey yo trick. Don’t be stupid. This is THE ONE.”
Oh wait…. That doesn’t happen? Damn.
I guess that just means we will have to wing it. We will
have to throw out our fairy tale expectations and realize that the love of our
life (while some of us, aka me wish that The Little Mermaid was our future
bride) Is actually human. A real person with real thoughts, and real mistakes.
I know I for one will never be perfect. I’m complicated as hell. I’m sensitive
and emotional. I have a cotton candy perspective of life that dissolves when it
rains. Everything is great until you pour on my parade. Then I have to take a
step back. Am I saying I fall apart? No. Am I saying I wish things were’nt so
damn complicated all the time? Absolutely. Who wants the stress and the
pressure? No one.
But if there weren’t any low points, then how would we ever
truly appreciate the high ones? If we never experience genuine sadness then how
can we comprehend sheer bliss?
Something tells me that deep down we already have the
answers. Were just selfish and naïve. We often take the hard road in life
because we’re too stubborn to admit that there was an easier way. We didn’t
pave it, so we want to blaze our own trail (which is great) but expect things
to set on fire, and eventually burn down. Mistakes will be made. Feelings will
hurt. Hearts will break.
Uplifting isn’t it? Here come the words of wisdom. Life is a
day to day process. We can sit all day preparing our future, but the truth is
we can only lay out the blue print. Fate is going to build it however it wants,
and it might not follow your plans. So, go big. Take your plans and draw out
the biggest damn high rise that any architect has ever seen. Present a
challenge… Because if you fall short and wind up with ten stories, it’s much
better than hoping for 5 stories and getting a double wide trailer… Ya feel me?
Most of you right now are thinking… She has lost her mind.
What can I say… I have a weird appreciation for analogies. So write your own.
Whatever it takes to make the most of your life… Do it. You get one shot..
Yesterday will never resurface, so today… Today you should live it up.
Until Next Time:
“Second chances are for Hollywood Blockbusters. They are
unrealistic and only last 90 minutes. Take the first and only chance you will
get and run with it. There are no rewind, pause or stop buttons on life. Only
Play.”

Remember Me. I'm Tennessee.

Before I Found a Home

Today for work My co-worker and I… We can call her Jane. (Like how I make up random names for people? Just imagine what yours would be.) Jane and I went to the Equine Affaire in Columbus Ohio. For those of you who don’t already know I am an Admissions Counselor at the greatest college in the world. Stephens College. I’m slightly partial seeing as how I did graduate from there, but all joking aside it is pretty amazing. However that’s not what this post is about. This post is about how I spend all day talking about something I love. I get to smile at people and hope they smile back. I use wit and humor in conversation to make people more comfortable in an uncomfortable situation. I mean come on. Some of you have been there, the others will be there soon. And if you don’t fall into either category then you might have opted out of school altogether. To each their own.

I actually almost opted out myself.

I graduated from a class of 27 in BFE, Tennessee. I don’t mean 27 people in my homeroom. I mean that’s how many seniors walked across the gym floor at graduation. We didn’t even have a stage. Clifton was full of Rednecks and racists and wasn’t the greatest place to grow up. It taught me to be tough and to appreciate everything I had, however it also caused me far more pain than any 16 year old ought to have to face. I wanted out. I needed out. I can remember sitting in my bedroom floor with Nickleback’s Far Away blasting as loudly as possible without enticing one of my 8 family members to check on me. I was crying because my girlfriend, who had also been my best friend for about two years, had dropped the cd off for my birthday. She followed it by telling me we couldn’t speak anymore. Her father had found out about us months prior and threatened my life, reported me to the police and insured that every parent within a 40 mile radius knew what a sick a twisted pervert (aka homosexual) I was. I found out later she had been seeing a friend of ours, but at the time I believed that she was ending it because of me. That being with me (a girl) was just too hard.

Some parents refused to let their daughters speak to me. The girls hid from me in the locker room, the guys called me faggot and dyke when I walked through the hallway. I hated myself. I didn’t want to be different. My foster sister at the time stole my journal and took it to school. They passed it around like a Harry Potter novel. Everyone read it front to back. It was a best seller, with the worst consequences. I went through hell. I really only had two choices. Girls like me did one of two things. Some played college athletics…. Others joined the military.

So I got a recruiter for both.

Stephens College was recruiting me for basketball, and the Army was recruiting me for everything else.

I almost signed with the army. It made the most ssense. I wasn’t the brightest bulb. I wasn’t the best athlete. I was awkward and uneducated (yet smarter than most in my school.) Yet Stephens wanted me. They really wanted me. They cared. I went to Columbia to visit the campus and from the moment my foot touched pavement in a Stephens parking lot I KNEW. This was home.

Stephens called me every two weeks or so helping me with my decision. My Army recruiter called even more than that. He scared me. I didn’t want to join the Army. There isn’t an aggressive bone in my body. Kill or be killed? I was dead for sure.

When Stephens called to tell me I was getting a Scholarship for softball too I threw down my guns (Ya like that?) and surrendered. I was a Stephens woman. When highschool graduation cam I was the only student to go on to play two sports on scholarship in college (They didn’t announce it.) I was the student to go the furthest away. (They didn’t mention it.) I also received academic scholarships for my academic performance and ACT scores. (You guessed it. They never mentioned that either.) Everyone else crossed that floor with beaming smiles as their scholarships were read and their families applauded. I held my head up and crossed the floor in silence… My mother gazing proudly back at me. She has always been my biggest advocate. She told me “It doesn’t matter who they think you are. It matters who you know you are.” She was right. When I graduated college this past May only two other people out of that 27 graduated college on time. Only 6 of us stayed in College out of the 9 or so that went.

When I think back on the years I spent in Hell I realize that they didn’t hate me. They were intimidated by me. I terrified them not because of what I was, but because of who I was. I wasn’t satisfied with fitting the mold. I didn’t want to graduate high school and go to a community college or tech school while raising 4 kids and cooking my husband’s supper. I wanted more than that. Much more. Even had I been straight I believe I still would have been too different for their liking.

Sometimes I get sidetracked….

What I’m trying to say is that you don’t have to be what everyone wants you to be. You’re just fine being yourself. One day you’ll meet other people who are themselves just like you… And that’s what I found at Stephens College. I found a home, where my friends became my family. I fell in love with an institution that nothing short of saved my life by educating me and exposing me to culture and history. A school that taught me that I was my only enemy. Nothing else could stand in my way, and when I let it sweep me off my feet Stephens took me great places. Places that I’m sure you’ll hear about eventually….

But that’s why I’m back here working for Stephens. An Admissions Counselor advocating for the college. My entire life I’ve wanted to help people. I’ve always wanted to make a difference. How can I do that any better than to help give the same opportunities to other young women that were given to me. What if a little Tennessee Martin crosses my door step someday? What if I can save a life, like Stephens saved mine. I can only hope….

On a brighter note. I’d like to give a S/O to Janelle Jackson who allowed me to peek into her very personal world of poetry last night. I would have included it with the other artists, however I received it after my post was submitted. I’m also a writer of poetry so I know how hard it is to put your work out there in front of a stranger. It feels strangely familiar. Kind of like the way I feel each time I submit a new blog post. There is a rush of excitement followed by a wave of fear that never fails.

I think the one I connected to the most was called “I Hope You’re Happy”. You can check them all out here!

http://writex.tumblr.com/

Until Next time:

“You’re worth it. You’re always worth it. What in the hell is “IT” anyway? “IT” is whatever you believe it to be because only you can determine your own fate. Whatever you want to achieve, you can achieve. Whatever you want to do, is practically already done. Because you are strong. You are the best you there is.”

Remember me. I’m Tennessee. XO