Revisitng the Past

What if that “better life” that we all dream of is actually accessible. What if we could reach out and touch it? After all, I’m not sadistic or pessimistic enough to believe that we were put on this earth with no purpose. No one wants to wander around aimlessly with no ambition whatsoever. Even those who are complacent in life yearn for love, and vice versa.

See the truth is, that we can. Contrary to popular belief money can’t buy everything. It can buy a lot, even enough to make you think you have it all… but it can’t buy the things that really matter. With a positive attitude you can see the things that matter are the ones closest to your fingertips. It can put you in a clear mental state that is supportive and uplifting; the things required to achieve your highest potential. With a positive attitude you will have confidence, faith, and love. Those are the real necessities in life.

 Most of us don’t have bank accounts with six figures at our disposal. We can’t leave our jobs and fly off to Paris whenever we have a bad day. We can’t afford to stay for a week at the Hilton if our home if we experience a tragedy in the home. We can’t all pay for our children to attend their top pick for college without long nights of checking every detail of their homework hoping one day they will be awarded a full scholarship. The truth is, we may never have the ability to do any of this. We might always have to work for the things we want, but there is no point in being negative about it. It takes away everything good that you do have. After all, who ever got anywhere being broke and bitter?

I’m sitting in an airport right now. I’m two and a half hours past my original boarding time with another three hours in front of me. Our plane was struck by lightning in it’s last trip so now here we are waiting for it to be repaired. I should be an hour away from seeing my mother right now, but instead I’m plugged into Delta’s very strategically placed electricity outlets that make me question how often this airline experiences difficulties such as this.

I’d prefer to have eaten a hot meal by now. Instead all I can find are prepackaged sandwiches and fake meat on a stick. I’d like to be sleeping or stretching my legs, but the rest of flight 2020 is struggling to entertain themselves next to me. I suppose I could go down to the bar and have my second drink, but the bartender would think I’m a lush and the drinks are ten dollars each. I could be irate. I could line up behind the twelve other passengers at the boarding gate and blame/question the attendants who are as clueless as I am to what is going on, but I’m not.

Instead, I’m trying to stay positive. I’m listening to “Kiss the Girl” on my I-phone while typing this blog post. Saxon is next to me drawing in my sketch pad with a pen and some crayons. (That is all we could find for her spur of the moment art project.)  We both feel a little like children. Completely helpless, waiting to hear some good news for the first time today…

Then again, maybe we already have.

Maybe we heard it at 2:30 when the flight attendant announced that an electrician found damage to the left wing of the plane and we would need to deboard. In light of Boston’s tragedy yesterday, I can’t help but be grateful. Although I’ll be arriving five and a half hours late to my home, hopefully with these measures I will arrive safely.

Fast Forward

I wrote this on April 16^th.  Most of the places I traveled over the last week weren’t equipped with internet, so I’m just now getting the chance to post. We landed safely in Tennessee. My mother and sister picked us up from the airport. It was so nice finally seeing them again.

 I think traveling to England made me realize how much I missed them. Rose and I saw nearly every remaining member of my family, and I even took her out to my family’s farm in Cerro Gordo. 260 acres, and we barely scratched the surface. We walked field by field, and pointed to every stream, tree, and pasture that I played in when I was a child. It was so nostalgic, and a little heart breaking. I miss the days of running free through the woods.

I think we all try so hard to grow up, that we miss out and overlook some of the most beautiful times in our lives. I remember playing outside until dark chasing after fireflies without a care in my little 260 - acre world. It seemed huge at the time. It also seemed complacent. Little did I know, that one day I would wish I could roam free through that world again, contained only by the property lines and my imagination. Seeing it through Rose’s eyes was also equally as incredible. I’m sure it was a lot like seeing England through mine. She was blown away by the terrain. She gazed out over the Tennessee River with peaceful eyes. It really is beautiful. 24 years have helped me forget how much so.

As I lay here, back in California… part of me still yearns for Tennessee. My family surrounds me there. The woods,  the water, they all watch over me. Not just an endless ocean that rolls in and out, but a river. A body of water that flows in one designated direction. A path that is sure to take you somewhere, with the ability to climb out at any given destination.

Maybe that’s what I miss… The consistency. Ironic isn’t it? I have spent most of my adult life running away from the one thing I truly miss. Don’t get me wrong. I still love L.A. My heart is in Tennessee, but my mind is here. This is what I want. This is what I need. A few more weeks back here and I think I’ll remember why I came here in the first place. I begin my new job on April 29^th. (I feel like I’m always starting something new, but that is a blessing isn’t it?)

I’m sure that when I pick back up into work, and stop gallivanting across the world I’ll be able to focus on what I need realistically.

I apologize for the gaps in my writing. It has been so hectic lately that I haven’t really had the time I’d like to spend on my blog. I will say however, that I am working on something pretty cool… A book. I believe I have mentioned it before…

Maybe I can get some input from some of you? What do you enjoy reading about the most? What do you think really makes The Graduates Guide.  Email me all of your suggestions to tennmartin@gmail.com. That’s all for now.

Remember me,

Tennessee

Freedom? That is the Question.

“Things which are equal to the same things are equal to each other. - We start with Equality.” Daniel Day Lewis Quoted in Lincoln.

It’s ironic isn’t it? As I sit on a plane somewhere across the Atlantic Ocean en route to England; I watch a film based on the abolition of slavery. It’s terrifying to think that in our very recent history… the history of America the great, home of the brave, men and women, brothers and sisters, children and more were beaten at the relentless hand of white powered heartless superior-stated Americans. We the people of the United States of America murdered… no… slaughtered innocent lives based on the color of their skin. It sickens me. The hatred that must have seeped through the veins of both parties is incomprehensible. The whites hating because of their self-initiated supremacy; believing that only they reigned over high. The anger emitted by African- Americans (please take note of that second word, for it is the MOST IMPORTANT), rightfully so for the way they were treated; the fear that was forced inside their souls for decades. I can’t even begin to imagine. I’ve never faced anything to that extreme.

Think forward to the days where women fought to be considered equal and to no longer be the property of their husbands and fathers. The days where women protested for their own rights, despite the ridicule and public defacing they experienced. Often I have asked myself what I would have done had I been alive during these times. I believe I would have fought. I believe that as a young woman in Tennessee I would have ran as quickly as my shaking legs would have taken me North across the Mason Dixon line, to join forces with the men in blue during the Civil War. I believe I would have picketed side by side with the women who longed for their own equality, fighting for the right to vote. I believe that as a young lesbian I would…

Oh. Wait.

That’s not the same is it? No one is beating me. No one owns me. I am free to come and go as I please. Yet as a racially equal, gender equal American Citizen I am denied the same rights of others of my same stature, because I am gay. 

Now, let’s talk about the elephant in the room here… or shall I say on the plane. Most people who are “homophobic” – a word I hate and I’ll explain why later – often feel that way because they fear the unknown. They’ve either not met anyone who is gay, have met someone and had a poor experience with it, or were taught to hate by their family or religion.

I’ve never met anyone with purple hair. Black, yes, red, of course, even pink. I’ve known quite a few people with pink hair. But never purple. You see, purple hair is unnatural. It is against what “God” intended. If he wanted us to have purple hair, he would have created us that way. Now some people will read this and nod their heads up and down thinking “exactly”. Those are also probably the people fore mentioned as homophobics. The truth is, according to the bible God made many miracles happen. Jesus Christ himself healed the blind. Who is to say that never in his water to wine days did Jesus ever turn someone’s hair color to neon purple? I didn’t write the bible so I wouldn’t know. Then again, let’s think about who did. The Bible – the number one selling book in the history of the world – was written by man. A few of them actually. While I believe in a higher power and the faith of love and kindness, I do not believe that disciples were consumed by God like Issac Mendez on Heroes, eyes glazed over decoding and reporting word for word his thoughts. Even if that were possible, the bible has been translated at least a dozen times. One of the most well known translations is the King James Version. This version, was taken from Hebrew to English, and picked apart by a King. It is widely known that the King even “left out” parts of the bible in js own interpretation. I’m sure when the “Word of God” reflects the way you want to rule, it is much easier to keep your country in check.

I’m not saying I’m a history buff. I’m a twenty-four year old woman who grew up in arguably the smallest town in Tennessee as a Southern Baptist. I also happen to be a lesbian. I don’t know how much you know about the bible belt, or how Southern Christianity views  the gay and lesbian community, but I wasn’t exactly accepted by the majority. In fact, standing in the middle of church one day I was called out by a speaker who considered himself a prophet and was told that I was going to hell. That me or one of my three closest friends would wind up in a pine box for our sins. Now, I’ve read the bible and I distinctly remember a part where it says that all sins are equal. If my being in love with a woman is a sin, then does that not make it equivalent to any lie told no matter how big or small, any adultery, or idolizing. Wouldn’t it be consider just as much of a sin as what a politician does every day? And how about any time that the church keeps secrets in order to protect it’s members. If you have ever coveted a person, thing, or idea then you too are sinning equally to how a gay person might be sinning.

You might not know me. You might not know anyone who is gay, but what you can believe is that they are people just like you. Being gay doesn’t make us monsters. It makes us the minority, who like many before us have suffered at the hand of ignorance and hatred. We are equal. Our love, our faith, our pride, our heart, our drive, our fear, even our sins are equal.

Now maybe you have met someone who is gay. It’s possible that person was a jerk and that your experience wasn’t so great. Guess what? There are straight people who suck too! People can be rude, obnoxious, inappropriate, inconsiderate, awkward, as well as down-right mean. That is a show of character, not their sexuality. They didn’t act out because they were gay. They acted out because they were cruel and had poor intentions. That has nothing to do with who they love. In fact it has more to do with whom they don’t love, and trust me - it’s mainly their own self. It’s difficult to go through life feeling unwanted, unaccepted and discarded. It is a tiresome fight to walk every day with your head high just struggling to be yourself – and be accepted for it.

Maybe neither of these are the case. In some instances people hate gays simply because they are gay. Because their family taught them to hate. Often Religion plays a strong part in this learned hatred. The mistranslation of the bible and God’s message has taught us to trust words and not our hearts. It’s taught us to believe in hatred and not kindness. To discriminate and not accept. No one has asked you to be gay. No one expects you to pick up, and rally at every event promoting Gay Marriage. All I ask is that for a moment you think back to the history of our nation.  At one point, there were strong political leaders who still believed that slavery was acceptable. One by one, people - AMERICANS  -stood up and fought this horrible misuse of power. Discrimination is the real abomination here. Not love. It doesn’t matter which genders it is between.

Homophobia isn't a disease. It is a mental state of mind. The only cure for it is understanding. That is often followed by love. I have hope for our country and for our future. I have hope that we will have the equality we wish, but that will take time. Just like it took time before to solve all of the other pressing issues of discriminatory nature. 

My heart is full of passion tonight. I might be on the other side of the world, but my heart is in America. My faith is in our country and in us.

I encourage everyone who reads this post to send it to five other people. You can print it, read it out loud, tweet it, post it on Facebook, etc. But if each person sends it to five other people, then maybe three of those five will send it to another five as well. Every step towards change is exactly that… a step. One foot at a time. One person at a time. It’s our time to stand up and change history. To fight for what we believe in. It is up to us to make the life we’ve always dreamed of. Free. Happy. Honest. Loved.

So… are you too embarrassed to stand up? Too scared? Or are you taking the motion to feel alive in the freedom of speech that we have so graciously – not without great pain – been blessed with? To stand up for your brothers and sisters; fellow Americans. To support equality for all…

Now, I’m off to enjoy England. I’ll de-board the plan in about three more hours; setting foot on another country’s soil. It will be interesting to see what our history could have held. I’m excited. I’ll be in touch!

Remember me,

I’m Tennessee

Hopes and Dreams

I’ve always been a dreamer. Since as long as I can remember they’ve been there to comfort me. My dreams. My thoughts. That was the purpose of writing. To put them all down. To remember them. I let my words fall across a page, but lately that has meant they’ve been leaving my heart. Writing has become more about what I’m doing than about what I believe.

See a part of me believes that the only reason I’ve gotten this far is because I was chasing after dreams. I got an idea in my head and I ran with it. When I got there I’d chase another one and low and behold… Eventually I looked down and my feet were on the sunny beaches of California.

I can’t say I ever dreamt I’d be here as a child. It was many years later after the dream evolved. Doors closed, others opened and the next thing I knew I was an intern in Los Angeles California… But there I go again. Talking about what I’m doing, Life isn’t about what you’re doing. What you’re doing is so minute. It’s so irrelevant to the bigger picture. What you’re doing is in this moment alone. Now I’m not saying this moment isn’t important, because it is. Many people say you should live in the moment. I agree. But you should dream in the future, and never the past. Dreams are for where we’re going. Not where we’ve been.

They’re funny things, dreams. They allow us to go places and imagine things that we never thought could be possible. Things that might never be real. What they also do is provide us with structure, as strange as that may seem.

After Graduation, I often found myself longing for the comfort of a syllabus. I ached for that structure and discipline needed to accomplish the tasks laid out before me. It took me a long time to realize that I can do that for myself.  By dreaming, I give myself boundaries. I identify my obstacles and mentally formulate ways to defeat them in order to achieve that dream. It’s a beautiful thing really. Having control over your own destiny. Even now I am lying in bed contemplating what to do next. Laundry? Watch my fourth episode of Nashville? Write more? Each of these decisions has a different outcome. Each option has a result that will then trigger other decisions, and before you know it you find yourself on the cusp of your dream. Either that or you will have dreamt so much, that that dream has evolved.

My dreams are evolving. In four days I will leave my internship. I am so grateful to have had the opportunity to work with such incredible people and learn so much.  It’s definitely not a task for the weak, but completing it has made me stronger. On the 28^th I will leave for England. It will be my first time outside of the United States, and to be honest it still feels like a dream. I have accomplished so much. Even over the last few months.

My girlfriend’s sister is getting married, so we’re taking the trek overseas to greet her family and offer our congratulations. It will be an incredible experience. A wonderful moment that I am happy to share with my love.  When I return, I’ll be starting my new job. I’m going to be a production assistant for a reality show called Flipping Vegas. It’s one step in the right direction. I know it’s the right one, because I’ll be moving forward in my life.

A lot of people think that life is about change, but it’s not. You don’t have to be different. You don’t have to start over. In order to make the most out of life, you don’t begin again. YOU GROW.

You develop.

You take what you know, and add to it. You push yourself to learn from what you’ve done and adapt.  Each of us is capable of being the best version of ourselves that we can be. We don’t push to be someone else, or someone better. We give it everything we have, and come out happy and alive. A positive attitude is one of the best things you can have along this journey.

We are capable. We are strong. We are enough. Now, let’s be more than that.

Instead of being capable. Let’s follow through. Instead of being strong. Let’s apply that strength and commit to ourselves. Instead of being enough… Let’s be more than that. Let’s be enough, and then some. Then let’s be the support that it takes to help others achieve that same level of greatness. Let’s be an inspiration. Make a commitment with me to help yourself and others. Follow through with that commitment. Inspire those around you, and when you look back… No one will be behind you. They’ll be right there by your side. The best feeling you’ve ever had will be knowing that you’re on top of your life, and you’ve brought those you love along with you.

In the instance that you try to inspire someone, and they deny your help, you have to remember that you can only help those willing to help themselves.

So here’s where we are at. I’ve struggled with time lately. I’ve not gotten to write as much as I wanted. I’ve been tied up with work, and moving (again), as well as life in general. I’ll be documenting my trip to England on Twitter, Instagram, and The Graduates Guide. You can also see more of my trip by following my girlfriend @SaxonJOfficial. I’ll otuch base with you guys again before I leave on March 28^th.

Follow along with our journey.

Come with me.

Tennessee

Loss

My biggest fear.

It’s not lack of acceptance. It’s not losing faith in myself. My biggest fear isn’t of bugs or spiders, snakes or any other creepy crawly thing.  My biggest fear has nothing to do with clowns, masked figures or hairy legs, even though I hate all of the above.

It’s not even failure, although that runs across my mind every day. I worry constantly about where I’m going, disregarding how far I’ve come. But that still allows me to sleep at night.

No. My biggest fear is loss. I’m afraid of losing things. People. Myself.

I’m afraid that I’ll misplace something. I’ll lose it in a time of need and hinder others or myself. I don’t like displacing other people, so this for me is tough. I know that it sounds silly. I’ve been told my entire life that everything is replaceable, but is it?

When I was around 9 years old I would go back and forth to my father’s house every other weekend. Sometimes I would only make it down once a month depending on his mood, and whether or not my step mom was around. She would make him take me on his weekends, and looking back I wonder if he ever would have done it on his own. (Our relationship is much better now. I have her to thank.)

I sat at his house one Summer in his 3 foot blow up swimming pool around the side of the house. My sister had gone out with some of her friends and I was there alone with my dad. He was inside the house working on whatever my dad worked on at home and I sat underneath the trees basking in the sunlight that slipped through them.

All in all it was beautiful day, but I missed my mom. I wasn’t the kind of kid to go away from home a lot. She was only forty-five minutes away, but for some reason I was having a really hard time being away from her. As I sat in the pool, surrounded in the lukewarm water, my blood ran ice cold. What if she wasn’t less than an hour away? What if she left me?

Better yet, what if something happened and she was forced to leave? What if she got sick or something happened and passed away? I’m not sure what child at that age has those thoughts, or what made them come to me, but what I do know is that it was the first time I had ever been overwhelmed with emotion. That was the day that I realized two things.

One: I was terrified of loss. I didn’t know what to do with it. I had never felt it. I couldn’t grasp it, but I knew it was there and could be lurking around every corner.

Two: I realized that I wasn’t like most children.  I felt emotion. Fear. Love. Passion. I felt them more strongly than most people my age could even imagine, much less comprehend.  I just didn’t know what to do with them yet. I cried for hours in that pool, and couldn’t stop until I heard my mother’s voice over the phone.

It took me years to figure out what any of it meant. I hated my emotions from the 6^th grade until Senior year of college. It was then that I started to appreciate that level of passion. I had loved few times by then, but I loved hard. Maybe three girls I had loved, and only two had I been in love with. It’s interesting looking back because I spent so many hours looking back, thinking, “I want that again.” I had lost it.

That’s where my fear comes from.

Around a month after graduation from college I moved to California. I got my dream job, met celebrities, and lived in an incredible place.  This was long before my move in September. I’m actually on my second go around.

I thought that the job was everything I ever wanted. I thought I was pushing myself where I wanted to be. The truth was, I was changing who I was to be something I wasn’t. I was trying to make bread out of a brick, and it wasn’t going to happen. Instead I slowly began to hate myself. Instead of softening, I crumbled. I had no idea who I was turning into, or who I had been.

I was changing… and I didn’t like it.

I sat down one night, and I prayed. It was the first time in years. I didn’t rush to read the bible. I didn’t seek advice from a preacher, or involve religion in any way. Instead I simply asked for internal guidance by a greater power. I asked if anyone was out there in the shape of God, that they help me to where I needed to be. If I was supposed to stay, then I would stay. If I was supposed to go, then I would go. I wasn’t sure yet where, but I knew I would do whatever was best for myself. After thinking over it long and hard, I wound up leaving the job and moving home. I decided to start again. To do it differently this time. To not lose myself. To not forget who I was. I didn’t want to change. I wanted to grow. I loved who I had been, I just wanted to be the better version.

I wanted to be kind, and free. I wanted to love and be loved. I wanted to find myself in the eyes of another and not question what their intentions were. I wanted to feel the wind in my face on a Friday because I slipped out onto a back road. I wanted to feel like I wasn’t failing anymore. I wanted to not be lost.

I spent a month in shambles at my sisters. Not sure of who I was or what I was capable of. I didn’t know if I wanted to be in film. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to stay in the South. I didn’t know. I had the post-graduation melt down, and I needed to grow up. I needed to take care of myself. To be self-sufficient.

It was time to win.

So that’s it. That’s my biggest fear. I struggle with it every day. I can’t give up, because I can’t lose. It’s so hard being away from my mother. Being away from the twins. I call home everyday, and I know that eventually a day will come when my mother won’t answer the phone, but I quickly think of something else. I know I can’t handle that thought right now.

I wonder. Will I be that strong?

I knew a girl. She lost her mother at an early age. When we met I couldn’t understand what she could possibly have felt. What she went through. I also couldn’t understand why she wasn’t as open as me. Why she couldn’t feel life the way I felt it. I think looking back, it’s because I never lost it to begin with. Recently her Gram, who she’s been living with since passed away as well. I tried to be supportive, but …

“I have never lost someone that close to me, I can’t tell you what you’re feeling is right or wrong. What I can tell you is that you are one of the most incredibly strong people I have ever met. You are everything that I wish I was. You… have faced my biggest fear, and won. I tip my hat to you, and if I could I would wrap you in a hug. I know that you feel like every time you lose, a part of your love gets cut out. You feel that you can’t get close because of what has happened, but the truth is… I think that it’s the incredible people like you who are out here to help the weaker survive. You’re the one who will hold the hand of someone like me, and help them exist. You’re the one.”

I hope that it helps. If not her, then someone else. Know that you are doing the best that you can do, and we’re all thankful for the way you deal. Good or bad. You’re fine. You’re more than fine. You’re incredible.

I hope that everyone has a good week. Just remember. We all have bad days. That’s fine, but if you’re positive, even the bad things can’t keep you down.

In fact, I was in a small wreck today. It reminded me that when the inevitable happens, you roll with it. You can’t stop things like that. You can’t change them once they’ve happened… And really you’re not losing. You’re just redirecting yourself to win in another place. 

Good Morning

“Good Morning.” She woke me with a smile and a kiss on my cheek.

“Mmmm. Good morning.” I laid in the morning’s light, still wrapped in the blankets of the night before. She brought me hot tea, and we lay there preparing ourselves to get up. I had to call my boss to determine whether or not she needed me for the day, but in the meantime I was told that I needed breakfast. She prepared me scrambled eggs, buttered toast, and sliced avocado. I stumbled, sleepily to my chair and sat down. Another kiss on top of my head, and I devoured the “breakfast of champions” as she calls it

One phone call later revealed that I was free for the day.

“What should we do?” I asked.

She smiled at me sweetly, listing off options ranging from kayaking to the zoo. I burst out:

“Disneyland.”

She laughed, and nodded her head. We jumped up, getting ready. When I was finished, I sat in front of the door waiting impatiently like a small child.

“Are you ready yet?” I said, doubling the syllables in each word forcing them out with a whine. We stopped at the grocery store along the way, and she came walking out with roses and a balloon. I’m sure a few of you are thinking about now, “this has to be fake. Women like this don’t exist.”

That’s what I thought, too.

See I’ve been the one to give it my all before. I’ve been the one to go above and beyond without receiving anything in return, but what I love… Is that she’s willing to give it all back. Not even just willing, but that she does. Voluntarily. I never have to ask.

It’s an incredible selfless love. One that I have never felt before, but that I wouldn’t trade for the world.

We spent the day walking around the park, laughing and holding hands. Waiting an hour in line for a ride that lasted three minutes, but it was worth it every time, because I spent that hour with her. 

We talked about everything, from what we saw ourselves doing in 5 years, to where we wanted to get married. What our wedding dresses would look like, and where we would vacation on our Honeymoon. We talked about how many kids we wanted, and whether or not we would adopt. We talked about our parents, and their influence on our children. For the first time, I wasn’t scared of these conversations. Instead, I relish in them.

This morning I woke up in her arms. She kissed me gently on the cheek again, and asked “tea”? I stumbled behind her to the kitchen, and she made me the “breakfast of champions” all over again. Not for my Valentine’s present. Not for any special occasion, but because she loves me. Not long from now we will head out to gather my passport. She’s asked me to go to England with her. Not to live, just to visit.

I spoke to her mother this morning for the first time. It’s funny to hear so many English accents around me all the time. She’s brought an entirely new light to my life, and every day is different. Even now as they sit across the room on Skype, talking about the day… I can’t help but smile. Even the simplest things seem beautiful coming from her.

We sat on top of cliff the other day, looking out over the ocean. We read aloud a story by Tennessee Williams, but couldn’t even get past the intro. He spoke about the life of fame and fortune. How depriving it is of our humanity. He was a firm believer (post The Glass Menagerie) that if we can do for ourselves, then we must. To let others do for us is repulsive and shameful. Valets, maids, butlers and such, are all enabling to the demise of our vital need for independence.

It’s sad that we created this unnecessary hierarchy anyway.

Busy week this week. Love you all. Stay strong.

Tennessee

So Much

So much. Where do I even begin?

To begin, as some of you already know, last weekend I worked on a little show called “The Voice”. It was open casting calls in Los Angeles, and I stood on my feet for twelve hours, two days in a row shuffling 3.000 scared/excited individuals to their destiny.

I met so many incredible people, from the ones behind the scenes, exhausted as we worked side by side, to the ones in the hallways who were literally beside themselves with nerves. More than once, people would ask me… “Do you think I’ve got a shot?” Now as a production assistant, I couldn’t really offer them advice, so instead I responded with “Do you?” It wasn’t about whether or not I believed in them. It was always about whether or not they believed in themselves.

I couldn’t help but smile though when someone that chatted with me before going inside would come out holding a pass to the next round. Fingers crossed I’ll be able to follow a few of them through to the live auditions. That weekend was such an eye-opener for me. I am probably the luckiest person I know. This is what a weekend looks like for me…

I don’t even mind anymore that I work 7 days a week, because it doesn’t feel like work. When I’m doing my job, I feel happy, thrilled to be a part of such a creative and wonderful environment.

Last Friday I had lunch with Loni Anderson and Bob Flick from The Brothers Four. They’re friends of my boss, Dawn Wells. You probably know her as Mary Ann from Gilligan’s Island. They told me their love story of how they met in Wisconsin when she was 17. He was 24, and just out of college. She pretended to be a senior in college, and he was a huge young adult heart-throb singer. They talked for a few years and drifted apart. She went on to be an actress, and married Burt Reynolds. They stopped talking and almost forty years later she saw Bob on a talk show. She picked up the phone and called his office leaving a message. He picked up in the middle of the message, but remained silent. “Bob, is that you?” she asked. “I’m trying to think up something clever to say about Wisconsin.” He replied. They’ve been married now for five years I believe. Seeing them together, is like watching love struck teenagers.

This week I watched my beautiful girlfriend perform at The House of Blues, and right now… Well, right now she’s setting on an amp across the room typing up her latest press release. It takes everything I have not to rush across the room and wrap my arms around her begging for the attention she can’t afford to give. Instead I sit patiently, typing away on my laptop.

Ok. So I did run over there to steal one kiss.

Lying in bed last night she said to me “ I want to get something for us both for Valentine’s Day. We can keep it here.”

“What is it?” my natural response.

“It’s silly really.”

“IS IT A PUPPY?!”

“No babe.” She laughed.

I can’t really have a puppy right now anyway. I’m far to busy… but I can’t have a baby either, so a puppy is more realistic.

“Tell me.”

She lay against me, with her head against mine.

“I think we should pick out a rocking chair.”

Can I just add that she could have said  “toilet paper” with that English accent, and I would have agreed.

“A rocking chair?”

“Something that can watch our love grow over the years.”

I melted. I can’t wait for our rocking chair. I can’t wait to write love poem, after love poem in that chair. Listen to her play her guitar, and sing me thousands of beautiful songs from that chair. In fact, I don’t think that anyone has ever been so sweet, and so thoughtful towards me.

I love her.

I know without a doubt in my mind that I love her. I don’t want to sound naïve… I won’t say that I think she’ll be forever… But I will say that I wouldn’t mind a bit if she was. We’re still in the “Honeymoon” phase. I still get butterflies when I see her. Even now, she’s out with her cousin at a concert, and I’m going stir crazy trying to think of something to write that isn’t about her.

I can’t.

Actually, I’ll take that back. I’m fine with writing about her. This is the most inspired I’ve felt in months. She makes me push. I sit still when I’m alone. Resting. Waiting. She’s the kind of girl that had rather do anything than wait. She likes to live.

A musician with a law degree, and an English accent. Did I mention I was lucky? It’s interesting, because I can think back over the last year or two. I met some really lovely people. I even thought that I was in love. Maybe I was, but she didn’t love me. When I look into my girlfriends eyes, I see a burning fiery passion welling inside of her. I know that every touch will melt me, and I cling to her. I hope for more.

I would drive ten hours to spend ten minutes with her, but she would never let me. She would meet me in the middle. And then we could spend 5 hours and ten minutes in the arms of one another. God… this is what this feels like.

“Marry Me” by Train is playing on Pandora. I’m certain that it can read my mind. She actually said to me last night “I don’t want to scare you, but I’m going to marry you one day.”

I believe her.

I am sitting in her house now, waiting for her to get home. I’ve spent the majority of the evening talking to her dad. He told me that he could remember the night that we met. The look on her face when she said “I’ve met someone.” It’s so interesting to hear about our love from someone else’s perspective. See, I knew that I adored her, and she said that she’s loved me since the moment we met… but he laughed when he said “I hope that you stay with Rosie.” As if he knows something that I don’t.

 I think I’ll wind down this post with one final bit of advice…

Don’t run from it. If love is there, right in front of you, waiting to be felt… cling to it and never let go. Now, let’s hope that I’m smart enough to take my own advice.

Remember me…

Tennessee 

Theft, Flicks and Opportunities

“I can’t stand to fly. I’m not that naïve. I’m just out to find the better part of me. I’m more than a bird. I’m more than a plane. I’m more than some pretty face beside a train and it’s not easy to be me.”

Superman - by Five for Fighting. I find that actually prefer the Boyce Avenue cover most of all. It just happened to come on Pandora when I opened up my laptop. I left it there. Screen burning bright, glowing back at me. Music ringing through my ears, echoing through the canals to my mind.

There are a whirlwind of thoughts taking over me tonight. There are a few reasons for this…

I found out today that someone stole my debit card. They spent almost $600 in just a few days. All I have to say is I really hope they needed it. Mind you they spent it all on gasoline, and stayed in the same city so I doubt it was an urgent emergency to get them across eleven states to their family (just a guess), but I’ve never understood stealing. My stepsister did it all the time when we were younger. She would find something she wanted in a store, pick it up, and walk out. I could never fathom it, considering our parents raised us to believe that we didn’t need anything we couldn’t afford. We made do with what we had, or we found a way around it. I spent my entire lunch break on the phone with Bank of America, I’m thankful that I brought a Campbells Soup On the Go to work.

It really put me in a negative mood. I couldn’t stop bouncing back and forth between anger and devastation. Of course the bank is refunding my money, and it will all be dealt with accordingly, but still. I can’t help but wonder who this person is that results in taking from others. So nonchalantly lifting funds from my account to supply their own. I really hope that they find what they’re looking for, but something tells me it won’t be at the bottom of my savings.

Moving forward past my untimely experience with money thieving petrol purchasers, I went to see Zero Dark Thirty tonight. I’m going to tread lightly on this subject, because I know that this film has been a sensitive matter. I won’t say that I loved the film, because the story clearly isn’t one to “love”. I will say, however that Katheryn Bigelow did an amazing job directing, and that Jessica Chastain was brilliant in the roll of Maya. I would absolutely watch the film again. I think that’s it’s important for us (Americans) to face this part of our history, but also see the “behind the scenes” of what was the “Bin Laden Pursuit”.

In the first few minutes of the film, it opens with audio clips of victims from 9/11. One very brief comment is from a young man to his mother. “Hey Mom. I’m sure you heard about the plane hitting tower one. I’m safe in tower two.”  As I heard it, I became sick. It’s disturbing how many people thought exactly as he did. Those people thought that they were safe… They thought it was over.

As the second tower fell, so did our hearts.

The film moves forward with a very grotesque torture scene with a detainee captured from the Saudi Group. This scene was upsetting for me. I kept having to remind myself that 3,000 American just died at the hands of terrorists. Seeing anyone tortured is difficult, and internally I couldn’t decide if it was justifiable. I’m fully aware that Americans have been captured before, and suffered the same treatment. This cruel world often abides by an eye for an eye in many situations. This scene reveals the captivating Jessica Chastain. She makes it very clear in the beginning that being there isn’t her choice.

As the film progresses, you begin to see her characters obsession with the hunt of Bin Laden. She states at least twice in the film that she wants to kill him. It is unimaginable to me that some peoples “jobs” are to take the lives of other human beings. At the same time, I respect and support the defense that our military provides us. This internal struggle stuck with me for the entire film.

I won’t spoil the ending, because I hope that each and every one of you will watch it. Not necessarily as a “feel good” enjoyable film, but as an important portrayal of the lives lost, and affected by this tragedy. I will say that the ending leaves a rather open ended question. I would love to know what all of you think about it.

On a much lighter note… I landed a pretty awesome gig this weekend as a Production Assistant. I can’t say where yet, but Monday’s post should be pretty awesome. Either that or terrifyingly horrific.

For those of you who don’t know what exactly I do, I’m transitioning into P.A work for film or television. A P.A or Production Assistant is basically someone on set who assistants the crew in any and every task that they might need dealt with. I will be doing everything from grabbing coffee, to holding documents, running errands, ordering lunch, keeping people outside of the production away from the set, assisting the talent (cast), etc… This particular job is for a very popular reality TV show…

I’ll let you know more after the fact.

Remember me…

Tennessee

Change

I suppose time has played into my thoughts rather often lately. It seems I don’t have enough of it. There’s always more I want to do. More I want to say. More I need to see. More. More. More.

I almost feel selfish in saying it. How many times do I find myself in a “lucky” situation? More often than not I’d say. Then again is it ever really luck, or more along the lines of fate, or destiny? See, I think that good things happen to those who pursue them. They happen to people who put out good into the world. I believe in the saying “treat others the way that you want to be treated.” I guess the point is… I believe.

The New Year has come and gone. Many people have already forgotten their “New Years Resolutions”. I can’t help but wonder why we need a day to inspire change? Why can we not all just see where our flaws lie, and work on them? We spend the largest portion of our adolescent lives in school, with a structured environment formulated to encourage growth and change. As adults, we seem to forget that formula and let our improvement go AWOL.

Just like school, hobbies, or anything else, we need to progress. As people, it is vital for us to move forward. We have years here that we could spend constantly improving. These are years that some people never get the chance to use. To deny the natural process is to waste your life. It’s a slap in the face of humanity, and of your-self.

The longer I’m here… the closer I come to understanding what it is that I need to do out here. There is a change coming. I can feel it. This change, however is no different from the one five months ago when I relocated. It’s no different than the six months I spent as an admissions counselor in Missouri.  We’re always changing. Life is ALWAYS changing. The best favor you can do yourself is to roll with the punches. Change, Grow. Learn. Love. Hope. Try. Be.

I can’t stress enough how much happier you will be if you take on a positive attitude, and give life everything you’ve got. Not because of what it will give you back, but because there’s no reason not to. Why wouldn’t you want to be the best you can be? Why wouldn’t you want to achieve the greatness that was destined to you? Anything less is simply being lazy.

So here I go. I’m embracing the change. Making the improvements. Living my life.

Remember me,

Tennessee

Time

Lengthy is the sound of forever,

But that’s the time in which I have to fill.

Time to walk. Time to cry.

Time to love. Time to lie.

There’s time to spare, but I’ve got no time.

No time to wait. No time to be.

No time to chase. No time to see.

I’ve got no time to give away.

I’m gone tomorrow, but here today.

Today I’ll live upon her lips.

I’ll close my eyes for every kiss.

Waiting for the time to pass.

for things to change, for that big mess.

Slowly.

Slowing.

Down.

Time… a tragic thing.

See time is what we’ve done to ourselves.

It’s simply a measurement of lost chances.

A way to calculate the mistakes we made, or the things we forgot.

“Remember the time? That time when? Do we have time to?”

Time is what was, or what will be.

When you’re standing in a moment. Good or bad.

You don’t think of time. You don’t see the future, or remember the past.

You simply cling to the moment you are in,

Hoping for a better day.

If the moment is good… You wish for one as wonderful.

If it’s bad, you wish for one better.

But you only wish long after the moment has passed.

For in that moment, you are consumed.

And time… time doesn’t exist.

Time is a burden. It’s constricting and selfish.

Time does not care that you are content.

It doesn’t care that you are broken, or need a break.

Time cares not that a minute isn’t enough.

Time forgets how forever feels.

Time is a waste… but a waste of what?

More time? 

Sick and Tired

Sick days are awful.  You have free time, but no energy to do anything.  You want to sleep all day, and cry the moments you’re awake. Nausea, a headache, and general discomfort all consume you. I’ll be honest… on sick days there is nothing I want more than a bowl of soup, a Disney movie, and my mother.

Instead what I have right now is a cup of hot tea, a warm blanket, and my girlfriend sitting on the edge of the bed with her guitar. She’s picking away at tonight’s set list. She has a different show every week or so. On February 6^th she will be performing at the House of Blues on Sunset Blvd. If you’re in the L.A area you should come out and say hello! Her name is Saxon… Saxon James.  (I said it that way for effect).

It’s nice having her around when I don’t feel well. Ok. That came out wrong. It’s nice having her around all of the time, but particularly when I’m sick. No one likes being alone then.

Anyway. The point is, I feel horrible today but the relationship is going well. Clearly. I promise. I’ll talk about something else eventually.

Let’s begin now:

This week has been hectic. I’m in the part of my internship now where I’ve begun interviewing for a permanent job. Yes, sometime during the next month (hopefully) I will begin my adult journey into the great unknown. This internship has helped mold and guide me. It’s helped me realize more clearly what I want. I want to start out as a production assistant somewhere. Work on my own writing on the side.

Eventually I’ll move up in the industry. One day I’ll be a producer, and can produce my own content. I sat in on a writers panel last night. One of the writers was from Revenge, and another from the upcoming show “20 Somethings”. They were so young. 23 and 26. It makes me feel like I am a little bit behind. I mean I know that I’m not, but still. I can’t help but think “Longer. Faster. Stronger.” Should I apply younger to that as well?

I mean is there really a time in which things HAVE to be done? I understand physical limitations. I know that as a young child you’re not developed enough to achieve anything, and as a senior you’re…. too developed. But I believe that as long as you lie between 18 and 75, you’re good to go. I don’t need to rush into anything. I have the rest of my life to live.

Here I am babbling on about life, and I’m on the verge of death. Ok. That’s nowhere close to being true, but I really hate having a stuffy nose.

I struggle now to find the words. I feel like that’s happened a lot lately. Life catches up to you, and all of a sudden the dynamic changes. Where before all I did was write, now I struggle to find time. When I find the time, I struggle to find the words.

I feel like lately I haven’t inspired anyone. Not even myself. That’s really difficult for me. I don’t know who I am. What I’m doing… I don’t know anything when I’m not thinking, helping, loving. I suppose that’s a good problem to have.

Lately I’ve been floundering. I can feel the stress and anxiety building. I have to find a better way to cope. I push and push. I give 110 % and then wake up one day exhausted and mentally drained. I suppose it’s true you know? You have to help yourself before you can turn to help anyone else.

I’m not sure what would help right now. I don’t think I need a break necessarily. I just spent two and a half weeks in Tennessee. The trouble with that though, is that although I wasn’t at work, there was constantly something going on. No. It’s not a break that I need.

It’s inspiration.

I need to feel inspired. I want to stand at the top of the tallest mountain. I want to hold hands with a small child. I want to stand in the cold ocean up to my waist and wait for the chills to come. I want to play the sound of her voice over and over in my mind, and formulate my thoughts with her beautiful British accent. I want to hold something close to my heart. Nothing that I’ve had before, but something that’s important to someone else. I want to have a conversation with someone older than myself. Someone who has something to say that I haven’t heard before. I want to love…

And I will. All of the above. To the best of my ability.

I also want to reinvigorate my life. I want to meet my friends. (I know that sounds strange.) What I’ve found though is that I’ve formed friendships with so many wonderful people, but most of them don’t live anywhere close to me. I want to tear out a page from the book of Kat Brooks (Face 2 Face), and travel across the country meeting incredible people. Seeing incredible things. I want to take pictures during all of this and tell stories of people that haven’t been heard.

I want to share my passion. My gift. My love. So there you have it… Another rambled post by yours truly.

Remember me,

Tennessee

Brief Contentment

That feeling of complete contentment.

The sun shines through the window. Resting gently on your skin. Her body is glowing in the morning light beside you. Your bodies are entangled still, from the night before. It’s silent, except the rhythmic rise and fall of her breath. You strain to listen, syncing your own breathing to hers. A little closer to her than you were before.

It’s been so long since I’ve felt that, and now that I have again... I almost don’t know how to react. It has consumed me. I struggle to remind myself to breathe. Walk. One step after the other. Working along the way. If I didn’t remind myself, then I’d stay in this room bathing in the sunlight next to her.

She wraps her arms around me, and I forget that anything in my life has ever been difficult. In that moment… I am content. 

-Tenn

Something About Life

December 23^rd. That’s the last time I wrote.

So many things have been taking place. As a lot of you know I took a trip back to Tennessee for the holidays. It was nice, but sad at the same time. I got to spend time with my family, which was amazing… for the most part. I held my mothers hand as we watched my little brothers Christmas Play. I got to watch a Tennessee sunrise, and a Mississippi sunset. I stood in the rain and heard nothing but drops. Saw nothing but the night. No cars. No horns, or sirens. No shouting or flashing neon signs. It was simple. Well, at least nature was. The people there, however; are complicated.

I made the mistake of putting off a haircut until the very end, so there I sat… at Wal-Mart. A young woman sat me down in a chair.  Black hair with a red streak in the front and a tattoo on her arm, she was alternative from where we’re from. She leaned me back and began snipping. She asked where I went to school. Snip. She asked where I grew up. Snip.

She asked what I was doing now. Snip.

She asked if I was married. Snip.

I said no. Snip. Snip.

She announces that she has to introduce me to her cousin. Chris. Or her other cousin Matt, but mainly Chris. Snip.

Now mind you, my hair is in the hands of a woman with very sharp scissors and two male cousins. It’s that assumption that I’m straight. It gets me every time. Seriously. I just don’t get it. What bothers me more though is the fact that I feel like I can’t talk about being a lesbian in a beauty shop of southern women.

The day before I had been in that same store walking through the aisles when a woman a little ways down whispered, “dyke” to her son while staring at me. No reason. I guess she was defining me. Stamping a mental note into her 14 year olds mind. I mean he probably can’t describe Abraham Lincoln, but I’m someone he needs to remember.

She was right.

He should remember me. In fact, we should all be remembered. I appreciate her for taking the initiative to point me out. Maybe one day someone will return her kindness. 

What I love about L.A is, there’s less of that. I had a guy scour when I held hands with a girl once, but that’s nothing like what I saw in Tennessee. He even kept his opinion to himself verbally. All of my friends here could care less that I like women. They even approve. Over lunch, my colleagues and I sit around talking about our weekends, dating life, personal problems. We’ve become sort of a family. Just this past Tuesday I called up a group of them to go to my girlfriends show.

Oh yeah. That’s the other thing I like about L.A.

Her.

Seems a little crazy to say, but I’m seeing someone. And not to rub it in, but she’s that holds you through the night and wakes you with a kiss, drives an hour and a half to bring you a space heater when the target two miles from you sold out, calls you beautiful every day kind of woman.  Even as I type it I smile. I miss her. Even when she’s here I miss her. I always wonder if we could get a little closer? Hug a little tighter? Instead I just travel further into her mind and bathe in the beautiful stories she tells. She’s a British musician…

Yes. I will let you all catch your breath.

She has an incredible love for songwriting, and an incredible love for words. I can’t tell you how many times she has left me breathless using her voice alone. Often, I lose my own words in the process.

On New Years Eve I stepped off my plane to find her waiting next to baggage claim. When I walked up to her, her golden red hair glowing in the sunlight, she just smiled and held out a book.

 “In case you lose your words.” she said, as she placed it in my hands.

It was a word search book. I knew then that she would be trouble.

I found from that point forward, I was either with her or thinking of being with her. We’ve walked hand in hand along the beach, cuddled to Pitch Perfect, delivered gift bags to the homeless for New Years, attended a celebrities holiday party and more. This weekend, we will be going to a Social Distortion concert with her cousin, and I’m stoked. Mainly because that’s the next time I’ve scheduled to see her.

I guess that’s why I haven’t written as much lately. I haven’t really had time to assess things. I’ve just been rolling with it and not thinking about where my heart was headed. I enjoy her company. I like doing things with her. I love our conversations.

I am completely open to seeing where things go with her. She’s doing everything right.

Also, I feel some poetry coming on. Maybe not tonight, but soon.

Remember me,

Tennessee

Three Years

It's been three years.

Three years since I loved a heart for every beat.
Three years since I gazed upon rings and wedding gowns counting down the days.
Three years since I told myself that I was ready.
It's also been three years since we broke up.
She wrote my sister today.
Left her words to float freely through my mind.
Every time, it cinches the rope around my heart.
Pulling it back again.
Today however I struggled to find the girl I knew in the woman that I saw.
I searched, but the resemblances were few.
We were young.
We had no concept of forever.
The closest we had come was a promise made on a couch in a basement on New Years Eve.
I love her.
To this day.
To say I don't is childish and naive.
I love the girl who cried the day I left.
The day I drove nearly 3,000 miles from Atlanta to Los Angeles.
I loved that girl.
I can remember her fists on my t-shirt, clinging to the last of what would be us.
I remember the months before where she drove 4 hours to meet me in Tennessee.
It was almost her birthday.
When she had to return home, I told her to stop for gas nearby at the slowest station around, and raced past her with a full tank.
I arrived at her home only minutes before where her family waited patiently with me to surprise her.
I put everything I had into that girl.
We were separated by miles, and anger.
Angry that we loved so intensely, but were in no place to be together.
Three years later, I'm still picking up the pieces.
Three years later I've broken two hearts who loved me, hoping I would feel the same.
I've made mistakes that I'll never be able to take back.
Three years later, I can finally look myself in the face without regretting who I am and what I've done.
I thought the distance killed us, but the truth is we had little in common except the love we had for one another.
Her dreams ended with a degree, and that's where mine began.
Three years later, and I know she was never the one.
She was a beautiful memory.
One that I'll use to remind myself to try and love again.
She's the girl that I'll reminisce upon as something I did well.
She's the girl that I can reflect on and say honestly that she loved me just as much as I did her, but we were young.
Not everything is supposed to work out.
Not every relationship is meant to last forever.
Three years ago prepared me for today.
See, three years ago, I didn't know what forever meant.
Three years ago I couldn't look at one woman and truly believe she would be the last taste on my lips.
Three years ago I had no idea what I wanted, much less what was best for me.
Frankly I still don't, but I'm three years closer.
When I walk up to a woman and take her hand.
When I tell her I love her now...
Those words will not be wasted.
I'm not saying the next woman I love will be the last.
I'm saying that if she's not, then I will be one love closer to the one that lasts.
I'm also saying that those in the past have taught me mistakes to not make again.
Never again will I be a stranger in the arms of a woman who loves me.
Never again will I hesitate.
I won't fear love, or loss.
I'll search until I find the woman who is looking for me as well.
The woman who tells me beautiful things because she means them.
Not because she believes they're what I want to hear.
Next time I'll find the woman who holds my hand, not because she's afraid I might leave.
But because she likes being synchronized with my footsteps.
I'll fall for the woman who holds me.
I'll fall for the woman who rolls into my arms when she wants to be held.
The woman who plays no games because her time is better spent winning my heart.
I'll fall for the woman who does her own thing all day long, but I'll still be the first and last thing on her mind.
It might be tomorrow, or three years from now.
She might never come, but never again will I settle for anything less.
After all, three years is nothing when you're facing an eternity.

Home For the Holidays

Rarely in my life can I remember sheer happiness. Not just a time where everything was going right, but a time where even the bad things seemed miniscule. I’d love to say that it’s the spirit of the Holiday’s and that the world is on it’s best behavior… But that isn’t it. No. The reason I’ve found happiness is because I’ve accepted things that I cannot change.

After five years of not speaking my father reached out to me. He has made a concentrated effort since probably July or August to be a part of my life. He calls me once every two or three weeks, and even paid for my flight home for Christmas. Since I’ve been here we’ve had dinner together three times, shared a few thoughtful texts, and even had a few friendly debates. All of which I never thought would happen. The thing that took me the most by surprise however was a conversation that we had over dinner with my sister, her best friend, and my nephew.

My father is going through a midlife crisis. He has been for a few years now it seems. He works all the time, his girlfriend of 14 years broke up with him when I was 16 and he has only dated around since. Never anything serious. The closest thing he has had to a girlfriend is a woman who lives over in the Philippines that he met online in a yahoo chat room. Honestly my sister and I never thought much about it. We figured that it was just something he did to occupy his time, but after talking for a while now… he informed us that he is going to the Philippines to meet this woman.

Now, I’m not one to judge, but I’ll admit I’m a little weary. I’ve heard lots of horror stories, and overseas is a little drastic, but over dinner we began discussing it.

“You better have her blood tested.” My sister said.

“Already doing it.” My father replied.

“There are a lot of tests you should have done. It’s called STD’s” I offered.

“You don’t know her like I do.” He said. “She’s very religious.”

“Great.” I responded.

“HEY!” piped in my sister’s best friend. She is also very religious. Now don’t get me wrong. There is nothing wrong with that. To each their own. But in those same regards, not very often have I met people who were “very religious” and really liked me. It’s the whole being gay thing. “Gay and Religion” rarely go hand in hand.

Now by this point my sister was very confused, bless her heart. She didn’t understand why her friend reacted the way that she did, or why I was concerned about this woman religious beliefs. It didn’t dawn on her until she saw the look of worry on my face. I mean after all Dad and I spent five years of not talking because of my sexuality. In fact we have NEVER talked about it. He chose to ignore it all together when he found out from other people, and instead disowned me.

After staring at me for a few seconds, it hit her and she said. “OH. Dad. Did you tell her that your Daughter was a lesbian?”

And just like that every breath of air inside of me was knocked out. Had it not have been for the plate of food in front of me, I might have banged my head on the table. I even considered crawling under it. For almost ten years now I’ve managed to not have “that” conversation with my father. It even ended our relationship for a while, but I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t tell him. I couldn’t face him.

I’ve been told I’m the gayest person alive. My mother marched alongside me to protest homophobia in Nashville, we sat with Betty Degeneres during the filming of The Ellen Show, and I work with Sajdah and Chanel from the Real L Word at Motivate Equality. I’m so unbelievably proud to be gay because it’s an important part of who I am… Yet, I can’t tell him.

I guess my sister could see the anguish on my face, because her immediate response was “What in the world is wrong with you?”

I couldn’t speak. I wanted to vomit. My face turned bright red, and everyone at the table sat in silence.

“You know he knows, right?” she said.

“We’ve never talked about it.” was all I could get out.

“I told her.” He responded. Then he turned to me. “It’s your life, baby. I don’t care what you do.”

Just like that. After ten years of silence, there’s my anti-climatic story of how I “came out” to my father over hamburger helper, and sweet tea. Two years ago his response would have made me angry. I would have flew off the handle about how badly it hurt me that he left, and if he didn’t care what I did, then he wouldn’t have disowned me in the first place. I would have went into a rage over how not caring would have meant we could have talked about it, and that he would have been present for my college graduation and three broken hearts. Not caring would have meant that he would have met my ex-girlfriend, who I swore at the time was the love of my life. Two years ago… I would have reacted completely differently, but instead I nodded, gave a half-hearted smile, and finished my dinner.

See the thing is, when I wanted to change him I couldn’t, but he’s slowly doing it on his own. I’m putting up effort to build a relationship with him, and hopefully his love for me will be enough to get us through anything the future holds. Among the things I expect to face with him will be my engagement, marriage, having his grandchildren with a woman (they will probably be mixed), and eventually I hope that he will accept these things instead of just “not caring”.

I hope that all of you carry an open heart into this Holiday Season. Don’t base your happiness on presents, or lights, but instead on the moments that you spend with loved ones, and the efforts that they make. Love them for who they are, and not who you want them to be…. Just as we hope they’ll one day love us.

Happy Holidays to all!

- Tennessee