Alternatively titled I love the Internets or I just wanted To Share

I have several half written blog posts that *one day* will make here for your reading pleasure, but today I’m just going to share a few posts that  resonated with me in a very special way. So without further ado.

Blogs that made my day.

Being by Doniree:  Found via (Genpink): I love this post so much that, not only do I want to print it and read it lots, I also want to copy it.  Not word for word, but I want to copy the style of it and create my own “I am” piece.

You Already Have Everything You Need by Jenny Blake: I’m not sure whether I have a humongous girl crush on Jenny or if this is just hero worship but I love her.  This post is the answer to all of my angst filled “why can’t I just get over myself and do something” posts.

How To Be Creative At Work by Penelope Trunk: She kind of lost me in the middle with all the high brow vs low brow commentary, but the last paragraph sums up the trouble that I think I have finding work in organizations and how I feel today about the work I’m not allowed to do at work. Sometimes our pre-conceived idea of what is acceptable or what we need causes us to miss out on the gems that are amazing but don’t quite fit what we’re looking for.

Empty Spaces (and Moving Past Loneliness by Jenny Blake: (Told you that I love her!) I love this post because I can relate. Moving to Atlanta was incredibly hard. I left a lot of my “I’ll be at your door in 15 minutes” friends in NC, and haven’t really filled that space yet. So now when the GF and I are involved with different things, and I can’t get someone on the phone, I find myself really alone for the first time ever. It’s f’ing scary and I hate it but those times teach me to be comfortable with and by myself.

Rescued by a Social Justice Christian by KT_Writes: As I struggle to reconcile my spirituality with the other parts of my personality, I crave wisdom from other people who succeed in that endeavor. Kristin is a great example of Christian done right. And this post exemplifies points about Christianity that many Christians fail to remember. Jesus is about service and helping others and feeding the poor. And that’s all social justice is.

Kevin Powells “Open Letter to Black America” by Sista Toldja: I really like this letter.  It speaks to several issues: Spiritually, Health, Community Economic Development, and Urban land development issues that I care deeply about and that I worry don’t get the “air play” that they deserve. I also believe that while this letter was aimed specifically at Black folk, there are a lot of poor Asian, Hispanic, Latino and other folk who need to read/hear/see it as well.

When I started my coming out process, I was going through huge life transitions and I was hoping to use some of those transitions to re-invent myself. Finding a woman with whom I wanted to start a relationship with complicated and kick-started my reinvention process. Over the course of 6 months, I quit a job I loved to take a part-time gig, I started graduate school, moved out of my mother’s house (again) and moved into my first apartment with no roommates, started graduate school and fell in love with a woman.

Telling, or deciding who and when to tell has been one of the most anxiety-ridden thing I’ve had to do in regards to my lesbian identity. I had to make decisions about my mom, my siblings, other family members, my friends, acquaintances, church members, co-workers, everyone.  Even the strangers we meet in the streets automatically make judgments or assumptions about our (homo and hetero) relationships, gender and sexuality. I had to decide how I wanted to deal with it all.

In graduate school, I was neither in nor out. I was the queen of DADT.

Of course, there was that one favorite classmate of mine who figured it out almost immediately. I would neither confirm or deny, but for him, the cat was out of the bag.  We shared a wink and a smile, and both went back to whatever conversation we were originally having. I will always love him for that. And it felt good to know that if wasn’t that big of a deal.

In talking about the GF, I simply said my significant other, my partner or the asexual “them”.  However, it didn’t take my closest classmates very long to realize that the only reason a person would use those particular words was if they had something to hide. And I am reminded of a particular raucous, tequila filled night where I slipped up and said her. I hoped that no one noticed.

On Diversity Day we watched a series of skits designed to inform us of all the ways we could look like racist, prejudiced a-holes, even when we don’t mean to be. While I was visibly awkward and disturbed by the display of We Love Everyone –even the Blacks, the Jews, the Homos and Women– propaganda, I was NOT going to use that moment to tell my professors and classmates of my super minority status.

It wasn’t until our second year when a group of us were thinking of renting a house together that I thought, in the spirit of full disclosure, I should come clean.  And with the eight of us standing in a Kroger parking lot discussing the pros and cons of a communal living arrangement, I in full dramatic fashion, proclaimed myself a lesbian. My friends just looked at me with silly grins, as if they A. Needed a warning and B. Didn’t already know.

Even if they didn’t care, I felt good about it.  And I felt good about waiting to share. In entering graduate school, I made a conscious decision not to be the token lesbian. I wanted to be liked and judged on the merits of my character, wittiness, drinking ability, and intellectual prowess, not on the sex of the person with whom that I share my life.

And waiting helped me accomplish that.

I have 3 siblings.  You’ve heard me talk about my brother that’s in Afganistan, and my youngest sister, Kelly Belly, who is the smartest person I know.

I don’t often talk about my sister Maretta, so I’m going to tell you a story about her today.  Maretta (Retta Feta) is only 18 months younger than me.  Apparently, my mother didn’t realize that she could get pregnant so quickly after birthing me.  For all intents and purposes, I cannot remember my life without Retta being a part of it. We went to the same elementary, middle and high schools. I used to hang out with her class and go with her on field trips. (I don’t know how I got out of my classes to attend all her events.) Maretta and I were never in the same class because Maretta has Down’s Syndrome.

Maretta’s Down’s Syndrome was never a issue in our family. Often when friends meet her for the first time they are surprised by it because we don’t think it’s something that needs to be explained in some way.  She was never treated any differently. Mama expected her to go to school and do well, the same as the rest of us.  Specialness was not a hot commodity in our family. Everyone is special. I’m special because I was the oldest, Maretta’s special because of Down’s Syndrome, Matthew’s special because he’s the only boy, and Michaele’s special because she’s the youngest. See how that works? No one was ever jealous and no one had “middle child syndrome”.

I’ll be the first to admit that my siblings and I don’t have a traditional sibling relationship. We just love each other too much, and we’ve always gotten along way too well.  That doesn’t mean that there haven’t been times when I’ve wanted to bang their heads together.  With Retta, I rarely wanted to bang her head against something; I was more likely to want to bang my head against something. She has never liked it when I’ve told her what to do, and she is WAY more stubborn than I am. And quite honestly, she’s stronger than I am, so I never could bang her head into anything the few times I’ve tried.

Maretta is very caring and loving but, like all of us, she has her flaws. Maretta had a couple of years between her birth and our brother’s.  She was none too pleased to have Matt in the family.  She didn’t want to touch him, she didn’t want to play with him, she didn’t want him around and she had HELLA tantrums when he was a baby.  I, on the other hand, treated him like a new toy.

And when Kell was born a few years later, things weren’t much better. Maretta was indifferent to her at best.  Kell was is an attention whore, and I don’t think Maretta liked having this little screaming meanie monopolizing Mom’s and Dad’s and my attention. Maretta ignored her when she could and tolerated her when she had to. (Now they have a great relationship, and their closeness makes me proud and a little jealous).

Maretta’s disdain for children extends to all babies and toddlers. Under the best circumstances she ignores them and pretends that they don’t exist.

So when I, my Mom, Maretta and Michaele decided to visit Matthew’s wife and babies this Christmas we weren’t sure how Retta would react to the little ones.  Honestly, we weren’t sure how ANY of us would react.  We all were meeting Matt’s family (wife included) for the first time and it was a little scary for all of us.  Moreover, since Matt’s in Afghanistan, we could not even use him as a buffer.

Luckily, Christmas was AWESOME. My brother’s wife is really sweet and we had a lot of fun. We each made sure to get some one-on-one bonding time with Maria. And I, personally, think Matt did a good job of adding her to our family. And my boy has made some pretty babies.

The babies are the cutest creatures I have ever seen.  They are cuter than puppies, kittens, bunnies, and strawberry pie a la mode.  I am madly, dangerously, irreversibly in love.  And I’m not the only one.  Maretta couldn’t get enough of those children. Almost immediately she was curious about them, peeking over our shoulders so that she could get a good look at them while we held them, or showering them with kisses whenever they were close to her. And before long she wanted to hold them by herself and talk to them.  This was the ONLY time that Maretta has ever given two hoots about a kid, and now she’s cooing, and kissing and rocking this beautiful child. *shaking my head*

Life is grand. And I’m an auntie.

If we are Facebook friends, check out my “Christmas in Colorado photo album”. And if we aren’t facebook friends, check my photos out here.

It seems like a lot of people lately are getting engaged or married. The overarching theme that I hear at engagement parties, and wedding showers and on invitations is the idea that marriage means getting to spend the rest of your life with your best friend.

What a wonderful idea.

Presumably, when two people decide to get married they have things in common. They know each other’s likes and dislikes, favorite foods, favorite movies, personal styles and so forth.  But more importantly, these two people are able to identify each other’s smells and the taste of one’s skin.  They know what they expect to feel when they touch a favorite body part.  If one were to hear the other’s voice at a distance, over the phone or across the way, they know unconsciously that it is them.

Countless times a day I think a thousand variations of “I have to share this with the GF!” when I read or see something that makes me laugh or cry. And I sometimes send her half a dozen emails when I read something that I know she will find interesting.

So when I hear about friends that have been in relationships as long or longer than myself going through the messiest of break-ups or even those that end because “We just aren’t right for each other anymore” I automatically put myself in their shoes and try to figure out what the GF and I can do to avoid their fates.

I understand what it feels like to want to spend the rest of your life with my best friend.  And it makes my stomach hurt to think about living my life without her in it.  I’ve lost best friends before, and it ain’t fun. I don’t want to go through that again.

When I see my newly single friends bouncing back from a break up, I marvel at how they do it.  How do you turn off the “I can’t wait to share this with them” button?  How do you forget about this person that meant so much to you? How does one go from sharing the most intimate details of life with a person to never speaking to them again?   Call me crazy, but I get attached.  Once I’ve shared myself with you, I find it difficult to just forget about all those details and go about my existence without at least wondering about the other person.

Unfortunately, the reality of life is that break-ups happen.  People, interests, desires all change. Sometimes we make stupid mistakes that change the course of our lives and relationships.  And while I know a break up would not literally kill me, that pain is not one that I relish having.  And maybe that’s why I try so hard to keep my relationship together.

I was born in December of 1981. Because of a couple of educational loopholes, (and the fact that I could already read) I started kindergarten when I was four.  This was a lucky break for me. I found that it was easier to blend in as someone who was younger, than it would have been if I one of those kids that was almost a whole year older than everyone else.  It wasn’t until college that it was a pain to be the youngest. Especially at 18 and 21. But that’s a story for another day.

My birth in 1981 leaves me on the edge. I’m on the cusp of the Gen X/Gen Y split.  Sociologically, I completely identify with Gen Y. I boomeranged. I’m happily not married. I’m a job hopper. I fit all the criteria.

You would think that I would jump for joy at the prospect of having hundreds of Gen Y blogger feeds delivered to my Google Reader every day. You would think that I would be able to identify with, and be encouraged, educated and inspired by the writings of my generational compatriots.

Then I go to Brazen Careerist, which no doubt has given me access to a bunch of, in some cases, underrated bloggers who I love, but sometimes I scan the titles and think, “It this it?”

This is the best and the brightest? These are who we “feature”, who we ask to guest post, who get best blogger awards?

Are Gen Y bloggers only allowed to talk about Gen Y, social media, the internet, marketing, and entrepreneurship?

Ya know, I love a REALLY GREAT post about any of those subjects, but the “Top 5 Ways to Hack Blah Blak Blah” and the “Gen Y is different because yak yak yak” has been done to death.

Seriously. It’s dead.

Unless you have something COMPLETELY new and different to share, stop writing about being a member of Gen Y, social media, HR, marketing, career planning, or any number of boring and/or overdone topics. But if you blog about these topics because it’s your passion or brand, or it’s what you do for work, or you want to get noticed by an industry insider,  for God’s sake, make it interesting for the rest of us.

How can you make your blog posts more interesting? Make me care.

Your life is interesting. Relationships are interesting. Building bridges is interesting.  Having a conversation is interesting. Telling a great story is interesting. Making a difference is interesting. Exposing stupidity is interesting.  Overcoming is interesting. Making me jealous is interesting. Being inspiring is interesting. Being funny is interesting.

For goodness sakes, if you are going to write for the web, say something meaningful. Compel me to subscribe to you.  Be fucking interesting.

Two nights ago I didn’t sleep that well. For most of the night, I felt like I was somewhere between consciousness and sleepytown.  It wasn’t very restful.  At least part of the problem was that a) I didn’t make it to the gym that day, and b) it’s that time of the year in the south when the seasons change, leaves start to fall and my allergies start to irritate me.

Apparently, even when I hover in this purgatory of the sleep world, I still snore. And because of my allergy irritation, I snored LOUD.  Loud enough to wake up the GF.

**I’m going to stop the story to say that a fear of mine is that the GF is going to kill me in my (and her) sleep. And she has a fear of zombies and dead people being reanimated and people who sleep with their eyes open. Yes, we’ve talked about these fears at length.

(Back to the story) So when I felt something warm touch my chin I immediately flashed my eyes open And what did I see? The GF’s hand closing in on my throat (or so I thought).

Of course, I’m terrified because it’s my nightmare coming true. She’s going to kill me! (This commentary is happening only in my head, I don’t ever say anything)

The GF gets scared because I look like Night of the Living Dead and my eyes are wide as saucers. Apparently, she thought I would sleep through this assault.

Eventually, she was convinced that I was, indeed, awake, she brings her hand all the way to my face, and gently turns my head away from her.  She said, “You’re snoring in my ear, I was reaching to turn your head.” (Yeah, that’s what all the middle of the night killers say.)

Apparently she often rearranges my head because of the snore, but this was the first time I woke up.

I don’t know, man.  I mean, how often does one wake up to find a loved one’s hand coming towards one’s throat?  I think I’m going to have to sleep with one eye open.

I was watching an L Word DVD this weekend. In one of the overly-dramatic scenes one of the characters (Jody) realizes that her girlfriend (Bette) is a lying cheater. During the break up, Jody said that two things that really resonated with me.

Jody asks Bette if she still loves her, Bette says yes.  Jody clarifies by asking if she loves her to the exclusion of all others. Of course, cheating-ass Bette just looked sad and stupid.

Do you love me to the exclusion of all others?

WOW. That’s asking a lot, right? I mean, I understand the sentiment behind it- fidelity and so forth- but when you think about it that’s a pretty powerful statement.  Loving one person to the exclusion of all others means, of course, that you will be faithful to and love only that one person.  But in my estimation, this ACTUALLY refers to excluding everyone else.  This is why married couples leave their parents and start their own household.

Today, one of my friends told me she was happy to have couple friends because couple friends understand the importance of “couple time”. Couple time excludes everyone else. It’s time for you and your boo- alone.

In past relationships I was the girl that left her boyfriend at home and partied with her friends. I preferred my friends; I was more likely to exclude HIM. My current relationship is different.  I’d rather be with the GF than anyone else.  And when I am with my friends, I can’t wait to come home to her.

But that’s not all that happened on The L Word. Later in the scene, Jody proceeds to break down.  She lamented the fact that she allowed herself to love Bette as much as she did.  She said I was fine before I met you.

I had to yell at the TV screen at that one! Jody I feel you, girl!  Sometimes the GF pisses me off so BAD! Sometimes she does things that make me think back to the night we met.  I remember our first few dates and I think, if only she’d kept her damn hands to herself. If only we hadn’t had such a strong connection. If only she had left me alone.

I was fine before I met her. My life was going according to plan.  Granted, when we met I was ending a relationship that was less that satisfying but I had great friends, a great job and my heart was in check.

Then I fell in love with the GF and nothing has been fine since.  No one has makes me as mad as she does, no one makes me laugh as hard and no one makes my heart feels so full.

But sometimes I want to strangle her

Rebecca, brilliant chick that she is, has asked for participation in a Goal Meet-Up project.  Since I was planning on posting about my new goals anyway, I’m gladly joining her experiment.

Wanna hear it? Here it go!

So I’ve moved all my stuff and have been living with the GF since the end of June.  At first, I had a hellacious transition period because I moved with to Atlanta with no job and all my job leads were in California.  Initially, my plan was to keep looking for permanent employment in Cali, and get something short term (waiting tables) in the meantime.

Well, sometimes life has other plans. After just a few short weeks of looking, I landed a great job in Atlanta.  Of course, while I was job searching and mooching off the GF, my only two priorities were 1. Find a job so that I could be a contributing member of the household 2. Don’t drive the GF bonkers.

Once I got the job all squared away, and I started believing the GF when she said she wasn’t going to kick me out, I started to relax and think about life in the A. Since I’m going to be in Atlanta, I don’t want to be miserable.  I needed to get a life (and the GF strongly agreed).

So, in typical Monica-style I made myself a list, a “How to get a life” list if you will, of goals and stuck them on the vision board.  They are in order of importance and the go a little something like this:

Five things I need to work on

1. Meeting new people and Making friends
2. Getting my bills settled
3. Learning my new environment
4. Building my brand
5. Being a better friend, partner and family member

What I’ve done so far:

1. I have joined several meet-up groups and have gone to one of the events.  I have also joined a book club, and I foresee a lot of involvement there.  I have contacted a few local branches of my sorority, in hopes of becoming more active there.
2. I have created a budget and a mint.com account (thanks, Jenny Blake). I’ve called all my creditors about why I didn’t pay them all summer, and I’ve set up payment plans to get me back on track.
3. This is supposed to me be exploring Atlanta neighborhoods by myself without the GF’s GPS, but some Atlanta neighborhoods are scary and I shouldn’t be in them by myself. I’m tabling this til next month.
4. 4. I have had one meeting with a guy that could potentially build my website, but he’s not used to wordpress and I want to keep a wordpress framework, so it probably won’t work between us.  Anyone know any good (inexpensive) web designers?
5. 5. This will be an on-going goal.   My sister lives in Atlanta and I want to make sure I spend time with her. My mom gets lonely back home, and I need to keep good communication with her.  My brother, bless his heart, has finally joined the 21^st century and has email, so I want to write to him more often.  I want to keep in contact with my NC peeps, ‘cause I love and miss them. And I need to more honestly communicate in my relationship with the GF.  I can check that I have been doing all these things in August.

Next Month

1. Calling and/or emailing my friends in NC at least once a week. I’ve gotten out of touch with my MPA family
2. Watch how much money I spend at the grocery store. (I tend to go a bit overboard.)
3. I need to (a.) join (b.) go to (5x wkly) a gym; working out outside isn’t working for me.
4. Call my mom and sister twice a week, send my brother one email a week.  Send text messages to friends when I think of them.
5. Build a marketing campaign for Cosmopolitan Urbanist (and find a web designer)
6. Attend more meet-up events
7. Contact local commercial developers.
8. Show my emotions.
9. I think I’ve found the organization that I’d like to work with next, so now I have to bring myself to their attention. I’m going to attend their September board meeting, and say something useful while I’m there.
10. (Carried over from last month) Get a map of the interior of I-285 and explore different Atlanta neighborhoods, by car.

Wow. This is a lot of goals.  But since they are (mostly) things I was going to do anyway, I think I’m ok.

I’ve been in Atlanta for almost two months now, and I’ve settled into my life with the GF and I’ve gotten a job. Next on my list of things to do is to make myself some friends. So like any good Gen Y quasi-computer geek, I went straight to Meetup and twitter. And while twitter hasn’t been really fruitful (too much spam) Meet up has been amazing.

There are meetup groups for anything you want to do. Me, I’ve joined a couple of arts/film/food lovers groups, a couple of writing groups and a couple of book clubs. So far, my I haven’t been able to attend many of the activities. All the activities tend to happen at the same time that I have something else going on!!!

A few weeks ago, I went to one book club meeting, and I wasn’t impressed. I spent a week quickly reading the book club selection, and not really liking the book. I almost chickened out of going to the meeting (I’m shy and not that into meeting new people). I talked myself into going, only to be pretty disappointed. I ended up leaving the meeting sad and depressed. I didn’t feel a connection to any of the the other members, and there wasn’t anything about that meeting to convince me to return.

Today was different, I attending a Women of Worth book club meeting. It was, in two words, hilariously awesome. It was my kind of book club; we read poems and drank vodka and laughed our asses off. It was so much fun.

When I got home, the GF asked me if I felt silly for getting all bend out of shape over the first failed meeting up. I didn’t actually answer her, but yep. I feel a little silly.

I generally have a pretty f-ed up view of the world. I expect the worst to happen.  I expect people to behave badly.  I have a horrible time trusting people.  I’m a cynic and a pessimist. I’m naturally sensitive, but I try VERY hard to keep my emotions under wrap, in a box with a key in a vault.  In a cave, under the ocean. (Being called a crybaby as a child will do that to you)

So when I read beautiful things written by beautiful people it makes me really happy and my faith in the world is restored (at least briefly).  And Marie had made me pretty happy today. In her post, Take Care, she asserts that we are in the lives of our friends, lovers, families because God trusts us to take care of them.

Read it again to make sure you got it. God trusts us to take care of them.

WOW. I got chill bumps while reading that statement!!! It is such an amazing and empowering thought. I am responsible for taking care of the people with whom I’ve been blessed to interact.

Sometimes I think about packing up my life and running away and living in a cave in the Midwest.  I’ve wondered if anyone would notice or care if I was no longer around. Most times I think I make a so-so friend. So to think that God (in her/his all-knowing wisdom) trusts me?!?!?!

I have friends and family with whom I have a cosmic (in my mind, at least) connection with.  People with whom I immediately feel comfortable.  People with whom I can be my total ridiculous self.  People who know me better than I know myself.  People who (on the days that I believe in reincarnation) I believe I’ve been living and dying with throughout the millennia. People I would die to save.

People who I am very guilty of occasionally treating badly.  People who I haven’t called, texted or even tweeting in forever. I ignore phone calls. I hold grudges.  I hurt feelings.  I rush to get off the phone or off the IM. I have horrible trust issues. I have hang-ups that keep me distant and invulnerable.

Sometimes I consciously tell myself that I shouldn’t care about anyone.  Caring makes one vulnerable and out of control. And I don’t want to be vulnerable and out of control.

When I think about how I treat people, I feel like an asshole.  Because Marie is right. How dare I not care? How dare I not trust myself to be the kind of lover, friend, family member that my loved ones deserve? I mean, if God can trust me (and my friends and family trust me) to do it properly, what’s my f-ing problem?

I’ve been admonished.

Thanks, Marie for reminding me that love, friendship and family are beautiful gifts that shouldn’t be taken lightly.  I promise to do better.  And I printed out her post and am taping it on my Vision Board.  I want to be the kind of person that God, apparently, thinks I am.

Worthy of the people in my life.