I started this post before midnight. With my Internet ADD it won't be posted until National Coming Out Day is over, but fuck it. I've waited 28 years and I'm gonna have my coming out party here on these innerwebs, official days be damned!
I never came out of the closet. Not once. Never had the inclination or the need to announce what was so integral to my many failures at heterosexual dating (yeah, think on THAT a spell), and I feel like I've missed one of the most defining experiences in any young gay person's life. I've always been really dykey and my first crush was on Connie Sellecca when I was about 3, so I never had one of those big "OMG BEWBS ARE PRETTY I MAY POSSIBLY LIKE TO TOUCH THEM" epiphanies. It was never a big deal to me, I was just gay. Well, bi, but the difference is pretty much negligible in my case so it's the same damn thing anyway. I never had to really tell my family either. My dad and stepmom didn't care enough to care in the first place, and my grandparents were and always have been really cool about it. Apparently I was an obvious dyke because I don't remember them being unaware or not okay with it. So I've never had to come out to anyone, and I can't help feeling somewhat robbed by this fact.
I have to admit I'm a little envious of all the gays who find their lives suddenly making sense when they set eyes upon some beautiful person of the same gender. For me it was always like "oh, cool, hot chick. Groovy." I can't recall it ever being a big deal.
Now, I wanted to make a silly post but I have to admit that I was really lucky growing up. My town isn't exactly Mayberry but it's not really very modernized either. It's mainly a working-class midsize town in the Midwestern US. Having always been openly gay, I'm really lucky, all things considered. Sure, I had my ass kicked a lot, but it wasn't always for being a big homo as I was also bookish, nonathletic, unpopular and not attractive. Still, I did receive a lot of fists in my face/ribs/general soft areas for being gay. I also got death threats and all that good stuff, and if I even glanced at anyone in the locker room after gym class I was apparently going to morph into SuperDyke Rapist. I still find that funny since I was very short, chubby, completely uncoordinated and an ant could have beaten me up, so I'm not sure exactly what damage I could have done to anyone. Oh well, apparently the mere fact that I liked girls somehow meant that I fantasized about every single female I laid eyes upon ever. Even random clerks at the grocery store and bathroom attendants.
Anyway, I've had several friends come out to me, and while I'm always flattered that they chose me I do wonder what it must be like to tell someone a huge secret like that. It must be so damn liberating. I'm pretty much a headcase, but I've always known who I am. I can't imagine suddenly discovering it one day, and I guess I envy that feeling of just letting go.
This post totally didn't turn out the way I expected (oh hey, just like my life!) but I'm way too lazy/not witty enough to go back and throw random funnies in, so this is what you get.
Oh and also, because I never got to say it...
I'm gay.
Now where's my confetti, bitches?
Monday, October 11, 2010
Sunday, October 3, 2010
Dental Woes
Recently, one of my upper, more frontal teeth has started to hurt like hell. This is most likely because I have always had problems with my teeth (being born prematurely apparently does not do wonders for jaw development, and also my father is a hillbilly with a busted grill...teef genetics are not on my side) as well as the fact that I am rather poor and thus have not seen a dentist in a decade.
Anyway, this particular tooth has been separating from the gum for years. It's never hurt until about three weeks ago, so I figured it could wait. I always intended to fix it, but as I said, my ass is po' and therefore it wasn't a priority.
The tooth eventually grew tired of my neglect and decided to rebel. Not that I blame it. Honestly I'm surprised it didn't want to hurt me sooner. I was in agony for several days until biting the bullet (figuratively of course, because holy crap ow) and going to visit the dentist I had as a child. She was kind enough to look, although she and her secretary wouldn't shut up about my insurance and money and so on. But she seemed placated when I told her that my family would be helping out, and led me to the chair.
Now, I am a huge wuss when it comes to doctors of any sort, and dentists especially. This is slightly stupid since I have quite a high pain tolerance, and have never really had any issues at the dentist or doctor that I couldn't handle. There have been a lot, too. I've had teeth pulled, metal spacers both put in and taken out, my jaw widened, braces, the whole shebang. But these things didn't really hurt that much, at least not that I recall, and I have no legitimate reason to fear the dentist. But oh Lordy, do I. And after my last appointment, I feel my fears are finally grounded in reality.
There was the usual checkup and poking around with a lovely metal spike, which is always a such a relaxing experience. Also, why do dentists ALWAYS try to have a conversation when they have their hand and various sharp metal things in your mouth? I mean, I'm dumb, but even I know better. These people have actual real-world smart people degrees. Come on, dentists. Anyway, all was relatively well, and after x-rays were taken it was decided that I need a root canal on my poor misbehaving tooth.
(As an aside, this doesn't bother me. Root canals are supposedly horrendous, everything I've read and everyone I've spoken to that's had one says they're no worse than any other filling, so meh. Of course I'll scream like a banshee on here and in the office if it's bad, but I'm not going in expecting hellfire and torture. And I probably just jinxed myself, but whatevs).
The only bad part about the little checkup came when the dentist, who is a very kind and gentle lady in her daily life, pulled out a strange little tool that looked like a disturbing cross between a clit stimulator and a can opener and said she wanted to perform a test to see if the nerve inside the tooth was still functioning. With some trepidation, I reluctantly agreed, thinking that with everything I've been subjected to before this couldn't possibly be worse.
Oh how wrong I was. She leaned the chair back, affixed the little tool to my poor tooth and had me hold onto the handle of the tool loosely. She told me that when I felt anything, I should immediately let go of the tool and it would stop the sensation. Seemed easy enough, so I readied myself for a slight jolt.
For the first few seconds, I felt nothing. Then what I thought was cold, which gave way rapidly to the most intense pain I have ever felt in my entire freaking life, concentrated into my one poor, poor little tooth. I screamed like an absolute girl, and instead of letting go of the stupid clit stimulator of death I tightened my grip, which only made things worse. Perhaps I should have mentioned to my lovely sadistic dentist that when one experiences pain, muscles tend to tense up, not loosen. Thankfully, my cry of agony must have conveyed my pain, because she stopped. I sat in shock for a few seconds, then tried to leave, thinking the appointment was over.
Nope! She wanted to test the tooth on the other side in the same way. I have no idea why I agreed, but I did, with less than desireable results for the both of us. But she should have known better, so I'm really not sorry that I kinda kicked her in the crotchal region.
Her husband is performing my root canal surgery in a couple weeks. I can only pray that she didn't tell him to get vengeance. I'm sure her junk hurt for awhile, since I was wearing my steel-toed work shoes. Still, serves her right.
Anyway, this particular tooth has been separating from the gum for years. It's never hurt until about three weeks ago, so I figured it could wait. I always intended to fix it, but as I said, my ass is po' and therefore it wasn't a priority.
The tooth eventually grew tired of my neglect and decided to rebel. Not that I blame it. Honestly I'm surprised it didn't want to hurt me sooner. I was in agony for several days until biting the bullet (figuratively of course, because holy crap ow) and going to visit the dentist I had as a child. She was kind enough to look, although she and her secretary wouldn't shut up about my insurance and money and so on. But she seemed placated when I told her that my family would be helping out, and led me to the chair.
Now, I am a huge wuss when it comes to doctors of any sort, and dentists especially. This is slightly stupid since I have quite a high pain tolerance, and have never really had any issues at the dentist or doctor that I couldn't handle. There have been a lot, too. I've had teeth pulled, metal spacers both put in and taken out, my jaw widened, braces, the whole shebang. But these things didn't really hurt that much, at least not that I recall, and I have no legitimate reason to fear the dentist. But oh Lordy, do I. And after my last appointment, I feel my fears are finally grounded in reality.
There was the usual checkup and poking around with a lovely metal spike, which is always a such a relaxing experience. Also, why do dentists ALWAYS try to have a conversation when they have their hand and various sharp metal things in your mouth? I mean, I'm dumb, but even I know better. These people have actual real-world smart people degrees. Come on, dentists. Anyway, all was relatively well, and after x-rays were taken it was decided that I need a root canal on my poor misbehaving tooth.
(As an aside, this doesn't bother me. Root canals are supposedly horrendous, everything I've read and everyone I've spoken to that's had one says they're no worse than any other filling, so meh. Of course I'll scream like a banshee on here and in the office if it's bad, but I'm not going in expecting hellfire and torture. And I probably just jinxed myself, but whatevs).
The only bad part about the little checkup came when the dentist, who is a very kind and gentle lady in her daily life, pulled out a strange little tool that looked like a disturbing cross between a clit stimulator and a can opener and said she wanted to perform a test to see if the nerve inside the tooth was still functioning. With some trepidation, I reluctantly agreed, thinking that with everything I've been subjected to before this couldn't possibly be worse.
Oh how wrong I was. She leaned the chair back, affixed the little tool to my poor tooth and had me hold onto the handle of the tool loosely. She told me that when I felt anything, I should immediately let go of the tool and it would stop the sensation. Seemed easy enough, so I readied myself for a slight jolt.
For the first few seconds, I felt nothing. Then what I thought was cold, which gave way rapidly to the most intense pain I have ever felt in my entire freaking life, concentrated into my one poor, poor little tooth. I screamed like an absolute girl, and instead of letting go of the stupid clit stimulator of death I tightened my grip, which only made things worse. Perhaps I should have mentioned to my lovely sadistic dentist that when one experiences pain, muscles tend to tense up, not loosen. Thankfully, my cry of agony must have conveyed my pain, because she stopped. I sat in shock for a few seconds, then tried to leave, thinking the appointment was over.
Nope! She wanted to test the tooth on the other side in the same way. I have no idea why I agreed, but I did, with less than desireable results for the both of us. But she should have known better, so I'm really not sorry that I kinda kicked her in the crotchal region.
Her husband is performing my root canal surgery in a couple weeks. I can only pray that she didn't tell him to get vengeance. I'm sure her junk hurt for awhile, since I was wearing my steel-toed work shoes. Still, serves her right.
Saturday, October 2, 2010
Sleeps!
I has them. Over 14 hours of them, for some unexplained reason. I suppose when one has no job or other responsibilities in life, one can sleep as much as they damn well please. But I was quite happy with this development anyway.
Normally, I don't stay up too late. I've always been rather nocturnal, and have stayed up most of the night as long as I can remember. Even in Sweden it wasn't unusual for me to be awake at 4am and asleep at noon the following day. I had nothing to get up for, so why not?
Since being back in the States, though, I've been going to bed pretty early. For me anyway. My 3-week temp job that started at 6:30am may have had a lot to do with it, but I think the fact that I talk to two beautiful Swedes all the damn time and they're 7 hours ahead of me is a bigger part. Anyway, I've been very good lately and haven't slept past noon in months, which is kind of a huge thing for me since I'm a total bum.
I don't know what happened today. I went to bed around midnight after reading a few chapters in an awesome library book, and slept fairly well. A few nightmares but nothing serious. I woke up and looked at my clock at about 10am, figured I had nothing pressing to get up for, and decided to snooze for a bit more.
The next time I awoke, it was 3:13pm. That's right folks, I slept all freaking day, and now feel like the unemplyed, lazy vagrant my family so steadfastly insists on reminding me I am. But damn it all, it feels really freaking nice. The sleep, not the whole being unemployed thing, although that's not even bad since I'm still getting paychecks. That'll stop soon and I'll feel horrible about myself again, but for right now? Fuck it all.
I'm gonna order me a pizza and watch a movie.
Laziness ahoy! Potential employers...well, if you're reading this for whatever reason, I don't even know. Hell, I'm only applying to places like KFC anyway so I don't think this'll really hurt my chances.
Normally, I don't stay up too late. I've always been rather nocturnal, and have stayed up most of the night as long as I can remember. Even in Sweden it wasn't unusual for me to be awake at 4am and asleep at noon the following day. I had nothing to get up for, so why not?
Since being back in the States, though, I've been going to bed pretty early. For me anyway. My 3-week temp job that started at 6:30am may have had a lot to do with it, but I think the fact that I talk to two beautiful Swedes all the damn time and they're 7 hours ahead of me is a bigger part. Anyway, I've been very good lately and haven't slept past noon in months, which is kind of a huge thing for me since I'm a total bum.
I don't know what happened today. I went to bed around midnight after reading a few chapters in an awesome library book, and slept fairly well. A few nightmares but nothing serious. I woke up and looked at my clock at about 10am, figured I had nothing pressing to get up for, and decided to snooze for a bit more.
The next time I awoke, it was 3:13pm. That's right folks, I slept all freaking day, and now feel like the unemplyed, lazy vagrant my family so steadfastly insists on reminding me I am. But damn it all, it feels really freaking nice. The sleep, not the whole being unemployed thing, although that's not even bad since I'm still getting paychecks. That'll stop soon and I'll feel horrible about myself again, but for right now? Fuck it all.
I'm gonna order me a pizza and watch a movie.
Laziness ahoy! Potential employers...well, if you're reading this for whatever reason, I don't even know. Hell, I'm only applying to places like KFC anyway so I don't think this'll really hurt my chances.
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