G

G is heavy on mymind tonight. I bravely sent off an email stating same. We'll see if I was stupidly brave or not. She called today while I was in the Women and Children First bookstore. She had been on my mind for hours by the time she called. So I stood outside and talked with her for quite a while. Man. This girl totally slays me. She laughs easily and from the belly. I love that.

I spent an evening in tonight. Wandered around the net. Hadn't done that in so long. Had some catching up to do.

Spent the day wandering around my neighborhood. I really like this place. Ended up in the birck and mortar Early To Bed store. That, for the uninformed, is a women owned sex toy place. You know you're in a big city when you have an actual store you can go to that isn't run by creepy old men with overpriced dildos and creepy "screening" rooms. I am so cultured, no? HAR!

Tomorrow I will wake and go have bagels and watch the neighborhood come alive.

Ah, but she settles in nicely. Hey Pickpocket! A note! Something, huh?!

Days and Days of Catch-Up

I tried to keep a sort of journal whilst I was away. Tried to check my email. To Pickpocket, WonderWoman and Witchy I say thanks for thinking of me while I was gone. Aww. My wee blogger grrrrrls. ;-)

11.21.04

~I Sure Could Use A Stool

So I am in. A new place and new beginnings. The place is awesome and big. Hard woods. Great view. I am told that I my neighborhood is "the" center of gay and lesbian life in Chicago.

Tonight I stand beside my kitchen counter fiddling with a pc that isn't yet hooked up to the internet. But I crave release and sometimes writing does that for me. And so here I stand, sans stool, typing away in this pseudo-cavernous empty space. The guy below me tooting away on his sax. Very fitting, that. A lonely sound, yes. But one that has always sounded cautiously optimistic to my ears.

I am learning the city fairly rapidly, I think. Not lost once. Map always at the ready just in case. Dare I say that I think I will really love this city? It is huge. I mean the place just goes on and on. Today I found parking each time I wanted it. Got out and wandered around. Beautiful. Middle of November and I think it is beautiful.

Man. I really wanna go down and meet the sax. That is what I shall call him, I think. Sax. My luck it's a damn clarinet. But he tears me because I do want to turn on my music and put together the new futon. (New futon!) Fiddle with the new camera. (New camera!!)

We'll see. For now I will go and rummage around in here and begin to see how the place should be.

I do know that I need a coat rack as here in this city I shall finally have coats. Never before, but here I shall need coats. Ooo. And hats. I look stupid but I do have hats. And who cares how you look? You look more odd when your ears fall off. Right?

~Later

GAY NEIGHBORS!!

Yup. Went next door. Well, across the hall. Hunger drove me out, see. I've no phone book. No internet. No desire to walk into the (what shall I call it?) cross. (Three block away is the center of all the fantastic activity.) (But it's dark and I'm tired. Phtt.) So across the hall I went. His name is Jeremy. Good, for I must always have a Jeremy in my life. I like that this one is gay. He gave me some take-out menus and numbers for utilities. His partner will come and meet me on the morrow.

*sigh* And she settles in...

~And later still...

Jeremy helped me put my futon together. I was of the mind that I could do it myself, but I'm so glad he came over because I couldn't have.

I grow pensive now. I suppose it could be that I am tired. Ready to be in my own bed, even if it is new. Or, it could be that this is a brand new place and that I do have a tendency to get a little introspective at times like this. It all stands waiting.

That's it.

11.22.04

~Glitter

The first day off without a hitch. I may or may not get to go to the conference in February, but that isn't so bad. I managed lots of paperwork and new hire stuff today. They are a wonderful bunch, really. Very professional, which is so refreshing. Very practitioner centric. Also refreshing.

G called today. I'd left my phone at home because I wasn't thinking. She called twice. The second time while sitting in O'Hare. Ugh. That sexy voice sounding reflective and needy telling me she hoped to miss her connection so as to spend an evening with me. How I draw her I do not comprehend. But draw her I have.

11.25.04

~Out

So tonight was supposed to be "the" night to go out. And so I went with M. Met a few girls. Cute. Overall the crowd was very cute. Met one I might have been interested in. Not my "type" specifically but a cute girl and she seemed outgoing and all that. She had that bit of something extra that makes me look twice at girls who don't fall into the specific type. The night was not at all as busy or active as M had implied. No matter. We went to another hole in the ground that I loved, as I love a dive neighborhood bar, but no one was there either. And so me and M and this K girl went to eat. A yummy fattening, very greasy meal was enjoyed by me. Good convo for the most part. Of course, my being republican came up. I was not eviscerated, which was nice. The woman had clearly made a thoughtful decision in her politics.

I guess I'm glad that I went. I need to break into this town slowly. I already know that I will love Chicago. So open. The people so welcoming. Again, it's very refreshing.

11.25.04

~Walking Home

I walked home tonight in a world insulated by a light covering of snow. A world so quiet at 11:30. The first night that I haven't had a spot right outside my door.

Mia took me to a Thanksgiving get-together. A fabulous group of people. Solid folks that I'd love to see again. And one, who lives in my neighborhood, incidently, that I'd love to see more of. G2. 27. Why are they all 27? Good thing that I don't look 35, right? She is very confident. Very sure of herself without being egotistic. Dark hair and eyes, which is outside my general oomph reaction. But if you look at several, hell, most, of the women I've dated, very few actually fall within the short and blonde category.

Shannon. She sticks with me even still. Short. Blonde. Blue. Attitude and coy definitely add. When people ask me my "type", that is always my answer. Short. Blonde. Blue. Shannon. I realized it last night. She has become my ... "type." How is it that she became my ideal? We kissed a lot. But we hardly even dated, let alone slept together. So how is it that Shannon has become that to which I hold all others up?

Anyway. G2. A smartie. I gave my number to a few folks. And her. And a guy that I talked to forever on the porch. He offered me his bowl and I hit it once. Its been a long time and I was driving tonight so I only hit once. But it was enough to slow the constant din in my head. We chatted a lot outside while smoking. He and his girlfriend will likely contact me. Or, at least I hope so.

I also met a girl who was an ex of G2. She is 33 and currently dating a guy. I like that. We talked about it briefly. She is just comfortable enough with her sexuality and her libido to explore it. I like that.

......

In all seriousness, I'd like to be high on my porch. Slow the noise down and really explore what this all means to my head.

Soon, maybe. Soon.

T minus OH MY GOD IT'S HERE!

So I leave in the morning. After lots of packing and cleaning and more packing, I am driving out.

My head is numb. Headachey all day.

Excited but oh, so tired.

I already know more gay women there than I do here.

Damnit. I thought that I might have some interesting thing to say. I was wrong.

Miss me? Just a little? I'll be back on as soon as I can.

Goodbyes at the Lipstick

Ah, so it all begins to weigh me down.

Work was... work. Just like any other day. No big goodbyes. Everyone acted like it was just another day. I was upset about that at first. Then I realized that it just totally reinforces that I made the right decision.

C called to see what was up. Since I am leaving so soon she said that I had to have dinner and a last night at the Lipstick Lounge. Apparently, my psychosis leaked out at dinner. I didn't know. I totally did not know. I am losing bits of time again. That hasn't happened in forever. Fuck.

A weepy goodbye with Crystal.

Even weepier with C and T.

I wonder if K, the ex, will be at all emotional.

But what it comes down to is that Nashville was vital for me. For my growth. For my career. For my faith. It served its purpose in my life.

"Seek peace and prosperity in the city into which I have carried you into exile." Jer 29:7

"For I know the plans I have for you," declares the Lord, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future. Jer 29:11

Pieces Of Superman

Damnit. I get all in the mood to write of psychosis and get stumped at the opening. So I guess I should just jump right in. I should mention that this will seem clunky and disjointed. Nature of the beast, I guess.

My head has been very loose lately. For the uninformed, that means switching and even less consistency than I usually manage.

I live with Dissociative Identity Disorder. It used to be called Multiple Personalities. It was changed many moons ago because of folk like me, I guess. My life has never been so interesting or tragic as Trudi Chase or Sybil. Not by half. Annoying. Tiring. But never truly tragic.

And before you ask, I have no idea about who lives inside or what their names are. Well. Mostly, I don't. The goal of therapy for me was to manage near sanity in my day to day and to increase internal communication so that could happen. I walked into therapy a twitching, morbidly depressed, nearly psychotic with the unknown mess of a woman. Ten some-odd years ago. I'd been really sick since 18-ish and have no memory before twelve.

My final Dx, D.I.D, would be my sixth Dx. As much as it scared me, it fit.

So that basically brings us to now, right? I've been healthy sorta for several years. But my head has been loose again. Full. Chatty. And I think I am ready for the next step. But what is the next step?

For me, I think it is time to meet them. I don't want the dreaded integration. I just want to know who's who, I guess. I don't recall therapy at all and my T had to have proof. I want what she knows. What she saw on a weekly basis to warrant bringing in an intern to observe. Most times I don't doubt it, this Dx. Hell, the proof is everywhere on a daily basis.

Two big things bring this up, I think.

1) One of my Grannys died in June. I have always thought that side of the family held the secrets. My mom and her side perpetuated them, yes. But that side holds the key. That Granny's daughter, my aunt, wrote me not long after. As I have no shame about this, I had mentioned my battles with madness to her because she suffers sever bipolar. A bit of the camaraderie. In her letter, she mentioned that she could answer the questions she was certain that I had but she didn't want to cause problems in the family. What the fuck?? I have been so terrified of the possible damage this could do to my health that I have not yet taken her up on it. But part of me really wants to.

2) My mother is flying in to drive to Chicago with me and help me settle in. She knows the barest of information about my madness. I worked my ass off to not ever let her really see it. But she has noticed it a lot of late. (The wrong "me" keeps answering the phone and being shitty to her.) I have decided to tell her all I know on the way to Chicago. I even told her today that I would so now there is no backing out. She knows it's D.I.D and what it used to be called. She's looked it up. She has never, not once, denied the possibility. As if that isn't odd enough, being that this is a "creative child's response to trauma", she went so far as to say that it made sense. Again, what the fuck??? In the past, when I have asked about the childhood I don't remember, she has said that I was "a very brave and courageous child." Say it with me, folks: What. The. Fuck??? If you had one sentence in which to encapsulate your child's childhood, what parent says "You were a very brave and courageous child"????

So dear old mom is gonna get the skinny. I made her promise to not go all woe is me on me. To not complain of feeling terrible guilt and blaming her self. I don't feel all that any more. I don't blame her. Besides, this isn't any longer, if ever, about her. This thing is mine. It is me. It has nothing to do with her. I am not telling her to find that little nugget of information that I searched for a whole decade to find. I am telling her so that she might know me better.

And I guess I am telling you so that you understand that crazy don't always look crazy or act crazy. I'm totally not pc. I own this thing now. I am not always its master, but I do own it. I can laugh about it. Sometimes, it beats me down and smothers me with the sweet, cloying scent of madness.

But I always get up again. Bruised, battered, so very tired, weak. But I do get up, Superman always gets up. And for people I will never meet, I have always agreed to answer any question about it.

Enough for now. More later as this thought process and the shifting continues.

Chicago Update

*sigh*

• Ok. So the apartment I thought I might get fell through. It's ok. I'll just find another one.
• Oddly, I got another job offer today. Boy. When it rains...
• Work goes on. My last day is Friday. In theory, people are supposed to pseudo-mourn your leaving and throw a wee party. You know, cake and stuff. At the very least a card. I am not so sure of this place. Fickle lot, this group. Satan sneered at me yesterday because I am no longer dancing around her moods. But she is gone for the rest of the week so we'll see.
• Rob, the bossman, is actually acting like he might miss me. Hell, he should. I was the second employee to be hired. Damn near went without pay more than once trying to get this business up and running. Today I caught him watching me, a grin on his face. "What?" He slugged me on the shoulder and walked away.
• Don't lose hope all ye who skim this blog. In no time at all I'll be telling you of the exploits of a single dyke in Chicago. Names will be changed, of course. For now, I'm just really tired at the end of every day.
• PHTT!

(Spell check wants bossman to be bosnian. Sheesh!)

Apartment Hunting For The Internet Generation

So sweet Mother Nomy is freaking out about me not having a place in Chicago. I'm freaking out because all this extra crap in my head is causing the walls between me and sanity to thin considerably.

Enter the internets. *grin*

Off I run to Craigslist Chicago. And found *just* the place. Called the girl. She called back. We laughed. We cried. Phtt. The place is nearly mine. Yes, yes. Sight unseen. Remember, if you will, this is how the universe works for me.

One bedroom. Four rooms total. Lots of light. (I've seen the pics. Get off-a my ass.) Near Boystown-ish. $780. Not bad. Nomy needs lots of space and I was ra-heeeely worried that I'd have to settle for a small box of a room.

My mother can breathe again.

I can go back to pretending that I'm as right as rain.

I'm Tired, So Read This

http://divisionoflabour.com/archives/000272.php

ready...aim...PEE!

Drug test today. Nothing to fear, though. They cannot test me for a desire to do a drug or eight, only the evidence that I have fallen under the weight of said desire.

Which I have not. Phtt.

But you need to understand a little something here. Your sweet lovable Nomy is no hover-er. And she got a whoppin four minutes in which to pee. And for me that includes the wipe-the-toilet-down-wipe-your-hands-cover-seat-in-paper-so-not-one-speck-of-nasty-toilet-seat-is-showing ritual! I had to pee like a Belgian race horse from holding it all morning and now, NOW they put me on a time limit! And y'all know that women can't exactly aim that thing. Right? You know this?

The nice lady said, no lie, "I hope this doesn't offend you, but if there is urine on the outside of the cup, please wipe it down." Offend me? Offend me?? Really? Nice lady said that the woman before me got all (pardon the pun, you knew it was coming) pissy with her when she asked that the "soppin wet cup" be wiped down. Those quote marks are there because that is what Nice Lady said.

The whole time we're having this conversation, I am still prancing. No, not because I still have to pee, which I think I do, but because the water wouldn't work in the little room I had to use. Nomy-the-ever-psychotic did not yet wash her hands! EEEK! Please, Nice Lady. Please point me to the sink that works!

So went my afternoon in the pee clinic. I feel dirty. I want a shower.

Oh, and one more completely unrelated thing. To all the young tough guy lesbians out there. You know who you are. You get all pimped out in your Titans jersey, Titans sock hat, low slung jeans. You know. Listen. I know you got a 'rep to protect. But if you're gonna smoke, then smoke. This filling your mouth up like you did when you were holding your breath as a kid and then whooshing it back out fools no one. You think the girl on your arm thinks it's cool? Phtt. Maybe she does. Maybe she does.

God, how I wanted to say something. My fuse soooo short these days. Still. It isn't like me to open my trap.

I almost said "these kids today..." Cripe. Is 35 really that old?

(Your spell check update finds Blogspot not recognizing "pissy." It wants pussy instead. Insert naughty comment here.)

wait...wait...wait...HURRY UP!!

So today I finally get my offer package in the post. I am, of course, thrilled.

And then I read it.

What is today? The fourth? They put my start date on the 15 (!) for the love of Pete! A brand new city in which I know no one.

Phtt.

Good money. Lots of help getting there. But I need an apartment and all that. Hell, my last big exam for my last big certification is on the 14th.

Yesterday, I had no clue about the start date, or when the package would arrive. Today, suddenly, I am *gasp!!*

All. Of. A. Sudden. I have tons to do.

I am thrilled to be getting on with this, yes. But I am quickly overwhelmed.

(This all sounds like whining and not at all like me. I am not whining. I am tired and overwhelmed. Good tired. Good overwhelmed. But overwhelmed nonetheless.)

Tired

I am really tired but wanted to update this blog. I am overwhelmed by the venom I have had spewed at me by other gay people for my beliefs. The "tolerant left" has rarely been that towards me during all of this. And, like I said, I'm tired.

Which probably is the reason my head has been so loose lately. And I got to thinking that, along with the impending move, I should maybe address my wee psychosis here as well.

And I will. Look for it. As I said earlier, I get all kinds of verbose when my head is loose.

My guy won. I am thrilled. But even Kerry said it. Can't we just repair and try to move on together?

Please?

Shannon

Again with the cross posting. This from TD. Someone started a thread that, because of the influence of the music of Charlotte Martin, I was unable to battle the memory.
---

Mine will be bittersweet, I fear. But beautiful in that I knew it for what it was. She was the one that got away. Shannon from my youth, as she has come to be called in my head. Shannon who danced.

She and I had danced around each other and with each other for a couple years. Everyone knew about us and that damn unrequited attraction. She knew me inside and out; knew enough to know that one step closer meant two steps back.

We met one night through a mutual friend. I had been dragged out of my reclusivity to a small gathering of friends enjoying a jacuzzi. I walked in and she rose from the water, naked from the waist up. Wine glass in hand, she made her way across the water to look me dead in the eye and mutter the first of what were always perfect phrases: "Who is this woman because she is goddamn my type."

She had a way with coy; a way with words that struck me deeply. Her eyes... good God, her eyes.

But we were never to be.

Any chance we had came to an end when I told her I was moving away. We made no half-hearted promises of staying in touch.

She danced for me that night. In a room full of people and throbbing music, this creature who is still a part of me danced only for me. Her eyes never leaving mine, smiling but weeping gently, me watching her from across that room. I went to her and wrapped her up from behind. We held on for long moments. "I love you," I said in her ear over that loud music. "I have always loved you."

I have always loved her. I think I always will, this girl who got away. But that goodbye was so beautiful. So perfect. I feel it still.

I feel her still.

Thank You Blog Gods Redux

Aw. Those sweet young lads and lasses at Blogspot have written your fair Nomy back.

"Hi there,

If your template does not already have a link section, it should be easy
to create one. Look in your template code and find the sidebar section. To
keep the formatting the same, copy one of the existing headers, such as
"Archives", and change the label to "Links" (or whatever you prefer).
Underneath the new header, you can add the links as described in our
Blogger Help article here:"

And then they gave me the help section link. I'm posting it because I am certain there are others like me. This is for them.

Fragments

• Tomorrow is the election. I am thrilled that it is almost over. Unless, of course, Kerry keeps his promise to contest any and all results. I hate to think that 2000 is what elections in the US have become. But even worse is the idea that some creeps in Congress have to let the U.N. monitor our elections. I actually already voted as Tennessee has early voting. Still I waited in line. Vote, people, or you can't bitch. And God knows we love to bitch.
• Got a call from the powers that be in Chicago. The deal is done. Only ink on a line and a drug test to go. Staying motivated here is a trial each day. And living in this gaggle of boxes is wearing on my nerves.
• Death Of A TechnoDyke update: I hate to see this. I think it's amazingly cyclical and a great barometer of the negativity in our world just now. People are rabid with this election. People are down right mean. And I'd be willing to bet that this mood is seen IRL as well.
• Oop. Forgot to mention that this dyke voted for Bush. Passed some young Vandy studs holding Bush signs and honked like a crazy lady. Woot woot!
• This bulleting thing is nifty. Think I should make a list of all the crap I have to do before the move.