"We had been everywhere. We had really seen nothing."

Today, deep breath out, was eclectic and full. The day started out a bit reflective and somber, a bit of writing, reading, and napping, only to look up from a half-written paper to realize I had just completely missed math class. Although, missing math class was not all that big of a deal. So, the somberness moved in a crescendo that peaked with great sadness and settled in gratitude. As many of you may know, I lost a great love to a horrible bike accident in the last year, and some days my thoughts are just full of him. Anyhow, by the end of the day, I was just so happy to have ever been afforded the opportunity to experience that kind of ocean of feeling, I could do nothing more than smile.

Also, today was a day that ended in reward. My new bike finally came into the Peddler bike shop, and wow, she is fantastic. Steel, great geometry for a person with a longer upper body, sturdy, smooth, fantastic. There she is pictured below, although, I also have a steel frame on the back of her to carry my roll-tops.
So, this evening I went to meet Ashley at Bennu, and got a bit carried away with my new ride and passed one of my turns by nearly 10 blocks. By the time I had gotten home, I had ridden her nearly 20 miles, it was so nice to have a bike whose pieces all actually fit together and work properly together. There is nothing wrong with a skillfully assembled piece meal street bike, but a brand new one...damn. Anyhow, so my goal in taking her out tonight was to find her a name. Usually my bikes are named after male literary characters: Roark, José Arcadio Buendía, Darcy, Yossarian. But, this bike had some cute pink stripes on her and I had this urge for her to be a "her" this time. So, drum roll....she shall be called Lolita.So, the rest of the week looks like: Exam tomorrow, PSC tabling, and plenty of errands, as well as Thesis meetings all Friday, Tubing, potluck, and harvest moon ride Saturday, and garage sale/homework Sunday. Have a good one people.

Love,
C

Sexual Harassment for Breakfast

"Hey gorgeous," called the forty-something year-old man from his silver Honda as he slowed down to talk to me, "where are you headed? You need a ride?"
Embarrassed to be called to (especially wearing the ankle-length grandma skirt and frumpy sweater I was sporting), I replied, "No, thank you, I am just headed right up the street to the bus stop."
"Oh, I mean after that, you pretty thing; I can drop you wherever," he assured me.
"Well, thanks for the offer, but I rather like riding the bus, thanks."
"Ahh, come on gorgeous," he moaned as he pulled his car closer to me, "I can be your boyfriend for the day. I can take you to school, pick you up, take you to dinner, and afterward..."
"No thanks," I interrupted, as I was pretty sure I did not care to hear the rest of that.
His temper rose, "Oh, what...you some kind of lesbian or somethin'? Cause I would pay a whole lot of money to watch that. Come on gorgeous, get your pretty ass in the car and let me take you home with me."
At this point my hands were shaking, if he grabbed me and pulled me into his car on this street...no one would see, no one would hear. Two more blocks until there would be people, maybe not even people that would help me, but at least people. He was becoming angry, as I just kept repeating, "No thank you, no thank you, no thank you."
"Don't fuck with me honey, just get in the car."
"No."
We rounded the corner to see there had been a car accident, which meant loads of firemen were gathered just across the street from my bus stop. What to do, what do I do...run. So, I did just that. I ran. I ran and my eyes filled with tears and one of the firemen turned around just as I was a few yards away. I grasped both of his hands with mine and gasped, "This man has been following me for four blocks, please help." Just in time for Mr. silver honda to peel out, run the red light, and be too far away for anyone to figure out who he was.

After taking a moment to calm down, I became angry at myself for feeling so helpless. But, honestly, what could have been done differently, nothing. I suppose I assumed that dressing and acting rather conservatively would protect you from this kind of harassment. The difficult truth is, nothing can protect you from this kind of harassment. Maybe getting some pepper spray, or a tazer or something would be of some use, but at the end of the day, that would not have kept this man from calling out to me, or propositioning me, or cursing at me from his car. Nor would it keep my hands from sweating and my heart from pounding, because sexual harassment and rape are scary things, and everyone's hearts should pound when the subject comes up. And it comes up often: approximately 1 in 6 women and 1 in 33 men are sexually assaulted in their lifetimes.

Anyhow, this morning was eventful, to say the least, and I felt that I could not go on with the rest of my day until I told someone about it. So, I'm telling all of you. Keep a lookout for a middle-aged man in a silver honda in the Muller area (East 51st Street).

Love,
C

business hours.

Why does the world seem so much bigger at night. Is it becasue it is emptier? People are sleeping and not filling the air with words and car exhaust, not filling the streets. Everything feels bigger, even my courage is greater. I have so many things I will say to so many people when it is night. When the sun comes up it all disappears-my big grand ideas and all of my courage. Daylight means get back to school, commuting, managing life; get back to work, it is business hours.

On Coming Out.

On Coming Out. I never really did it. I just evolved into this person that I am, and I felt like "coming out" was this whole additional burden placed on us "queers" to make it harder to be the people that we are. To make it harder to be honest with ourselves becasue there was this threshold that had to be broken. To make it harder to love the people that we want to love. Plus, it was hard in general, right? I guess it also made it more difficult becasue I wasn't going to "come out" as a lesbian. I refuse to remove myself from one rigid category only to place myself in another. I've dated/fallen in love with/had lovers who identified as male, female, trans...who gives a shit. Whatever happened to the magic of falling in love? I guess I felt I was being the bigger person by not being official about my sexuality (that whole, if I reject the categories then they don't apply to me/exist and/or have power over me). Today, I have found that this is not true for me. All of you who love me need to know that when you go to that stupid poll booth to vote on other peoples rights, which of course you will probably be asked to do sometime in your life, that I am one of those OTHER people. Think of me.
But not only of me, but of all of the others who feel as though they can't speak. This PostSecret postcard just did it for me today. I became angry and cried all over my toast this morning. So, if you didn't know, now you know. I suppose this was more of a service announcement...because I've been me for so long this doesn't really feel like that big of a deal. I suppose if you have questions, feel free to inquire. But, mostly, just remember when you have a say in who gets married and who doesn't and who gets to adopt children and who doesn't... that you now know "one of us."

I feel like Lacey Roop gets it right when she says (plus the Epoch bathroom wall), "Gender is a Universe." Listen to her piece entitled "Gender is a Universe" here: http://www.myspace.com/laceyroop

Love,
C

Revival of the Dinner Party

Photos courtesy of the lovely Amelia (http://vintagevivant.com/2010/06/01/nyc-pt-1/)
Amelia is one of my many friends who shares my love of food, enough so that we organized our entire May NYC trip around finding the best grubbin' the city had to offer.

Okay, so I know this is departing from what this blog is usually about (what is it usually about?), but if you know me at all, you know that I love food and drink. It is the one thing I refuse to skimp on money-wise and time-wise. I mean sometimes you do what you have to do, but I avoid cutting corners in this department as much as humanly possible. There is absolutely nothing that beats a well cooked meal, a nice glass of wine, and a book or some good company. Better yet, if it were raining or cold outdoors. SO, here we are, it is a Wednesday night and even though I worked all day in the library and completely exhausted myself, all I want to do is cook something delicious. I've realized, when it comes to my free time, all I ever want to do is create edible art projects.

Therefore, I have decided, that once a month (hopefully, from now until forever) I will be hosting fancy-ass dinner gatherings or brunches. I will be keeping them rather small and sending out personal invites, and all that I ask in return for the free food is that you bring your warm bodies and smiles and come ready to eat well, eat slowly, and talk a lot (a bottle of wine or a bag of coffee beans wouldn't hurt either, but is definitely not a requirement). There is something to be said about taking your time to eat and enjoy the company of other fine people...deep breath out...and not many people do it any more. IT IS REVIVAL TIME.

The first of these events is in the making. Also, I love you all, and eventually I will invite ALL OF YOU, but I am going to keep them tiny because: a) I can't afford to cook (well) for more than 10 people anymore, b) my home can only fit a small number of people comfortably seated around a table, c) I would like for there to be a type of atmosphere where everyone may be engaged in a singular conversation.

Beyond my deciding that there is not enough good food happening, I have been deciding on other things as well. I have bought a plane ticket to New Orleans for September 30th - October 3rd to visit my good friends John H. and Lauren B., both of whom are among the most wholesome and pleasant people to be around. Additionally, I finally have officially begun my honors thesis research under the lovely Professor Martha G. Newman. I will be exploring the lives of queer people within Islam; if you have friends, relatives, or acquaintances you would like to recommend I speak to, I would love this.

Writing this has thankfully caused me to decide against staying up for three more hours to make homemade cinnamon roll dough, but not to worry, I have plenty of other things I must finish. READINGS! BOOKS! ARTICLES! oh my!

tisbah ala khair ya habaabi,

C

when it gets rough, you just gotta get tough and/or have amazing friends

So, the week was "rough" to say the least. On top of having someone I admire, tell me I was a "disgrace to [my] discipline" and getting a stomach virus, while I was throwing up Tuesday afternoon I was the lucky recipient of an 'I just want to be friends...' text message. On top of feeling completely insulted, the following day I went to HEB where my car was vandalized. Unfortunately, this is not the first time that my car has been the victim of angry Zionist acting-out. The air was let out of my front two tires and my "Free Palestine, End the Occupation" sticker was mostly ripped off. By the time I got home, I was in desperate need of comfort and/or tequila. I cooked a decent dinner and then my beautiful wonderful friends and housemates came to the rescue. I was gifted many large cupcakes from Karl, hugged and loved by everyone, and then Ashley, Taylor, Jake, Dan and I went dancing! Barbarella 90s-ish music and crazy dancing sweating bike riding followed by a slumber party in Ashley's really warm yellow room and then morning smoothies. More biking. Hang-outs with Emma and Katie. And then good foods, home improvement, and Freaks and Geeks. CURED! by the wonderfulness of good company and biking/dancing. It really does work every time.

So, the lessons of this week are: bad things happen in 4's, not 3's, dancing is kind of a drug, and building things with your own two hands is the new best idea ever.