UPDATES!

Someone switched the bathroom door signs. For a day the "boys" room had a "girls" sign, and vice versa. Then some square fixed them.

Angelina is confused about her litter. She tried to eat it. Then she decided she needs to teeter on the edge of the litter pan to drink. Then she decided to fill the litter pan with newspaper. She was frantic about that.

I am shirking my work. Welcome back to college!

Spirits and Charades

My friends suckered me into going out tonight. I got to talk to Lauren first. I'm really glad I was able to, because I spent much of the night watching young gay life juxtaposed with the thoughts in my head of being with you.

I kept thinking, "If Lauren was here, I'd do this," and "If Lauren was here, we'd do that," and "Lauren needs to come here, even just for an hour, to see this much queerness in one place. To know that it exists." There's something empoweing about standing in a crowd of people your age and older, some people in their fifties, men with their arms wrapped around men, girls bumping hips with girls, butches strutting and showing off while the fags look on curiously.

I don't know. There's just something that feels like home, sitting on the patio at Spirits, picking on Dan and watching a random friend of mine chatting with a queen while the dykes roam about. It's like my people, and when we're all in that small space it feels like everything and everyone are in harmony and everyone is gay and its safe. I know, though, that no place is ever really safe.

And then there are the annoying parts. Lets get into that now. First, attention gay men of the world. I love you all. But if you're shy at clubs and can't bring yourselves to go get a male partner, please don't frotteurize the lesbians. We're lesbians because of this. When I joined the lesbian club and got my complimentary rainbow panties and membership card, I did not ask for a dick poking me in the small of my back. Save that for the queens, please, and stop scaring the lesbians.

Next. I love gender benders. I love them. I kind of am one. I live for fucking with gender. I mean, Lauren is trans. But... please... for Christs sake, if you're a transman who is too short to look me in the tits, please don't dance with me. I know that's so close minded. I sort of feel people ought to know I'm not available and let me dance with my friends in peace. I don't need a replacement transman. And please... don't take off your shirt and dance in a sport bra. Especially if you look like you're a twelve year old boy with tits.

Then baby-faced stone-butch was waiting for a drink and I guess Marielle told baby-faced stone-butch that I was engaged. I think the reason was that baby-faced stone-butch told Marielle that s/he had a hunch I liked her (Marielle, and I don't). So Marielle explained that I was engaged... apparently. So baby-faced stone-butch turns and asks me, "You have a fiance?" and I replied, "Yes."
Baby face asks, "Man or a woman?"
I grinned, "Both."
Confusion. I clarified, "Transgender."
"Female to male?"
"Yes," I said.
Then, s/he shook my hand, "I'm so glad there are people who can accept us. I'm trans too. Call me Jaques."

These conversations should not exist. There should not be the need to pat someone on the back for being open minded enough to love someone who transcends their gender. People are people. We need to start treating them like it.

My... hair... 

Look it's a Warhol. xD

Ahhh, elevator antics. <3 

OH GOD, PLEASE LET ME OUT!!! 

...an open door?

ESCAPE FROM RATTICA!!!!

IN MY PANTS

carnivalesque: OMG
carnivalesque: Are you listenin to music????
Hollister: Er....yes?
carnivalesque: WHAT SONG?
Hollister: Woman Like a Man
carnivalesque: WOMAN LIKE A MAN IN MY PANTS
Hollister: ROFL
carnivalesque: ADD: IN MY PANTS
carnivalesque: To all songs!!!
carnivalesque: And enjoy!!!
carnivalesque: Peace love and understanding in my pants
carnivalesque: Chocolate in my pants
carnivalesque: Can't take it in my pants
carnivalesque: You and me in my pants
carnivalesque: So cold in my pants
carnivalesque: Spiders in my pants
carnivalesque: Slow hands in my pants
carnivalesque: Funny little feeling in my pants
carnivalesque: OMFG!
carnivalesque: I WIN!
Hollister: ROFL
carnivalesque: HANDS DOWN IN MY PANTS
carnivalesque: All things just keep getting better in my pants
carnivalesque: Get it get it in my pants
carnivalesque: LIMP IN MY PANTS
carnivalesque: Whenever I wake up in my pants
carnivalesque: A man in my pants
carnivalesque: Is she weird in my pants?
carnivalesque: I touch myself in my pants
carnivalesque: Look what you've done in my pants!
carnivalesque: One word IN MY PANTS
carnivalesque: Girls and boys in my pants
carnivalesque: Everything is alright in my pants
carnivalesque: Public pervert in my pants
carnivalesque: Yay for pants.

Get the Door - It's Assholes.

So these assholes down the hall put up a pamplet about a week ago about lesbian and bisexual womens' health. I took it down, because obviously they thought it was a big joke. They didn't deserve to have it. So tonight there's one there about self-breast exams. I took that down also.

I intend to tell the RA. It's not like I'm against sharing information, but that's not what they were doing. It is obvious to me that they meant this to be funny. And it's not funny, its real, and it wouldn't be funny if it was a pamphlet about scrotal exams, or prostate cancer, or gay mens health on their door, would it?

One more pamphlet, and my sharpie and I are going for a walk.

An old pic, re-edited. I look mad punk. And my hair is long. But that does NOT make me femme. :P 

Sweet Madeleine. 

Madeleine.

My dear Madeleine slept in my room every night since just after school started, safe and warm and cozy in the corner. She had a lamp and a soft carpet. I would keep an eye on her, make sure she was still there and alright.

Today I decided to take her down and chain her by the women's building. There were a lot of odd people talking a language she doesn't understand, lurking around the building. Even though there was a fellow bike there, I didn't think it was a good idea for her to stay.

So we walked up the hill to Flint again, and there were a lot of very nice bikes and I parked her inbetween some nice ones where there was a space and locked her in safely. When I got to my room, I realized if I walk into the hall and turn right and look out the window, I can see her and wave and make sure she's okay and still there and hasn't run off with another bike.

But there's an empty corner in my room. I miss my Madeleine.

Maya!!!! 

Nap! 

Maya.  

Lenore edited. 

I appear to have a whitey-afro. 

I'm uspide down, wheee! 

Frankly my dear, I don't give a damn. 

Weird camera setting. 

Me. :/ 

....me 

Me. :)