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I’m feeling 30 getting closer. I cannot sleep, I cannot hold onto my hair, and Rockstars equal life. I like being me, mostly, and I am really hoping that I have a really beautiful decade. It seems moments away. Meanwhile, my trip back home feels almost over before it has started. Time off is past due, as I’ve complained about recently. I do not look forward to the heat, but I do look forward to the rest. And I miss my family.

I’m reading a book about an older gentleman who I kinda wish I could become, but becoming him would mean a lifetime of being alone. Perhaps I need to concentrate on just being the best me I can be and stop romanticizing what it would be like to be a dreamy old man who is easily duped. Still, I like the idea of it.

I want to go to Iceland. The importance of money is apparent when there are dreams begging for a chance to be fulfilled. Oh, Iceland. And France. And India… and… ….

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Wow! I excel at procrastination. It is a terrible, terrible problem that needs to just stop. A week from now, I’ll be on my vacation. I’ll have just arrived in Dallas after a full day of flying. I’ll be quite thankful to be away. While I already dread not being near a computer everyday, a break will probably be good for me too.

Before I leave, I must get my house cleaned up, figure out what I’m taking with me, finish up a couple of projects, and pop a few things in the mail. It doesn’t seem like much, but also doesn’t seem like something I really need to keep putting off getting finished.

Okay, off too it then!

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Seahorses

We struggle for life, gasp for water
and we die, wriggling and contorting into position.
Our dried carcasses serve as amusement.
Fifty years we’ve been on display,
dust gathering in our rigid and bony structures,
souvenirs for those whose lives were more exciting.
They pull us out to reminisce about their wild youth,
our magic now stripped by time,
and they talk to each other about us and how they miss us.

Some of them forget about us,
about how we thrived in the waters before being rescued,
collected as memorials.
They don’t know about the vibrant reefs like we do,
about the others who didn’t make it or we carried back
to other grey places where they too would be forgotten.
Many of us are labeled for easy identification,
classified and sorted so onlookers can gaze at our husks
in wonderment or disgust… or a bit of both.
Our tiny bodies have become too numerous,
too many have been broken or discarded,
but most of us will fade into the dark obscurity, lost.

The new fashion has been to provide a tank,
to adopt a bit of our habitat and collect several specimens,
lives lived with names and memorialized
as members of families, temporary and disposable.
We exist as novelty, and still a part of their youth,
a part of that colorful past they will talk about one day,
sharing the photos with their children and grandchildren.
They’ll talk about us, about how much they love us,
pulling us from the drawers and boxes to prove themselves,
they’ll show videos they took of the tanks filled with water,
convinced that they are showing great love for us.
But when they are no longer beings asked to show off
their specimens, their carefully curated collections,
they’ll put us away again and go back to their real lives.

We will keep wishing that our dried bodies would stop
finding their way into souvenir shops of those who
do not want to dip into the water and experience our lives.
We don’t want to live in tanks either, playthings of people
who do not understand that our beauty has not been for them,
that our magic was meant for ourselves.

The sun is coming up on the horizon,
Christopher Street is quieter than it used to be,
and I wonder if a generation is coming
who will realize the world that was fought for,
and I wonder if they will long for the days
when they were precious trinkets of other people’s youth.

Notes

Written 1 July 2009 in Anchorage, Alaska & 5 September 2019 in Payne County, Oklahoma.

Brian Fuchs, “Seahorses” from Okie Dokie (Scissortail Press, 2019)Continue Reading

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I don’t get it.

I got sucked in and now you can too!

Seahorses

A seahorse struggles to hold life, gasping for water
as it dies, wriggling into the position it will dry into.
Agony for the sake of amusement. A carcass is worth
the smile on the face of a child who will pick at the bits
left in the bony-plated shell of now peaceful being.Continue Reading

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There is nothing in the world as wonderful as sugar free popsicles. It is one of those things that I cannot stop myself from eating once I start, which is why I look for the smallest boxes possible. Last night, I selected a rather large box, 24 popsicles, and had myself a little party. I stopped myself with 2 left and my tongue irreversibly in pain. Today, the reminder of that wonderful dinner is a dull pain that will eventually go away as my tongue heals. I guess you really can get too much of a good thing.

I went out with some work people the other night, a sort of Pride celebration of our own. It was nice to be out in the world. I rarely leave my house to enjoy myself, preferring solitude most of the time. After a little lesbian mud wrestling, some dancing, and general stupidity I remember what I liked about the world. Perhaps it is time to come out of seclusion.

While I’ve known this about myself for a long time, I really wish I wasn’t constantly reminded of it: I have trouble finding the line between friendship and love at the beginning stages of getting to know someone. I imagine that isn’t uncommon, but it does irritate me about myself. Spending time with someone who is fantastically poorly suited to me as a partner, but who I am ridiculously infatuated with, made the pleasantness of our evening a little tainted. I wish that social interaction was more natural to me. I always feel a little like I’m viewing everyone else in their natural habitat, like some sort of nature park. I almost never quite feel connected to all of the other people. I’m starting to wonder if my nephew might be right, but about all of us. Perhaps we really are just from another planet entirely.

I know that perfect person — the one who understands me as well as I will him — is out there. Patience can be trying, but I haven’t reached the end of it just yet. I do keep saying that; I suppose it is still true.Continue Reading

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anti-discrimination ordinance

Round Three!

I don’t know the outcome of tonight’s assembly meeting, but the testimonies and the images of people with signs has me thinking.

One of the most striking things — and the most obvious — is the separation of folks into blue shirts (those supporting the anti-discrimination ordinance) and red shirts (those opposing the ordinance). For some reason, my mind keeps going back to the time two of my closest friends chose ignorance over me. At the time, there was a day on campus when those in support of the GLBT community were told to wear jeans. My friends, fearing what others might think, wore khakis that day. They did at least feel guilty enough to confess to me that they had done that, but I’m sure they didn’t realize how hurtful it was for me to hear. I’ve never been able to get past that event. It is clearly one of the things that has pushed us apart as friends.

Seeing large groups of people whose agenda is to spread intolerance is difficult enough, but when they involve their children it is even worse. These kids should not be spending their time protesting people they’ve been taught to not understand. They appear bored, or in the case of the ones who are young enough, excited to be a part of something that seems so important. It is unfortunate that they don’t understand what it is they are doing. It saddens me that we live in this world.

I know far too many people from the “red shirt” side of things. These folks are family or have been close friends of mine over the years and I suppose it never dawned on me to be offended by this behavior. I guess I thought knowing me would eventually be enough, but it isn’t anymore. Those whose ignorance taints our relationship aren’t as welcome in my life as they used to be.

John’s blog — including blogging as the assembly meeting took place Wednesday evening
Heather’s blog — including blogging from the previous assembly meetings as well as transcripts.

reading

It has slowed a little, but I’m still on my reading kick. Today I read The Little Guide to Your Well-Read Life by Steve Leveen. This little book was pretty helpful for learning how to read and when. It makes a lot of points in a small amount of time. I especially liked the idea of organizing your bookshelves into “book candidates,” “books I’ve read very recently,” and “books I’ve read.” It seems obvious, but I have a tendency to arrange my shelves by genre. I then have to scan my shelves for a new book to read, waiting for one to jump out at me. He also talks about having many more books than you will ever read at home, an idea that has always seemed natural to me, but for which I guess I needed permission.

I’m still making my way through the 4th Harry Potter book, my friends having finished the series already. I find myself easily distracted, reading other things at the same time. My Folks Came in a Covered Wagon has been somewhat interesting too.

I’d like to be a part of a book group again. Maybe I’ll start one up if I can’t find one I like.

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This year seems to framed in terms of love. Every corner has been shaded in one way or another with beautiful acts of love — marriages, friendships, deepening relationships at every turn. It is a nice time to be alive, to know the people I know.

In two short weeks, Heather and John will get married. Words fail to express how perfect these two are with on another. They are two halves of a whole, seem meant to have found each other. I’m incredibly happy that they are starting a new chapter in their life and committing themselves more fully. It is powerful and I wish them all the luck in the world.

In July, another of my favorite people is getting married. My cousin Rebecca has long been one of those people whose kindness is so strong that it is humbling. Her attitude towards life has been overwhelmingly positive and she is a joy to know. She is definitely one of the members of my family who I’d want to know even if I was not related to them. I’ve not had the privilege to meet her fiancé, but the chatter has been that he is an amazing person who seems made for Beck.

I love couples. I’ve seemed to gravitate toward couple in my life and prefer being in the company of people who are deeply connected. As long as I don’t feel intrusive, which I must admit I often do at times, I enjoy being witness to such love. It has a sort of magic about it and I don’t need it for myself to appreciate. Love is so powerful. It has a presence. I can feel it filling to house when I visit my parents, hanging in the air before even entering the house. I feel it when David talks about Daniel and when Daniel’s eyes light up around David. Their love captures fully the spirit of the thing.

One day I’ll find that for myself, but I’m content for now to bask in the warmth of other people’s connections. Life feels perfect sometimes.