I'm going to make my journal friends only because it makes me feel better.  So, if you want to read my entries, become my friend and I will become yours!  I want people to read them that I don't know to give opinions and advice.  


I kinda want to hate my friends.  I want to be angry and ignore them and say I don't want to hang out this weekend because last weekend was so fucking miserable.  But then they are my friends, and I want friends, don't I?  I am fucking 13.  Except I am 26.  Damn.  I'm living a life that isn't my own, that isn't what I imagined, but its like I can't leave because now I have a career and close friends, so close that they piss me off, and even a gay cafe.  I want to tell them how they piss me off, but then I'm too tired from this job to have the energy to argue about it, so I just let it go, which isn't me, so they probably think its fine.  Ever since moving here, I've had moments of 'thats it, I'm leaving' and now I have them significantly less frequently.  Perhaps I feel that I couldn't go, that I'm used to this life now.  But then I can't live here.  I have an ex here I might see, and an evil old co-worker who I got fired.  I'm significantly more used to running away than to staying.  God.  I am 13.

Brought to you by the letter P

One Christmas Eve I found myself in Zacatecas, Mexico, with the understanding that markets and restaurants may be closed on Christmas.  I asked the owner of my hostel where to find groceries, anticipating a desperate situation, and he sent me to a local Christmas Market set up in one section of the city that was supposed to have food.  Instead, I found hundreds of people in the crowded country doing last minute toy shopping.  I didn't have time to find something else now, I thought, so I continued searching.  I found cheap oranges.  I eventually found cilantro, avocados, a few potatoes, a jalapeno, limes.  I purchased them all, having no idea what I was going to make out of these items.  I then found a tortilleria, and bought some fresh tortillas.  On the way home I found a shop with some random Mennonite cheese.  I used these items for the next few days to concoct the best potato tacos imaginable, except that I had not yet mastered using a true Mexican tortilla.  There were some Mexicans in my hostel, though, so I spied a bit and watched how they cooked them, and then there I had it, the best potato tacos available, which I never would have found had I not been forced to buy only those random foods.  Mmmmmmmmm.

This has been the story of the potato taco.


The reason I have not yet put stickers on my new Nalgene bottle is because I haven't decided whether, when I do cover it with the stickers I've already bought, I'll put the rainbow stickers on it or not.  I carry it with me everywhere.  I have a new-ish job.  I want my co-workers to know I'm gay and don't want to actually be the one to tell them, but what about my disabled clients, what about their often elderly parents?  Do I want to deal with that?  Will they even know what a rainbow means?

Its not that I'm looking for advice so much as thinking others might relate. 

The Christian evening

There was once a time when I was a born-again Christian.  The other day I overheard my friends having a born-again Christian worship celebration, perhaps the first I had heard of it in years.  Singing, is what I mean, by worship, singing worship songs, enthusiastic and pretty charismatic worship songs.   While my friends debated over the words of these songs, some of which none of us had sung since college when our entire social life was the Christian group, I oddly remembered them, almost all of the words.  And, foraging in the fridge listening to this party in my living room, I oddly kinda loved it.  I felt wrong being part of it.  The songs are a lie for me.  They are.  But there is something about those songs that is hugely beautiful and emotional to me.  And thats just the thing.  Beautiful and emotional, yet for not the right reasons.  What did I love about that group so much in college?  I almost regret spending college doing that now.  Perhaps I don't even almost regret it.  Perhaps I regret it.  At any rate though, I loved that group.  I looked forward so much to the night that we'd gather to meet.  As they, who were our worship leaders in college, sang beautifully the other night, discussing the words to the songs, it reminded me of arriving early to our weekly college gathering, and joining the worship team as they practiced, as they got their subs before the celebration, as I began my favorite night of the week.  And the sad thing is that that is what I loved about it.  The sad thing is that I loved the idea of it.  I loved the songs.  I loved the people and the magical message, but mostly I loved how I had friends who had priorities like I did at the time to hang out with afterwards.  The super sad part, though, is that those friends are the very friends who have disowned me now for being gay.  And the ones who haven't.  They aren't full of respect either, just fake niceness.  I'm not always nice.  But at least I'm honest.  


I've been considering doing this lately, this being creating an anonymous LJ, rather than the one all of my friends have. I find myself unable to write what I am really thinking to people who I actually know well but who I am actually very different than.  I'm not writing well tonight.  I'm very tired.  Blah.  Anyways, if you come upon my page, be my friend!  I'm a lesbian, inexperienced though I am.  I'm into travel, hiking, backpacking.  I am happy when I am outdoors.  There is so much I want to write but I feel I am hardly writing English anymore.  I shall write again when I am more conscious.