this is a post about periods

my mum and i have this fun monthly tradition that goes like this:

[i call her]
my mum: hello?
me: oh hey.
my mum: are you ok? what's wrong?
me: nothing. [sob]
my mum: are you sure?
me: it's just that i'm so lonely/sad/overwhelmed/upset/worried
my mum: oh honey, i'm sorry, i wish i could hug you.
me: me too. [sob sob sob]
[10 minutes of sobbing and unintelligible crytalking on my end]
my mum: laura--now don't get mad, i'm just asking--are you due to get your period?
me: i am NOT pmsing! can't you just let me have my feelings? i am not ruled by my body!
my mum: ok, ok, i'm just checking.
[more crying ensues, she eventually convinces me that my life is not a joke and everything will be alright]

the following day:
[i call her]
my mum: hey, how're you feeling today?
me: i'm fine. i'm sorry, you were right. i woke up and got my period today. my life isn't entirely in shambles, i guess.

this happens every. single. month. if i just knew when my period was coming, i could avoid this entirely but i've never tracked it so it's a fun surprise every time. i used to think this was just a gay thing because i obviously don't have to worry about getting pregnant but based on empirical research the three people people i've asked so far, there is no correlation. Can i get a witness? just take my survey.

anyway, in an effort to be a grown up woman, i decided two periods ago to start keeping track. i have a google doc that is [aptly] named "period," but it just doesn't inspire the same excitement that i know a menstrual lunar calendar would.


periods are so much more fun when they require special accessories. i would like to thank the following for bringing joy to menstruation.

tampax compact for fitting so nicely in my pocket and not even being ugly.

the diva cup for being entirely inappropriately named but saving me $120 per year.

the person who made tampon stuffed animals for creating something that is irrationally cute.

the museum of menstruation for existing, although their web designer should be shot.

death and all his friends

things that threaten to destroy my robots:
+water
+power surges
+black holes

things that threaten to destroy me:
+alligators
+not flossing
+vitamin d deficiency/rickets
+reckless drivers
+heart disease
+heartache
+my robots
+black holes

Flowers are weak. They're naive. They reassure themselves whatever way they can. They believe their thorns make them frightening.

I've been doing interviews for our coulmn on Autostraddle, "I'll Have What She's Wearing," and every time I talk to someone, I've been trying to figure out how much they think about their clothes. Full disclosure: the only reason I wanted to do this feature was so that I'd have a reason to talk to the cute girl who worked in the men's department at Nordstroms, but now my nerdy side has taken over. Hello sociology.

When I get up and go to pick out my clothes [or more realistically, when I pick out my clothes the night before so that I can sleep in longer in the morning], I think, "What am I trying to say today?" I don't mean that I think that my clothes are everything, but I don't even get a chance to talk to most of the people I see every day. When you're in a city, you've only got a few seconds to make an impression on anyone you pass and since we all seem to have this incredible and specifically city loneliness; I'm not that weird for trying to catch someone's eye.

I know I know I know that you can't judge a book by its cover but why can't I communicate what I'm thinking through my body? It's the only thing that I carry around with me everywhere. Like I could never date someone with dirty toes. Maybe you're thinking that I need to get my priorities straight but guess what; I'm neurotic [case-in-point: this entire post is about how I try to control how other people see me] and I like things to be clean and if you don't, we're probs not going to get along and that's fine because everyone's different.

The thing is, I don't even know what I'm trying to tell people.

You could say that I'm trying to say, "I'm gay," but that would be such an oversimplification. That's definitely not the most important things about me or even maybe in the top ten. But I've been figuring out how I fit with the world and a lot of the time, being gay affects that. I get it now when people say they look at things with a queer sensibility; it doesn't mean that it defines me, it's just another pair of 3-D glasses that I can wear. I also think that I'm young and I have raging hormones and I like love and stuff so I spend approximately seventy-five percent of my time thinking about girls [and the other twenty-five percent thinking about me] which means I'm wondering if it means something when you sit with your legs crossed that way or if you walk with a swagger.

When I wear boys' clothes I feel safe. They're big and they hide me and men don't talk to me like that and if a girl likes it then maybe she's fun. Anyone who understands that layers and layers of clothes can be sexy because it's like unwrapping a present is someone I could get down with. I like dresses but them seem to invite too much attention. I mean, there's not really anything wrong with being called "babygirl" by strangers on the street, but sometimes I want to go YOU DON'T KNOW MAH LIFE all over their asses. Or maybe I just wish I could be all smooth hitting on girls like that.

If I wear girls clothes, I don't want to be weak. You know those women in commercials who are really beautiful and have their ish together and everyone watches in awe as they walk down a street? That does not happen in real life. Even women with muscles who look killer in little club things that would look awful on anyone else and who work for the C.I.A. get their faces licked by gross men. Simone and I have been watching a lot of Alias lately.

I JUST WANT TO BE HARD.

I don't want to be unapproachable and scary [which is good because that is something that could never happen], I just want a good balance of don't-fuck-with-me and hello-I'm-nice-let's-be-friends because I'm a Libra and that's how we do. I want balance but like radical balance.

Maybe I'm trying to tell people that I'm here and that I'm moving and I'm thinking. I watch people all the time and look for subtleties, but I know that not everyone reads the world like I do. Maybe it's about how I move and not about how I dress. I hope it's in the way that I walk, with my eyes to the sky instead of looking at the ground because my feet and I have finally grown comfortable with each other. Or in how loud I laugh because when I scream, it's out of joy. I'm going to stop before this turns into a bad version of that poem that they always used to read during morning prayer in high school.

juego de palabras

galán: a flirt, someone who treats women nicely
galana: fashionable

galán: + galana = galána

precious life

there’s enough hate on the internet that i don’t feel like i need to contribute to it, but emily’s post from a long time ago about bad poetry reminded me of this little baby. my best friend and i used to read our friends' school's literary magazine when we would sit in the hall between classes and that's when we discovered mark bruce, boy genius. and really, this isn’t about hate. it’s about liking a memory and love for really really bad poems.

+++

.:.Precious Life.:.
Mark Bruce

I really like this Mike-n-Ike,
Yellow, orange, or green.
It seems to last forever
At least that's what it seems.

Large and wholesome when you start,
The candy seems so big,
But quickly it disintegrates.
You don't know where it's been.

Try to enjoy your Mike-n-Ike from the beginning 'til the end
Its gone before you know it.
But just pop one back in.

Life is like a Mike-n-Ike.
You think it lasts forever
Try to appreciate the little things,
If you know this, you're quite clever.

Life and Mike-n-Ikes also have a difference.
When your life is gone, it's gone.
You can always pop in a new candy.
But life is still gone.

+++

can we just talk about what’s obvious: this poem is about mike-n-fucking-ikes. poetry should probably never wade into the shallow depths of chewy candies, but this boy takes it to a whole new level. he’s talking about the temporality of life. keep that in mind, we’ll get back to that.

let's start at the very beginning, a very good place to start. there's nothing too bad here. nothing too great, either, but there’s really no warning that you’re about read the worst poem ever written. i give him points for being sneaky.

stanza two. um…there’s nothing wholesome about a mike-n-ike. and that whole “you don’t know where it’s been” thing? i do know where it’s been. it’s been in your mouth. that’s why it’s disappearing. but who's counting?

ahh yes, right around here is where he starts pulling out the good stuff. “life is like a mike-n-ike.” sure, dude. it’s like he was just chillaxin' with some candy and his friend came over and was all, “so did you finished your meditation-on-the-meaning-of-life poem for english class?” and he went, “shit i forgot” and then was like, “oh look, i’m eating a mike-n-ike, maybe i should just write a poem about it.”

last and probably least: “life and mike-n-ikes also have a difference.” OH REALLY? time to get out the bongo drums: “When your life is gone, [beat] it’s gone. [beat] you can always pop in a new candy. [beat] but life [beat] is still gone.” [beatbeatbeatbeat]

ten things i am thinking about right now

+i can hear bells right now from the church up the street. i wonder if it's just for today or if i'm usually being loud everyday at six.

+for the past month i've had 2-3 dreams every week about fighting voldemort.

+i want to live in a room with a window that faces south forever. i get so much light in here during the day that i can lie on the floor and pretend it's june. today i wore my stunna shades while i worked because i can't wait for summer.

+how have i managed to go to school for three years and never had a planner? that was the best three dollars i ever spent.

+living with someone else's dog is hard sometimes. i wish i had mine here, but i don't think i'm very responsible. i'm trying to nurse me basil plant back to health, but i just keep eating it. blerg.

+i rediscovered my white noise machine last week.

+Maybe I should act more grown up and start capitalizing words when they should be capitalized.

+lynne had an extra tegan and sara ticket so i get to go! that was a good surprise.

+do you know that i lived for two entire weeks without a computer?

+i want to go to spain next year a lot so maybe i should put plans in my planner and get that ball rolling.

more wordplay

please circle the words that best apply.

ascetic
aesthetic

lightening
lightning

scents
sense
cents

woah
woe

conscience
conscious

whine
wine

flour
flower

all's well that ends well
all's well that ends swell

verses
versus

pore
poor
pour

accept
except

illusion
allusion

teas
tease
tees

stationary
stationery

sew
so
sow