A Queer Life

There are two kinds of people in the world: those who can extrapolate from incomplete data.   Hello my pretties! Well it has been a nutty week. After an active shooter incident, I just spent the week wrung out at work. I didn't need this. Work feels like an emergency room, constantly being on my toes, reacting and triaging everything that walks through the door and barely getting anything else done. I guess that kind of job works for some people but not me. I went home every night and crashed a deep and senseless crash, only to wake up, unrested, and go again.  I spent all week feeling really frustrated and then yesterday happened. Yesterday I went to an hour and a half meeting where they gave us more problem solving tools. "I am not this person!" I screamed in my head. I don't want a job of surprises and riddles and new people every day.  I am over forty. After a life of feeling too young, too overwhelmed, too new at everything, I now feel more stable, more mature, ...

My dad told me if a bee bothered me to stare at it instead of swatting it. Because ….seeing is bee leaving. Hello fellow humans, Yesterday at work was a little weird. I was crouched in a locked room with the lights off while watching a policeman run across a playground with an assault rifle. An hour later, a flashlight was shined in my eyes while I was told to put my hands in the air.  We were on lockdown until the police gave everyone the all-clear.  We were told later that the police had gotten a call saying someone was running toward the building with a gun and they were going to kill everyone. But that wasn't true. We were confused and terrified for a bogus call.  Nothing happened. It was exhausting and then we had to pretend everything was normal and just go back to work as usual. It was hard thinking of anything else. I did go on break and had soothing classical music in my ears, to make things a little better. I just wanted to go home and snuggle up by the fireplac...

I couldn’t understand why the baseball kept getting closer and closer ... and then it hit me. Hello, my pretties! I missed work today. My terrible Tuesday feelings are usually fixed by wearing my Tuesday  pants. But lately I have felt so terrible on Tuesdays that I have called in sick three Tuesdays in a row.  This morning I woke up dizzy and vomited. I felt so nauseated I couldn't eat anything except peppermint sticks and a maple bar. I just want you to know I'm barely pulling this blog together. The things I do for you. I'm sort of upright. Sort of writing. Pho sounds good.  Anyway, it's probably time to lay back down and drift off to a place where thinking doesn't matter. Happy national blueberry pancake day! (I might be able to eat those.)  Love and kisses, Sophia Skyy

"Three," we said unanimously about the crazy looking woman walking in the library door.  "And the only reason she gets such a high score is because she is so interesting," Jaime elaborated.  We had been rating people at work for several weeks now; it passed the time and gave us a few laughs. But one day we looked at each other. "We never rate ourselves," I said.  "I'm too scared," he said.  "Yeah." "And really it depends on the day," he added. "Yeah." I looked down, afraid to meet his eye. I didn't want his harsh eye judging me. I didn't even want to judge myself. "Some days I might be as low as a four and others I might be a ten. Depending on how my eyebrows look. Or how skinny I feel. And doesn't personality have a lot to do with attraction?" "Yeah." "A person can increase their score by three or four points just by putting a little effort into their look, having a little co...

I am blogging (in case you haven't noticed) and I have lots of mixed feelings about this. Feeling number one is the topic of the day. Posting a blog on the internet...public...World Wide Web...with global accessibility. Why would someone do that? To be read. Because you have something to say. Attention for your ideas or yourself but attention is the ultimate and only reason.  I feel shame around any attention seeking no matter how subtle, this shame applies to myself and others. Whenever I watch YouTube and vloggers start clamoring for attention, I feel revulsion at the hunger of it.  I could just let people do their own thing, to each his own, que sera sera and all that. Just because they have different needs than mine doesn't make them bad or wrong; logically I know this, but logic isn't part of this equation. I feel disgusted and I feel cruel for my disgust. My abject distain for attention seekers is probably a dysfunction on my part. I assume it is normal and human to w...

Tomorrow is Valentine’s Day. “I didn’t think grown adults celebrated Valentine’s Day,” I said to Steve. He said he still wanted to do something Valentine’sy. Okay, that’s kind of sweet.   I am working as a server in a restaurant. I miss my kids. I miss my kids. I miss my kids. I’m not used to working all day on my feet but if I am going to do anything, being a server is pretty close to being a mom, but my kids aren’t there. I just hope I can make enough money to survive and hopefully thrive.  I could talk about socioeconomic issues. I could talk about what it is to be human. I could talk about the Chiefs winning the super bowl. But instead I will talk about the strange surrealism it is to be me right now.  Tyler surprised me on Friday by showing up at my work with the kids. They kissed me and said hello then goodbye, then I cried for the next twenty minutes while serving tables. When I got home that night, the kids were asleep on an air mattress on my bedroom floor. ...

The deed is done. Tyler and I are separated. I did it with lots of support from my family. I don’t think I could have done it without them. Leaving your spouse when you have no resources and little children at home and years of not working is a daunting task. Especially when your spouse is not being violent or aggressive. If he has a gun and a history of violence then there are government resources to keep you and your children safe. But if your husband is being supportive and kind and yet you have panic attacks around him and you feel like you are dying a thousand deaths every moment you are together, no one understands your need to be free. And if you have no resources, that lack of understanding amounts to traversing the Sahara alone to find independence.   I was at a party where a woman was asked about her boyfriend and she shouted: “I hate him! I hate him! I hate him!” When asked why she stayed with him she said: “Money. I can’t afford to leave.”  I have a friend who h...

  He was big but not fat, just overwhelming. Tall and solid looking, he kind of leaned over me when he talked and when he spoke it was more like shouting despite being less than twelve inches away. His name was Brock.  My first impression when he started shouting in my direction was that he wasn't very bright. His voice was like a caricature of a stupid person, and his West Virginian accent didn't help matters. But when I really listened, he never said anything dumb. In fact, he was quite articulate, which made his story all the more disturbing. The other day when the machines were down we started talking, which is more like him monologuing than a real conversation, but he was interesting so I always listened. "I played football in high school," he told me as we leaned against the unmoving conveyor belt. "The coach kept telling me I should be quarterback instead of front linemen. I said no, but he said, 'I really want you to be QB you've got one hell...