Norton Lezzie Unemployed Utilities
Aug. 26th, 2003 12:21 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
judecorpMy computer is still checking files. (How many of them can there BE? It's been over 12 hours.) I have done absolutely everything on my "pre-trip" checklist aside from taking out the trash and packing my things. The house is in perfect condition so Jen doesn't have to worry about anything while I'm gone. That makes me happy.
I started reading Melissa Etheridge's autobiography this morning when I filched it off of Jen's nightstand. It's quick, easy reading, because Ms. Etheridge is hardly Shakespeare. I can get my voyeuristic "VH-1 Behind the Music" fix at the same time.
It's funny - when she's writing about her adolescence, she writes about going to summer camp and having an obsessive relationship with her friend Jo. She talks about professing "TLA" (that's 'true love always' for all you boys) for this boy named Melvin in her diary, but in the same entry she whines and rages about Jo ignoring her. That tickled me.
I always think that I didn't have any of those stereotypical queer upbringing moments, since I didn't date much, wasn't interested in dating much, and then practiced serial monogamy with a string of slightly femmey boys. But then I read that entry about Melvin and Jo, and I think about my friendship with Michelle and how obsessive it was. And how we spent every minute together. And how I hated her boyfriend, even while I loved mine.
And then I think about how people in school (mostly her boyfriend's asshat friends) called us "lezzies." Looking around my apartment that I share with my best girl, living up to their expectations, it makes me snicker. But then I think about Michelle, married, with kids. I wonder what /she/ would think about where I am. I wonder if it would, in some way, upset her that I'm queer. I wonder if she went to the reunion last week. I'm suddenly overcome with this sadistic idea to write to her to catch up.
NB: Don't ever become unemployed. See what happens to your mind?
I have a lunch date with my![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
prettyvacantone! I am so excited!
I started reading Melissa Etheridge's autobiography this morning when I filched it off of Jen's nightstand. It's quick, easy reading, because Ms. Etheridge is hardly Shakespeare. I can get my voyeuristic "VH-1 Behind the Music" fix at the same time.
It's funny - when she's writing about her adolescence, she writes about going to summer camp and having an obsessive relationship with her friend Jo. She talks about professing "TLA" (that's 'true love always' for all you boys) for this boy named Melvin in her diary, but in the same entry she whines and rages about Jo ignoring her. That tickled me.
I always think that I didn't have any of those stereotypical queer upbringing moments, since I didn't date much, wasn't interested in dating much, and then practiced serial monogamy with a string of slightly femmey boys. But then I read that entry about Melvin and Jo, and I think about my friendship with Michelle and how obsessive it was. And how we spent every minute together. And how I hated her boyfriend, even while I loved mine.
And then I think about how people in school (mostly her boyfriend's asshat friends) called us "lezzies." Looking around my apartment that I share with my best girl, living up to their expectations, it makes me snicker. But then I think about Michelle, married, with kids. I wonder what /she/ would think about where I am. I wonder if it would, in some way, upset her that I'm queer. I wonder if she went to the reunion last week. I'm suddenly overcome with this sadistic idea to write to her to catch up.
NB: Don't ever become unemployed. See what happens to your mind?
I have a lunch date with my
prettyvacantone! I am so excited!
