So Governor Bill Richardson came to speak at my school today, about education and funding and whatnot.

Afterwards, my dear friend Emily and I decided to go and talk to him. We held hands, and walked up to him. He noticed the hand-holding immeadiately. Emily said, "Hi, we were wondering if we could ask you a question? It's not really related [to education etc]."

"Sure."

"What do you think about gay marriage?"

So, as I said in my last entry, there's a boy who likes me, and I think I like him, too. :/

We went out this weekend and had a good time. He knows that I'm gay, and he knows that I like him, and it's all kind of absurd, but I'm trying to make it work. We're trying to make it work.

We talked about how upset and confused he would be if he liked a guy, and we talked about how I might not be able to handle this. He said he hopes I don't have to bail (obviously) but it's okay if I do, and we'll be friends.

I think it's time I say something about this.

So I casually mentioned a boy who likes me in my last entry (I don't expect any one to remember that). Well. He still likes me. But that's not the issue.

I think that I like him.

I have several theories/rationalizations for this situation:

a) I'm really young, right? It's okay to flip-flop and experiment, especially now.

b) Even though I'm not attracted to boys, in general, it's not all that weird to have feelings for just one.

It's been a really long time since I posted a normal journal entry.

School is fine. Home is fine.

I got very sick yesterday. My migraines are increasingly frequent and more severe. I need bigger and better medication.

Other than that, I'm really quite well. I've been writing a lot, my friends are closer than ever.

There's a boy at school who has a crush on me. He's very sweet but, you know. Male. Other than that my love life doesn't exist right now. That's okay with me.

Some Things Never Change

My tired brain is just trying to stay above water.
My weak eyes have a dream of being focused.
The sky is infinite. The sky is a void.
We stared into it like we were staring at God.
The crickets hummed their hallelujahs.
Ours were screamed.

There are Many Roads to Salvation

In the mornings the women sing to the sun in the hopes of saving all our souls. Their voices rise with the breeze, lilt and flutter in time with the feathers on the wings of the little blue birds that crisscross across the bluer sky.

The water in the river may be cold, but our skin gets hot when we sit in the sun. That light seeps right through our pores, more fluid than a liquid. We become as stung and pink as the lovely little poison berries that hang from their bushes like so many guarantees.

But She Sounded So Cheerful on the Answering Machine

The doctor sits behind the desk. The desk is a wall. The wall is impossible.

The doctor is speaking.

Information, evaluation, condition, concern.

Rebecca sits on the couch, but does not lean against it. She sits up as straight as she can. Her eyes refuse to focus despite her sincerest pleas. When she resorts to bribery they take more serious action. The wall behind the doctor begins to flicker. The window begins to pulse. Rebecca can hear her heart beating and the beating is irregular.

That’s Love
for Anna

You say you love me.

I wonder what that means.

When we were fourteen
I used to shiver
at the sound of your name.

Sometimes I still see your face
when I look at the sun.

Now that’s love.

My new year starts exactly eight days from today.

I was totally dreading it, but I just now got my schedule, and it is INSANE. In a good way. Kind of.

Basically my whole course load is made up of electives (except for like one class). That means that though I recieved the same credit, they're all these weird and interesting semester-long courses (well, some of them are year long).

Anyway, they rock, and I'm psyched, and though I know you all don't care, I'm going to post them.

Hi. I'm really, really mad and I thought you guys might appreciate it.

This is the letter that I'm mailing them. It pretty much says it all.

To whom it may concern:

Upon looking up the word “love

Anybody who wants to know how finger length is connected to homosexuality should pick up the latest issue of Psychology Today.

The article is about how exposure to higher levels of testerone in the womb (which has already been linked to homosexuality) affects the length of your fingers in relation to one another. Typically, men have longer ring fingers than index finers. In women, these two fingers are usually about the same length, or the index finger might be slightly longer. A study showed that young boys with more feminine hands with more sensitive and little girls with more masculine hands were rowdier and had trouble relating to their peers.

Our Town

The city grows up and outward
despite our little house.
There are breaks in our careful world.
You should stop trying to make meaning where meaning
is not. The planes swoop over our town.
We’ve learned not to see them,
or at least not to mention it.
Stop trying to force things to mean something.
Your mistakes were many and varied.
I loved you anyway.

She Didn’t Have a Secret

Consider this my thank you for the time
you picked me flowers and the time
you slammed the door. There are
three missing weeks in the
journal, three empty spaces
in the log.

That time was yours and no one else’s.
I didn’t say a word. The problem
with distance is that it creates
more distance. You and I
both know that mistakes
were made.

We’re all going to burn. Consider this my

So despite the fact that I'm out to my entire city, I am not out to even one member of my extended family. And the big annual visit is coming up.

The reasons I haven't told them are many and varied, but the big one is that we just don't talk about these sorts of things. I'm not worried about being disowned or anything (there are other gay people in my family... plus I only see them once a year), but I don't want to tell them. It would be unpleasant and would be making a big deal out of something that shouldn't be. Plus, coming out to them would immply that we're all close and lovey, and we're not. We may pretend to be, but we're not. So basically, it's not that I can't come out to them, but that, for the most part, they're such a minor part of my life that I'd prefer not to even put in the effort. Also, I'm fairly certain that some of them have their suspicions, and for the gay and once-gay ones, the rainbow bracelet will probably be a give-away. But I'd really rather not discuss it.

From My Mouth to God’s Ears

Louisa leaves the house on a morning that is cold and hard like a glass bottle left outside over night. Her parting words ring against the air for days and weeks, that cast iron declaration, shaking in her girl’s voice, but determined. I’m already gone. No one could really believe it was true. We shivered anyway, quaking in our jeans, hands jammed in our pockets, heads tossed back as if we didn’t care.