The Uncertainty of Coming Out

This past month of June has been Pride Month. A month that I celebrated as an Ally and a closeted Bisexual.

Oh yes, I can hear the record scratch in your head. Despite the fact that I cannot see you and that this isn’t a live writing, my heart is pounding hard in my chest and my eyes are beginning to water writing this. You are not related to me, but you are reading my first sincere coming out.

Since questions are common when it comes to this, I’ll just start to answer them and maybe dive into my story. If you stick around until the very end, you’re the real MVP.

For as long as I can remember, I have been attracted to both boys and girls. In elementary school I remember not actually thinking too much about it. Middle school came and I had a rash of boyfriends because, ya know, I was totally ready for that despite not even understanding what a boyfriend was beyond someone you get to hold hands with and kiss. Things I couldn’t do with girls without it being considered even more weird than I was already being called.

I remember a specific girl. She was my best friend and my first girl crush, though I didn’t realize it at the time. I remember feeling around her what I felt around boys and because I was young, just attributed it to being close and the fact that she helped me through my depression at the time. We’re no longer best friends because of time and distance but we are still friends and follow each other on social media and she’s still as beautiful as I remember.

High school came and I was questioning everything. I was questioning my faith. My moral code. Who I was. My sexuality. All the parts of growing up. I still had my crushes on girls but not confident enough to actually ask any of them out. I was being bullied and my self esteem was torn to shreds and without realizing that it was happening, I pushed down the urge to come out. To come out was to give them more fuel and I didn’t think I could handle the flames.

I remember asking my parents what they would think if I was bisexual. They said I better not be. They were most likely joking but who knows? I asked my grandparents what they thought about bisexuals. My papa said he thought they were a selfish people for liking and wanting both sexes. He was also probably joking. But I was 15 and long before any of us, including I, realized, I took all of it literally. At least my emotions did. So I kept my mouth shut.

About four years ago, a year after I graduated, I realized that there was nothing wrong with how I felt about both men and women. That the fact that I was attracted to both sexes didn’t make me selfish or more likely to cheat. Those aren’t facts.

And for those people who are saying, ‘Oh well, I dated this bisexual and they cheated on me’ or ‘oh I know a few people who were cheated on a bisexual’ Those people are cheaters. Using their sexuality is a cop-out. A convenient one for cheaters and for people who just generally have a disdain for bisexuals.

Anyways, despite that realization, I still did not come out. I do think I hid under the cover of ‘I shouldn’t have to come out since straight people don’t have to’ but that was MAJOR PRIVILEGE TALKING.

I was already in a Heterosexual relationship with my now husband at the time. He knew I was bisexual despite me not fully having to express that I was. We never discussed it. I never brought it up with his parents. I didn’t have to bring it up to strangers. BUT THAT’S BECAUSE I WASN’T IN AN “UNCONVENTIONAL” RELATIONSHIP.

People weren’t coming up to me and assuming shit because they us holding hands. We weren’t being asked to “perform” certain private things to “prove” we were together.

It’s only NOW, after being bisexual for as long as I can remember but being in a monogamous heterosexual relationship for six years, THIS pride month, that I realized not only the privilege I have been living under but also the lie. The lie that I am not queer. It may not be an explicit lie, but it’s an omission of myself, who I love and who I am attracted to (genitals be damn).

They are teens being kicked out of their homes. People who have been bullied when they have come out or when they have been FORCED to come out to the point where they commit suicide. Or they’re being sent to camps to make them straight.

And I have been sitting here protected by my omission.

With that sentence, with this whole post in fact, this is how I feel about ME. How I feel about what I have been through and what I have been doing. I have been through 10% hardship about sexuality. Nothing more.

I won’t deny it’s been hard to be around family and worry they’ll turn against you if you reveal your sexuality or constantly make fun of your sexuality. I won’t deny that a part of me shrinks every single time I hear that bisexuality is only a phase. I won’t deny that going through my tumblr and constantly seeing the back and forth between not only straight people but also people that are part of the LGBT+ as they try to determine whether or not they accept Bisexual people as a legitimate thing has made me wary and even scared of actually saying anything. But that’s 10% hardship for me.

Again, this is how I feel about me. I want nothing more than for the people out there to be safe. If you’re not ready to come out, don’t. I have been ready to come out for YEARS but I got comfortable and liked not fighting with my family or fighting for my identity.

Right now though, I am thinking of 15 year old me. How she needed an adult to tell her that if you are bisexual of course I still love you, and not as an afterthought once “Oh you better not be” or the like. I’ve been wanting nothing more than to be the adult that I needed when I was younger and I failed on the sexuality part for years. I need to make up for that if I want to become that adult.

SO

This is my first official coming out post. For those of you who think I am a pussy for writing it on here and not on my Facebook, well, you’re not wrong. But this is a slow process I’m allowing myself. There are many things that will come out hopefully before the end of Pride month and even beyond that.

Because Pride month isn’t the only month I should take pride in who I am. Something I have to remember.

For those of you who read all the way until the end…you’re the real MVP.

Happy Pride!

Thanks for reading! Peace!

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Museums: A Personal Opinion

Like many others, I grew up with commercials on tv telling about a museum’s new exhibit every now and again. In middle school (again like many others I suspect), I became slightly obsessed with Egyptian history and about everything to do with Egypt. Research online showed me that there was Egyptian exhibits at museums like the Smithsonian or the British Museum. The unfortunate fact however is that I am at least $5,000 away from any type of decent sized museum that holds such wonders.

As I got older, I became more interested in my culture’s history. When I was 11, I attended a middle school in the same town as where my parent’s work place which just so happen to hold a tiny historical museum about the town which was super interesting since one of Hawaii’s most famous paniolo (Hawaiian cowboy) Ikua Purdy, was from there. Unfortunately, the small museum closed down and my biggest regret is not begging my parents to take me and my sister beforehand.

Continuing down this timeline to when I was 14, (I swear I will eventually get to my point of this post) I remember my mum driving me to school and I remember a few “official” looking SUVs parked off-road by a bunch of kiawe trees. I say official with quotation marks because they had all had a logo on the front doors. I can’t actually remember what the logo was of but I do remember asking my mum if she knew what they were doing over there and she told me they were digging for Hawaiian artifacts.

Of course, I was confused. I didn’t think there was any where we were living. But that’s because I didn’t know the history of the area at the time- which is another injustice I might cover in a different blog post at some other time- and I wouldn’t really learn until a little bit later.

I asked if they were building a museum near us and she said that she didn’t think so. If anything, they would most likely take it back to the mainland.

Man, oh man my indignation at hearing that.

I didn’t think it was right for it to be taken back to the mainland. It wasn’t from there. It was from here. If people wanted to see it, they could come here and look at it. If we need a museum and a lab- or whatever they use when cleaning and maintain artifacts- it shouldn’t be that hard to find people to finance it since Hawaii was already a tourist destination. It would also provide jobs for people here.

Now, after that moment, it was like something clicked in my brain.

It was like, wait…this has been a thing for forever!

Then started the slow burn of irritation and anger.

Then, of course, I forgot about it once I got distracted by life doing it’s thing.

Until yesterday when a friend and I were coming back from Starbucks and the conversation somehow steered towards it. Now, it’s bugging to be released from my brain.

For years, museums have sponsored exhibitions for archaeologists to find “lost” artifacts of different cultures around the world so they can preserve them or whatever and bring it back to their country so that their people can bask in the artifacts of an exotic land that they most likely will never see. It’s a good intention. I guess.

But I have multiple problems with such institutions in the present day. Not a problem with museums themselves or even with most archaeologists (unless they’re the ones who like to sell the artifacts they were hired to retrieve, those people can suck my toes), but with such a dated thought process that people deserve to see such the physical artifacts in museums even if they are originally from an entirely different country.

Also, we live in a time of innovation and advanced technology! I haven’t done research on this but I’m pretty sure there are at least some (I’m actually hoping on this) that are utilizing such technology to make replicas and/or holograms to replace physical artifacts of a different country origin in there displays. Some might say it’s deception, I say it’s innovation.

Some might say that there is nothing like seeing and being near the physical artifact. I say that if you want to that badly, you should fly to that country and visit their museum that carries it. I know it costs money but at least your visit will be more immersive than just going to the local museum.

Some might say that they have a right to have it in their local museum so that they don’t have to pay more money and be inconvenienced. I say that’s an entitlement attitude and that inconvenience is an unfortunate but important part of life. Also, you’re an asshole.

Again, I am going to come around and say that with the technology we already possess, beyond just searching a photo on the internet, it’s possible to have the same experience of visiting an artifact without having to take it from it’s country.

I know I am being redundant. I just don’t know how else to tell you how exactly I feel about this.

Well, there is my opinion on museums. This was probably one of my longer blog posts and I’m pretty sure at least 80% of you have stopped reading at this point but for those of you that have reached the end, I would like to say major kudos for keeping with me and also that I would love to hear your opinion on this if you have one. I’m down to have a conversation about this. I’m down to hear what is your favorite thing about a museum. I’m down to have a conversation about history in general.

Thanks for reading! Peace!

The Bittersweet Parts of Life

I think I’ll do this in list form in order of when it hits my mind. It’s hard to rank bittersweet things in the first place.

1. Watching my baby grow- She is my tiny human but every day she’s getting bigger and one day she won’t really need me and while I will welcome a good uninterrupted night’s sleep eventually, it’s just so bittersweet watching her getting older (she’s only a toddler so I will have a loooooong time to feel this).

2. Reaching the end of a really good book (series)- Harry Potter was the first book series I read and the first movie series I really got into. Actually it was the only series I ever got super into that I still like. When I finished reading the last book, it hit me that that was the end. I cried bittersweet tears.

3. Giving birth- It was super painful but it was an end and a start. I was happy that I would be able to finally meet my child after 10 months of growing her. I was sad because there would be no more moving sensations inside me and I wouldn’t be able to protect her the same way. It was super bittersweet.

4. Vacations- It’s always nice to take a vacation from work and regular mundane life for a bit. Then it ends and you have to go back to regular mundane life (which, depending on the vacation, isn’t always so bad). But it’s still bittersweet.

And that’s the end of this super short list. There are tons of other bittersweet moments and parts of life. I would like to hear of other people’s bittersweet moments and experiences if you would like to share!

Thanks for reading! Peace!

Coffee Addict Much?

Pretty much anybody that knows me personally knows that I really love my coffee in the morning. If my little one isn’t awake before me (a rare and lovely event), brewing coffee is the first thing I do. Do I love it for the taste? Yes. I’m a no creamer type of girl unless I get it from the gas station. Do I love it because it makes me feel less dead? Definitely! Am I an addict when it comes to coffee? Probably.

I mostly joke about being addicted to coffee but I can’t deny that when I don’t have it for a few days straight, I start going through withdrawals. When I worked at Starbucks, we all would go through a coffee cleanse when we were having to put more shots of espresso into our already pretty caffeinated drinks. Like any addict will tell you, withdrawals suck (but I suspect that coffee withdrawals are not as intense).

Usually what happens first with me when I start my coffee cleanse is that my entire body feels tired, heavy. I can actually feel the bags under my eyes weighing down my face.There is something satisfyingly raw about that sensation that I never mind pushing through it (sounds odd I know). At least during the cleanse, I didn’t have trouble falling asleep at night (or as soon as I had gotten home).

The worst part of it (for me) are the tension headaches. They always started at the point where my skull meets my neck and radiated out. Sometimes they start by my temple making me wince or pull a face if it starts all of a sudden. I never took (and still don’t) any type of pain reliever because I used to be very stubborn about getting through the pain on my own (now it’s just because I wait until it gets really bad). The headaches last for only a few days during the cleanse and decrease in intensity over that time period. I usually didn’t notice when they stopped because no matter how bad a headache was, I still had to work.

Now the worst part of a cleanse for other people is the irritability that hit around the middle of it. Working in customer service was already a pain in the butt, a slowly decaffeinating me made it feel worse so I always had to try and keep it in check while at work. At home however, well, me and my sister would argue far more. My mum would call me a grumpy cat while I sat there with, you guessed it, a grumpy look on my face. Looking back on it, it was nice (annoying back then) to have a family that didn’t take me seriously during that time.

I would go on the coffee cleanse for about a month or so during slow season so that when busy season (summer, ending of fall, and winter) hit, my tolerance for caffeine was super low. I was able to drink coffee and get that amazing burst of energy that allowed me to do several things at once as well as deal with unruly customers with a large smile on my face.

Nowadays, the thought of going on a coffee cleanse is not welcomed. I most likely need to go on one since I’ve been drinking coffee (at least four mugs full) every morning since I stopped breastfeeding but I dread it. I ran out of coffee and couldn’t buy more for three days and all the withdrawal symptoms hit at once and oh lord almighty it sucked.

That’s actually more of a reason to go on a coffee cleanse for a while isn’t it?

Maybe I should start switching to tea for an energy boost. I will let you know if I do decide to make a switch and what it feels like.

Thanks for reading! Peace!

A Little Rain Never Hurt

That is the phrase that goes through my head every time it starts to drizzle whenever I am outside with my little one. It’s like a reassurance that being caught in the beginning stages of a rainy day isn’t going to harm me or her. We’re not going to catch a cold from being caught in a drizzle of rain for about ten minutes. It’s something I think pretty much every day because contrary to popular opinion, parts of Hawaii rain quite a bit.

I say popular opinion, but really its more of a common complaint customers would give me when I used to work at Starbucks.

I can’t believe it’s raining! Said with just a bit of outrage that the clouds dare leak during their vacation.

We came here to escape the rain! Despite the fact that they’re just, you know, complaining, my smart ass brain couldn’t help but think that the only place one could possibly escape rain is the desert (or my home of Kawaihae where it only rains four times a year, or a whole week if we were lucky).

My personal favorite is: It’s not supposed to rain in Hawaii! 

Now that one has been said very often and I really feel like that it’s one of those sentences that weren’t completely formed in the mind before being blurted out of the mouth. And it makes me giggle inside because, mother nature is going to do whatever she pleases, whenever she pleases.

I get it that rain can put a damper on plans because a lot of the fun things to do in the islands, like hiking or zip-lining, would have to be put on the back burner since it’s relatively unsafe to do such things in the rain. Plus, not everyone enjoys being wet.

I remember enjoying the rain when I was little. Standing outside in it or playing tag with my sister or the other kids on the street when the summer rain started and just letting it soak our clothes to our skin. The only time we would be forced to go in is when it started dumping buckets or if the wind picked up while it rained. I remember doing this all the way into high school. Even after I had gotten over my pneumonia (which was actually caused by a misdiagnosis, but not from standing in the rain for too long) I liked to stand in the open when it rained at school (I was a weirdo in high school though).

I don’t know when it started but, for a while, I hid away when it rained. Stayed in the house. Stayed dry. Stayed warm. I don’t know why that started. Do we, as we become adults, become more wary of rain and other elements that didn’t bother us as much as kids? Does heat bother us more or is it really getting that hot? Is it really that cold or is our skin more susceptible to it? Is everything just that sucky or is it the negativity of our own minds that makes everything that was once simple and good into something sucky?

I think these questions will linger for a while. I’m not sure if I want them to be answered. I just know that the rain doesn’t bother my little one. She just looks up at the sky for a second and then looks straight again while I push her stroller along, looping up and around back home instead of to the park. She reminds me of a time when I was young and not bothered by the rain.

Thanks for reading! Peace!

Beauty and the Beast and the variety

The 2017 live action version of Beauty and the Beast is now released on DVD as well as on iTunes and Google Play (in case you didn’t already know) and my little one is currently watching it on the tablet while eating some chicken nuggets (yes yes I know bad mommy for putting her in front of a screen but it’s not like I have her plopped down in front of it for twelve hours-another post for another time) so I figured this would be a perfect time to write about it as the songs play in the background.

Now when I say “it”, I’m not talking about just this version of Beauty and the Beast. I’m talking about the various versions that this story has inspired. Some I know of, some I don’t because there are at least hundreds of adaptions of the story released in the different types of media.

The original Beauty and the Beast fairy tale was written by a French Novelist Gabrielle-Suzanne Barbot de Villeneuve all the way back in 1740 (quick math means the story itself is about 277 years old). The adaptation that remains closest to the original plot (that I have seen) is actually on Netflix at the moment which was released in 2014. But there still quite a bit of artistic liberties taken. Even the well known version of the “original” fairy tale was actually a watered down version as the original was more complex but in order to publish the author changed a few things the second time around (think opposite of Neil Gaiman when he edited American Gods for it’s tenth anniversary).

Going back to the 2014 Beauty and the Beast that is currently on Netflix, it is a French-German film and as much as I wanted to watch it in it’s original language, I was also taking care of my little one so I couldn’t keep my eyes on the screen the whole time. The dubbing is exceptionally well done though. The back story for why the Beast is the Beast is entirely different than the Disney version we are used to but he is cursed by a supernatural being so that stayed the same. I adored the costuming (this is a French film and as far as fashion stereotypes go it makes sense; American films should borrow French costume techniques and ideas in my opinion). I don’t want to give too much away so here is a picture of the film but I do recommend watching it if you like Beauty and the Beast as much as I do, or if you just want something to watch:

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(see how pretty that blue dress is? And the beast’s costume? There’s more of the like in the movie)

Now we go back in time, about 26 years, to 1991 when the Disney animated adaption of Beauty and the Beast was released. I adored Belle pretty much immediately after I heard Paige O’Hara start singing in the opening song. I also felt a kinship to her because of her love of books and feeling odd compared to the people around her. The soundtrack was beautiful. Leading up to and the day of the release of the live action Beauty and the Beast I was playing this movie every day and singing along (off-key).

I haven’t seen the television shows because I was in high school still when the 2012 one started and I had a bedtime at 8 (parents woke up early for work and have ears like dogs so TVs were usually off by 7.45). I’m also the type of person that doesn’t like to jump in at anytime because I always feel like I’m missing something so I’m going to binge watch it on Netflix (once I finish all the other shows I’m supposed to be binge watching). I didn’t even know about the 1987 until I did my quick Google search. A quick overview that I read about the from 2012 puts it in the suspenseful supernatural category (one of my favorite categories despite being a huge scaredy cat). I saw a picture from the 1987 one and it looked like the cover of a smutty romance novel. Definitely piques my interest haha.

Fast forwarding to 2017 and the latest (possibly greatest?) adaption of Beauty and the Beast. First off, Emma Watson, one of my girl heroes since childhood, Hermione freaking Granger, as Belle is probably the best thing in the world to me. All of the actors in this movie did an amazing job in breathing life back into these characters. Most of the songs from the movie are on my phone and I listen to them on a weekly basis (used to be daily but I’ve calmed down a bit). I just love how the added songs. I love that they answered all the questions that I didn’t realize I had about the 1991 version. I love that gut wrenching scene at the end *SPOILER* because despite knowing they were all going to survive, my heart was absolutely breaking as they became inanimate.

Well done Disney. Well done.

So there is my review of Beauty and the Beast that nobody asked for. I’ve been mildly obsessing over this story for over twenty years so I’m a little surprised this isn’t longer.

Thanks for reading! Peace!

The Friendships that Lasted

I very recently posted about friendships dissolving after high school, my own experiences with it, so I decided to write one about the friendships that have lasted after High school and beyond my own expectations. A fun part of it is that this post is about two people as well. Sort of like the counterparts to the other two. Or parallels (I’ve sucked at math all my life including when it’s applied in literature so I’m not sure if I’m using the word right). Either way they are amazing people.

The first one has been my best friend for nearing eight years now. She had been new to the first high school I attended and the civics teacher sat her with me. I highly doubt his thought process was: “These two seem like they’ll be best friends forever, I’m going to seat them together” but that’s what ended up happening. We bonded very quickly over Harry Potter and Anime.

She is inspiring. When I started sleeping over her house in Sophomore year I was constantly in awe of her and her excitement for everything and anything she was interested in. Whatever she did, she gave 110% and I was more than happy to be along for the ride.

I know I’m gushing over her but she deserves it. Beyond being an awesome person in general, she is an amazing friend. She has listened to me over the years, has been there for me in extremely difficult times and she doesn’t pressure me to be something I’m not. She encourages me to explore my creative side, a side that many people have tried to get me to push down because it doesn’t make money. She’s kept me from drowning.

The other thing about our friendship is that we don’t text every day. We’ll go months without talking. When we do get in touch, it’s as if time hasn’t gone by. There’s no awkwardness. Even in our silence. I never knew friendships like this could exist; they’re not written about as often. 

Gushing time-out. Time to give my other best friend some love.

We met at my second high school. The first time we actually talked was when we were both hiding from teachers and went the same way. He was a friend of a friend, we didn’t have any classes together but we hung out in the same areas with the same people. He was cool and reserved and interesting. You ever meet someone that you were just dying to know? I have no explanation why I did. But I didn’t try to that first year.

The second year I was there, my senior year, I had the greatest fortune of having him in my Spanish class. So what does my obnoxious butt do? It sits right next to him and makes sure that that is my seat for the rest of the year. I was determined to know this guy. I’m glad I did.

First thing to say about him, he is strong. He is one of the strongest men I have the pleasure of knowing. He is also good. He is a good listener and Ann good friend. My god I don’t deserve him, either of them really. He also allowed me to be me. He didn’t take my apologies. Did I know he was going to become my best friend? No I didnt. He was a surprise.

I have trouble writing about him because I want to write about his struggles that he overcame, that he’s still overcoming. My god he’s inspiring. He’s also humble and extremely modest. I’ve wanted to shake him so many times until he admitted he was awesome. He and I do text almost every day. We talk about anything and everything. 

I hope you have friends like these. Friends that make you want to get up in the morning when you feel like the day is already gonna suck. Friends that inspire you. Friends that don’t beat you down about positive things.

I hope I have these friends for the rest of my life. I did make them my child’s godparents, official in a church and everything. They are the best type of people for her to be around, for her to be mentored by.

Thank you for reading! Peace!