Coping

I realize that I don't grieve very long. I think it's because I've had a lot of experience with it, and determined the best way to cope. After all, I'm all about efficiency.

What that means is that I now tend to put myself in a positive mindset with every situation. In addition, I also keep in mind that in the end, 'Que Sera Sera'. This may come off as emotionless or heartless, but I really wear my heart on my sleeve. I just know that sometimes it's healthier to change my shirt.

Feel emotions, experience them, move on. Do it with a positive outlook.

What I've also realized is that I find it hard to comfort other people well. I want to help people feel better, but my method includes making them smile and laugh (laughter is the best medicine, right?). It can also be inappropriate, and crossing the line is what makes me nervous, which in turn makes me uncomfortable.

This is how I feel right now. Boopy's is with his mother, who is in the hospital, hundred of miles away. I feel sad, in part through his grief for his mother, and in part of not being able to be there next to him. I've already relinquished control of this situation because this is what life dealt me, and I take each opportunity to speak with him on the phone.

During each call, I have this gut reaction to make him laugh or have him talk about his emotions; in essence, have him follow my grieving process. But I stop myself because it is his experience, not mine. So what I do is listen.

Stay strong baby. One day at a time. I'm here for you.

Restroom Refrain

When I have a blackberry, I wonder if I'll also use it on 'the throne' like so many other people. Probably so, just to disturb the quiet, awkward ambiance with even more awkward sounds of tiny buttons being pressed.

Unwanted

The lady downstairs hates me. I think it's because I continue to have guests over (well, it's really just one permanent guest). What's worse is that she's the mother of the landlord - which as previously resulted in a call asking if we moved in another resident. (The answer is no, by the way.)

I can understand if she feels territorial, but I pay the damn rent; I'm entitled to do whatever the hell I want (as long as I'm not making a ruckus or buring the place down), right? In the words of the soon-to-be-divorced Bobby Brown, 'It's my prerogative'.

It's sad because when I first moved in, she would reply with a smile and nod when I greeted her. Now it's just one of those all-knowing-evil stares (and now I wonder if she can hear us through the ceiling).

That's not a problem because I have a BA in Not Taking Shit from People; so I just ignore her. However, what I wasn't trained for was having their dog take a dump on my welcome mat; which has never happened before she showed her distain for me. Coincidence?

National Coming Out Day!

It's National Coming Out Day ya'll! Ah.. I remember my coming out like it was yesterday...

(Cue flashback sound effects.)

"Sister, I'm gay." "O-kay. Are you going to tell mom?"

"Mom, I'm gay." "NOOooo!" (shriek of terror)

"Err.. does that mean no grandchildren for me? There's always time to change..." (Cue tears, hug)

"Dad, I'm gay." "Whatever makes you happy."

(Cue sappy music as everyone looks into the distance. Pan up, fade to white.)

Okay, that was slightly over-dramatic (you can read what actually happened on Christmas Day with My Family).

Since then, I haven't explicitly told my extended family (most of them figured it out via gossip, and some even through mass media), least of all my grandmother. That changed last weekend.

I had invited Boopy to come with me for a weekend of festivities in the middle of Penn, including my teamed triathlon and my aunts' partners' birthday party (yes, there's another homo in my family). During the party, my drunk aunt decided to introduce, rather, announce the families to the attending guests. Over microphone. All was fine until she realized that I also had a guest for her to announce.

"And we're also lucky to have Jase's boyfriend, Boopy!"

Panic.

Of which I didn't have much time because my non-English-speaking Grandmother whipped her head around to me and uttered, 'boyfriend?' My initial response was to deny it, so I did, but she wasn't listening anymore and quickly excused herself to the bathroom.

"She just got out of the hospital, now you want to send her back," my mom chided my still-drunken aunt. "Oops. Well, it's better coming from me, right?"

When she returned (from bawling her eyes out my mom assured me), all she said (in Chinese) was, "Don't be crazy like your aunt." Luckily, I have a lot of experience ignorning my grandmother. Not so was Boopy who had to endure the wrath of the evil-squinty-eyes for the rest of the weekend.

Happy National Coming Out Day! Here's to outing everyone you know!

Just a Hint of Excitement

This had to be the most interesting weekend this year by far. I don't know which was more exciting: running 4 miles in a teamed triathlon, having my grandmother faint and having to go to the hospital, or having my drunk aunt accidentally out me (and my boopy) to my grandmother. Or all the drama involved.

The last two had nothing to do with each other. Really.

Granny's okay (thanks for your concern) - she was released from the hospital the same day. As for the effects of the accidental outing, those have yet to be determined.

Is it Just Me?

This past weekend marked the start of my volunteering to tutor fourth graders in English and Math (in preparation for their advancement exams). These kids never cease to amaze me; and are a constant reminder that I won't be having any of my own anytime soon.

The week before was the mandatory training session. I've done them before, and given that it was my third year, I shared some stories and advice (what a surprise, huh?). What was new this year was the finger-printing and background check. Working with minors, it makes sense; and thinking about it, they should have done this in previous years, too.

That's all fine. I don't have any skeletons in my closet (that I'm afraid to share with the world). Fingers, fingers, thumb, thumb, done. "Did you bring the $25 fee for the background check?" Excuse me?!

They want me to pay for my own background check?! To volunteer?! In essence, they're making me pay to volunteer! That's almost as stupid as those prepaid credit cards!

Is it just me? Does anyone else see the issue here? Should I just pay the $25 fee, even though I think the organization should pay (considering I'm volunteering my time)? I doubt they'd stop me from volunteering, but do I want to risk having people be mad at me? And I love enacting power over those little brats (just kidding).

What's really surprising is how none of the other volunteers are opposing this fee (which is probably due to the fact that I'm one of two returning volunteers). Maybe I'm just that cheap observant?