Month: February 2017

The First Cold Night

There is an airy silence tonight, the kind of silence that comes as snow falls lightly on a morning commute. I lie awake wondering if the morning will bring heart ache and regret or happiness and relief. This was the moment I was dreading, the moment that could cause so much pain but set me free so I could move on with my life. Newly 19-years-old, I had felt stuck ever since that night he took me out for coffee. I’ll never forget the text he sent me during Psychology class senior year: “Would you like to go on a date with me tonight? Love, Parker.” Oh, and he added a smiley face and a heart to the end of that text, as if it wasn’t bad enough already (so 2010 of him). The alarm clock in my head woke me up instantly but I decided to hit snooze and fall back asleep. In the clouds, of course. Robert is never the one to be realistic. So there I was, on a Thursday night, sipping a white chocolate non-fat …

I Was a Terrible Friend

When you met me I was broken, though neither of us knew it at the time. I was 21, you were 19. To you I was Zelda. To you, I didn’t care what other people thought and was unapologetically myself. By living openly in this way, perhaps I drew you in. Yet I was still struggling to grasp on to who I truly was, to see how I fit into the world. But I let you believe I was dazzling, because I found you incredibly alluring. I understood your interest pursuing my friendship on the day you revealed to me your truth. It wasn’t until this admission that it all made sense. But I wasn’t shocked. It felt as though we were arriving upon the truth that was there the whole time. But along the way, I also realized, that I was in love with you. And in the most self-centered of intentions, I took it upon myself to share your secret, the one you entrusted me with care, the one that was first spoken aloud …

When Sex Becomes Validation

He finished inside me. Got up, pulled off the condom and took it with him to the bathroom. I lied there naked, alone in the dark. I heard the shower turn on. As he washed himself off I pulled my clothes back on. I tried to find my underwear but it took me a second to locate them in the darkness. I pulled the curtains open just a bit to let the moonlight pour in. I found them, next to my side of the bed. He came but I hadn’t yet. He didn’t help me out there. But it’s OK. He’s the best I ever had. I don’t know any better. When he comes back to bed, he no longer wants to hold me. He turns away. I lie back down and find myself staring through the crack I made in the blinds, drawn to the moon glow illuminating San Francisco. He’s quiet. And within a few minutes, I know he’s asleep. My heart is full but my mind is clear. He’ll be the worst …

I Cried in 4th Grade Because I Thought I Was Ugly

On an overnight school field trip in the mountains, I found myself in a nosy predicament. Growing up in a small town in Sonoma County, the fourth grade class at our school would take a field trip through this history of California’s Gold Rush movement. While it may sound  fun, it most certainly was not my thing. I love nature. But what I didn’t like was having to do boy things with other boys. I had no interest in hanging out with the other boys, playing Pokemon or God knows what else. I desperately wanted to be part of the girls crew but I was not allowed in. Staying behind in the cabin reading a book while the boys were out playing, I overheard the girls’ counsel meeting. Christina and Liz were leading the meeting. As they called the meeting to begin, the first order of business was naming the top three hottest guys in our class. This peaked my interest, naturally. As they called off the list, I found myself at number three behind Charlie Winterbottom …

Still a Hot Mess

I have no idea what the fuck I’m doing tbh. I sit here, cold and lost without much direction or clear passion. I have started a new job, shifted my perspective on past messy relationships (healed from the mess my body endured) and thinking that maybe I got the chutzpah to really make it out here in these streets. But alas, I am still a hot ass mess. I have lost and found myself enough times to know that this will pass, but the beginning of a new journey is the pits. It’s always the starting over that becomes most difficult. For a second, it seemed like everything was quite clear, that I was reaching new levels of consciousness toward a higher, more stable state. But I look over and say hello to my dear friend Disaster and he seems to know me like the friend you try to leave behind because they were just too clingy. “Oh, you again,” he says. I know this moment will pass, I know that eventually the Bold Bitch Goddess will swoop …

Queer Latinx Activist Gilbert Romero on the Importance of Self-Care

Photo Credit: Diego Lozano Hey there beautiful, I hope you’re taking care of yourself. On January 20th, 2017, we entered into a new world with a level of fuckery and fascism not seen since the 1940s. If you’re a progressive activist or organizer like me, the world feels dark and uncertain. I was in Washington, D.C. the day after the election and the whole city felt like a surreal movie and everyone in offices (including myself) were either crying or had a zombie-like expression tattooed on their face the entire day. Mainly due to staying up late watching the election results pour in. I haven’t been organizing for all that long. Just throughout my college years and afterwards. However, if you know me, you know I’m a very passionate and intense person and this election has absolutely burnt me out because these issues were important to me even before my “professional” career. I won’t go into details, but I had a mental health crisis that required me to move back home and hit the reset …

4 Things to Consider When Blogging About a Painful Relationship

I am no stranger to writing about other people. I started this blog when I was 20–a junior in college, and very problematic. As I continued sharing my story, I lived for the echo of others saying they shared the same experiences. I still live for that. In fact, it’s why I write, honestly. But in my earlier days, I would feel great about sharing my story most times, and then terrible at other times. I couldn’t figure out why some pieces didn’t sit right, but I did know that readers felt it too. It took me a year or so of writing to understand what I needed to do in order to move forward with writing about others. The four tips below might be helpful for your work and for your spirit. 1. Write in the moment things are happening, but don’t publish right away When emotions are high, writing is raw and limitless. It’s a heavy release of emotional vomit and inspiration tends to take a hold as I type or scribble furiously. This is an important part of the …