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Archive for the ‘dating is fun!’ Category

Ask! Tell!

Tuesday, September 20th, 2011

As of midnight, Don’t Ask Don’t Tell has ended.

I genuinely have no idea how much this will change the lives of the  gay and lesbian members of the military. Partially because I’m not in the military, and partially because I’m not

I recently read an article in Marie Claire about Navy women on submarines. This fall, for the first time ever, women are going to deploy underwater. The article was an interview with a super high ranking navel officer who also happens to have lady bits. When asked about sexual harassment underwater, she said:

I would say the leadership needs to set the tone, and everybody needs to understand that you’re part of a professional organization and professionals don’t treat each other unprofessionally. There are always going to be men out there who are going to try you as a woman to see: How far can I push you before I break you? And if something happens to our women going on board and they don’t act or say something and stop it, then that’s when that cancer grows.

The thing about being a woman on a submarine is that, unless you’re in some 50s farce where you’re undercover as a fella, people know you’re a woman. Not only are you bunking in more private quarters, you also – you know – pee sitting down and stuff. It’s a big deal that you’re there, and you have to own it.

In the quote above, the officer implies that women have a responsibility to call out mistreatment and inequality when they see it. I don’t necessarily agree with that in a broad sense – it’s a simplification that doesn’t take circumstances into account. In the submarine sense, I have literally no idea. Trapped underwater seems like both an important and dangerous place to take a stand.

Is there a corollary to gays? If you’re in the  military and you’re not heterosexual,  you’re a lot harder to identify than a woman on a sub. Unless you want that part of your life to be apparent to your coworkers, they don’t necessary have to know. Are there people who feel that individuals in that position have a responsibility to speak out? Again, it doesn’t seem like the safest environment – but it does seem like an important one.

I’m glad that such a stupid rule was finally recognized as such, but I’m curious as to how much of a difference it’s going to make in the day-to-day life of those that it affects. Will they be skipping through the fields, holding hands with their loved ones for all to see? Or will they just keep living their lives?

Anyway. YAY. Goodbye stupid rule. (In the Army, anyway. Sigh. Baby steps?)

 

tears in Starbucks

Friday, September 16th, 2011

I’m not equating Starbucks with heaven, here.

Yesterday, I had a short day on campus (done at 11 due to a cancellation by my grader, who I am starting to think is never actually on campus yay!). I dragged my ass to the gym when I got back to Louisville, and then immediately headed over to Starbucks to meet the lovely Laura.

I beat her there.

I ordered some hot tea.

I found a table, set down my tea, set down my laptop, took off my jacket, and got ready to sit down. In the process of sitting down, I put my hand on the corner of the table, which, it turns out?, was not totally stable.

The tea that had been handed to me 25 seconds earlier spilled all over my forearm, and then my pants and school bag, and then the floor.

People immediately started handing me napkins and a very nice woman went up to the counter to ask for a towel. The barista told her they’d send someone out with a mop in a second.

I didn’t have more napkins, so I just stood there waiting – and I realized that my arm was burnt.

Like, burnt burnt.

I started to cry.

There was literally nothing I could do about it. It hurt like a motherfucker, my bag was wet, my pants were wet, and even my laptop had a few drops on it.

Everyone was looking at me, and I was crying. Like, tears streaming down my face crying, not like big whopping gasps of air snotty nose crying.

The thing is, it actually doesn’t sound that terrible. I mean, the burnt arm sucks. The barista gave me some burn cream as soon as she saw it, and I rinsed it under cold water and then slathered that on. Now it really only looks like a bad sunburn. The rest, though, what? It’s not like I know those people. It was like three Starbucks away from my home Starbucks (yes, a ‘Starbucks’ is a valid unit of measure). I won’t see any of them again, and they could all see that I was burnt, and probably they weren’t judging me anyway because people don’t really think that much about other people.

But still.

The rest of the day, I cried off and on. I said something sweet to Laura and got teary. Laura said something sweet to me and I got teary. Crockett ate something that I wanted to eat and I cried. I took a shower and it was hot and I cried. I scraped my arm with my jacket and I cried. We went to eat pizza with my mom and we got a table I didn’t like and I welled up.

I’m not actually sure what was going on. I don’t know if I felt dumb and that made me sensitive, or if my arm made me sensitive, or what.

All I know is that immediately following my tears in Starbucks, the whole rest of my day blew.

Starbucks is definitely not heaven.

I’m sure you can already see where this is going

Tuesday, August 30th, 2011

Yesterday Crockett and I were sitting at the table and I got an email regarding the Canyonlands Half Marathon. I mentioned it to him.

Crockett: Are you going to do it?
Me: Nah. It’s a lottery to get in. There’s one in the fall though that you can just register for. (I turned the computer to show him.) It’s actually the weekend of my fall break. Wanna go to Moab in October?
Crockett: The weekend of October 16th? We don’t have anything else going on?
Me: Not that I can think of…
Crockett: Are you sure?
I pull up my calendar and show it to him.
Me: Nope, nothing planned. You want to go?
Crockett: stares.
Me: still not getting it.

It went on like this for longer than I’d like to admit. Eventually? He reminded me that the day of the race is also HIS BIRTHDAY.

Whoops.

friends

Thursday, August 25th, 2011

Yesterday was a long, long day, but not a terrible one. I had classes and meetings and then more classes and then more meetings and then a departmental orientation, followed by a pizza party.

I attended everything but the pizza party. When the pizza boxes opened and the other students descended on them with such rapidity that I’m pretty sure several of them accidentally ate parts of the cardboard boxes, I snuck out the back.

Yesterday, while sitting in my first class, I tweeted

@dollemma Guys, I found all the girls at my school! Turns out they were hiding in statistics courses.

My first class had 13 people in it, and 9 of them were women.

More than a few of them were women who had worked for awhile and then come back to school.

It’s basically like someone custom designed some friends for me and then shoved us all into a room together. “Here. You’re all 28 (cough*giveortake*cough) and you all like math and you are all going to be sitting here, three times a week, learning the same things. You’re welcome.”

Some of them already knew each other, and one was acting as social director for those who didn’t…

and I totally ignored them.

I was trying to explain why to Crockett, but I really have nothing. It may have been shyness, honestly, or it may just have been that I had other stuff to worry about on that first day of school.

Or, it may have been that I’m damn stingy with my time and have enough friends already, thankyouverymuch.

I could have had pizza with them. But I came home and had pizza with Crockett and my girls instead.

Antisocial for the win.

this

Wednesday, August 24th, 2011

Scene – last night, chatting idly about what we learned over the course of the day.

Me: Oh, did you hear that men who say they’re bisexual have not, in fact, been lying all this time?
Crockett: Did someone think they were?
Me: Apparently the scientists at Northwestern University were unsure.
Crockett: After they finished that study, did they turn their research towards bears and their woodland defecation?

Ahahahahaha.

I love having a smart man.