I'm single not desperate

Please allow me to clear up some common misconceptions for you. I know I'm a walking stereotype, short hair, tattoo's, pin strips and tank tops, but this doesn't make me any less of a girl. Nor does it make me want to be a “man”. I have this inborn respect thing going on. Oh sure, I can be rude and crass and joke all I want, but when it gets to the heart of the matter, I'm extraordinarily respectful. I'm also extremely shy. I don't hit on women. It's actually kinda funny to see me in “action”, or rather inaction. I can't tell you how many times friends have come up to me and said, “you know she was hitting on you right?” The answer to that is always NO. No I didn't. I'm kinda brain dead when it comes to dating. But that being said, I kinda happy being brain dead, if I'd have to go to the alternative that is. Here is my example. On my birthday I went out to a bar and was outside talking to an aussie girl I had met through a friend. Yes this woman was very attractive, but I was more interested in the stories about how everything in her country was a brush with death. A rather drunk very tall fellow came up to me outside and put his arm around me. After gritting my teeth and holding down my instinct to put his unwanted arm elsewhere I used my powers of conversation. We were chatting away and he says to me, you have a very pretty girlfriend. (Yeah the closet isn't really an option for me.) I informed him that she was not my girlfriend and that she was straight. His response was, “I bet you could change her mind!” I told him that I had no intention of changing her orientation and pulled out a rather crass joke that I save for special occasions like this. Here is the deal people. I don't want to convert you. I don't want your wives or girlfriends. If you think I do, and you are at risk of loosing her, you have bigger issues. Please don't mistake my politeness and respect for making a pass at you. Some of us can be “lady like” without being effeminate. It also happens at the gay bars too. I get the evil eye from other “butchy” type ladies thinking that I'm out cruising her date. Seriously, thank you for the uber butch complement, but I'm really no threat. I have no intention on taking your girlfriend, and again if you think I am going to steal her away from you, you might want to consider uping your game and treating her right, or dumping her if she's a cheater. Either way, I pass. As for me dating, I've been single now the better part of two years. I am not going to settle for someone who doesn't treat me with respect. I'm single, not desperate. I'm not willing to just throw anyone in as a partner. I don't need anyone to complete me. I'm happy with me. If I meet someone and we mesh that would be great, if not I'm actually okay with that as well.

Two more fallen

I've been pondering what to say about these couple of articles that have come across my feed of late. One is a man, about my age, who was happily engaged, well educated and had about a million things going for him. The other is a boy about the same age as my daughter, so full of life and potential. They both died the same way, by their own hand. They are the latest causalities in the war against homophobia. I'm trying to think of something profound to say, something that will touch who ever is reading this, something that will spark anger, disappointment, sadness and last but not least action. I'm too sad to type anything profound.

Changing the world we live in

I have a saying posted on my bedroom wall that greets me every time I wake and reminds me of who I am. It says, “Be the change you want to see in the world” Gandhi. I try every day to live up to that quote. I am not so foolish to believe that I can single-handedly change this world that we live in. I'm not that smart or charismatic, but I can change the corner I live in. I can say that today I will make life a little better for someone and maybe the good deeds I sow will flourish and help to change my little corner.

It's funny these online blogs allow strangers access to joys and sadness. Today I wish I could ease the suffering of one of the bloggers that I follow. I feel her pain in the words that she has written, and it tears my heart a little. She is a complete stranger and why would I care? But I do. Part of my problem is I have an overactive caring gland. I care and perhaps that in and of it's self sheds a little light in the dark corner of the universe. We should all care about humanity, when one of us suffers we all suffer, even if we don't acknowledge that portion of our humanity. Life is a cruel joke sometimes, I think the ones that care the most suffer the most, it's like the universe balances out somehow. To the blogger I wish I could extend my condolences, but I can't. I've learned enough in my life to understand how some people can misunderstand a simple act of kindness perhaps sometimes the kindest things we can say is nothing at all. Sometimes silence can speak volumes.

Wounded Soldier 2

This weekend I hung up my wounded soldier. He is heading up a platoon of soldiers hung on my tree. It's been my obsession ever since I was a small child to collect these soldiers. I remember going out in the Christmas season with my parents and choosing one ornament every year for the tree. Almost every year I'd choose a soldier. When I got a little older I picked up a few trumpets amongst other things, but I always had a special place in my heart for the little guys. They protected my tree and I'd play with them for hours. This little guy had lost his feet, and I wrote about him a few months back. He has joined his platoon and he is front and centre in my tree. At first glance you may not even notice that he is missing his feet. He has now become my favourite ornament and I long to add another to his ranks.

He symbolizes a lot in my life. His struggle to join find a place on my tree, the lonesomeness he experienced while waiting for someone to pick him up and put him in a place with love. The realization that he will always be different and missing a part of himself. He also reminds me as a Canadian we are protected by our soldiers the freedoms that we have have been bought and paid for in blood. That there are many wounded soldiers out there that perhaps don't have such visible wounds and should treated with as much care as I showed him. That people of every walk in life, regardless if they have a visible disability or not should be treated with as much care and should be given a hand up not a hand out. Perhaps if society acted more like the soldiers on my tree and found use for those of us with disabilities (visible or not) it would add beauty to our own community. How we treat others who can do nothing for us, says a lot about ourselves. That even those of us who are disabled can add beauty to our community and that there are a lot of broken toys just waiting for someone to pick them up and love them. That people sometimes don't need to be fixed in order for them to find someone who loves them. He gives me hope.