Back in the Saddle Again

I spent the evening dancing with my best friend at her work Christmas party. (As much as I have a reputation for not dancing, it's only because I have absolutely no coordination and am loathe to embarrass myself in front of people I know. Tonight, when the only person I really knew was the hot girl grinding on me, it's hard to say no.) I'm fairly sure, even with her introducing me as her best friend, most of her work now things we're dating. The wonderful thing about tonight, though, was that literally everyone there knew me by my preferred name. Jaka introduced me as Jay and he; the only one of her coworkers who knew me by my birth name switched instantly to my new name. It was a wonderful, albeit still very foreign, feeling to just be accepted as Jay.

In other amazing news, I found one (possibly even two!) horses to ride up in the city I live now. My horse, whom I haven't ridden since I broke my back in a bad fall two years ago, lives two counties down on my parents' property. There's a lady looking for someone to exercise her 22 year old ex-Grand Prix jumper. He's arthritic, but can still jump most days and does trail on the days he's too sore for jumping. I'm more excited than I have words for. I crave being back in the saddle. I'd planned to bring my horse up here to ride, but those plans fell through once The Fiancée left since I don't know if I'll stay in this area after I graduate in May. I spent part of the day getting my boots and such ready; it is such a heady feeling to prepare for riding again! I may end up riding her friend's younger Haflinger pony too; that would be so much fun since the pony still needs training and work; I haven't gotten to train a horse in years now! I'll go ride the gelding on Thursday. It's a wonderful reward for how hard I've been working to finish up my semester. 

Blocking

I have a friend who I was really close to once. She and I had a lot of similarities, having both been in love with girls, Christian, and about as socially awkward as you can get. She and I drifted apart, but stayed in touch randomly. We're pretty different now, as she's happily married and devoted to God and we live a few counties apart (which, in SoCal, is a much bigger difference apparently than in many parts of the country). I still considered her a friend though; it was the type of friendship that you could go months without talking and go to lunch and still be chatty.

She blocked me on Facebook. I have no idea why. She wasn't close to The Fiancée when things ended in September, so I assume, though that may have changed, it isn't why? I'm not sure. Most of The Fiancée's friends have deleted me on Facebook and The Fiancée outright blocked me, which makes me wonder if that's why this friend did as well. We haven't talked in an incredibly long time, but this actually hurts a lot more than I would expect. Losing more and more ties to my hometown, as tenuous as they might have been, while I have no solid connections here makes me feel kind of homeless.

Yays and Boos

Stealing this format from Mama because there's really just no other succinct way to sum up today (because, as evidenced by my previous posts, I clearly strive for succinctness... Right...)

• Yay Gap! Their "Love Comes in All Shades" holiday advert series is seriously precious and includes queer people and people of color in it and includes Rufus Wainwright and his hubby, both of whom I'd like to cuddle.
• Boo new coworker. When you're talking to a coworker whom you've only met in passing, you really should put on your filter. When they awkwardly stumble over calling The Fiancée their ex, going on for 20 minutes about how clearly the relationship ended because The Fiancée began seeing someone else is not a way to befriend me. Telling me I'm lying when I say that, no matter how heartbroken I was, I'm legitimately happy about the prospect of her being happy is also not the way to endear yourself to me. Telling me how you, as a straight person, love hanging out with gay guys does not make me like you and will bring you damn close to faghag territory with how stupid you are. Furthermore, when we've discussed two different pronunciations of my birth name that I accept, mispronouncing it a third way is ridiculous. Finally, when I present as very masculine and say I date women, now is probably not a good time to start mocking transgender people and how bizarre they are and laughing like we're the funniest freaks in all the world because hey I AM ONE YOU DUMB BITCH.
• Yay The Professor telling me he likes to nitpick my work because the points he brings up are things he can focus on because I "have a higher ceiling of possibility than most other students" and he'd like to see me working at that level. Not to mention, while the average grades of the class for his two tests are 76% and a C-, mine were 92% and 96% respectively.
• Boo to all of the above information, because it means I have to redo my freaking term video (our equivalent of a term paper) that I spent numerous hours on because of the little nitpicked things. Granted, according to The Professor, I don't have to redo it, and it would mean only a slight loss of points for formatting issues, but, as he said, "I know you better than that and I know you'd like your work to be as best as possible, so...". Remind me why I'm so desperate to impress him again?!
• Yay for Christmas carols!
• Boo for still having the Chicken Dance stuck in my head for (yes, literally) 6 weeks straight.
• Yay for being able to finally see the end of the semester, even with the fact I have to redo my term video and take an incomplete.
• Boo for the fact that I was running late today because my stupid snake decided to go to the bathroom all down my (one and only) bra, so I spent the day feeling like I smelled like digested mouse bits.

• (Brevity is clearly not my strong point, even in bullet points.)

One sentence summary of the day:

I got up early enough to make myself coffee, ended up running late and leaving the full cup in the Keurig, and forgot about it until I just arrived home now.

Expanding and Contracting

Expansions and contractions are supposed to be effortless.
Like breathing.
Like the tide pulled and pushed by the moon.
Like my fingers spreading to grasp yours.

My heart effortlessly expanded to make room for you.
For your perfections, your flaws, your idiosyncrasies.
The way you drool on your pillow and never know what you're thinking.
For my soulmate, my other half, my perfect match.

My home expanded to squeeze you in.
A tiny space instead became cozy.
Filled to the brim but a perfect fit.
Inhabited by lovers and their cats.

My future grew in unbelievable ways,
Incorporating you into every turn.
My plans expanded into ours,
Our intertwined fates leading to happily ever after.

Some things are not meant to contract again.
Happily ever after could not shrink small enough for just me,
Dreams for our someday house were too large for one,
Minus my lover and our someday family.

Our home was not designed to have to
Dwindle down to just my lonely contours.
To have an empty space where your dresser lived,
With your half of our bed left empty.

My heart never learned how to contract.
Instead you have left gaping fissures where you used to fill me up.
The miles between my fingers longer still without
Yours there to bridge the gaps.

The same way that attempting to cut you out of pictures
Leaves a perfectly you-shaped crater in its wake,
My memory is the worst of all at returning to its original state.
How long before my you-shaped hole refills?

Worried

For as impossible as I find it to keep friends for more than perhaps a month, I've had my Best Friend since I was 12. We went to middle school together and, as is obligatory in (what used to be) opposite-sex friendships, I was in love with him for a good 3 or 4 years. We lost our virginity to each other, have gone climbing on rooftops in our hometown, and even broken into my church to play strip poker (he's the only person I've ever been so rebellious with!). I still absolutely adore the kid, and have been so blessed to get to watch him mature from the sweet homeschooler I met through his very very cruel and hurt stage to the wonderful man he is now. He speaks in riddles and sarcasm and I love him for exactly who he is. I'd reckon that, even with as little as he tells me, I know more about him than just about anyone. He recently randomly moved to Oklahoma for school, and, even though I hadn't seen him in probably a year, I feel his absence now a lot more acutely.

He grew up in a very redneck family. His father is an abusive ass, and his mother, whom I adore, keeps her mouth shut and lies low. He's nearly as racist as his father, and I'm sure homophobia ran rampant in the household. Yet, he never once batted an eye when I came out as a dyke, got engaged to a girl, and cut off all my hair. He never stopped treating me like his best friend; I'm not sure I have words for how much I value that.

He's coming back home for the holidays, and we've made plans for him to come up north to my apartment for a few days to sightsee and catch up. I'm ecstatic to see him. But good Lord am I beyond petrified. I haven't come out to him as trans. He and I, even though I'm only physically attracted to women, have always had the flirty friendship that comes with being so close to someone and having hooked up before. I'm not extraordinarily eager to change that, but how will my coming out affect it? Will this be the time his closed-minded upbringing rears its ugly head? He still very much views me as his female best friend who he flirts and cuddles with and complains about girl problems to. How do I tell him that I'm becoming some sort of a guy, who still wouldn't mind cuddling with him? I can't not come out; it's a bit obvious with my male clothes, refusal to shave, and attempting to switch to a new name. I don't see him really /getting/ it, which I suppose shouldn't seem so bad, but it's like salt in a wound every time he says "Hey girly!" I guess it comes down to whether I value his friendship or my gender identity more at this point. I can't help but feel, even if he can sweep it under the rug for now though, that it's a ticking timebomb. What will he make of me after surgery and testosterone have undeniably made me male like him? Will I still be his best friend? It terrifies me to look forward into the future without being able to guarantee he'll still be there with me.

Week before finals week curse

We now interrupt our regularly scheduled complaining for technology-induced complaining.

I swear to the freaking Flying Spaghetti Monster that the week before finals in the Fall has a curse. This time last year, my hard drive crashed, losing my final papers along with all my pictures from Italy and the screenshots I'd taken of The Fiancée while we Skyped over night. Now, this semester, last week my laptop charger died, my backup 4.5 year old charger died tonight, and the Apple Store sold me the wrong freaking charger (at what point, when I tell you my laptop is 1.5 old, does that tell you to sell me a MagSafe 2?!) and I didn't discover that until I got home with only 7 minutes until their store closed. On the less technological front, my apartment complex's plumbing essentially exploded and filled my bathroom with black sludge, my wall is torn apart to install a heater after mine had three separate gas leaks, and my car door handle is broken (though my windows work now!).

Let's just that these past two weeks can't go die in a hole.