Archive for the ‘Comedy’ Category

I don’t know what’s been with me lately, but I’ve really jumped into this being 40 thing. I finally realized that I skipped the Adulting upgrades from 1.0 to 2.0 and most of the 3.0 upgrade. For whatever reason, Life just kept letting me pass and move forward like a poor kid falling through the cracks of the education system.

As can be referenced in my previous blog post “Option Paralysis,” my M.O. is pretty consistent in regards to my financial (and other stressful) problems. I stick my head in the sand like an ostrich and hope that in my ignoring of the problem that it will just go away. Of course, that’s not generally how things work. And for some reason I’m starting to take responsibility rather than running away.

It probably has something to do with the amount of support groups, therapy sessions and Step Work I’ve been working on for almost a year. October 22 will be my anniversary of Recovery work. Even though my sobriety is not as long lasting as the work I have put in, it’s ok. “Progress not perfection,” right? It doesn’t mean I haven’t learned some pretty incredible things. I’m in Step Four right now, which I’ve barely even begun and it’s brutal already. “One Day at a Time” is probably the most well-known slogan out there. I definitely have days like that; sometimes I have “one hour at a time” and even “One Minute at a time.” A lot of people do. I feel like I can’t even concentrate on someone’s three minute share sometimes. But that’s neither here nor there as this post is about my positive current experiences, not the rough road of Recovery.

I’ve noticed how I have had a more relaxed outlook on things; I’m not so uptight. But don’t mistake my kindness for weakness – I am more honest with others when I feel I need to say something and when I need to set boundaries for my own good. I’m less apt to let others take advantage of me and my vices. It’s probably like the slogan “Let Go and Let God,” although my Higher Power does not have the name “God.” But I understand and it’s not as difficult for me to substitute the word “God” with “Higher Power” as it was at the end of last year. Gratefully, I had some experience in another 12-Step program a few years ago that helped me identify what I understand my Higher Power to be.

One of the things I noticed on my first go round with the Twelve Steps was that they are great life lessons. Even if you don’t have an addiction, the philosophy behind the steps is valuable for anyone and everyone. Kind of like my oft-recommended literary favorite “How to Win Friends and Influence People” by Dale Carnegie. I hear and learn things in “the rooms” that seep into my subconscious and some things are a bit less subtle; I can feel that I am changing inside and I’m really ready to embrace these changes, for once.

Yesterday, instead of ignoring the voicemail telling me to call Sprint for “an important notification about the status of [my] account” I listened to it and actually acted upon it. I owe so much money that I have no way of paying until the first of the month. I called and tried to see about what was possible for payment plans and it was indeed, an option. What a wonderful surprise! The other day I tried it with my bank as well. I had two insufficient funds fees leaving me with a -$5 balance. Of course being on a fixed income, that is devastating when I won’t be paid for another 2 weeks. Well, I called up the bank and explained my situation and wouldn’t you know it? They reversed not just one, but both of those fees and I was able to go to Ralph’s and buy some TV dinners. Good times. Both of these things would have had negative outcomes had I not asked. And like “they” say, the answer to any question you don’t ask is always going to be “no.”

I’m also taking my nutritional intake pretty seriously. I’ve lost about nine pounds in the last month or two. I walked my roommate’s bike to the shop yesterday to get the tires filled with air so I could start riding it. I need to find an excuse to get on it every day, just to incentivize myself to do so. I know I shouldn’t have to, but I also know myself. I have to take more responsibility for my actions (or lack thereof). It’s as though the big 4.0 came with a side order of “Grow the Fuck Up.” Frankly, I’m not sure how I feel about that, since I’m running the 4.0 on the 2.0 operating system. I just don’t feel old enough to be doing all this Adulting. Which is pretty ridiculous as most people I know (who are my age) are married with kids, and/or well into their career, if not straight up retired, by now. Not to mention the handful of them that have unfortunately even died. This is the year.

Point is, I’m pulling myself up by my bootstraps and finally starting to get my shit together. It’s about fucking time.

NoHo Hallway

20 APR 16 (completed 21 MAY 16)

Maybe they just didn’t notice. At 11:58pm, I posted on Facebook, 4/20’s Eve, my results of a BuzzFeed quiz by Tanner Greenring called “Where Do You Fall on the Kinsey Scale?” I got “Mostly heterosexual,” which of course, I already knew. But you – probably didn’t. I’m not even sure if proclaiming mostly heterosexual even counts as “coming out.” I took the quiz because social and regular (anti-social?) media was making such a big deal out of James Franco saying “Yeah, I’m a little gay, and there’s a gay James.”

I actually took a mindful moment for reflection on whether or not I wanted to post the results for all to see. Granted, my Facebook is supposed to be private and only open to my friends and family and of course several hundred Facebook “friends.” I’ve probably had conversations about this topic with a select few, but it’s really the family finding out that gives me pause. I don’t know if my mom can handle another kid whose sexual proclivities are… let’s just say – questionable at best. I fear my step-father might have a stroke and what of my über religious aunt? She’s a woman with a heart of gold and a penchant for pandas, my aunt, who is unintentionally becoming a spinster in order to care for our grandmother who is slowly being lost to Alzheimer’s Disease.

I was much more cavalier about posting the result on my Twitter account, as most of my followers really don’t know me and frankly, Twitter just feels like a warm blanket of Anonymity despite being just the opposite. Pressing “Tweet” didn’t sting or require the extra exhale as posting it to Facebook. I’m still rather stunned that 48 hours later there are no comments, but two likes – at least sometwo saw my post. [Four weeks later when I actually posted this, it had still gone unacknowledged. That’s a good thing, right?]

Upon reflection, I can carbon date my familial shame back twenty three years and my societal shame about a smidge and a half more than that. I have been asked time and time again if I am a lesbian, as long as I can remember. Is it because the manner in which I sit most comfortably is the man-spread? Is it the sports I played most of my life (the big three, by the way: Softball, Tennis and Golf, not to mention Shot & Discus)? Is it that I always just wanted to be “one of the guys”? I always wanted to be the “cool” girl who was down for anything. But I was also very much the “anything you can do, I can do better” tom girl. In many ways, I still am.

Having had very few openly gay classmates, I was kind of trying to figure shit out on my own. I knew I wasn’t a lesbian because I liked guys and I also like gay guys. Not to mention my parents introduced me to Rocky Horror Picture Show in our living room at the tender age of 13 or so, I was in love with Dr. Frank-N-Furter (Tim Curry) at first sight. Coincidently, Halloween a few years later, a man (whom I still have no idea who was) came rushing up to my counter at my mall job in full drag; I was piqued by his beauty and visual sexuality. He said he just wanted to show me his outfit, as though we were bosom buddies. I was actually turned on by this guy in drag and I had no idea who he was. It was then that I decided to have a conversation with my mom about the way I felt. My memory of the incident is vivid as far as the environment; I remember the lamp and where it was positioned on the end table which was in between me, sitting on the couch, and my mother, sitting in my stepfather’s lounge chair. However, it’s the exact words that were exchanged between us that escape me. I merely have a residual feeling about the situation, that of her being mortified and trying not to show it. I vaguely remember her implying it was “just a phase.” Much to my chagrin, that was not the response for which I’d been hoping.

Of course, at this point I was still in high school, pining over a theater friend of mine, the first openly gay man I personally knew. He also turned out to be the first person I knew to have and die of “an AIDS-related illness.” He was probably not my first gay-man crush, and certainly wouldn’t be my last. That being said, how confusing do you think that was for me to not just like boys, but to like boys that liked boys? Of course, I also liked boys that liked girls… I just wasn’t usually one of them. A seemingly unfortunate situation that would lend credence to a future wildfire that was subconsciously brewing inside me.

Now when it came to women, I usually said that I could “see the beauty in a woman’s body, admire it, but not be attracted in ‘that way’.” I think I said that so much and it happened so infrequently, I even made myself believe it. I may have been a Pathological Heterosexual, which sad to say, I may have not just invented. I was drinking the Kool-Aid sold by society and believed the societal stigma that surrounds sexuality, orientation and gender-fluidity.

So flash forward a couple years, I made out with a girl while I was in college. And a few more when I was in the Navy. That was pretty much it in the experimental category. I always knew though, that I did not want to be in a relationship with a “chick” because I was “one of the guys.” I thought chicks were crazy – naturally, present company excluded.

And what was I raised on? Sex. Pure sex. They say sex sells, but I’m beginning to believe that it also buys, creates, and destroys. And before I lost my virginity, it was my ears that were gratefully penetrated. Madonna’s Immaculate Collection is dripping with musical ecstasy. George Michael “Wants] Your Sex” and has “Faith” in “Freedom! 90.” Color Me Badd only has to say “I Adore Mi Amor” for you to know they “Wanna Sex You Up.” And I’ve always been a sucker for Joey, my favorite New Kid on the Block. Now, I’m not blaming music, movies, video games, etc… I’m just saying having the predispositions that I have, I believe that I experienced all sensory stimuli in a very different way than most. For being so strong and independent I’m influenced by my environment easier than I would like to admit and it’s only now that I’m realizing it. Is Robert Palmer right, am I “Addicted to Love” (and sex; that’s a good question for another time [thanks Maz]). Mmmm… Foreshadowing.

Up until recently, this topic was taboo for me, especially being raised with the whole “don’t ask, don’t tell” mentality. The first time I felt even remotely comfortable thinking about my sexuality in more than a one-on-one repartee was in 2011 when I played women’s professional football, where 95% of the players, it seems, are lesbians. I found myself attracted to a few players and fantasized about trysts that could have but didn’t exist. I was asked by one of them one night if I was gay and I responded: “I could be.” She found that amusing, but not amusing enough to call my bluff. Was it a bluff? Regardless, none of those school girl crushes were ever realized, but I felt that I could be whoever I truly was around these women – gay, straight, or otherwise.

It’s partially with the help of RuPaul Charles that today I’m able to finally say that *I think* I’m a gay boy who’s a transwoman drag queen in the body of a nearly forty year old mostly heterosexual cis-female teenager. At least, that’s as far as I’ve worked out so far. It seems to add up to this: 99% of the time I’m 100% strictly dickly.

Truth is, I’ve still got a lot to learn about myself, and the path is being constructed as we speak? Read? Whatever… I’m working on a better version of me. The real me. I’m not even sure I know who she is yet, but the road to Recovery is underway and it’s through honest assessments of myself, continued conversations with others and moments of clarity like this that will get me to where I’m going. Thanks for reading. Peace.

~ Carol Ann M. Van Natten

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For Uptown Eebony Browne

My November was spent writing a novel. My December was spent with holidays and volunteer projects. My January has been filled with more volunteer work and an over-shadowing foreboding sadness. I’ve felt a deep depression to the point of almost becoming 5150’d by my doctors a week ago and then today I lost another dear friend. A comedienne. A keeper of secrets and magic. A guardian of insights into our psyche. A light that once extinguished leaves the world a little less bright and a little more jaded.

My very good friend Mat told me just to keep writing. Keep writing to let it out; keep writing to keep sane. All I keep thinking about are the tears of a clown. No one has any idea what anyone else is going through. My hardships and your hardships are completely different and yet individually, they mean the world to us. They are the end-all be-all of our existence. Our troubles are the reason we try to sleep more and whatever small amount of happiness that we can find becomes the reason why we wake up in the morning.

There are so many perplexing things in this world. Why is my light allowed to continue on as dimly as I think it shines when someone else’s flame that is brighter than the sun can be extinguished in a moment? There must be some rhyme, some reason, as to why it all comes down to the moments we string together in this life.

Supernovas and standard candles – that’s all we are. Some are made to be constant whereas others are meant to be that spectacular, yet temporary, light show in the sky. The fact that death is the black hole we know nothing of and we try to live each day as though each ended at the event horizon, not knowing to where it leads but thinking that it could be our last. And what if it were? Are your affairs in order? Are mine? We don’t know what tomorrow brings. And yet we cling to abstract concepts like hope, peace, chance, wishes, prayers… love. When what we really should be clinging to is today, right now, everything in the world around us. Breathing in and out a thousand times. It’s in those thousand moments that occur in the here and the now, those are the moments that matter.

It’s knowing that even just today I am growing and have grown. I am bigger and better than I was yesterday, I am smaller and less knowledgeable than I will be tomorrow, yet even without tomorrow – right now – I am where I’m supposed to be. And I am trying to understand and accept that YOU are where YOU are supposed to be, whether that is in the space time we shared or if it is on an entirely different ethereal existence.

Rest in peace, Uptown. All my love.

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