My bad, should I step out my shoes, give them to you?

I hate J. Michael Bailey. So much so that it even stopped me from pursuing this grad student I was hardcore cruising who I think was reciprocating it, but once I learned that she worshipped at the temple of Bailey (probably on her knees in his office, too, which I have no problem with in general, just with the fact that it's him), all interest went out the window. I always have disliked this "academic", even before I had concrete rational reasons. So I love it when I read articles that support my loathing.

( Bailey's recent 'scientific' book on trans women )

While I'm ranting, I also want to just throw one more comment in about the whole sodomy thing. I really understand that these laws are about selective enforcement and unfairly target queers, BUT I still am annoyed that it's being called "gay sex". I'm sick of specific activities being labelled as something that only gay people do or if you like doing them, you must be gay. Granted, Todd and Wendy are probably not going to get arrested in their bedroom when Wendy straps it on and gives it to Todd, but why not? I guess it's just how I think -- I'm less into the idea of mainstreaming deviants thereby perpetuating the ideas of what's norm, and more into the idea of bringing so-called normative folks over to the deviant side.

Also, I work for the people who litigated this case for the most part, so I have a very full understanding of the historical impact of this case and what it means and what doors are opened by this. But to me that's not mutually exclusive from my annoyance about other aspects. And I don't certainly begrudge anyone else their right to be happy about this supreme court decision.

And I can't believe Strom Thurmond is dead.

Color Me Pink

I was tickled and thrilled by all my various e-cards and livejournal messages and e-mails and phone calls and in-person birthday wishes yesterday. I even got my annual birthday phone call from one of my oldest friends who lives in Louisville AND one from my father.

Dinner at Ringo was delicious and full and tasty and afterwards we had a little trouble finding a place to just get a drink, but settled on Berlin which worked well for me since it wasn't too crowded and they had music so I could dance for at least a few songs. Including this strange cover of Nelly's Hot in Herre done by puppets.

Most folks left relatively early, in part because we would all be meeting again tonight at Circuit for a longer night of performing and dancing. I personally was looking forward to going home to bed and ended up capping off my birthday day by dissolving into my beautiful lover and drifting off into a peaceful deep sleep.

This morning, despite my ranting in other areas and things in my life still feeling on the verge, I'm feeling full of gratitude.

They talk about it while we live it.

Today I don't doubt my decision to choose being blind over being deaf when it comes to hypothetical questions doled out by glove compartment games. All day has been filled with CD's given to me last night and it makes for a much happier day.

Cars were always filled with music as a child. So much so that I felt betrayed by my father when in high school he started listening primarily to talk radio in his car -- luckily he had enough sense not impose such standards in the "family car". I was given a clock radio early on to establish a responsible routine in getting myself up in the morning. I loved waking up to the radio and also started falling asleep to it as well. I'd set the sleep function for approximately twenty minutes and the nights where I was anxious about some adolesenct angst I would still be awake when the radio cut off. But mostly I would drift off beforehand. I think to this day it takes me approximately twenty minutes to go from climbing into bed to finding slumber.

The reason I stuck with christianity for so long is probably because of music. I had low tolerance for long sermons and long prayers and initially long discussion of theology though I grew to love that later in my academic phase, but I loved singing hymns. I loved being in the choir and acting in the musicals and playing guitar during vespers every Sunday night during youth group. I would have never survived in one of those Southern Baptist churches that forbade dancing.

Last night I caught myself dancing in the mirrors at Berlin and rather than embarassment which sometimes initially comes when I see my reflection, I thought "hey, I look okay".

Tonight will be my third night in a row where I'll be dancing. For the most part (no need to remind me), my mood has been chipper and stable for the past three days. Coincidence?

On Sunday I think our float will be behind Roscoe's, which I'm sure will be blasting some craptastic house music. Look for the dancing judge with the inflatable gavel.