Really and Ideally

Carnival of Aces, Round 8

2011-12-03T11:04:00.000-05:00

Oh my goodness, time really flies. Here's the round up for the December Carnival.

    Alex talks about falling in love with the idea of people here.

    Audacious Ace delves into romantic attraction here.

    Bagheist discusses personal experience with different types of attraction here.

    Elizabeth re-evaluates attraction on a personal level here.

    Heorrenda examines popular ideas of romance here.

    Miller uses the metaphor of wine to explore attraction here.

    Sciatrix writes about the difficulty of conceptualizing attraction here.

    Shoshana ponders personal experience of attractions here.

    Zed conveys uncertainty regarding attraction and gender here.

    And I myself consider the nature of attraction here.

I have to say, I think this has been a really awesome round. Thanks to all of you for your wonderful participation! The next round is scheduled to be hosted over at Confessions of an Ist.

Musings on the Nature of Attraction

2011-11-30T22:06:00.001-05:00

[Look, look, I’ve still got an hour and a half left until December! …Yeah, I’mprobably setting a bad example.]

Lately I’ve been feeling pretty skeptical about whether anykind of attraction actually exists independent of human creation. This likelystems from one of the classes I’m taking this semester – Sexuality in WesternCulture – in which we’ve discussed sexuality and gender as social constructs.This idea immediately resonated with me. Being asexual and wtfromantic, I’dalready been feeling dubious regarding sexual and romantic attraction. But once I started thinking about social constructionand learned behaviors, I started to wonder about other forms of attraction aswell. For example, the only type of attraction I experience with anyconsistency is aesthetic attraction. One day I thought to myself: Would I evenfind people aesthetically attractive if I hadn’t grown up surrounded by socialcues suggesting that attraction as a “normal” human response? Does anybody knowhow to appreciate a quality film, beautiful music, good food, an engagingconversation, or even another person, until they’ve been conditioned by theirsurroundings?

I’m not really trying to make a definitive argument eitherway, because I myself am still not totally convinced one way or the other. However,I will readily acknowledge that just because attraction – in all of its depthand complicatedness – might be socially constructed, that doesn’t make it anyless powerful. The same goes for sexuality, in fact. I wouldn’t dream of denyingthat people experience all kinds of attraction in many different variations, Imyself among them. I believe that these thoughts and feelings are valid,whether they are inherent in human beings or not. But I do see great danger inassuming that any type of attraction is inherent in all people. Let me use my example of aesthetic attraction again.From what I can tell, aesthetic attraction seems to mean something different toevery person who experiences it. It prompts different reactions, differentresponses. There may be similarities in our descriptions of it, enough that we canlabel our experiences with the same word, but the differences are still there.Deciding that everyone experiences one type of attraction in the same way – orexperiences that type of attraction at all – means ignoring the copious varietyof legitimate experiences that people actually have, as well as devaluing them.

That said, I think that the potential use in looking atattraction as socially constructed is that it reminds us that attraction is notinnately the same for every person. Each person learns differently, right? Nobodyis exactly alike, and thus, expectingeveryone to fit into the same model regarding attraction (or relationships) israther unfair and unreasonable.

So it seems to me, then, that the important question is this:Why do people experience or (construct) attraction in the first place? From my brief twenty yearsof existence and experience, I seem to be slowly concluding that the answer tothat question is love. I think that everyone experiences love in some way,whether through family, friendship, or any of the countless kinds of attractionand relationships out there. Of course, love changes in its expression fromperson to person, from culture to culture. But it strikes me as the underlyingforce behind all different attractions and relationships. I suspect that peopleneed to love, and to be loved, in some way. As a friend, a teacher, a student, aparent, a sibling, a partner, a pretty face, a great person to have aconversation with. The list could go on and on. We feel attraction because weare searching for love in some form. Love is the root of attraction, is theroot of relationships, is the root of the human experience. At least, thatseems like a plausible theory to me.

Carnival of Aces, Call for Participation

2011-11-02T22:22:00.001-04:00

Hello all, and welcome to the eighth round of the Carnivalof Aces! Some of you may be wondering, what exactly is a Carnival of Aces? Well, let me use the words of Sciatrix toelaborate:

"This blog carnival is an effort to encourage a varietyof different voices to speak about asexuality from their own perspectives.Anyone can participate, but the responses should deal with asexuality or theasexual spectrum (grey-As, demisexuals) in some way. They should also relate insome way to the theme of each round of the carnival, which will change frommonth to month and will be chosen by the person hosting the carnival for thatmonth.

The scope of this project is general–any post dealing with both asexuality andthe theme of the carnival is welcome. Alternate forms of media are also welcomeas long as they deal with the prompt! If you’re not sure whether your piece isokay, submit it anyway and we’ll figure it out.

What is a blog carnival?

A blog carnival is an event in which various people write posts around a singletopic. These posts are then collected at the end of the carnival and linkedtogether by the carnival’s host."

[From the Carnival of Aces Masterpost]

This month’s theme is Attraction.There seem to be many different kinds of attraction out there: romantic, sexual,aesthetic, emotional, intellectual, physical/sensual, etc. The asexualcommunities seem to be very interested in delving into the complex nature ofattraction (and what that means to each individual). Therefore, here is youropportunity to write about your ideas, personal experiences, beliefs, orwhatever strikes your fancy regarding the phenomenon of attraction.

Some questions to get you going:

- What does [fill-in-the-blank] attraction mean to you?

- What kinds of attraction do you experience – if any?

- How do you experience a specific type of attraction? Whatdoes it make you want to do?

- Do you get crushes/squishes? What kinds of attraction areinvolved? What do you want to do about a crush or a squish?

- How are certain attractions linked for you? Can youexperience emotional attraction without romantic attraction, or sensualattraction without aesthetic attraction, or any other variation of the sort?

- Do you believe that attraction is a learned behavior or aninherent capability (or both)?

- Do you have personal stories dealing with issues ofattraction/crushes/squishes that you want to share?

- Are there certain attractions that you wish were morecommonly known about and acknowledged? What would that entail?

Basically, if you can work attraction into your post in anyway, you’re golden.

Deadline: November 30. I should have the round-up posted byDecember 3 at the latest. You cansubmit after the deadline, and I will update the round-up to include yoursubmission, but it must have been created before December 1 to count.

To submit to this round of the carnival: either leave acomment here or email me at reallyideallyemily [at] gmail [dot] com including alink to your submission. Most formats are fine, but keep accessibility in mind.For video or audio submissions, please include a transcript; for visualsubmissions, please include an image description. Also, I’m willing to hostguest posts on my blog if you don’t have a blog of your own/would like to remainanonymous. Just email me and we’ll make arrangements.

I do believe that’s everything. Good luck, and I lookforward to seeing all your wonderful submissions!

Me and My Mom

2011-09-29T08:49:00.001-04:00

[This post is for the Family round of the Carnival of Aces.Check it out.]

I am terrified of coming out to my mother.

Flipping terrified.

It’s completely irrational. My mother is a very open-minded,accepting human being. For example, a couple months ago we had a positive,enthusiastic conversation about the complexity and fluidity of gender. Okay,that doesn’t have anything to do with me or my asexuality, but it shows howopen-minded my mother is. Regarding myself, I’ve told her that I have nointerest in romantic relationships, and she was totally cool with it; she didn’tsay any of the things parents often do, like “you just haven’t met the rightperson” or “you’re too young to know that.” Also, I’ve sharedasexuality-related blog posts on my Facebook (albeit cautiously avoidingconnecting them in any way to my personal identity), and my mother had read andcommented on them without a hint of negativity.

Given all of the above, honestly, she probably alreadysuspects me. Why, then, am I so absolutely petrified at the thought of sayingthat simple sentence: “Mom, I’m asexual”?

I think part of my apprehension stems from her being anurse. I’m afraid that her profession will make her more likely to say, “Weshould take you to the doctor and get your hormones fixed.” But again, this ishardly a rational worry. I’m not sure my mother would even approve of hormonetreatment. My mom is somewhat of a nonconformist. She’s into local,non-synthetic foods; compassion and loving-kindness; meditation and alternativemedicine. The likelihood of her saying I should “get my hormones fixed” isprobably slim to none. I know this, and yet I can’t shake the fear that,despite all I know about her, this time I might be wrong.

Honestly, I think most of my nervousness originates from herreaction to the first time I tried to come out to her. I was fifteen. I had juststarted to identify as bisexual – not because I had the slightest interest insex (I just figured that would happen later), but because I found both men andwomen aesthetically attractive. I sat her down, and I said to her, “Mom, Ithink I’m bisexual.” I had expected immediate acceptance. What I got, however,was skepticism. “You know, you might not be. A couple times, when I was younger,I thought I was in love with a friend of mine. It’s a phase girls go throughsometimes.”

I was stunned. Admittedly, I probably oughtn’t to have usedthe word “think.” But I was fifteen. And really, I suspect that fact greatlyinfluenced her response to me. She didcome to accept me as bisexual, and has been very supportive, but her initialreaction has continued to plague me. What if I tell her this – tell her aboutthe identity I’m ten times more confident and comfortable with – and she reactsthe same way she did when I was fifteen? That possibility scares the crap outof me.

So, you might ask, why do I bother coming out to her in thefirst place? If I’m causing myself so much mental anguish with the very idea ofit, why don’t I just stay in the closet? After all, my sexual orientation isnobody’s business but my own. I don’t haveto tell anyone.

Here’s why I bother: My mother is one of my closest friends.I love her. I trust her. I feel comfortable with her. We share with each other,have meaningful conversations, spend time together. I’m always honest with her,and not telling her the truth feels almost like lying.

Also, I’m planning to officially come out on my Facebook duringAsexuality Awareness Week. If I know anything for sure, it’s that my mother wouldrather hear it from me than from Facebook.

Adventures at College: Sexuality in Western Culture

2011-09-26T19:44:00.000-04:00

I came out as asexual to my GSI.

For those of you who don’t know, a GSI is a graduate studentinstructor. They lead the discussion sections that are required for largelecture classes at my University. I’m taking a lecture course called Sexualityin Western Culture; it happens to be a requirement for my minor, which is LGBTand Sexuality Studies. Anyway, each discussion section has around twenty-fivestudents in it, and we are supposed to be able to discuss our thoughts andopinions with these students.

On the first day our discussion section met, we went throughintroductions, in which we had to say our name, our year in school, and why wetook this class. For me, this was nerve-wracking. Yes, it is a requirement for my minor, but the main reason I decided thisclass would be a good idea is because I’m asexual, and I want to get amore-rounded perspective on human sexuality. Reluctant to open up so much onthe first day, I simply said it’s for my minor. The girl five desks over fromme said she’s taking this class because she likes sex and wants to direct pornfilms.

Suffice to say, my inner-asexual promptly began to panic. Ifwe’re supposed to discuss our thoughts and opinions openly with our discussionsection, what might people like her think of people like me? What if the wholeclass was secretly filled with people like her, who love sex and aren’t capableof understanding or accepting somebody like me? What if I tried to express my ideasand my classmates rejected me, or worse, denied my point of view entirely? In anormal class, this would be a non-issue. But in a class when you’re supposed tobe talking about sexuality, suddenly being a sexual minority becomes a bigdeal.

So, I hung around after every else left, and I came out to myGSI.

I guess I wanted somebody on my side. I didn’t know if shewould accept me or believe me, but I decided to give it a try anyway, because Iwanted somebody to know I exist. I wanted at least one person in the section toknow that I’m different, and that my perspective is different, from themajority of young people. That way, if somebody says something that upsets me,or if I say something that people don’t understand, at least one other personwill know where I’m coming from. Basically, I think I was motivated byemotional self-preservation.

My GSI was really great about it, and very understanding. Itwasn’t until I got home that I started to wonder if I’d really made the best decision.What if she thought I was expecting some kind of special treatment? I’m totallynot, by the way. But then, what if she thought I had forced her confidence? Isuppose I did. After all, she hadn’t asked about my sexual identity. But thenit hit me: I shouldn’t have to worry about that. If a straight kid admits totheir heterosexual identity, it’s not a problem. It’s only because I’m a sexualminority that I have this concern about burdening other people with myidentity. That’s not fair to me. I shouldn’t have to feel like I’m a burden toother people, just by being myself.

I came out because I was worried about not being able toexpress my thoughts honestly if no one in my section knew I was asexual. As itturns out, so far I haven’t had to say more than a few sentences in section,and none of them have related to my personal thoughts or opinions. It kinda figures.

Friendship Break-Ups

2011-09-11T10:39:00.000-04:00

So I was browsing Facebook the other day, and I happened to glance at the profile page of an ex-friend of mine. Our friendship effectively ended about a year ago, but I’m still mourning its loss. We had been friends for seven years. She was one of the people I was closest to, and one of the few whom I trusted implicitly. It wasn’t like we had fought over something, or lied to each other, or anything else that typically ends a friendship. With time, of course, we had been slowly drifting apart, but I still considered her one of the most important people in my life. Then she started dating another ex-friend of mine. Then they got engaged. Then she stopped talking to me altogether.

It still hurts – a hell of a lot, actually. When I think about how close we used to be, and how much I used to trust her, it’s like a dull ache in my chest that refuses to go away. That’s not to say I’m despondent, or depressed, or refusing to move on with my life, because that would be irrational beyond measure. However, it’s still a source of some pain whenever I’m reminded of it. As I sat pondering this the other day, something occurred to me: Most people put a much greater emphasis on the end of a romantic relationship than on the end of a friendship.

I’m still pretty sad over the loss of this friend, but I haven’t told that to anyone because I’m sure most people would think it overdramatic or absurd. About a month after I initially realized our friendship was finished, I also realized that I no longer felt comfortable talking honestly about how upsetting it had been; I felt like I was simply supposed to be “over it.” If I do talk about it now, it’s because someone else mentioned the subject first, and then I’m careful not to sound too emotional about the whole thing. I have this sneaking suspicion, though, that if we had dated instead (especially considering how long our relationship lasted), my not being entirely over her would be a bit more socially acceptable.

I believe that a friendship break-up can be just as painful, if not more so, that a romantic break-up. And maybe this is just my experience, but it seems to me like most people don’t acknowledge that fact. Perhaps they do feel it internally, but they don’t talk about it, and I wish that weren’t the case. I wish it were more acceptable to talk about the loss of a friendship, and how painful and upsetting it can be. It’s devaluing to friendships not to recognize the strong effects they have on the people involved in them. Any relationship that plays such a huge role in your life, especially for such duration, is bound to leave somewhat of a hole in its absence.

How have you reacted to the loss of a friend? Did you feel like you could talk about it? I’d really love to hear other people’s thoughts.

Fun with Interpretation

2011-08-31T11:08:00.000-04:00

[This post is for the 5th Carnival of Aces.]

I’m starting to realize, more and more, that people are infinitely capable of different interpretations of the same thing. Two people could look at the same sentence, the same action, the same facial expression, and get something completely different out of it. It all depends on where you’re coming from. Our experiences, our opinions, and our ideas shape the way we view the world – and the way we view media.

Take anime, for instance. The first full-length anime series I ever saw was Fruits Basket. I watched the show around the time I was twelve years old. It promptly became an obsession. I’ve seen all twenty-six more times than I can count, and I showed them to as many of my friends as I could (and got them obsessed too). After a couple years, though, our obsession waned and we all moved on. I hadn’t watched an episode of Furuba probably since I was fourteen.

This past June, however, I got together with several friends and we decided to watch it again.

[Keep in mind that I am only discussing the anime here, and ignoring any aspects of the manga that aren’t present in said anime.]

Aside from the awesome nostalgia this viewing inspired, I was amazed at how much a different perspective can change the way you look at media. When I was twelve, I was an avid Tohru/Yuki shipper. I thought they were the perfect couple, and I was convinced that the entire anime was subtly backing me up. When I was twelve, I also knew nothing about relationships other than the monogamous, romantic, and heterosexual. “Straight” people were the only ones with which I had any personal experience. Had I watched the anime for the first time at age sixteen instead, I probably would have shipped Yuki/Kyo (I went through a bit of a yaoi phase in high school).

I’ve learned a lot since I was twelve – and since I was sixteen, for that matter. I got involved with LGBT communities and received quite an education from books, movies, and friends. I discovered asexuality, and started to read all kinds of fascinating things about sexuality, orientations, and relationship models. With this new knowledge in hand, I guess it’s not surprising that I looked at Fruits Basket in a completely different light this time around. As I studied the relationship between Tohru, Yuki, and Kyo, it occurred to me how much they all grow together throughout the anime. I realized how much they (sometimes subconsciously) admire each other and depend on each other. It became steadily more obvious to me that the relationship between the three of them was the most influential, the most meaningful, in the show. Then, at some point during the penultimate episode, I thought to myself, “Wouldn’t it be interesting if Tohru, Yuki, and Kyo were in some kind of queerplatonic non-sexual triad?”

It might sound a little farfetched to some people, but really, why not? If they matter that much to each other, and if it would make them happy, then what could be wrong with it? Of course, Yuki and Kyo would have to suck it up and admit that they both secretly respect each other, which probably wouldn’t ever happen. But the way I see it, the stronger-than-average friendship between Tohru, Yuki, and Kyo is much more powerful than any other “pairing” in the show. I might even go so far as to suggest it’s the driving force behind the anime. So, even if the writers and animators didn’t intend to portray such a relationship, what’s wrong with me interpreting it that way?

Furthermore, I also reexamined the relationship between Shigure, Hatori, and Ayame. Their friendship is clearly vital to them. Hatori had his doomed romance with Kana, and it’s possible to construe Aya and Mine’s relationship as romantic as well. But it’s obvious that those three men will always depend on each other, and will always come back to each other for companionship and support. I’d enjoyed their friendship (and antics) ever since I started watching the anime, but it was new and intriguing to consider just how powerful that friendship could be for them – and likely is.

Since I myself am particularly desirous of deep, meaningful friendship, it was really special to look at this anime and find it in the kind of relationships I might be interested in having. It gave an old favorite a fresh and stronger significance for me.

One last note before I end this: I am in no way trying to say that everyone on the asexual continuum should content themselves with trying to see “non-traditional” relationships wherever there is ambiguity in existing media. I believe that media representation is extremely important. We need media to show us people we can relate to, without ambiguity and without interpretation. We should be able to read books, watch movies, and listen to music that accurately represents the variety – and value – of us. Also, people who aren’t a part of the ace continuum need to know that we exist, and a very good way to accomplish that would be through media.

Experimenting with Self-Love

2011-08-23T21:46:00.003-04:00

On Sunday I went with a couple friends to a Mary Kay party. I wasn’t particularly interested or excited to go, but I wanted to make sure one of my friends didn’t have to go alone. There ended up being three of us, so I needn’t have worried. We met with a consultant and were taken through the process of washing our faces and applying simple makeup. And we bought stuff, of course.

Despite my low expectations, it turned out to be rather enjoyable. I’d had a rotten morning, which had included getting splashed to the point of dripping while I waited for the bus. I got splashed because it had rained the night before, and when it rains, my bus stop floods and turns the road into a mini-lake. Usually drivers are friendly and will swerve into the turn lane to avoid splashing you; on Sunday, I think they were feeling especially spiteful. Anyway, after spending the morning feeling muddy and furious, it was nice to be able to clean off and make myself feel “pretty.”

At one point during the session, the Mary Kay consultant asked us what kinds of make-up and face-care products we use. For simplicity, let’s call our consultant Mary. My friends all told Mary what kind of make-up they wear (truthfully, they don’t wear a whole lot). I told Mary that I’ve recently stopped wearing make-up. When she asked me why, I said that I want to be able to love myself as I am. I explained that I don’t want to depend on make-up to make me feel attractive; I want to embrace myself and feel comfortable being me.

Mary didn’t say much to me at the time, and we simply moved on with our make-overs. I figured she didn’t really approve of my explanation; after all, her job is to sell beauty products. But I met Mary again today to pick up some face-wash I ordered. She had another consultant with her (let’s call this one Kay). When I arrived, Mary promptly said, “Emily, you have to tell Kay what you told me Sunday about why you don’t wear make-up!” Somewhat bemused, I explained again. Mary smiled the whole time, and once I had finished, she said to Kay, “Isn’t that amazing? She’s only nineteen, and she’s focusing on loving herself! Usually girls tell me they don’t wear make-up because they’re too busy or lazy, but she’s doing it out of self-love!”

It was actually kind of sweet to see how impressed Mary was by my choice, and it definitely made me feel better about what I’m doing. I’ve always had problems with self-esteem – enough, in fact, that they probably warrant their own separate post. When I was in high school, I dyed my hair constantly and wore a ton of make-up because it made me feel prettier. But I started growing out my hair about eighteen months ago (I’ve got a lot of natural color back now), and I stopped wearing make-up this past May. After a lot of thought, I had realized that I wanted to stop trying to change myself. I wanted to learn to feel beautiful without eye-shadow, mascara, or hair-dye.

Anyway. Upon hearing my explanation, Kay remarked that “by the time I was twenty-five, they’d probably get me back.” For a couple seconds, I began to feel tense and uncomfortable. What made her say that? Who was she to judge my decisions? Then I took another look at her. She was in her late forties or early fifties, dressed in a neat beige pants-suit, with her hair done up and her make-up caked on. I wondered what she had experienced in her life, and what kind of choices she had made. And I realized then that Kay could think whatever she wanted, because her thoughts and opinions had no bearing on me or my life. Right then, and right now, I feel good the way I am. That feeling, not the snide comment of a middle-aged Mary Kay saleswoman, is what’s really important.

I left the café where I met them feeling happy and content.

So far, I think this self-love experiment is working for me.

On the Subject of Friendship

2011-07-31T15:38:00.001-04:00

[This post is for the 4th Carnival of Aces.]

I’m asexual. From the first moment I read a description of asexuality, I was certain of my asexual identity. However, I have no freaking idea what my romantic orientation is. This used to bother me somewhat, but now it doesn’t. I don’t feel the need to have that aspect of my identity set in stone. I know for certain that I have no interest in romantic relationships, and that’s enough to function with.

But just because I don’t want romance in my life, that doesn’t mean that I don’t want any kind of relationship. I don’t want romance, no. But I do want friendship.

I’ve always wanted friendship, even before I fully realized how much I wanted it. I want close friends, friends who seem to hover in the space between friend and family. I want friends who value our friendship as much as I do, and who will happily put just as much work into our friendship as I will. I want friends who won’t drop me in favor of another relationship, romantic or otherwise, but will strive to maintain our friendship because it is important and meaningful to both of us. I want friends who will share their thoughts and opinions and interests with me, and who will be willing to share my thoughts, opinions, and interests as well. I want to value someone as an integral part of my life, and have them value me in return.

Is this a queer-platonic relationship? I’m not entirely sure. I imagine it could be, and I would be okay with that. It doesn’t matter to me so much that I have a specific name for the relationship. I believe that a relationship is whatever the people involved decide to call it; no one can decide what a relationship is except for the people who are directly involved. Right now, I have at least one friendship that could probably be called queer-platonic, except that we don’t. Maybe we might in the future. The name of the relationship is not as important to me as the relationship itself. Also, many of my friends don’t have the same kind of vocabulary I do.

But truly, I don’t think that any of my friendships have quite reached the level I want them to reach. I have a ton of acquaintances, a lot of friends, and a handful of best friends. Even with my best friends, though, I feel like I’m missing the kind of trust and interdependence I long for.

The closest I’ve gotten, I think, is my relationship with one of my younger sisters. We talk about everything. We share our joys and worries and frustrations and dreams with each other. We watch movies together, listen to music together, sometimes even exchange books or fanfiction recommendations. We have serious conversations about life, in person and by text message. We spend time together in the same room, not talking, just doing our own things and enjoying each other’s company. We randomly hug each other or say ‘I love you,’ for no other reason than because we can. My little sister is probably the one person I feel the closest to right now. I think it helps that I can count on her to be around, since we currently still live in the same house.

Still, I want to be able to count on my friends in such a way. I want to have relationships like the kind I have with my sister, but with people who aren’t related to me by blood – and without being romantic. People put so much weight on romantic relationships, trying to make their romantic partner meet all of their needs in life. Frequently I wish I could take a bit of the intensity and attach it to friendships instead. I’m not asking for one friendship that will replace a romantic relationship; I don’t want to become so dependent on one person. No, instead I’m desperately hoping there are other people out there who feel as I do, who want friendships that mean something. Friendships that will last.

The problem is that I have no idea how to articulate this need. I don’t know how to explain to my closest friends that, maybe, I wouldn’t mind if our friendships were a little bit closer. Part of me fears that, if they’ve never felt that longing for friendship like I have, they’ll relate to it in more familiar terms and end up correlating it with romantic attraction (which it definitely isn’t). Part of me worries that they simply might not be interested in being closer than we already are. I’m terrified that I could lose a friend by attempting to create a deeper bond. And I’ve never handled the loss of a friend – particularly a close friend – very well.

It's probably worth mentioning that I’ve always been rather a solitary person. I like solitude, and I find intense joy in time spent with only myself and my thoughts. But still, I have this need for people – people with whom I can non-romantically share my life. And I’m not sure how to find them.

My Love-Hate Relationship with Romantic Comedies

2011-07-27T22:17:00.002-04:00

So I’ve been watching a lot of LGBT films recently. This is because my local library doesn’t carry many of them, and I’m trying to watch as many DVDs through Netflix as I can before they up the price in September and I’m forced to downgrade my plan to streaming only. Oh, the woes of a broke college student.

Anyway. Last week I watched a movie called Gray Matters, starring Heather Graham, Tom Cavanagh, and Bridget Moynahan. The best part of the movie was the spectacular cameo from Alan Cumming. He plays a quirky, sensitive, and very Scottish cabbie who also gets to act a brief scene in drag. But I digress. Gray Matters, while obviously intended to be uplifting in the end, left me feeling somewhat livid. The main character, a lesbian named Gray, is portrayed as moderately dysfunctional; she’s ditzy, demanding, and a bit manic. She lives with her brother, Sam. Both of them are searching for love. One day Sam meets a woman named Charlie, and after one evening out, he proposes and she accepts. Brother, sister, and fiancée all go to Vegas so Sam and Charlie can elope. But the night before the wedding, Gray and Charlie get drunk and end up sharing a kiss. Gray flips out, but in the morning, Charlie doesn’t remember what happens, and marries Sam just as planned.

The rest of the movie is spent with Gray coming to terms with the fact that she’s gay and in love with her brother’s wife. Yes, the plot is completely irrational and utterly improbable. That isn’t automatically a turn-off for me. As long as the characters in a film feel realistic and relatable to me, I can suspend my disbelief enough to enjoy the story. Example: Love Actually is one of my favorite movies of all time, and that movie is CRAZY improbable. That scene with Thomas Sangster running through the airport after Olivia Olson? So unlikely, but so amazing.

No, what pissed me off the most about Gray Matters was the end. I won’t describe it in detail, if anybody out there wants to see the movie. Basically, it ends with the implication that all Gray needs to do is fall in love, and everything will be magically fixed. Even if she’s in love with her brother’s wife, she has to find someone else who’s actually available, and then her whole life will fall spectacularly into place. It is also implied that she needs to accept herself in order to be happy. That part of the message I very much agreed with. But there was a definite hint of, “You’re only accepting yourself if you’ve got a romantic/sexual partner,” that I found annoying and unnecessary.

This week I watched another lesbian romantic comedy called Imagine Me & You and, to my surprise, I completely loved it. Piper Perabo plays Rachel, a woman about to get married to her best friend and fiancé, Hector (the lovely Matthew Goode). At her wedding, as she’s walking down the aisle, Rachel happens to lock eyes with a florist named Luce, played by Lena Headey (who reminds me of a healthier, prettier version of Keira Knightley). It’s love at first sight, and even though Rachel still marries Heck, she spends the entire movie struggling with the strength of her developing feelings for Luce.

I’ll be the first to admit, it’s not any more probable than the events of Gray Matters, or the events of Love Actually, for that matter. In fact, there were a few scenes in Imagine Me & You that distinctly reminded me of Love Actually. But what I really loved about Imagine Me & You was the realness of the characters. Even though the plot was a little unrealistic, I felt like I was watching real people living their lives. They were sympathetic, they handled themselves in logical ways, and I felt a sincere liking for all of them (at least, for the ones you’re supposed to like, anyway). And after all, isn’t real life sometimes a little unrealistic?

Perhaps most importantly, while watching Imagine Me & You, I didn’t feel like I was having a judgement shoved down my throat. I didn’t feel like the message was “you aren’t being ‘the real you’ until you open up to romantic love.” Rather, the sentiment that stuck with me was “love is important and worthy of honoring.” That’s something I can stomach a lot more easily. I much prefer to watch people being true to their feelings than following some predetermined formula for societal normality.

Furthermore, when a movie implies that love is worth honoring, it feels a lot more open to interpretation – as if, whatever type of love you feel or don’t feel, as long as you find happiness in the end, that’s what matters. When a movie implies that you are only being true to yourself if you’re searching for your one true love, well… That’s when I take issue. But it’s likely that different people may have gotten different things out of these two movies than I did. I would be very interested to hear anybody else’s take on the films – or on romantic comedies in general.

Asexuality: A Brief Introduction

2011-07-20T12:18:00.000-04:00

I would like to use this blog to write (occasionally) about topics and issues regarding asexuality. However, since there may be people reading this blog, now or in the future, who are unfamiliar with this subject, I have decided that it is probably prudent for me to include a little explanation.

The generally accepted definition of an asexual is someone who does not experience sexual attraction. This does not equate with celibacy, which is the practice of suppressing and not acting on one’s sexual attraction, for whatever reason. Celibacy is a choice. Asexuality is an orientation.

The people who make up the asexual communities are just as diverse as people who make up the sexual communities. Every person, sexual or asexual, is different. Some asexuals experience romantic attraction, and thus may identify themselves as heteroromantic, homoromantic, biromantic, or panromantic. Some asexuals identify as aromantic, meaning that they do not experience romantic attraction to anyone.

Asexuals may feel sex-positive (i.e. sex is a good thing for consenting adults) or sex-negative (i.e. sex is bad no matter what). Some asexuals may be repulsed by sex, and other may be indifferent to it. It is important to point out that orientation is not the same thing as behavior: an asexual person might still have sex. For example, despite not being sexually attracted to anyone, an asexual may compromise and agree to have sex with their romantic partner. Some asexuals, though not sexually attracted to anyone, still have sex because they like how it feels. Some asexuals masturbate. Some don’t engage in any of the above.

The word “ace” is often used to refer to someone who is asexual or to something that is related to asexuality. The word “asexy” may also be used by some people.

For more information, I would highly recommend checking out AVEN, the Asexual Visibility and Education Network, at this website:

http://www.asexuality.org/home/

I have found their Overview, FAQ sections, and Asexual Perspectives to be very useful and educational. For a nice compilation of definitions, I would suggest this page from the Asexual Advice Tumblr:

http://asexualadvice.tumblr.com/glossary

Another extremely useful definition page comes from outlawroad on Tumblr:

http://outlawroad.tumblr.com/post/6334762387/basic-terms-for-understanding-relationships

As a disclaimer: What I say on this blog about asexuality comes from my own person experience as an asexual, and should not be taken as an absolute truth describing all asexuals. If I say I'm sex-repulsed, for example, that does not mean that all asexuals are also sex-repulsed. Like I said earlier, everyone is different. Everyone has different experiences.

In Which I Wax Sentimental on the Subject of Music

2011-07-13T11:55:00.000-04:00

It happens sometimes. I’m going about my business as usual, simultaneously listening to my iPod, and a song comes on that stops me in my tracks. I’ve heard this song fifty-three times at least, yet it’s still powerful enough to take my breath away. Or maybe I’ve heard the song seven times already, but now it’s like I’m hearing it for the first time, and I listen with rapt attention until it’s finished. Or maybe I’ve never heard the song before, and I’m so struck that I forget whatever I was doing previously and just listen, awed, to the music.

Music, for me, is like food or water. Yes, I can go without it for a short time, if necessary. But I could not live without it.

I connect to music through emotion. No matter what I’m listening to, I inherently want the music to evoke strong emotions in me. Sometimes that means reminding me of feelings I’ve experienced in my past – of people and events, of seasons and relationships, of constancy and change. Frequently it means enabling me to sympathize with or relate to emotions I may not have personally experienced. I’m not particular with regard to the type of sentiment my chosen music suggests; I value songs of joy, sorrow, love, anger, uncertainty, and hope. In addition to powerful emotion, I admire interesting and complex composition. I also enjoy clever or poignant lyrics. Furthermore, it would be remiss of me not to mention my sincere appreciation of songs that I can easily move around to, whether that means tapping my foot, bobbing my head, or flailing around the room and calling it dancing. Ultimately, however, I’ve got to feel that emotional connection.

I listen to a fairly large variety of genres, including rock, pop, alternative, metal, classical, and new age. I adore soundtracks, both vocal and instrumental. Language isn’t a barrier for me: I’ve listened to music in Spanish, Italian, French, Japanese, Korean, Chinese, and Gaelic. English is the only language I speak fluently, but I can pick out words and phrases in both Spanish and Japanese. I have a particular fondness for Japanese music; it’s near on three years that I’ve been listening to “J-Rock” and “J-Pop,” although I frequently use the terms to cover other genres as well. Because the emotional aspect of a song is most important to me, it’s not essential that I understand the lyrics. But I will obsessively search for translations, because knowing the lyrics definitely helps.

I’m considering doing a series of posts here about my all-time favorite albums, as well as writing about music that I’m listening to at the current moment – possibly doing reviews of new CDs that I enjoy. Music has a tendency to make me so enthusiastic that I can’t suppress the urge to share. Sadly, there aren’t a lot of people in my life who like the same music as me, or who get as excited about it as I do. Somehow, though, this hasn’t seemed to discourage me too much. I just keep on sharing.

Geez, I love music.

Driving, and Irrational (Rational) Fears

2011-06-30T19:46:00.000-04:00

Recently I was thinking about how I believe people who drive are either extremely brave or extremely stupid. Of course, the other logical possibility is that I’m just stupidly paranoid. Perhaps all three options are valid. Regardless, driving a car scares me, probably much more than it should.

Part of my aversion to driving stems, I know, from an incident several years ago, when my mother injured her right ankle. I was 15, the oldest child in my family, and I had just gotten my permit not a month before. My parents were separated, so my father wasn’t available as far as chauffeuring was concerned. Suddenly I had no choice but to drive – and frequently. My mother was incapacitated for near on a year, and for a time we were afraid she would never walk again. I know for a fact that, even though she’s long been recovered, I still associate driving with my fears regarding my mother’s mobility. But I am aware of this association, and the more I acknowledge it and work with it, the more it fades.

I am certain, however, that the source of my aversion is not to be found in this event alone. I’ve never been keen to drive. While my high-school peers anxiously awaited reaching the age at which they could sign up for Driver’s Ed, I couldn’t have been more disinterested. I eventually signed up simply because I didn’t want to be the oldest person in the class, and because I had two friends to sign up with me. But I had no real desire to get my license, even once I had taken the class. I’m now nearing my twentieth birthday and I still haven’t gotten my license; instead, I rely on my city’s bus system, as well as friends with cars.

Driving has always freaked me out. I have irrational fears, as I’m sure many people do. Take arachnophobia, for example. I’m terrified of spiders. I will also readily admit that it is a baseless and pointless fear. My fear of driving, on the other hand, has always seemed very rational to me. The driver is saddled with control of several thousand pounds of metal, as well as the responsibility for their own life, the lives of their passengers, and the lives of anyone else in a car in their immediate vicinity, were they to be involved in an accident. All it takes is a few seconds of inattention, and the results could be catastrophic.

It seems to me that if a fear is based on the fact that the feared activity potentially endangers life and limb, it’s probably a reasonable fear. Only, most everyone else within my sphere of interaction doesn’t look at it that way. Generally, if I try to discuss my dislike of driving with someone, the reaction I get seems to imply that I’m overanxious, or paranoid, or unreasonable. People say, “Oh, you’ll get used to it with practice.” Which is quite true; I’m not trying to debate that point. I do have moments, after a successful driving outing, when I feel confident and capable. But I still can’t shake the nervous feeling that, similar to how I imagine someone would feel just before jumping off a cliff and plummeting fifty feet down to meet ice-cold waters and a mass of sharp rocks, “This is dangerous, and I probably shouldn’t be doing it.”

This is precisely why I suspect that drivers are either exceptionally brave or exceptionally stupid. Either they’re brave enough to trust themselves with that immense responsibility, or they’re stupid enough not to realize they have it. Either way, all you drivers out there have my admiration. I’m really not sure how you do it.

Talking about LOL, lol.

2011-06-07T14:57:00.000-04:00

One of my biggest pet peeves is the abbreviation LOL.

Think about it. What does LOL really mean? Technically it’s supposed to stand for “laughing out loud,” but I’ve seen it used in many contexts in which that sentiment seems rather inappropriate. For example, one of my friends recently tagged me in a post on Facebook in which she was sharing a song. Her comment said, essentially, “This reminds me of you. You should know why, lol.” I looked at her words and flinched. She had followed the comment with a <3, and it was obvious that she had intended to invoke such emotions as affection and appreciation. But staring at that simple three-letter abbreviation, I felt more like it was a joke.

This event accentuated the conclusion I had long since reached: LOL has become meaningless punctuation. People use it when they have nothing better to say, or else in place of periods and exclamation points. If I text a friend that I just saw a guy with an awesome purple mohawk on the bus, she might respond with, “lol!” Another friend might finish his sentence about how he couldn’t get a table at a restaurant with “lol.”

It seems to me like LOL is erasing clear, meaningful words and replacing them with ambiguity and irresolution.

To me, the abbreviation implies a lack of seriousness or sincerity. When I read a sentence that contains LOL, I automatically wonder what kind of emotion the writer is trying to convey. The person typing LOL in response to me might feel a deep connection to my words, or he might merely find them amusing, or she might be annoyed at me for telling a pointless story, or he might be frustrated with me for dragging on a conversation that he’s bored with. Or she might not care about what I have to say at all. LOL covers up all manner of emotion.

As someone who values the complexity and variation of language, I feel vexed by the frequent use of LOL. There are so many ways to express meaning in the English language. It makes me sad that people who speak it don’t take advantage of that. I wish people would use their words more often and more earnestly. Instead of LOL, I want them to say more specific, honest things like:

“This song reminds me of you and how we used to sing it together two summers ago.”

“That’s so cool! I always thought about dyeing my hair purple!”

“I want to go to that restaurant again because we couldn’t get in last time we went.”

“I’m at work, and I’m too busy to talk now. It’s been nice talking to you today.”

Also, it drives me crazy when I can’t figure out what someone means.

To Date or Not To Date

2011-05-22T22:14:00.000-04:00

Recently I’ve been reflecting on the reasons why, in the past, I thought I wanted a romantic relationship – and more specifically, the reasons why I’ve felt tempted to enter into one. With most people, you would expect that the prospect of having such a relationship would make them feel excited and happy. When I’m the one concerned, however… I’ve noticed that the prospect doesn’t make me happy at all. In fact, it actually makes me unhappy.

I tend to look at romantic relationships from a very logical point of view. When I’m trying to decide if I should date a person, I’ll make lists of that person’s pros and cons. Pros may include things like, “owns a car,” “has a job,” and “is willing to put up with me when I’m overly emotional.” Cons may be along the lines of, “doesn’t text,” “isn’t very enthusiastic about school,” and “has horrid grammar.” Then I’ll try to imagine how I would feel introducing said person to my family or close friends. My usual response to that thought is apprehension and discomfort. I’ll also wonder about how long it would last, and if it would even be worth it.

I’ve come to realize, during my recent reflections, that I never considered dating someone because I actually want to date them. I only consider dating them because I feel pressured by society. Given the nature of my relationship with this person, the omnipresent “everybody” seems to expect that we should be dating. But I don’t truly want to date the person. Instead, I invest (too much) energy in trying to convince myself I could put up with it because I feel like I should.

When I was younger, I used to have fantasies of dating my “ideal person;” I still do, on occasion. But it seems likely to me that I only have these fantasies because we live in a society that places such heavy importance on finding your “one true love” and having a monogamous relationship with that person for the rest of your life. Frankly, I don’t think that’s healthy. There are so many different kinds of people, and so many different relationships we can have with each other. It’s unreasonable that our only options should be standard platonic friendship or standard romantic dating that leads to marriage.

Not everyone is going to want the same kinds of relationships. It’s as simple as that. And me… I don’t want to date. It would be amazing if I lived in a society that validated that desire.

Communication: It's Really Freaking Hard

2011-05-17T20:34:00.000-04:00

Over the years, I’ve developed a standard solution to what I sometimes refer to as "people problems." Whenever someone comes to me asking for help, my response is to expound upon the virtues of communication. This works because most of the problems people discuss with me are related to human interaction or lack thereof. I will promptly make it quite clear that, in my opinion, a nice one-on-one dialogue (or a group dialogue, depending on who’s involved) is the only way to go. The phrases that I’m likely to use sound a bit like these:

“Have you tried talking to so-and-so about it?”

“I know it’s hard to talk to so-and-so, but it’s the only way you’re ever going to solve your problems.”

“If so-and-so values your relationship, they’ll be willing to talk with you about the issue.”

“If you talk to so-and-so, you’ll have to opportunity to be honest and clear the air. The relationship will be more fulfilling that way. You’ll feel better about yourself and the relationship.”

“If so-and-so consistently reacts badly to what you have to say, clearly they don’t deserve your friendship or your time.”

And I believe this. My experience has shown me that the most effective way to solve a problem is to communicate with the people involved. Once you establish how someone is feeling and figure what needs of theirs aren’t being met, you’re well on the way to an agreeable solution for everybody. It’s all about meeting people’s needs and helping people feel comfortable and happy with themselves and each other. Ahhh, communication!

But there’s one glaring issue with my praise of this practice: I’m awful at it.

I advise everyone I know to just talk things over whenever they have concerns, but any time the situation directly involves me, I usually bite my tongue. It’s a lot worse with friend relationships then with immediate-family relationships; years of practice have made me pretty skilled at talking things over with my family. When it comes to anybody else, though, I’m unlikely to speak my mind. This realization has made me feel like a quite the hypocrite. How can I demand communication of other people when I myself am not willing to give it?

That got me to wondering what makes communication so scary. I can only speak for myself, since I couldn’t possibly claim to know exactly how other people feel. In my case, I suspect that the biggest setback to communication is fear of the unknown. I don’t know how the other person is going to react to what I have to say. I don’t know if they’re going to listen to me, or if they will fairly consider what I tell them. Even if I think I can predict someone’s response, there’s still a chance that I could be wrong. I do believe that if they’re going to react in a negative way and dismiss me without a moment’s thought, this person clearly isn’t worth my time. But there’s another fear there, a fear of finding out that I’ve “wasted” my time on someone. It feels safer to avoid communicate and thereby keep the relationship on stable and familiar ground.

This makes me think that the act of communicating is almost like an act of bravery. You’re venturing into unknown territory, uncertain of what you will find or what the outcome will be. To proceed anyway, regardless of the perceived dangers, is going to take courage. It’s going to be scary, but if it’s important to you, you’ve got to do it anyway. And anything that will help you to increase your comfort and happiness – like problem-solving, for example – is pretty important, I think.

Now the tough part is going to be finding that courage within myself.

Hi. I'm me. And this is my blog.

2011-05-10T16:25:00.000-04:00

Hello, everyone, and welcome to my blog!

I created this mostly because I wanted to be able to comment on other blogs that I read. Generally speaking, I'm pretty awful about lurking and never leaving comments (read: I do it constantly). However, I also want to use the opportunity to begin a blog of my own -- which I frequently fantasize about doing and at which I rarely succeed. This blog will be used to discuss anything I find interesting: human rights; LGBT issues; Ace issues; culture; relationships; music; movies; books. Basically, if it's relevant to my life and/or interests, expect it to be brought up at some point. Theoretically, I'd like to post something once a week. We'll see how that works out in practice.

That said, I'm looking forward to sharing my thoughts and opinions with whomever takes the time to read them, and I hope you'll share your thoughts and opinions with me in the comments!