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Kiwi Crocus
18 October 2009 @ 03:30 am
I woke up in reasonable time today. 11. Did not eat incredibly well. Soup and bread for sickness, chocolate sandwich for tea. I'm never hungry for a dinner meal when I'm sick.

I played uke a lot. I worked a reasonable amount, my first real steps in for the year. I was present.

Some people in the house are having issues. As I often am, I am a combination of oblivious and acutely aware--the problems don't touch me much, but I see what is going on. I am a mediator of sorts. Not surprising. I understand.

(It's 3.33 now. That's Teej's number. My lovely gay boyfriend. I miss him oodles.)

I decided to record a quick vid. of my playing a Tori Amos song (Wednesday, a favourite of mine) because her parents' cat (but a close cat to her) is not doing well, fast, I...don't want to think about it, 'cause human and animal pain like that hurt, obviously. So I decided to make her this little vid to try to cheer her up, and then I was vlogging and then I was showing my room. Two vids. I'll put one of them at the bottom.

I was pushing off the Grey's to savour it. I just finished it. I literally had shivers and butterflies. I love the character Arizona Robbins--I can't help it, I do, incredible amounts. People misread her for perky and out-there sometimes. I get that. But her down to earth side, her ability to relate and mediate with others, her ability to be fun, witty, content, connected, compassionate...I know she's a fictional character and someone (someone with a questionable writing past for characters, especially lesbians) wrote her, but I still aspire in my mind to be more like that every day.

Essentially, to be who my parents raised me to be. Which was another theme in the episode. And when Arizona talked about coming out to her mother, how it was no big surprise...well that hit home. 'cause let's face it, I wasn't just looking at Xena's weaponry.

And my father, it took him a year to approach me. Not even approach. Just, out of the blue, in the car a year later. "So, you know how you're a lesbian?" "Yes, Dad?" "I think that's okay." I know I make light of it a lot, because that's my nature--light and fluffy. But I knew in those moments, and the moments since, that it was harder for him to walk into, and he had to understand that I was still the daughter he connected with and I would still find a path in life that made me happy, and him indirectly through that.

I found out over the summer that it had once been a tiff between my mother and father--before my birth, even, or maybe a bit after. The "Who will she end up with?" question, and my father's immediate answer of a man--his expectations of my future life. This paints him in a worse light than I intended, but all I mean is that he had the regular traditional expectations. My mother was liberal, went to Emerson for Communications, always the liberal friend. She did not agree, and tried to express that I would come out the way I would come out, and that had to be accepted. I don't remember the words she used in her sermonette, but they were beautiful.

In the end I did happen to 'deviate' from that norm. my father had expected. My mother was prepared. I asked her, "Mum, what would you say if I said I was bisexual?" She replied with less than a moment's pause, "I'd say 'welcome to life.'" I don't know how many 'life plans' I changed (not 'ruined') for her in that moment, but I'd gander not an incredible amount--far less than for my father, despite previous conversations with mother, before I was aware of what 'lesbianism' was, possibly in utero.

I don't blame him for it. He had a different experience growing up, had different parents, whatever else. I love him for having worked through that and understanding that in the end I was still his little girl with those same lovable features I had had before--the same capacity for intellectual pursuits, the same interest and fascination for everything in the world, the same unquenchable thirst for knowledge, the same well of creative capability. I don't blame him if he still sometimes wishes I would end up with a man, fit that expectation--I don't know what he thinks, and I don't have to. His thoughts do no harm to me if he never utters them with harsh tongue; I don't expect he ever would.

He loves me. He wants to see me happy. I'm his daughter. He's always told me he feels incredibly connected to me. I may not have the same enjoyment with having him blow me up via computer (although, admittedly, it is a fun hobby in moderation), but I do share a vast majority of his interests and mindsets. There has never been a doubt that I am his Daughter in every sense of the world. I am a Daddy's Girl in my own independent way--the way I would have inherited from him, no doubt.

I don't know. These thoughts have occasionally slipped through my mind through the whole summer. I guess this episode of Grey's just inspired them to settle some. I've never felt so connected with a character and storyline as with Arizona in Grey's--and through that, I understand tenfold the heartbreak others previously felt with Erica. I have no doubt that if this were to end badly (and I knock on all wood in the room), I would get over it in time and always appreciate the moments that helped me, but for now...I'm just going to enjoy it. What fun!

It also correlates with my thoughts and conversations lately about romance and dating, but I will save that for another day. It is 3.50 and time to sleep. Tomorrow will hopefully be a day filled with working, washing, words, wisdom. Maybe song. Who knows.

P.S. In my biased opinion I do believe I have an incredibly cool father--definitely one of the best, and I only say 'one of' to include other amazing fathers on a plateau of 'the best,' and no because I don't think he's way at the top. There's always room for more than one First in my eyes.


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Kiwi Crocus
18 October 2009 @ 08:59 pm
Kiwi, finished putting her washing to dry: "Whatchya makin'?"
Timboy: [Dances some.] "Beef stew."
Jujubean: [Rambles about soup.]
Kiwi: "If you get the pea soup, make sure you eat it, before it eat you!" [Pauses, looks incredulously at the opposite wall.] "WHY AM I NOT WATCHING HARRY POTTER RIGHT NOW?! I must remedy this!" [Begins walking.] "Runs." [Nearly trips.] "Runs faster." [Gets past the couch.] "Really runs." [Jogs out of the room, Sass laughing from the couch.]

I feel moments like those are the reasons I am dubbed a 'strange' housemate. I have still not watched Harry Potter. I have still not finished typing up my stats notes. I clearly fail at working until at least 9 p.m.

I'm going to go try to make rice for the first time. Maybe sweet potatoes. This should be interesting.
Kiwi Crocus
18 October 2009 @ 10:00 pm
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