You guys, I don’t know what is going on but I’m being really nice to myself lately. I made myself dinner on Monday night (Main: soy-ginger salmon with green beans in a mustard and onion sauce and cilantro infused wild rice. Drink: Chardonnay). It was so delightful and plentiful I had it for lunch yesterday! Then this morning I threw together this little Treat Yo Self Thursday situation.
MAIN: Yogurt In a Jar
Fage Greek Goodness
DRINK: Homemade Coffee
MAIN: Salad in Jar
fresh cilantro & parsley
DRINK: Cucumber-Mint Lemonade
DESSERT: Chia Seed Pudding with Roasted apples with caramel drizzle
Look, I read Dooce so I know the laws of the internet. I start my new gig tomorrow (yes mix tape Monday posted just after midnight so it feels like its mix tape Sunday…details) and I crashed my career into a bridge I watched I let it burn by accepting a different more-awesome position. It was one of those, fuck its not me its you conversations, with a potential employer. Ugh. Heart heavy things because I had two housesjob offers, both alike in dignity. But I had to choose one and so to fight off these guilty night terrors that I am some horrible person I’m listening to a shit ton of Riot Grrl and queer power songs. So let’s get excited already, Bridget!! Cause really you don’t give a damn about your “bad” reputation. Despite what your guilty catholic crazy mind is telling you, you are fucking pumped to start this new adventure. It will be epic!
(1) I have such a deep writers crush on one Lindy West (who am i kidding she’s a babe & I’m totally janis ian for her too). I just read her essay about words that are stupid and yet fit to print in the dictionary. And it got me thinking…
(2) At my job, we review “dirty word” lists when we have a new fun “user generated content” product. This meeting always starts out with a hoot “Fucker! Hardy har!” but in the end, the call veers into sad humorless pauses. Everyone goes from reading jovially aloud to skimming words like “faggot” and “wet back” in uncomfortable silence.
So it’s with those two ideas in mind that I’m going to purge my lexicon as well.
Lame (as in uncool)
boring, snoozefest, idiotic
Ghetto (as in not high quality)
sub-par, broken, mcgrubered
Hooker (as in friend)
Gurl / Girl (as in appropriation of speech)
listen, lady/dude, [NAME]
Retarded / Funky (as in stupid / broken)
weird, wonky, backwards
I’d love to hear your ideas – for purges & replacements – so share & share alike fools!
Part II: Femme Scarcity Myth BUSTED! Alternate title: B$ in Babeland
So you know that part of Craig’s list that has personals : W4W M4M M4W etc? I’m always saying I’m “open” & date all over the map – no limiting categorizations please! Well, it’s time to call me out. Hold myself accountable. This heart of mine, she really only throws glitter fits for other femmes. I’m a F4F : a femme for femmes. Color nobody surprised by this admission.
Let me be clear for the straight people among us – especially those who tell me “Oh yeah, if I were gay I’d only like femmes too.” FYI there’s an underlying shittyness to those comments. As if to say “Oh yes, gay women are totally undesirable / not attractive / too gay / too hard. We see eye-to-eye on this Bridge.” When I say femme for femme, I don’t mean I exclusively find other feminine cis-women attractive (though obvi they’re awesome), I just like other super queer, super radical, queer femmes a fuck of a lot more!
So to recap: I (a self-identified femme for femme) trapsed down to Bmore to spend 3 intense days with other femmes.
what should we call me when:
Let’s break each sweet femme filled day into bite sized candies shall we?
DAY 1 Femme speed dating
I was worried it’d be just be me & the organizer & a room full of empty sad chairs. I was worried me & the organizer & sad chairs would run out of things to talk about. I was worried we wouldn’t be attracted to each other. Worse, that the sad chairs would hold the organizer’s attention better then I could. I was worried no other femme-for-femme existed ’cause that whole femme scarcity situation.
True story: FEMME SCARCITY IS A LIE!
Femme speed dating RAN OUT OF ROOM! Too many hot bodies to handle. Literally. The femme-in-charge opened with “Nobody ever died of awkward”(which is actually sage advice via Bevin) and we never looked back! I met with maybe 1/2 of the room and even went on a mini-date for water. Flirting in rapid fire makes you thirsty. (Side note : DC water date – you are totally my missed connection – what’s your name? I never wrote it down :-( but let’s be friends!) So many wondrous amazing people. I loved every 3 min block! Speed dating made such a great ice breaker for the rest of the weekend.
And obviously I lady crushed on the organizer and chatted her up post-workshop #howiroll.
Why was I so sure, to my core, that no other femme-for-femmes were around? How was it possible to believe that in a place charged with community, love, and SEX that I wouldn’t get some?
I like to sit in the front of the room. I like to know all the answers. As previously mentioned I’m working on my entitled, classist, racist motivations of this knee-jerk I KNOW! I like to be the best at learning all the things. When I sat down for the “Failing at Femme” workshop I was all business. My good pen, my trusty notebook, I was poised to learn. Then the femme-in-charge took over the room. My notes are both real data, heart breaking realizations – yeah I cried a bunch – and scattered with a few funny yet amazing things she said.
“Don’t get me wrong, I can go down on some semiotics & dialectics. But that’s a different workshop all together”
“What do have to do? Wear my strap-on on the outside?”
“It takes a village to make that [butch] pompadour!”
Obviously I lady crushed so hard! I got up the nerve to chat her up at the bar. I try not to kiss-and-tell so I’ll only share this funny moment: Hearing something metal drop to the pavement, I squealed with genuine concern “Omg was that your earring?”
DAY 2.5: An Ass out of You and Me
Here’s the thing. Everyone knows when you assume you make an ass out of you and me. Well, I’m really amazing at assuming hot femmes are not into me. I just knock myself out a race before I even try. The hours of workshops with Miss Arkansassy & Kim Crosby certainly helped quiet the drum beat “you’re not enough” I step to each day.
But even the “Failing at Femme” brainiac – had I read her work I never would have approached her; too intimidating. My skull can’t compute the idea that someone this smart and amazing can like me.
Fast Forward to the dance floor later Saturday night.There is no way this other hot body with a deep soul, smart brains and domestic partner, who I’ve been crushing on from afar all fucking weekend, will even want to know my name. She’s got a DP so that means paws off! Enter stage left: my spirit guide Bevin.
“So you and your partner – are you monogs? Cause this is my friend Bridget – ya’ll should talk.”
As Orla & I used to say, in that moment, I was knee deep in spleen fluid. Equal parts frightened and embarrassed. God love Bevin for giving no fucks about awkwardness. Cause just like that she femmefested me some sweet dance floor action.
It was like a teenage dyke TV dream (I mean, if TV ever portrayed healthy nonmonogamy)…
DAY 3: Morning Breath
This time with less tred on my tires (two solid nights of boozing & dancing till the wee hours makes for a sleepy betty) I headed into the lecture hall with coffee & my journal. The hot people pile in – including a particular pair of red lips – and I miss the first 10 mins of the damn workshop checking her out all over again. When we moved into circle time for sharing, she sat next to me. “Look, [name redacted] I’m going to need you to turn you pilot light of inner-awesome down. I’m trying to pay attention here.”
Yes, I’ve got plenty more cheese where that came from. #callmemaybe
By the end of the third day, you couldn’t go anywhere without bumping into at least one homo you’d either: kissed, wanted to kiss, squealed with over outfits at the clothing swap, seriously discussed femme dynamics with, or seen having a vulnerable moment in one of the workshops. You would’ve loved it. It was fucking magical.
Day 4, 5, 6, 7 : The Afterglow
How best to describe the flood instragammed images, the new facebook friends, and email threads that have been going around this week? Just love? Seems like such a limited word. The oodles of femmes-for-femmes love all weekend formed us into little pockets of power. We all became apart of this great community that cheers each other on, calls each other out, & fucks the patriarchy (and each other) in such a myriad of awesome ways.
Well, yeah, when I put it that way, I guess love sounds about right.
Shucks ya’ll. I’m a changed betty. Color me blessed.
Part I: Potential Pre-Requisite / Post-Graduate Femme Conference Courses
Pre- req: Managing FOMO 101 FOMO: directly translated as the fear of missing out. Indirectly referring to all the perceived fun times other queers are having with out you. Missing opportunities to meet the people of your dreams.
I’m lucky enough to live in a city that is chuckfull of queerevents. I live in varying degrees of FOMO depending on the day of the week (side note: why are Thursdays so fucking gay?). However, I was definitely NOT prepared for the extreme case of FOMO that accompanies this conference.
I brisked into the hotel lobby late Friday morning and instantly my belly fluttered with happiness! It was awesome to just be immersed in the femme. Glittery, bright & well placed signage lined the pillars of the lobby while adorned femmes and femme-allies (fallies? is that a word? I don’t think so, but let’s use it anyway!) strutted around. Howevs, this feeling was fleeting. I had just about a half-hour before my writing workshop, so I jumped at the opportunity to check out one of the morning sessions.
My ass was in the seat for .5 seconds before I thought to myself, “Hmm, whats going on in the conference room next door? Should I go peak in? What am I missing? Who is in there?” But before I could make my exit, a vision in fishnets stood up from audience to pass out class feedback sheets. “Omg Hi!!” None other then my pal from Femme Family NYC, Miss Arkansassy!! She’s one of those people I can only hold close in memory since she’s moved out of NYC to the big gay mecca (SF) and had I listened to this voice of FOMO, I wouldn’t have been drenched in her southern charm & warm hug.
To combat the kanye-bombing FOMO of my attention in any given workshop, I tried saying to myself “[WORKSHOP TITLE] is exactly where I’m supposed to be. Right now.” I do recommend a g&t to help this message sink in. Repeating this phrase at the impromptu cocktail & crab dip caucus held by these three funny femmes seemed relatively easier then at other times in the weekend.
general rules of thumb for managing FOMO
Post-Grad: Re-entry 101
Seriously. Spending 3 solid days with deep, foxy, and challenging femme/queer/&/or all around magical people (and in those spaces we created) is profound. Leaving that to chill with “the hegemony” and “the patriarchy” and “misogyny” on a queue 40 deep for the megabus is MEGA HARD. We need a guide out of gaydom.
Pre-Req & Post-Grad: I statements
Why do I feel it necessary to shoot my hand up first when the femme-in-charge of the “Failing at Femme” workshop (who is, side note, smarter then EVERYONE and a total fox.) asks “What is transphobia?” to the group? Why? What is it in me that assumes I am an expert on that topic? Cause last time I checked I’m a cis-gendered femme – thus – I HAVE NO IDEA WTF!! Sure, I could guess, I could attempt to name it. I can say “oh b/c I’ve seen it happen.” –> TO OTHER PEOPLE! But it is not my reality. I’m still pissed that I raised my hand and spoke first about this. Please accept my apologies in the form of this animated gif.
What I mean to say is, sure, my voice and insights could be valid. I may have an experience to share. But these types of questions are asked in a space meant for people who can identify then educate my ass! So I need to be open. I need to listen. I need to let others do the schooling. I’ve got to practice coming from a place of “THIS IS WHAT HAPPENS TO ME.” I’ve got to work on not speaking from my gut – which is an entitled place of “I’M AN EXPERT CAUSE I HAVE SEEN IT HAPPEN TO YOU” place – in all circumstances. #Homework
bridget sweetin is an active procrastinator with a knack for daydreaming and making people laugh (mostly at her & not so much with her). she lives w/ Itzel in a Shoe Box Apt on the U.E.S. of madhattan. she is employed at place that pays for this apt by doing webby things like she used to do as a freelancer. she would like someday to
get a life
get a date
get a dog
get another degree
get off her ass
If she does one or any of these things you can catch it all by reading this lameo blog. commenting is welcomed and encouraged (she needs the ego boost).