Castles in the Air

I was, in recent months, at a high school graduation for a friend of mine.  I knew it was gonna be a long couple of hours when the first student speakers actually "hashtagged" something in her speech.

It wasn't until the principal got up that I actually heard something that made my ears perk up.   He summed up Henry David Thoreau's, Walden, with the often quoted advice, "If you advance in the direction of how you imagine your life, not how convention dictates that it should be, then you will find success on a scale undreamed through reasonable expectations."  Immediately, I got a little nudge, from my friend (Martin, I'm writing this for you), as if to say "there's the answer to your questions, kid".

Well I went and looked up the actual quote from the story and it's a little more poetic, if you ask me.

"I learned this, at least, by my experiment; that if one advances confidently in the direction of his dreams, and endeavors to live the life which he has imagined, he will meet with a success unexpected in common hours. He will put some things behind, will pass an invisible boundary; new, universal, and more liberal laws will begin to establish themselves around and within him; or the old laws will be expanded, and interpreted in his favor in a more liberal sense, and he will live with the license of a higher order of beings...If you have built castles in the air, your work need not be lost; that is where they should be. Now put the foundations under them."

Magnificent.

I will now consciously make my way towards those castles my imagination and soul have created, whether that means I have to climb the whole way, or if I discover how to fly there.

Chop Chop...Oops

I am currently employed at Papa Murphy's Take 'N' Bake Pizza.  Every morning I get up nice and early and catch the bus to catch the second bus to get to work.  I then spend the next 8 hours mixing and smashing pizza dough, grating cheese, making sauces, and cutting vegetables so that every day everything is fresh.  Well you can imagine how doing the same thing every day can not only eventually wear out the equipment we use, but also easily become a job of brainless motions.

This last week my boss got brand new knifes to cut the veggies.  Well...I got a little over excited and was cutting a bit too fast...when suddenly my hand was in pain and there was blood on the green onions.  I almost cut the tip of my thumb completely off.  It was just hanging on by a bit and bleeding everywhere.  I then spent the rest of my day at the insta-care with a wad of napkins holding my finger together.  I lost a chunk of my finger nail so they had to put the stitches through the remaining nail to keep the tip on.  

Here's a picture...Enjoy!

This is after being cleaned up a few days later.

~Bridey J.

Genderless

The gender binary is really not a complicated subject matter.  There are girls and boys.  Men and women. Male and female.  This has nothing to do with what they like, how they act, stereotypes, clothes, sexual orientation or even what may, or may not, be between someone's legs.  Males are usually associated with some degree of masculinity, while Females are feminine.


Transsexuals, born one sex , but identify as the other another, also work within the gender binary.  The symbols don't show an over abundance of creativity, but they are at least informative.

Now, we step out of the comfort of the gender binary and into something different.

It is now no longer one or the other, but placed on a spectrum, of sorts, that goes in between and beyond.


As silly as it might seem, I don't think I fit in the gender binary.  I don't even know if I fit in one of these other categories  I guess I'm somewhere in between, and it's sometimes hard to explain.  Even to myself.  I feel like even the spectrum is a little more exclusive than I initially thought. Let me try to explain.

My sex is female. I have a vagina and I'm fine with that.  I also have breasts and hips and curves.  I am not fine with any of those.  My gender is...confusing.  I wish the general public would address me with male pronouns, as the English language does not have gender-less pronouns. I want to wear a suit and tie to church. I wish my body reflected that more (unlike Shakirra, my hips do lie).  But I'm okay with my name and who I am.  I'm okay being someone's girlfriend, wife, or mother.

Sex is usually based on the primary and secondary sex organs you have.  Gender is actually based on a role you play in society.  I'm not comfortable with the role that was assigned to me because I have ovaries and not testicles.  I wish there was an acceptable role of just being Bridey.   I wish our minds weren't constructed in a way where we subconsciously demand that every thing have a label, or a place to belong.  It's even confusing in my own mind to accept that I am genderqueer, because it's not one or another.   But I'm okay being me.  I'm okay exploring what that means.   I hope you'll come on this journey with me.

~Bridey J.

Not Equal Yet

Recently a good friend of mine got a letter to the editor published in the Utah newspaper "The Salt Lake Tribune".   It focused on the idea that while she is protected by anti-discrimination laws in Salt Lake County, if her life were to take her elsewhere in Utah, she would not have the same right.  The laws she mentioned protect her from being fired from a job or evicted from housing solely because of her sexual orientation (as she is a lesbian).  It might surprise some of you, as it did me, that these laws are not in place country-wide.  At a job I used to have back in Oklahoma there was a large sign next to the lockers that would remind everyone that no employment decisions (such as hiring, firing, disciplinary action, promotion, pay or other work conditions) could be made based on my sex, age, race, color, religion, national origin, disability, genetic information, OR sexual identity and orientation.   I was very surprised to find that the same sign at my current place of employment in Utah, a branch of the same company, did not include the last part.

I came out to my coworkers when I started the job.  I wanted to make it known that saying things like "that's so gay" and calling each other faggot was not gonna fly with me.  It has now become a very comfortable and casual thing that my coworkers and I talk about.  I really do enjoy my work because of the people I work with.  But one day last week, someone said something referencing my being a lesbian, right to my boss.  She didn't think anything about it, because she doesn't have to.  None of them have to think about it.  It's not a reality for them.  I don't go a day without thinking about it.  I don't think my boss will actually do anything to me, but I've been on edge because he could if he really wanted to, and there are no laws to stop him.

A few years ago I had a roommate that freaked out when she found out I was gay.  She reported me to the housing office and to my landlord, hoping to get me evicted.  I lived in BYU contracted housing, and I wasn't breaking the BYU honor code just by being gay, so there was no grounds for eviction. How ironic that being a BYU student kept me safe, and not a law.

This is my reality.  I'm not considered equal yet.

~Bridey J.

Beyond the Bubble - Guest Post

I pulled onto the lonely highway in western Cache valley, set my sights on the horizon, and let my foot fall heavy on the accelerator as Kelly Clarkson sang “Breakaway” at full blast. In the early light of that August morning there was hardly another soul on the road. The sun was breaking hard and bright over the mountains behind me. And as the reality of my packed car hit me, I couldn't help but laugh with glee. I was leaving. I was finally free. That night I pulled into my friends’ driveway in central Seattle, and after unloading my things and spending some time with my hosts, I fell into a deep sleep in my new home.

It’s been almost five months now. Every once in a while I get a glimpse, a reminder of my life back in Utah, and I realize that I've already forgotten how different things were. And in that moment I thank God for Seattle. When I put my life in Provo side by side with my life in Seattle, the difference is stark. Perhaps the most obvious difference is the lack of secrecy in my life here. Seattle is a special city, though I’m sure most metropolitan areas share this to some degree. Here, the people share a common, low-maintenance attitude: as long as you’re not a jerk, we don’t have a problem with you. As I became acquainted with my classmates, being gay and from Mormon Utah were both very poignant things for me to claim. Every one of my classmates was warm and accepting. These things didn't change who I was to them. They were simply “flavorings” on my personality.

I’ll admit, I went into a bit of an identity crisis in the first couple of months when being gay and Mormon wasn't something I could cling to anymore. As those identifiers lost their potency, all that was left was being “Nick." I don’t think I've ever had an opportunity quite like this where I was granted such an extensive freedom to determine what that meant. At first, it was intimidating. Then, it was exciting. Now, it is freeing. I don’t have to cling to “gay” or “post-Mormon.” I don’t have to cling to anything to fit. I am me, and I am in a place where that is enough for people.

Having been in Seattle for election season, I got to see a whole new world. Signs like “College Republicans: You’re not alone!” or “Capitalism isn't working! Socialism is the answer” told me that I wasn't in Kansas (or Provo!) anymore. I was able to vote in a state that went Blue for the first time in my life. And I was able to see the numbers come in as my fellow Washingtonians voted to include me and my love into the law and into daily life. The passing of Referendum 74 was very moving for me. And the campaign, seeing the green “Yes on 74!” signs everywhere, was amazing. For the first time in my life my neighbors were actively working to include me and my love, me as-is. The peace and inclusion I feel is something I did not get in Utah.

Dating was also different. I found that boys here have less internal angst than in Utah, and they don’t feel pressure to cling to stereotypes. They feel free and comfortable being open about themselves, no matter who they are. It was quite the experience to explore Capitol Hill, the gay district where rainbow flags are hung over doorways, and to see pairs of eyes following me every now and again. As you might imagine, it was a great confidence boost!

Most satisfying, though, was walking hand in hand with my date through Pike’s Place on the pier. Instead of glares and stares, people would approach us and tell us how cute we were. We would hear people whisper about how adorable it was to see us. That kind of subtle acceptance and valuing of my relationship was more rewarding than I expected.

I have been in a relationship for almost four months now. I found a good Christian boy who views spirituality and religion like I do, who is comfortable with himself, and who has no apprehension about taking my hand in the grocery store or in church as we recite the Lord’s prayer. In comparison the little subtleties become so stark.

I think that the most powerful difference, though, is the way Seattle has allowed me to love and accept myself as I am. Even in places like USGA where I was free to be authentic about my sexuality, there was always this sense of rebellion, of swimming upstream. Things have finally settled here in the Pacific Northwest, and the naysayers don’t have the same emotional power over me like they used to. I can finally just be me, and that’s enough.

BYU, Provo, and USGA will always hold a special place in my heart. USGA was the safe space that allowed me to come out of my gay shell and stretch my wings a bit. But I am also grateful to have left, to have stood at the edge of the cliff, and leaped, just to see how far I can fly. I hope the same for everyone in USGA.

-Nick Norman-

Boxes

I was talking with a friend not too long ago about her reluctance to come out.  She said that she doesn't think she's ready to be put in box of what people think she is, or what they think she should be if she comes out as a lesbian.  I almost immediately wanted to go on about how amazing it's been for me since I came out to the world (literally), because it has given me so much room to just be myself.  I no longer feel like I'm lying to people or pretending to be something I'm not.  When I don't have to worry so much about what people think I am or think I should be it allows me to be what ever I want, which is just me.  But you know what?  Just because I have found this new freedom, doesn't mean that it's right for everyone to do the same thing I did (and certainly not the same way I did it).

After thinking about it for a few days, I have to say I understand her fear.  For the longest time I was afraid to call my self a lesbian.  I would always phrase it that I was "attracted to women".  I told myself that it was because that was easier for people to handle or understand than "I'm gay!"  Later on I realized it was because I was afraid that if I called myself a Lesbian then people would think I was lying if I ever dated a boy.  If they thought I might be lying about my orientation, how legitimate would my pain still be to them?  I was afraid they would think I was lying about that too.




On the other hand, I really did once have a roommate tell me, after many months of being out to her and becoming close friends, that if I had come out to her as lesbian (instead of same-sex attracted) she might not have given me the chance to get to know me the way she did.  For her the term Lesbian or Gay came with a lot of baggage.  We were roommates over the year that I really came in to myself and finally became comfortable with who Bridey really is, and not just in a gay way.  Through our friendship I was able to show her that labeling oneself as gay or lesbian (or any other letter of the ever expanding acronym for non cis-heterosexuals) didn't change a person for the worse, or even for the better.  That being said, not labeling yourself as anything doesn't change you either.

I personally believe that labels are a way to belong and not feel lost.  To be able to say "I am this thing that a lot of other people are".  Putting yourself in a box where there are a lot of other people can feel safe, and make you feel not so secluded or alone.  It should be for yourself and no one else.  It's to help you figure out who you are and finding a place you feel you belong.  When other people start to use this safe place to restrict them from imagining you complexly, that's when boxes become a problem.

Boxes, both metaphorical and cardboard, are for organizing things.  The way our minds work, it is easier to put ourselves and others in boxes, or to label, stereotype, or categorize them.  But the individual should always supersede what's written on the boxes.  The individual is ever changing through time.  Boxes can be entered, left, and redefined multiple times during one life.  We need to learn to not define people, including ourselves, by the boxes they may frequent.

~Bridey J.

Fears and Phobias

I was thinking about all the things there is to be afraid about...and that freaked me out...so I made a list of the things I am actually legit afraid of in order from "uneasy" to "well this interferes with my day to day life", and all the way to "oh my hell I just peed myself".

1. Telephonophobia = the fear of talking on the phone - texting truly is a god sent
2. Testophobia = the fear of taking tests - I get major test anxiety
3. Xenophobia = fear of strangers - this was worse when I was a kid and I thought that the lady at the McDonalds would tear my face off if I tried to order more fries.  Needless to say it's gotten better with age.  Now I only think that she will slap me, but I take my chances.  This should not be mixed up with the word "Xenaphobia" meaning the "fear of Xena Warrior Princess"
4. Glossophobia = fear of public speaking - this used to be much much worse, many time resulting in shaking, dizziness, sweating, momentarily blacking out, and vomiting.  But since I was required to get in front of people all the time at USGA, I have been able to conquer it.  Well...I still sweat a lot.
5. Hypnophobia = fear of sleep - this is actually closely connected to my Insomniphobia, or fear of not being able to sleep.  I tend to avoid the whole subject all together, or take medicine.  
6. Cucuyphobia = fear of under the bed - there are alligators under my bed at all time and in all things and in all places.  I usually take the bed frame off so it's just a box and a mattress on the floor.  No space = no alligators.  Until you can prove that they are never there, they are always there.
7. Kakorrhaphiophobia = fear of failure - this mostly manifests itself in academic ways, such as not being able to start homework without going into crippling fits of hysteria and anxiety attacks first, because I know before I start it that it won't be "A+ material".  C's get degrees, right?
8. Auchlocaustrophobia = fear of closets - not always meaning the figurative one that I came out of (closets are scary and I'm never going back!), but also just the regular kind you hang clothes in.  I think this is fear that has been with me since childhood.  If there is an open closet door somewhere in the room, especially at night time, I will get very very anxious.  Sleep will not occur until they are all closed.
9. Lygophobia = fear of being in a dark place - I am currently 24 years old and I still sleep with a teddy bear, and I will still find any excuse to fall asleep with some light on.  It was not an uncommon thing, during high school, for me to fall asleep with the light on in my room and my parents would turn it off later.  Since college that turn into getting to sleep before my roommate and making her turn the lights off when she comes to bed.  I have also purposely slept in the living room so the TV could be on, fallen asleep reading to have an excuse to have a lamp on, and unashamedly used a penguin-shaped nightlight.  This fear is usually greatly lessened when I am with someone, because they will either protect me from the scary darkness, or distract it long enough for me to get away.
   Also known as:  Nyctophobia - fear of the night
                            Achluophobia - fear of the dark
                            Scotophobia - fear of darkness
10. Trypanophobia = fear of medical procedures involving injections or hypodermic needles - they once had to strap me in a straight jaket on a plank of wood with ropes so I would hold still long enough to get the Novocaine so they could fill in a cavity.
    Also known as:  Aichmophobia - fear of sharp points
                             Belonephobia - fear of sharply pointed objects
                             Enetophobia - fear of pins and needles
11. Arachnophobia = fear of spiders - this is a crazy legit fear for me.  I have had reactions that range from full-on panic attacks and uncontrollably crying for hours after seeing a spider, all the way to wetting my pants and fainting.  I once saw a spider in my room that crawled away before I could get a shoe and my parents came home to find everything I owned thrown into the hallway and me sitting in an empty room rocking back and forth.  I never found the spider, and didn't sleep for several days after that.  Over a long time, and out of a basic need for survival, I have been able to train myself to react quickly and kill the evil mother f***ers, and then let myself freak out.  As long as it was still smaller than a penny.  I have been known to call a friend to make them come over and kill one for me.

To my friends:  Thanks for putting up with me and all my weird fears.


Things I think BYU students are afraid of:

• Pogonophobia = beards
• Anuptaphobia = staying single
• Doxophobia = expressing opinions
• Hereiophobia = challenging, or deviating from, accepted doctrine
• Phronemophobia = thinking

Fears I found funny:

• Dikephobia = Justice 
• Barophobia = Gravity
• Hippopotomonstrosesquipedaliophobia = Long words
• Lipophobia = Fats in food
• Nomophobia = Being out of mobile phone contact
• Omphalophobia = Belly buttons
• Panphobia = Everything
• Papaphobia = The Pope
• Phobophobia = Having a phobia
• Aibohphobia = Palindromes
• Anachrophobia = Temporal displacement (for those Doctor Who fans out there)
• Anatidaephobia = Somewhere, somehow, a duck is watching you

My Mission?

I'm not sure how many people know this about me, but I once put in my papers to serve a mission for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints. I told everyone, because it was my plan. I honestly, and deeply, felt like it was what I needed to do. And when I say that I felt that way I don't mean "I felt pressured to go because it's what a good little Mormon girl is supposed to do" or even "I felt that since I was 21 already and not married that the only option left for me was to go on a mission"... I mean that I actually had many moments where I knew without a doubt that serving a mission was not only what I wanted to do, but it was what God wanted for me as well.

Well, extremely long story short...I didn't get to go.  By that time I was too far gone into my depression and wasn't able to serve.  I don't remember really reacting to the news, at the time.  I already knew before the letter came that they would tell me "no".  No matter what that paper said, I had told myself they just didn't want me because I am gay.  What I saw as my last shot at redemption was now gone because of this unyielding "disease" I just couldn't seem to fight.  All desire to go on a mission (at least the way it had been) left me that day.

I ended up coming back to BYU, as evident by the fact that I'm here now.  If I'm being honest, I'm not quite sure what made me come back.  BYU had always been part of my plan, but part of that plan had been to serve a mission and come back and get married and have a family.  Now I wasn't sure what the plan was, so I thought I should hold on to the parts I had left.

By the first month of school I had found USGA.  I started forming a new plan.  The rest, as they say, is history.


Update: April 6, 2012
My aunt called me today and left a message on my phone.  She was in the middle of shopping when she just started thinking of me and then just got the clear-as-day thought that "Bridey has been able to serve a mission.  Just not the regular one."  She called me the day I spoke in the campus wide panel discussion.  Actually while I was speaking.  I didn't find her voice mail until today though.

I have been able to do a lot of good here on campus, with the USGA and the other friends I have made because I came back to school at this time.  Maybe this is where I needed to be all along.


Update: October 6, 2012
Well as anyone who was even remotely paying attention to the little Mormon corner of the world today knows that the church announced that they lowered the age at which a young man or woman can serve a mission for the Church.

The age for boys: 19 --> 18
The age for girls: 21 --> 19

Well, everyone's first thought was how this is totally gonna throw things off at BYU for a while. As seen by this picture, here. -->

My thoughts were all over the place.  The one that dominated was "if this change had happened five years ago, when I was nineteen, things would have been so different...I might have gotten to serve..."  It took a while for me to remember that I was in a pretty messed up place (mentally and emotionally) when I was nineteen too.  I think I would have gone on a mission only because I had not yet faced all the issues I had with myself yet, and at that time I still believed that a mission would fix a lot of them.  Would it really have made life so much better?  I wonder if it would have made facing myself eventually that much harder.  Would I have become the same me I am today?  I don't know.  I don't think it would have been a worse path, only a different one.

Well, I talked to my dad about it and he said that same thing my aunt did six months ago, more or less.  So have many friends.  I'm pretty sure they didn't talk to each other and coordinate an answer. Maybe this is my mission.  To do as much good as I can, where I am.

~Bridey J.

Oo-koo-lay-lay

I have a Ukulele.  Her name is Bellatrix.  I bought her at a time when I was very depressed and I decided that giving myself something to do just for me would help.  I'm not the best, but I love to play. I already have a wide variety of music in my ever growing repertoire.  Please feel to browse my songs, and/or make requests.

Somewhere Over the Rainbow/What a Wonderful World -- IZ
I'm Yours -- Jason Mraz
Melancholy Astronautic Man -- Allie Moss
When You Say Nothing at All -- Alison Krauss
Jar of Hearts -- Christina Perri
Island in the Sun -- Weezer
The Middle -- Jimmy Eat World
Superman (It's Not Easy) -- Five For Fighting
Maybe Katie -- Bare Naked Ladies
A Thousand Years -- Christina Perri
Born This Way -- Lady Gaga

Wandering

Yesterday I went walking through Barnes and Noble. I was in desperate need of a book I could just get lost in.  Going in there and expecting to walk out with only one book is like jumping into a pool and expecting to not end up wet. I'm not saying it's impossible, I'm only saying I've tried it a million times and it hasn't happened yet. I accept the fact that I will never not buy something when I visit, so I've tried to limit myself to a certain dollar amount and that seems to work...most of the time.

I walk through the isles staring at all the titles on all the covers that I will never look past.  Occasionally one might catch my eye, but if the blurb doesn't sell me then it doesn't make the cut, and back on the shelf it goes. Not to be caught judging a book by it's cover, but I'm on a budget.  Familiar authors and titles are scattered among those I have never seen before.  I have to touch each cover, as if the paper feel of it will help me find the chosen few that will come home with me.  I honestly wish I could take them all with me, even the ones I know aren't that good, and trust me when I say those do exist.  I just want to get lost in someone else's head for a small while.  I want to see the world through a fresh pair of eyes, even if those eyes have only seen in someone else's imagination. I want to be living a new life and go on some unheard of adventure, even if it's only for a few hours.  I want to get to know these people who will never actually be, and at the same time they will live much longer than I ever could. I want to...no, I need to feel emotions that stem from someone else's universe, because my own emotional entropy can't be conveniently placed back on a shelf when I need to deal with my life.  It is my minds eye, with the help of these words, that can form everything from spaceships to relationships, all that hang in the balance every time I turn a page.

Every hour spent wandering is worth even the few minutes of escape I know it will grant me.

~Bridey J.

Pride

This was my first time going to a pride festival.  My over all assessment is that it's a lot like the Medieval Fair that happens every year in Norman, OK.  "How so?" you might ask.  I will tell you.

There are three distinct groups of people that attend.

1. Those that finally get a time to be themselves and not be stared at.  They dress in all manor of outrageous, colorful, and sometimes shocking clothes (if any at all) that tell the world "today you see on the outside who I am on the inside every other day".
2. Those that use this opportunity to dress like the #1  people for the sole reason of "because we can".
3. Those that are there mostly for the food, the attractions, and to buy stuff.

Now I have absolutely no problem with people dressing up and celebrating something.  It's never bothered me when my guy friends would wear their kilts to school the week of the Med Fair (unless they went commando on a windy day). But it really gets under my skin that so many people come to pride dressed up in drag and in over-sexualized versions of what society seems to think the "gay lifestyle" is. Now don't misunderstand me. If that's who you really are, and this is your way of celebrating you, then by all means be loud and proud.  But I always thought the point of Pride was to show people that you are proud of exactly who you are. If you don't dress or act like that the other 363 days of the year, why would you do that on the two days that are all about celebrating you?  I just don't understand.  I'm very sure that Salt Lake City is quite tame compared to New York, Seattle or even San Francisco.

That being said, I would like to say that this year I was able to celebrate who I am.  I had the incredible opportunity to be part of a group of us that received the Utah Pride Courage Award on behalf of the USGA members that worked to make the "It Get's Better" video.  This year's grand marshal, the ridiculously beautiful Dustin Lance Black, presented the award to us. This meant so much to me because he's not only a Hollywood celebrity, but he is also an openly gay Mormon himself (not to mention a small town Texas boy).

Grand Marshal Dustin Lance Black leading the parade.

The next day I participated in the very first group of Mormons marching in a pride parade. Under the name "Mormon Building Bridges" over 300 LDS members came out, dressed in their Sunday best, to show the LGBT community that they have allies where they never thought they would. We were originally somewhere toward the back of the parade, but DLB insisted that we were up front with him. 

Mormons Building Bridges (I'm on the front right)

There were people, both in the group and in the crowd, that were just bawling. So many people never thought they would ever see a day when these two seemingly mutually exclusive worlds would come together like this.  The amount of love that was present there was unbelievable. It was almost overwhelming at moments.  I saw members marching with their little children and holding signs that said "Jesus said love Everyone" and "I'll walk with you, I'll talk with you" from the primary song written by Carol Lynn Pearson for her gay husband.  I also looked out into the crowd and saw all these spectators cheering and screaming for us. It meant something to them that there were people that were willing to stand up and tell them "I love you because of who you are, not in spite of it". They were so accepting. I'm talking about both sides.  That morning there was no longer an "us" and "them".  There was only "we".  It gave me hope about my own future.

This is who I am.  I am a Lesbian.  I am a Mormon.  This year I got to show people I am proud of that.

~Bridey J

Journey

I've been AWOL this last month, trying to recover from the high that came after the panel and the video and the equally intense nothingness that came in the weeks afterwards.  I'm sure there's all five or so of you that might check my blog fairly regularly and to you I apologize for my absence.  To the rest of you...suck it up, I'm allowed to take a vacation.  I still have about a million posts I've half written, started and never finished, that I'm planning on finishing soon.  So just keep your pants on.

My dad told me before I started this blog to be careful.  It doesn't take a lot of brain power to go on the internet and complain about stuff.  I hope to inspire and uplift my readers.  Sometimes I'm not sure I can do that, but I will try my best to leave you with something to think about.  I've been thinking about a lot of things lately, most of which feel very heavy and deep.  Many of these things I have thought through many times and I thought them to be resolved within me.  But as a very wise, bearded friend recently shared with me, peace is a journey, not a destination.

This last weekend I went down to St. George, UT with some friends.  Usually when I go hang out down there I spend Sundays watching the Game Show Network in my condo while eating cheese-its and taking advantage of the opportunity to just do nothing.  However, I've been doing a lot of nothing lately, so at the request of my amigos we went to an early morning sacrament service at the nearby Mormon congregation.  I have been somewhat avoiding church lately.  It feels different and it's like I'm the only one who notices.  I could go into some "square peg/round hole" analogy, but it's not that at all.  For so long I was focused on this idea that once I resolved the struggles and issues I had with my sexuality things would go back to the way they were and I would stop feeling so distant from the peace and acceptance I was promised the gospel would bring to my life.  But just like Schrodinger discovered, you can't unknow the cat is dead.  The things I have lived through have shaped me different.  It's not just that I feel like I don't fit in, the truth is I know I don't fit anymore.  

My whole life I've been told that there is a path that is narrow and hard, but it's also the way to eternal happiness.  Now I find that I'm not on the path I thought I was at all.  I go to church and can clearly see that the life that lay in front of me is so different from the one everyone else will travel.  Not just being gay, but everything is different.  The answers they give in Sunday school seem empty for me.  Even messages about families and the temple cut deep into my heart.  It all means something else now.  Words that used to easily bring comfort now just leave a feeling of indifference. I am on the road less traveled by, but I don't recall a diverging fork anywhere.  I don't know if this road has the same destination, and that scares me every day.  Even though I have accepted myself, that doesn't mean I am at peace.

I often forget that my journey is far from over.  The destination, whatever it may be, is miles in the distance.  I may find peace many more times, and just as many times it might be taken from me.  I need to trust that this is not what the next sixty years will feel like.  I need to have faith that there is something to hope for.  I sometimes wonder if my choices are between an empty life and a hollow eternity.  If I choose what makes me happy today, will the promise of eternal joy still be mine?  Each day I get out of bed is a choice to believe there is something more waiting for me in the next sunrise.  I have to believe that, or I don't think I'll have the strength to continue.

~Bridey J.

It's Been A While

First I would like to apologize to what ever readers I actually have out there.  I have about six or seven posts I've started and then decided I would finish it at a later time and then never came back.  I've been dealing with who knows how many people these last few weeks because of the panel we had on campus, and then the seemingly-perfectly-timed-and-planned-but-in-reality-not-really-planned-at-all release of the group's "It Get's Better" video (I already posted it somewhere on here), and all the press from that.  My name is now in I can't even begin to count number of newspapers, magazines, blog posts, and other internet things.  Weirdly enough, my biggest concern is that someone will hear my name and like it and give it to their child and then I won't be the only one, because I like my name and I really like being the only one.  On top of all that crazy stuff happening, I had finals.  My dad might murder me a little (or a lot) if I admit that all this Gay stuff might have had a negative effect on my final grades, because it really stressed me out and left me with not a lot of time to study in the end...so let's keep that between you and me.

I have talked to so many people, and have ignored so many more.  At first they were all asking "Why did you do it?" and "Who the hell are you?" and now all they're asking is "What's your real agenda? Why are being so vague? Does it really get better?" and crazy stuff like that.  I'm being analyzed and attacked from both sides and to those people I say...you may have listened, but you didn't really hear a single word we said...and I hate you all because you stress me out.

I feel like I have a lot to say, but when I think about it I get full of emotions.  I have this problem where no matter what I feel, be it happy, sad, angry, afraid, or sleepy, if I feel a lot of it then I will cry.  This is not a voluntary response, I assure you. Cut my hand off while juggling chainsaws...cry.  Feel like no one is really listening...cry.  Reading the chapter when Dumbledore dies...cry.  Can't find matching socks...cry.  Shout out to my great grandma Elfie, for passing on the crazy gene.  My point is that I will be moving forward and trying not to dwell on all the crazy things that have gone down and are sure to come.  I'm in a new place, and I might be getting an amazing job, and recently I've been spending my time with some extraordinary people.  Here's to the future the begins right now.

~Bridey J

Moments of Impact

I'm so sorry for such a long time between posts.  School has got me finding probability density functions and regression equations from the moment I get up to when I finally crash somewhere in the wee hours of the morning.  Things are slowing down a bit so I'll start writing more regularly again.

I recently went and saw the movie The Vow staring Channing Tatum and Rachel McAdams. It's about a married couple that are deeply in love. They get in a car wreck and she flies through the windshield and she looses her memory up to before the time that she met him. She wakes up and has no idea who he is (I promise that this is nothing you couldn't figure out from watching the trailer, so I haven't spoiled anything).  The thing I found interesting was not only could she not remember who her husband was but she couldn't believe that she had become the person he had fallen in love with.  She couldn't understand why she had made the choices she did, how she ended up where she was, or even why she had become a vegetarian.

She was still the same person, but it was like she had gone back in time.  It was more than just missing memories, it was missing life.  Every day is filled with moments where choices are made.  Most of the time it seems that these are mundane, where one hour just runs into the next and you could "copy-paste" the week from the one before.  But the truth is it's those moments that make up who we are, no matter how unimportant they may seem.  You have a personality, which can be seen since the time you're born, that may dictate how you react to a situation.  However, every experience we live through, every choice we make, is added to the make up of who we are.  It becomes part of the driving force in our life that makes decisions.  It becomes part of the way we think and the things we want and the people we keep around us.

I've often heard the question posed "If you could take a pill that would make you straight, would you?"  My answer now, and forever more, will be no.  The things I've been through, including all the depression and stuff from having to deal with being gay, make me who I am.  I look at the world the way I do because of what I've been through.  If I were straight I wouldn't have had lived through all the same moments.  I wouldn't have the same relationship with my God the way I do.  I wouldn't have gotten to meet so many wonderful people.  I wouldn't have the same deep understanding of love and compassion that I've found on my journey.  There may have been some times where I didn't like that moment I was living through, but I wouldn't change any of them for the world.

~Bridey J.

Hey Listen

I feel like I want to write, but I don't know what to say. I feel like I have so much inside of me that I want to get out before I explode. My friend Braidan says I should just write and let it come out and worry about making sense later. But I can also hear my dad's voice in the back of mind warning me not to complain. It's not that I'm not allowed to complain, but it really doesn't take a lot of effort to get online and start complaining to the anonymous world you never really have to face. If I'm going to give myself a voice I want it to be strong, and worth listening to. I want to be heard.

My whole life I've felt like I've never really been heard. It always seemed like time after time I didn't even have control over my own life. I somehow couldn't understand how to play the game. Kids used to pick on me when I was younger. I tried telling teachers, but no one listened. This one girl was especially mean calling me names every single day, so I finally did something. I got her unlisted phone number from one of her friends and told her that if she didn't stop I would have my parents call her parents and tell them what she's been doing. She started to cry and make this big scene and the teachers came over and in the end I was the one who got in trouble because I made her cry. No one even cared that she was the one making me cry every day.

This last semester here at the BYU I had roommates who treated me like I was nothing. They passive aggressively (and sometimes not so passively) made me feel ashamed of who I was for no other reason than they didn't like it. They told me I was against what they believed and that it was my fault that they were angry. I would sit in my bed all day thinking of how I could fix this and the only thing I could think of was to not be gay anymore. I had tried all that before, so I know the only way to do that would be to not live any more. I went to the administration and told them how bad it was, but all I heard was that these girls had a right to hate me because I refused to change.

Listen, I don't know who's reading this. I don't know if you found this because we're friends on Facebook, or you know me from USGA. For all I know you accidentally clicked the wrong link and have no clue where you are. I remember searching all over the internet for hours at a time for anybody out there who might understand the hell I was going through. I was desperately looking for someone who would give me a voice, because mine has been stomped out over and over again. Now I'm screaming at the top of my lungs...but is anybody listening?

~Bridey J

Hindsight is 20/20

A look back at how my 2011 went. I know everybody who has a blog is probably doing one of these, so I won't feel bad if you think "not another one" and skip right on to the next one.

I have this unfortunate habit of thinking in terms of school years, or sometimes how old I am at the time. And since neither the first day of school, nor my birthday, happen on December 31/January 1 (although my friend's birthday does) it's sometimes a bit hard for be to think back on a year in terms of the calendar year. But you ARE my favorite reader (don't tell the other's, they'll get jealous) so I'll try just for you ;)

January:
It started out at a new years eve party and we turned on the Glee soundtrack to bug my brother. So the first 30 minutes of 2011 were amazingly awesome. But it ended in the crazy hospital for a week, so who knows where this is headed.

February:

It's shorter than the other months. I've always wondered if this gave it a complex. I got a new roommate from BYU-H. She turned out to be amazing and took pictures of everything :)

March:

This month always gets lost in a blur of midterms and depression, so I bought a ukulele to help me make it through the winter.

April:

I was introduced to Doctor Who so catching up on that kinda of took over my world. Life has never been the same and I am not complaining one bit :D

May:

I started my blog! I realize I don't write as much as I would like, but it's good to know that I'm getting my voice out there somehow. I also accidentally came out to most of my family via this blog, but they have been so amazing, so it's all good.

June:

I rekindled an old childhood friendship via Facebook that has turned out to be nothing but amazing (I love you!) and I made it through my first semester teaching statistics. I've never stayed in Utah past April before, so it was an adventure. I was drained by the end, but it was worth it.

July:

First year that aerial fireworks were allowed in Provo, so of course people in my apartment complex were shooting them off well into the night. This wasn't so bad except the swamp cooler pulled in the smoky air from outside and the fire alarm kept going off all night long. I slept through it all though.

August:

I somehow officially inherited USGA.

September:

School started again, and I was quite optimistic, given the awesomeness of the previous school year. Unfortunately my roommates saw to it that life would be quite miserable.

October:

The beginning of this month is kind of a blur...but I do remember that I cut the head off a jello bear for my birthday and I dyed my hair blue. Also my friends and I were Amy Pond, River Song, and The Doctor for Halloween :)

November:

Circling the Wagons in SLC --> lots of new friends. So many late night parties with my friends. Passing out fliers and getting in trouble. Spent Thanksgiving with the extended family here in Utah, and got to eat real food.

December:

As a reward for not dying by now I went home to visit my family. I also finally read "The Hunger Games".

Overall it was a good year. It had some really rough patches, but I'm still alive, and kickin'.

2012...prepare to get your ass kicked.

~Bridey J