To the one I never Met

To the one I never met-

I never met you, yet I have stared at your picture countless times.

I always wonder if you looked like the photographs.

I never met you, but I’ve heard stories of you.

Each one different, tinged in happiness and in sadness.

I never met you, but I wondered what you were like.

Were you the good stories, or the bad stories, or both?

I never met you, but you made me angry.

How could you cause such destruction so whimsically?

I never met you, but you made me sad.

Didn’t you ever tire of living life like a two sided mirror?

I never met you, but you saved me.

You brought me to someone who made me whole when I was nothing but organs encased in skin.

I never met you but I wish I had.

You seemed chaotic and stoic and wild and calm all at the same time.

You were a hurricane of emotions, wonderful and terrifying all at once.

I never met you, but I wish I could talk to you.

I wish I could tell you that everything ended up alright.

I never met you, but I feel a strange connection to you.

You were the catalyst that made my life better, and without you, there’d be no her.

I never met you, but I wish I could thank you.

You taught her to love, and to enjoy life. You taught her to be brave, and to hold tight to the things she believed in.

And in return, she taught me those things too.

This is the Weekend Report!

Like the Lion King, except I think it was “The Morning Report”. Get it? No? Too obscure? Okay, moving on:

First off, to those Monday-Friday worker bees (like me), congrats! You made it through the work week! If you’re like me, you spend Saturday reveling in the fact that you’re not working but around 4 PM on Sunday will sink into a state of dread knowing you will be back at work the next day.

Anyways, being that this is the weekend before the big Turkey Day, there are a lot of things we have to do. For one, we must actually obtain the Turkey we plan to feast on. This was news to me, seeing that I always had Thanksgiving at home, I was under the impression that the Turkey just appeared. Wrong, as usual Celeste. On top of going frozen turkey-hunting, I’ll also be hunting down the sangria supplies as well, cause that sangria ain’t gonna make itself!

The other big item the lady and I are tackling are doing some upgrades to the kitchen. Since i have severe trust issues after the experience of renovating the condo, we will be doing these ourselves. So, thank God they’re only minor. We’ll be adding back splash to the kitchen, as well as painting the bottom cabinets gray. I’m addicted to HGTV and two tone kitchen cabinets always look good in those giant kitchens! Of course, if the Property Brothers want to stop by and take care of that I wouldn’t mind either. In case you’re not sure what I’m talking about, I’ll put some pictures here, as well as pictures of the actual event in the next post. This should be interesting……

Ohhh….Ahhhhh. Except this kitchen is 3 times the size of mine.

Happiness, and Weird Ways of Finding It

I think happiness is a tricky emotion, and I have struggled with it for a long time. The holidays always are a time for me to review the year and everything that has happened. It also serves as an emotional checkpoint for me. I think this checkpoint for me is the most important to date because I finally feel comfortable with myself, and most importantly, happy!

I think happiness is something that evolves as we  evolve. I think that the things that made me happy years ago don’t really do so now. I can remember when getting good grades made me happy (those were the days!) and now, getting a paycheck makes me very happy. But most importantly, I feel comfortable with who I am, and that makes me happiest of all.

For a long time, I struggled with what it meant to be happy. I struggled with being a person that made others happy, but not myself. False

Me, hugging Dennis the Dog. Because why not? Also, Dennis was not having it.

Me, hugging Dennis the Dog. Because why not? Also, Dennis was not having it.

happiness is a very real thing, but unfortunately its results just aren’t that satisfying. For a long time, I thought that maybe I just wasn’t meant to be happy. I struggled with coming out and depression, and in my mind, I thought that happiness was just something other people found. It took a lot of bumps in the road for me to realize, that ultimately, I was my own road bump. I used my identity and my depression as crutches to avoid trying to  be happy. I think I was scared of being happy, and to this day I really don’t understand why. But I took the first step and I reached out, and asked for help. I began to doing research, and finding out gay role models and following their stories. YouTube was a huge outlet for me, and I still follow many LGBT accounts like Kaelyn and Lucy and What Wegan Did Next. I’ve never met these people but they showed me that it’s possible to be yourself and be happy. I’ve linked their YouTube pages here as well, so if you’re interested I highly recommend their videos! I’ve often toyed with the idea of one day starting my own YouTube channel, so i’d certainly be interested if anyone has any thoughts on that.

Wow, I just completely strayed from the point I was trying to make. Back to Business!

I think that for me, I had to be brave to be happy. I had to have a lot of uncomfortable talks, lose some friends, and eventually gain a lot more. I had to learn to be proud of who I am, and my mother has always said that once you’ve gotten yourself together, the right person will come a long. And she did! If you had told me that 5 years ago, I would’ve said HELL NAH! If you told me I would be writing about this five years ago, I would’ve said HELL NAH! But I did, and I think if it’s something you’re struggling with, you can too. Sometimes, you have to bet on yourself, and take a risk.

As always, I appreciate the feedback and everyone who visits the blog! Thank you!

And also,  HAPPY FRIDAY!

-C

It’s that time again….

You know what I’m talking about:

The holidays, and everything that come with them.    

With this being the week before Thanksgiving, I can’t help but think that the holiday season is upon us. For one, I have a question. How did Thanksgiving go from the Pilgrims and Indians enjoying a meal together to me stuffing myself to the brim with turkey and becoming catatonic on my couch?

I don’t know, but I wouldn’t have it any other way. This Thanksgiving is going to be different, because it will be the first one that I don’t spend at home. That’s right, Celeste is throwing on her big girl pants and having her own Turkey Day. I know, what could go wrong?

The reason I’m staying in Charleston is that my lady and I are having our first Thanksgiving together. Seeing that she’ll be loading up the dogsled to head back to Maine for Christmas, this is the holiday we’ll get to be together. Also, her Dad is coming into town, so he’ll be staying with us and having Thanksgiving as well. The lady is an incredible cook, and well, I basically have to wear a bib when eating, so she’ll be handling the brunt of the cooking. However, I am preparing my own covered dish.

When I say covered, I mean uncovered. When I say dish, I mean bowl. And when I say solid, I mean liquid. Cause I’m making sangria.

Ain’t no Turkey day like a boozy Turkey  day, am I right?

I think the holidays bring up a lot of feelings, and lately I think I’m feeling a sense of nostalgia. Thanksgiving means spending time with the people who mean most to you and eating a drinking a ton…if you’re my family at least. This is the Thanksgiving I have grown up with. This is my first Thanksgiving away, and I feel like I’m finally on my own path. This is the first Thanksgiving I’ll spend with the person I want to be with forever, and we’ll be creating our own traditions. Which will mainly consist of eating and drinking a ton.

Maybe it’s not so different after all….

What kind of plans do you guys have for Thanksgiving? What kind of traditions do you have? Who has an amazing sangria recipe??

Until Later, gobble gobble gobble!

A Great Day for South Carolina and Equality

Have you ever had a day that started out horribly? That made you dread just what fresh hell the rest of the day could bring?

That was my morning. You see, my lady and I seem to be running a close business to Noah’s Ark in our home. We have 2 cats, and a dog (which you saw earlier) and about 1,000 sq ft to contain them.

I know, we might be animal hoarders. In case you want a look at the critters, I’ve put them below:

 

1956956_10204455415412640_3353241745090582384_o

Dennis the Dog

10662189_10204446782796830_6574033250603224263_o

Thing 1 and Thing 2

 

The cats are the rulers of the roost, and though Dennis the Dog is rather big, he still cowers at the sight of the two kitties. The kitty that made my morning so miserable is the large black one. This demon’s name is Mishka. You could say Mishka values the finer things in life. For example, refusing to drink water out of a bowl, and only from a running faucet. He also likes to sing opera at odd hours of the morning. Which is exactly what he did this morning, at 5 AM. Though he does a mean rendition of Pucnini, it was not the way I wanted to wake up.

To make matters worse, our garbage disposal also decided to go on the fritz this morning. Why, world, why? I am gloriously domestically challenged, and by that I mean that I thought “check engine” in your car meant to physically check to see if the engine was there.

I’m pretty dumb.

Aside from these two setbacks, I went to work, only imagining what else could go wrong. But, I got a pleasant surprise. A Federal Judge in Columbia, SC has overturned SC’s marriage ban!!! In case you want the details, the link is here. This is huge for gay couples in the state, and obviously for me. You see, I grew up under the impression that the role of government was to reward the people for following the rules. So i followed them. I stayed in school, went to a public university (go cougars!) and got a job after graduation. And I cry every time my paycheck arrives cut in half from taxes. I did all the right things, but I couldn’t marry in my home state. Explain to me how that’s fair?

Human Rights Campaign

I am so overjoyed that South Carolina has finally realized that all kinds of love, are indeed love. When I think about marrying my lady one day, i don’t think about the fact that she’s a woman. I think about how great of a person she is, and all the adventures we will have. I think it’s time our views of marriage shift from a definition of gender, to qualities like fidelity and commitment. If two people are committed and wanting to spend their lives together, isn’t that enough?

To say the least, today’s events have made my day much better. This morning, I couldn’t marry in my home state, and now I can! What a great moment for equality, and South Carolina.

The Tricky Art of Being Yourself

I think as children we always have ideas of what we will be like as adults, what our lives will be like. For some reason, I imagined myself being a lot taller.

But I never imagined myself being gay. This doesn’t necessarily mean that I wasn’t gay then, in retrospect, I see now that there were clues all along. I always grew up being told that I should always strive to be myself, and no one else.

As I have discovered as an adult, this is much easier said than done.

Once I realized I was gay at the ripe old age of 17 (making high school really fun) I was faced with a moral dilemma. Because unfortunately in the small town I grew up in, being yourself did not mean being your gay self. What if being myself didn’t fit in with other’s expectations? I struggled through college with this idea as well. Basically i had two selves: my straight self and my real self. Suddenly being yourself felt like keeping the world’s biggest secret. It means constantly having to fabricate excuses and lies and pronouns to cover the truth. And I’m not that clever to begin with, so this was really difficult for me. But humor aside, secrets are heavy. After years of carrying them, i felt my back straining under the weight. So I made a decision when I began coming out to my family and friends, that I would only be my real self.

I did this about as gracefully as I would dance in the Russian Ballet.

It was awkward, and clumsy and horrible. How do you say, “i know i’ve been telling you i’m straight all these years, but actually i am utterly and completely gay. any questions?”

There were lots of questions, and lots of feelings. But with all of these awkward and uncomfortable moments, i realized that one by one I was shedding the secrets that had made their home on my back for so long. As each one disappeared, I walked a little taller, and I felt a little lighter.

When I started to be myself, I thought the world would end and the town’s folk would chase me out of the city with pitchforks. But really, it was the opposite. I moved to a liberal city and was met with a lot of support and acceptance. Life went on, and I went on. Looking back now, I can’t imagine going back to that double life, not when my life is so great now.

I’m not a therapist, nor am I qualified to give any advice. Unless you need help choosing a clearance wine at Target on 8:00 on a Tuesday night, cause I’ve got your back!

However, I do have experience, and experience has taught me this. No matter how scary or how unorthodox it is, being your authentic self is the absolute best thing in the world. Because that self is the most beautiful version of you. I hope if you’re reading this and going through anything similar, know that you’re not alone. There’s a community who all have your back. If anyone reading this ever needs someone to listen, my proverbial door is always open. I would say physically, but it’s cold y’all and heat ain’t cheap! I’ve put the link to my bio page here, and this includes my contact info. Trust me, I’ll do a happy dance in my fuzzy slippers if I hear from you!

I hope that wasn’t too preachy. Or stupid. It was probably both.

-Celeste

Veterans Day

Good Morning All,

So, while I’m trying to get my wits about me and this writing everyday business, I’ve been thinking a lot about the overall process of writing. I think that everyone writes differently, and every creative process is unique. I envy those who write novels, because I don’t know if I could ever commit myself to a long and well thought out story. My tales are always short and spastic, much like me in general. But I have discovered that we have to write about topics that mean something to us. Today, my mind is on veterans day, so that’s what I’ll be rambling about.

My father was in the Navy, and my grandfather in the Air Force. I grew up hearing stories about deployments and cruises. In my childhood mind, it all sounded romantic really. I remember my mother telling me that when she was a child, my grandfather was stationed in Spain. She recalls one Christmas Eve that he was able to call home, and could barely be understood because of the reception. However, as soon as my Mom was on the line, my Grandfather says that her voice was as clear as a bell. It made one difficult holiday away a little less difficult.

Shortly after my parents married, my Dad was sent to flight school to train as a flight surgeon. The Navy had paid his way through Medical school, and in return, it was his time to serve. Though he has always has spoken about the places he saw and the experiences he otherwise might’ve not had, I cannot imagine the dread that hung in the air the day they had to say goodbye. Coming from someone who cried their eyes out when leaving for study abroad, I cannot imagine the weight of watching that person walk away. These couples, and these have families have my infinite respect. I’m not that strong or that selfless, but thankfully there people out there that are.

I think it’s important to recount these stories, especially on a day like today. I think that storytelling is a lost art, and these stories effectively are the dusty mementos that become locked in the old trunks of our minds. I think actively recounting these stories is a way of digging up these trunks, opening them, and dusting off the souvenirs. I think it’s something we all need to do. I’ve recounted stories to myself dozens of times, but there’s something about telling a story that makes us really feel something. The good stories make us nostalgic, and the bad ones show us how far we’ve really come. So ask someone, especially a person currently serving or a veteran, to dust off some stories. Chances are, you’ll make their day, and it might just make yours as well. I think we’re all full of stories that are as unique as our DNA.

I know that had nothing to do with anything I said I wanted to write about, but I have to get these thoughts out somehow okay?!

Thank you for reading, please comment, and I will hopefully have more stories and ramblings up soon! Remember I’m always up for suggestions!