This semester was just a doozy (doozie? doo-z? dew-zee? Whatevs). My GPA will plummet because of it, and I'll work my ass off next semester in hopes of mitigating the damage in more hopes that I'll be able to get into a decent grad school in even more hopes that I'll get my PhD in one thing or another.

However, my semester is officially over. I am at home with my family, away from my friends, professors, classes, and my lady. In other words, I really have nothing better to do with my life. Expect posts.

I'm amazed by how much things change, yet how much they don't. I can still laugh with my friends from high school. I can go without seeing them for months and pick up exactly where we left off. We're all different people now, but we get along fabulously. But when I hang out with them, I'm reminded how long ago everything was. High school seems like a different lifetime. In a semester and a summer I'll be a senior in college (shitfuckohmygod). Everything is so different.

Yet I come home, and you still turn left on Angola and right on Centennial to get to my house. The scrap metal sculpture of a T-rex is still in front of that crazy old man's house. The train tracks that cross McCord are still horrendously uneven.

You would think after being away for so long, I would forget little details like these, or that they would change. Nope. They're still there. Seemingly frozen in time, all the while gradually changing. The same way I have gradually changed.

I never thought I would be completely over AD. I fell so hard for him that I never thought I would know a time when I wouldn't want a relationship with him. When I would be happy with where my life was - without him. When I could think about asking him out for coffee without hoping it would end up as something more than just coffee between friends.

But I've found my something more than just coffee between friends. And she's so amazing (granted, she makes my girly side come out more often [like now. :coughcough:], but I don't care). She makes me so happy. I never thought I would find someone I wanted more than him. But I did. And life is so fabulous.

Enough mush - even though I miss her like mad and could go on and on about her.

Doctor appointment on Wednesday. Surprisingly, it's not for anything serious. Just a consultation to get my wisdom teeth out. My health is no longer trying to kill me (wooo!) The pain in my leg has died down significantly and I'm even regaining feeling in it. I'm still taking my Cymbalta, though. I stopped taking it for about a month, and realized how much anxiety I actually do deal with. I always thought it was something manageable, but I didn't realize how bad it was until I didn't have to deal with it for a while. Did I always facetiously think about killing myself so I wouldn't have to deal with classwork? Did I always have trouble falling asleep because I was thinking about everything I had to do? Did I always have shortness of breath because I was overwhelmed with everything I needed to do? Jesus. I must've been fucking nuts my first year and a half of college.

I'm burning out. I don't know if I can go for another so many years to get my PhD. But I know if I don't go to grad school as soon as I graduate college, I'll never go. So, I go. Maybe I'll go overseas for my PhD. That'll motivate me to keep going.

Blargh. Enough pondering. I'm going to go read.

Peace out.

To an extent.

I was sitting in my Gender in Fiction class last week, trying to get my thoughts together so I could articulate them and participate in the discussion going on. I was contemplating gender (obviously, since the class is Gender in Fiction) - the binary and the in between. The third gender. And then it hit me -

Third orientation.

That's it. That's me.

Queer? Straight?

Nope. Third. Other. Miscellaneous. Not bisexual. Not pansexual. Not queer.

Third.

The number is arbitrary - it could be fourth, fifth or sixth orientation, based on how many orientations you consider to exist. I use "third" orientation because of the relation to the third gender - the other gender. Third = other. At least in my mind. That and to me, there are two primary orientations - queer and straight. With most people, they're either one or the other - heternormative or non-heteronormative. With me, I feel that I'm neither and both.

Does that make sense?

I'm not gay. I'm not straight. Not bi, pan, or queer. I'm none of it and all of it. I'm outside of it and inside of it.

Why can't I just define myself as queer, though?

Queer is a huge umbrella term, and while it does encompass my identity, it's not specific enough. Third orientation is just enough specific and umbrella enough to work for me.

I feel like this fits me so much better.

However, I do have an internalized phobia of some kind. I think it's internalized heterophobia. To me, it makes more sense to call it bisexual guilt.

My queer identity is so much apart of me that when I'm attracted to someone of the opposite sex, when I'm perceived as straight, I feel guilty about it. I feel like I'm losing part of my queer identity and betraying... something? someone? I don't know. I end up being a self-hating... something. I'm not sure what exactly. Self-hating hetero? Self-hating gay?

I feel guilty about having that opportunity at privilege, which is silly, because guilt over privilege is privilege wasted.

So, in that sense, I'm still struggling with my identity.

But I feel like I've had a major break through. I feel like I can breathe a little better.

I really thought the relationship gods were against me for a while. What with the whole Massachusetts fiasco, and then what happened Saturday night with G.

I was supposed to hang out with her a while ago - we were going to go to Masque (the best gay club ever), but I fell asleep and my phone didn't ring when she called (otherwise I would have woken up). I was supposed to go see her play at Boston Stoker, but then I felt like death. And then Saturday, some friends and I were planning on going to Masque, so I invited her along. We got a late start and my friends said they didn't want to pay $10 to go for 2 hours so we didn't go, and I ended up flaking on her. Again.

So, a couple hours later she calls me.

"Hey, I'm at Masque with some friends, but we're looking for some other place to hang out. Know of any parties going on?"

Um. Fuck yes. The one I'm at. Come see me come see me come see me. Well, I'm at ______ right now. You should stop by.

"Yeah - we might do that."

And holy fucking shit she stopped by.

With her date for the night. I was disappointed, to say the least.

But we made plans to get coffee the next day. And we talked for forrreeeevvvvver (about 3 hours). I ended up asking her what the deal was with the girl she was with, and essentially, they have a thing, but they'll probably end up being just friends. We talked about hanging out again (going out for margaritas and having a Supernatural marathon with Cousin Vinny's pizza). And then she texts me today asking when our margarita night can happen :)

Things are lookin' up.

I'm trying not to get my hopes up though. Every time I do, they seemed to get smashed, especially as of late. I'm not dealing with that again.

But I'm excited :)