Category: My Ramblings

Mild day,

kind of grey.

I’m feeling a little bit rotten,

coming down with a cold,

don’t worry,

I’ll live,

Butches are tough:-)

Although as far as butches go,

I don’t know how tough,

I can be considered,

after all,

my moniker is,

bookish butch.

Bookish is not the type of word,

that inspires visions of toughness.

Perhaps,

I am more sensitive,

than tough:-)

I went for a long walk today,

to clear my head to try and focus.

I’m not sure it worked,

but,

the exercise is good.

My heart hurts,

I’m sad,

and it’s February.

I think many of us feel that way.

I think I’ll read.

Oh,

and I’ll watch Jennifer Beals,

in her new show.

Beautiful woman,

in a uniform,

works for me.

Things are looking up!!

When you feel the way I feel,

you live vicariously through books,

and television.

Later girls,

BB

Well, the sky opened up,

and we got a lot of snow,

 it’s,

very pretty.

The Habs won again,

two in a row.

I’m doing the wave!!

The subject of the day,

What can you and, can’t you, blog about?

I’m sure that most of us,

who have a blog,

that can be considered,

of a personal nature,

occasionally,

or even,

frequently,

debate with ourselves,

what is or isn’t,

appropriate.

I ask myself this question,

a lot,

I have even posted,

and then removed,

posts,

that I regretted.

I didn’t regret them,

for the feelings,

they expressed,

or even for the style,

everyone writes a boring post, once in a while

but,

for the possibility of someone,

being,

offended or hurt.

It goes without saying,

that my intention is,

Never,

to offend or hurt,

but,

I believe I have,

a few times,

and for this I say,

Mea Culpa.

Some people have therapists,

some people have confidantes,

some people have partners,

I have bookish butch.

Through bookish butch,

the blog,

soon to be a feature motion picture, coming to a theatre near you:-)

I have expressed first and foremost,

my love of books,

and their importance in my life.

I have also,

this is particularly true,

lately,

expressed the hopes and fears and pratfalls,

of, my tortured soul:-)

and maybe,

have gone to a place,

that is too personal.

Some people,

friends,

mostly,

have expressed,

concerns about this,

others,

respond very positively and tell me,

I should censure as little as possible,

that it is personal and visceral,

and that’s what they like.

Who is right?

I don’t know?

both?

Maybe.

All writing is subjective,

your truth,

your interpretation,

personal, not objective.

I am not a writer,

I am a woman,

a butch,

a blogger,

with a slightly fictitious persona,

I don’t write novels,

I read them,

I blog about them,

I don’t write and re-write,

and edit and re-edit,

I feel or think something,

I post about it,

it is my way,

this isn’t art,

 it’s life,

 and blogging. 

I think that sometimes,

life is,

silly,

obsessive,

impudent,

reflective,

hurtful,

beautiful,

hopeful,

and over enthusiastic.

Yesterday, I asked you,

Do You Believe in Love at First Sight?

and today,

I ask,

What can you and, can’t you, blog about?

So,

come out of the shadows and tell me,

what you think,

Please.

Later girls,

BB

**don’t forget to check out Venus Magazine**

It’s really coming down out there.

Days like these,

you wish you could,

skip work.

The Habs won last night,

in overtime against The Capitals,

Ovechkin’s bunch.

I expect it to be slow at the bookstore,

slow is good,

I need time to read,

The Price Of Salt for the GLBTQ Challenge.

Basically, I have a pile of books,

waiting for me,

and that’s what snowstorms are for,

right?

Mind you 15 to 20 cm,

is barely a snowstorm.

the American midwest,

they are getting a snowstorm.

I have been talking and writting,

a lot lately,

now I need to read.

Hard to read when you can’t,

concentrate.

Hard, to write when you have,

not much to say.

Thanks for your support.

Later girls,

BB

I went to my friend’s funeral,

this morning.

It was cold and grey,

not as cold as expected,

But,

just as grey.

Her family was represented,

as were her friends,

it was a solemn occasion.

She was buried,

according to the rites and customs,

of her people,

her ancestors,

and that is how,

it should be.

Thirteen men said Kaddish,

which is beautiful.

I am not a religious woman,

but,

I believe in tradition,

I believe in the importance of acknowledging,

the passing of  life,

I believe in respect,

I believe in the sanctity of friendship,

I believe in the soul.

It’s a hard thing to watch,

your friend being lowered,

into the ground.

Betsy, is the first friend,

I lose to death.

I have lost loved ones,

quite a few,

grand-papa,

dad,

grandmaman,

but,

never friends,

I guess that is rare for a person of,

middle years.

To know you will,

never hear her voice,

again,

that’s tough.

She was one of those people,

you could call,

to bail you out of jail,

she would have worn,

a disapproving frown,

but,

she would have come.

You don’t get,

many of those.

I know she rests in peace,

she was an honourable,

woman.

Later girls,

BB

The cold is Siberian.

I have been on a roller coaster of emotion,

all weekend.

Worrying about plans for my friend’s funeral,

things seem to be settled,

on that front at least,

I still don’t know when,

exactly,

but,

will find out today.

It has been a comfort to know,

that people did care.

I don’t think we should ever assume,

that people are really alone.

Betsy, lived alone,

she was not and is not,

 alone.

I hope I can be there to hear Kaddish.

I’m upset and troubled about so many things,

I may need to rename the blog,

bookish butch melts down:-)

or whatever.

I started this year,

as you may recall,

optimistic and pumped for the future.

The first few weeks were good,

even sales at the store,

were decent,

which is practically unheard of,

for January.

Things were great,

everyone was healthy and happy.

Friends,

introduced me to a lovely woman,

we went out,

 it was delightful.

I looked forward,

to slowly getting to know each other,

possibly developing a relationship,

but,

…

The prospect seems dim.

I think as usual,

I suffered from over enthusiasm,

and intensity.

That should be,

one of my projects for the year,

work on not being so scary:-)

Personally, I enjoy intensity,

to me,

intensity= passion.

Passion is an important thing,

towards life, love, your career,

passion and curiosity are the great,

motors in my life,

they are what propel me forward.

Some people,

 fear,

 propels forward,

or worse,

hate.

I refuse to loose my faith in love,

and in the inherent good of people,

nobody’s perfect,

we must all live with our demons.

You have to get up every morning,

and try again.

My biggest problem,

 is,

 I think and reflect too much,

it can occasionally border on the obsessive.

Why do I do what I do?

Could I have been better?

more sensitive?

more understanding?

The fact is,

I’m far from perfect,

like every human creature on the planet,

I try my best to be sincere and real.

I over analyse,

I write to many sentences,

trying to be clear and concise,

ironic,

attempting succinctness through verbiage:-)

I wonder if everyone is as confused and messed up,

as me,

you think I would have learned,

 a few things over the years.

Well…

I’m 45 and still sort of clueless.

Later girls,

BB

Good morning, all.

I’m sorry,

 if my last few posts have been,

sad and angry,

but,

I needed to get it out.

Today, Saturday,

I will be working at the bookstore,

and going to a family dinner.

Once or twice a year,

my mom and I and my ex,

visit my dad’s cousin.

She lives with her daughter,

well they live together,

which is not quite the same thing.

Eva, that’s my dad’s cousin,

always makes stuffed cabbage,

in the traditional Hungarian manner.

As a sort of,

after Christmas treat for us.

It is the food I love above all others.

My mom won’t make it anymore,

she says it takes too much time,

and,

she’s too old.

It is time consuming,

but,

mom,

isn’t really that old.

My mom is older,

she turned seventy last June,

she’d be pissed if she knew,

 I was telling you this.

In the last few years,

mom has slowed down.

She went from being,

Speedy Gonzalez,

remember him?,

to be being a normal speed,

sixty year old,

this is not a situation,

she appreciates.

Mom has worked from the day,

she turned fourteen,

until the day she retired at sixty.

She took five years off,

and when I bought the bookstore,

she started again.

In the last two years,

mom has had some health issues,

a seventy year old body,

gives you more trouble,

than a forty year old body.

So,

now she works,

Thursday and Friday mornings,

it’s enough for her,

and it helps me immensely.

Mom and I live together,

we did it initially for financial reasons,

but,

we also enjoy each other’s company.

We have dinner together most nights,

and we share the household tasks,

although,

she admittedly does more,

but,

I do all the heavy lifting and garbage:-)

When, we first moved in together,

I felt like a bit of a failure,

pathetic old butch,

lives with her mom.

But, I don’t live with my mom,

we live together.

Roomates,

with all the advantages,

my mom cooks and takes care of so many things,

and the disadvantages,

she sometimes freaks if I come home late.

But, over the last few years,

we have come to understand,

and appreciate each other.

It’s not about love,

we always loved each other,

it’s about mature women,

in different stages of their lives,

living together and appreciating each other.

Sure, we bicker,

we’re family,

but,

we’re there for each other,

we’re family.

Many, people when they hear,

I live with my mother,

get a gentle smile on their faces,

and tell me,

I wish I got along with my mother,

or,

I wish mine was still around.

Also,

some think I’m crazy,

and get a glazed look in their eyes.

But, you know,

on the whole,

we manage.

We need each other,

and have each other’s,

unconditional love,

and that sure ain’t chopped liver:-)

Later girls,

BB