On One Hand

January 31, 2006

Protected: fuck

Filed under: Uncategorized — ononehand @ 10:03 pm

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Filed under: Uncategorized — ononehand @ 11:11 am

Last night at 1 am I got to my car to find my headlights left on and the battery dead. Thirty seconds later, after slamming the car door and stomping back to my apartment, I realized that my apartment key was hanging from my car’s ignition, locked away.

I had someplace to stay, and trudged exhausted for 30 minutes to Clay’s apartment, which was thankfully close to the building my 8:30 am class was in the next morning.

It’s all about trusting the Universe. My dad was supposed to come up to Boulder sometime this week, so now I can tell him to come sooner than later, and bring an extra key and jumper cables. He can also bring my books, which I had delivered to my parents’ house, so I won’t have to go there and get them. I’m lucky that this happened at a time I don’t have to work until next Saturday.

I was locked out of my apartment but I had my backpack on, and everything I needed was in it: a toothbrush, my homework, journals, paper, pens – and anything else I could need short of an extra pair of socks. I was wearing warm clothing and had my matches and five cigarettes, which would last me a few days.

I didn’t do the reading for a journalism class the next afternoon because the reading never showed up in my email, and I was coming up to a solid day of class with no breaks in which to do it. I was thinking of ditching the the journalism class, but found out later that the class was canceled anyway because the professor got food poisoning.

The best news was that I had my school I.D. card in my pocket, so I could print my homework for a creative writing class using money on the card. My card is usually attached to my keys but it serendipitously fell off two weeks ago so that I could have it with me now. More serendipitous is the way I found out my I.D. card was missing: I got a telephone call from a cop, who told me he had just arrested a guy with my card in his pocket. Hours after dropping my card it was picked up by a stranger, and hours after the stranger picked up my card he was picked up by the police. I checked my keychain and sure enough my I.D. was gone, and the officer delivered it to me later that night since he was having a slow evening.

On an unrelated note, my ex boyfriend is named Matt and his best friend is named Matt, and when we were dating the three of us Matts would hang out in my ex’s apartment with Matt’s roommate and Matt’s roommate’s boyfriend, who was also named Matt. My ex lived in Fort Collins and I’m now dating someone named Clay who was dating a different Matt in Fort Collins at the same time that I was seeing my own Matt from Fort Collins.

I printed my work for the poetry class I miraculously got in to because they were desperate for more students. By yet another stroke of luck it fit my schedule.

The bad news is that I stink right now and want to get to my deoderant and a shower.

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January 30, 2006

Want Green

Filed under: Uncategorized — ononehand @ 12:27 pm
Tags: ,

want green queer tick hot young boy chick
cunt fuck dick suck want some no luck

great grey leek leech flick like none peach
mate pump red way she say got gay

none less day flea bought more time see
pun goat deep throat crash plank show boat

crack hear got cheer snort that blow dear
slack whore snake coy she fucks fat boy

shin stare pink hair taste crop cock fight
sin choke skin cloak read weed boom smoke

ton sight arm tight wet kiss long night
sun done bed won down deep done right

Boulder Daily Camera

Filed under: Uncategorized — ononehand @ 11:04 am

Newspaper photographs never fail to present me as pale and sickly. At least I can give them credit for being true to life.

Has anyone looked at the print edition of Saturday’s Boulder Daily Camera? That paper ran a story about Campus Press reporters on that day and I am in the photo of the online edition. I’d like to know if I’m in the print version as well – Saturday is the only day I don’t get the paper.

My photo was taken right before I turned to find an enormous lens about two feet from my face. Five seconds later my ex boyfriend called my cell phone and I had to ignore the ring and pretend to be engaged in my editor’s conversation while the photographer clicked away.

I’m not quoted anywhere in the news story, but for some odd reason the Camera editors decided that the photo looked active or some shit and decided it should be the one photo used in the article.

January 28, 2006


Filed under: Uncategorized — ononehand @ 10:31 pm
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What is love supposed to feel like?

No one can answer that question except through awkward comparisons. People say it’s like butterfiles in your stomach, electricity moving across your skin, weak knees, shivers or so forth. No one can directly say how love feels; love feels like love.

But what I can say with certainty is that love is expected to feel good. For me it is good in brief flashes but then it hurts far more and far longer. The most optimistic thing I can say about my situation is that I’m just not ready for love yet, and that’s why it has gone this way over the last five years; that even when it’s relatively good it’s still absoloutely not working.

A pessimistic answer would be that it actually does hurt this bad always. I’m not pessimistic. When I was a teenager I read something about my personality type that said I wouldn’t be ready for love until I was around 29. I called the book bullshit and slammed it closed in shock and disappointment. Now I’m thinking that the book’s conclusion is actually a reason to hope.

((I wonder if I would suddenly lose my motivation to write if everything I want started working. That would be sort of sad, but if being a writer necessitates hurting constantly I don’t want to be a writer anyway. And what’s so bad about writing about joy. That’s what I want.)) I want I want I want… .

…I want someone I can brag about to all my friends and adore in my writing. I’m seeing someone who I try to brag about but it seems fake because, as great as he may be, I’m really not happy.

I’m getting trapped in what I need to get out of and the longer I stay the harder it will be to walk away. I stay because I still have this glimmer of hope that it will work out, but the fact that he seems to act as if things are just fine when they’re NOT leads me to wonder if this is how it will always be with him. “Just talk,” he says, “you need to tell me how you feel.” He’s so sweet. But he needs to realize that I don’t want to be complaining to him all the time, which I would be if I were completely honest. Besides, he doesn’t even know if he wants to be “in a relationship” or not, so how could I possibly open up completely and make myself so vulnerable. If he decides he wants me he can have every little piece and we can work from there. For now, the one thing I have learned from him and the guy before him is to bite my tongue, which I still think of as a virtue in spite of my desire for an idealistically honest relationship.

I have absolutely become my ex boyfriend. Now at least I understand why he had to hurt me. He was utterly tormented. He said so and I didn’t beleive him then.

This is so disappointing because this guy I’m seeing seems like a wonderful person and I wish I could just feel like he was into me. I wish I felt like he was saying glowing things about me when I’m not around the way I have done for him. I wish he wanted to show me off to his friends. He did that for like two weeks after I met him and then stopped. When I tell him what I need from him he always says yes, only for me to find that it’s not really what I needed. I’ve known all along that what I need is for him to give me what I need without me asking. That’s exactly what I need and ALL I need. He needs to care to give more than I care to want.

Maybe the lesson will be that I want and ask for everything, exhausting all possibilities, until I learn that what I really need is nothing. Voila, I reach enlightenment. No, I’m totally lying about that. I’m just being negative. The more bitterness I accumulate the harder it will be for me to finally open up if he ever lets me think it’s safe.

OK ok, it’s not like I ever saw him as a soul mate or thought I’d be with him for the rest of my life. But you know, a few months of me and someone else being absolutely absorbed in each other would be nice. An entanglement with no definite conclusion – a road that disappears over the horizon rather than ending at some blunt and inescapable block in plain sight that urges me to keep a shield up. Right now I see this road leading to an impossibly steep cliff, and it appears that the road ends there. I do not know that for certain, which is why I continue to invest more and more in this in spite of my better judgement.

January 24, 2006

Sorority Bid Night – Deferred Rush

Filed under: Uncategorized — ononehand @ 1:07 pm
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Published in The Campus Press

Spring recruitment successful despite lower numbers
Matt Pizzuti
Staff Writer

About 341 women received bids to join sororities in the face of circumstances that were not ideal Wednesday night in this year’s formal recruitment, said Membership Recruitment Coordinator Bailey Donovan.

Members of the Greek system were nervous about recruitment this year after a change in policy pushed recruitment back to spring rather than fall.

Donovan, a senior chemical engineering major, noted that the numbers were “a little bit lower than we expected.”

Sororities anticipated 20 percent fewer recruits based on numbers from other campuses that switched to spring recruitment, said John Henderson, Director of Greek Affairs.

Roughly 550 women started the recruitment process to get into CU’s sororities this year, down from 600 to 700 women in a normal year, Henderson said.

Panhellenic President Katie Matthews, a senior integrative physiology major, said deferred recruitment has put sororities at a disadvantage.

“We miss a full semester of getting membership dues,” Matthews said, and noted that the money lost can reach up to $30 thousand a year in some houses.

“Our numbers are lower now,” she said. “I still think fall recruitment is best for this campus. The sororities will try to go back to fall recruitment sometime.”

Henderson said the focus is now placed on retaining recruited members. He hopes a higher percentage of new sorority members return at the start of their sophomore year after the change.

“We’re anxious and excited to see what the retention rate is going to be for this group,” Henderson said.

He said many believe that women recruited in the spring are more likely to stick to their decision to join a sorority.

“Folks seem to have a better sense of what they want than active members saw in past recruitments,” Henderson said. “Women who waited patiently for a semester are really interested.”

One new recruit would seem to agree.

“Now you know who you are,” said Kristy Dietz, a freshman fine arts major, as she waited to see which sorority would invite her to join. “By the time it comes to rush, you know that the stereotypes about sororities aren’t true.”

But Dietz said she would have preferred to rush in the fall.

“I went through rush to meet other people,” Dietz said. “If I had rushed in the fall, I would have more friends by now.”

Some sorority members were as anxious about recruitment numbers as they were a year ago when the decision to delay recruitment was made, Henderson said.

“It just feels different,” Henderson said. “You still have people who run the gamut” in their views on the situation. “Some people are going to want to change recruitment back to fall next year.”

Henderson added, “some people think the lower number of recruits directly results from spring recruitment, and that’s never going to change.”

But Henderson praised the way recruitment was conducted, saying that sorority members and recruiters did a good job running recruitment.

“They way they put on the spring formal recruitment shows how strong the sorority community really is,” he said.

Donovan agreed with Henderson’s sentiment.

“We’re really proud of the way the chapters pulled together,” she said.

Things I Hate Today

Filed under: Uncategorized — ononehand @ 12:54 am
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Online profiles that on gay websites that say “Occupation: Model/Student.” It’s great that, by virtue of the fact that you’re recognized by a title, your life is now valuable for the fact that you’re objectively that much more gorgeous than the rest of us. That is, the rest of us trolls, for whom modeling is that golden pipe-dream we would rather do than all of our trivial aspirations we’re going to school for. You’ve modeled once in your life at an amature shoot or for 3 hours a month for some 40-year-old pedophillic photographer who, in hopes that you’ll give him a blow job, does an amazing job at making your 19-year-old underdeveloped body look muscular. It’s obviously worth listing as one of the two things that form your social identity. No, I take it all back, you are a god, and for that we will surely let go down on us in the back seat your bought-used beat-up car. Or fuck us. Without protection. We’ll risk it, because you’re that incredible.

People who hate strippers and Britney Spears. So I guess a girl who can pick up a lifesaver with her tits and drop it in a guy’s mouth is on the verge of destroying feminininty as we know it. The self-depricating girls who finger themselves on stage undermine everything that makes you a woman: life was fine until you went to that show with your guy friends, and then suddenly, you can’t put on your makeup in the morning! Your bras are feeling roomy! Your feet are big and clunky and any day now your periods will stop! Since you would never do what strippers do, it would absolutely kill you to be indifferent. You have to take a stand! You need to frown on them as they wait your table as a day job. You need to avoid their company so they know: that isn’t dancing! You could dance just as well – it’s just that you’d never sink to their level: you are a sexually liberated, open-minded, modern-day woman, not some WHORE!

Customers who complain. It’s true, sir, it’s totally my fault that we can’t take your gift card and cash the whole thing when you buy a two-dollar bottle of Mountain Dew. We all know that Corporate sets policy on the advice of $6.50-an-hour cashiers, and I absolutely agree with every one of my company’s decisions on how much guacamole you get for fifty cents. I am part of a enormous, secret plot to have your coupon expire the day before you try to use it, and yes, I was the one who planted that blonde hair in your sandwich six hours before I got here even though my hair is brown. The only reason I won’t break my manager’s policy to give you a refund is that I, sir, am an asshole. I love being difficult. There’s nothing that gives me more joy as an employee than having you stand here on a busy afternoon and block the line. You’re right, we do get paid too much to be here: see that tip jar with a dollar and a dime in it? We emptied it a mere three hours ago and now it’s already going to break thirty cents split between the three of us! Oh please don’t take my manager’s number and call her! She’ll totally care that the soup was too thick! And she doesn’t know that Jose “can’t speak good English,” he lied when he told her he could!

And that reminds me, I hate people who bitch about “the Mexicans.” Like, what were those brown people thinking trying to get jobs anyway! They are hoping to re-claim the West for Mexico, and speaking Spanish in the break room undermines American liberty. This country was founded on freedom: that is, the freedom to be a white, native-born, English-speaking, self-superior, politically-apathetic college dropout.

Gay guys who say “I can’t stand flamers.” It is the biggest turn-off possible. You want to campaign for respect getting fucked in the ass, but wait, this other guy gets fucked in the ass and flits his wrists? That’s way worse! So you smugly and scathingly say, “I hate fem guys; I like guys so don’t act like a girl.” Oooh, clever: you have just managed to be homophobic and chauvinistic in one sentence because you were blessed with being both queer and manly! You say “I’m ‘str8-acting’,” so that your very self-definition is that you act like something you’re not. And you manage to type it cutely with letters AND numbers, which is, by the way, the gayest possible way to say it. You don’t want the line of acceptability to be drawn leaving you on the outside; you want your relationships approved. But you insist on drawing it just outside you, so that you are in and the next guy over is out. Congradulations, sir, YOU are of exactly the mindset this nation was founded on.

January 23, 2006

Only 55 Years till Retirement

Filed under: Uncategorized — ononehand @ 11:11 am
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I’m angry. It’s something that bubbled up today seemingly out of nowhere. I’m suddenly frustrated that I always think my life is on the verge of becoming wonderful and then nothing happens. (And maybe it has something to do with the fact that I just quit smoking.) If you are a person I yelled at today, know that I am sorry.

When I was 13 and getting my ass kicked at school every day, I tried to hide the bruises from my dad because he would get pissed that I wasn’t “defending myself” and put his fist through a wall. Right around the time that I stopped being able to cry, right after my uncle died with HIV and I realized I was a fag and had to go to the emergency room with a sprained ankle after getting pushed down the stairs of my middle school, I started lying to my parents about getting picked on and drew into myself for years. I started saying, “the scratch is from playing soccer, mom,” because otherwise she would cry and I would feel guilty for being so effeminate. I started thinking just make it to high school, make it to high school.

Then in high school I was thinking just make it to college becaue I learned that high school wasn’t any better. I was in love with straight boys and my mom was saying she wanted to kill herself because her son is gay and “it hurts to see a son get beat up by the whole world, just like it was in middle school,” and “can’t you just become a priest?” and she cried because for two years she had thought my problems had gotten better. In college I thought, I’ll have a boyfriend and be in love, because I assumed for some reason that being in love is easier or more satisfying than not being in love, a state I now yearn for. I was totally utterly guarded from the whole world and wished nothing more than to let one person under that shell. Now I know the catch-22 of finding a person to trust, which feels good, but also scares the shit out of you because you know that trusting a lot means it hurts exactly that much more when they get sketchy and drop you.

Now I’m thinking just graduate from college, things will be better then, you’ll have a career and a partner and all of this doubt will be answered.

Does it ever end? Can anyone who’s 40 tell me “yes, it gets easier and you find happiness.” Because my parents still fight and my mom still cries about something every day, my grandmother is going through chemotherapy and at 60 years old she lost a son, which she still gets upset about now at 67, and the terrorists could strike at any minute and we are mourning thousands of men my age who are marching off into a black hole called Iraq to die and the President wants to make my love illegal and everybody seems to be pounding their fists into the Earth waiting desperately for next year. So do people say “yes, it gets better,” or do they say “no, that’s what life is, which is why everyone invented all these religions to hope for something better afterword.” Ironically, as a homosexual recovering Catholic I can honestly say it is religion that has given me more angst than everything else in life combined, so maybe I can find some refuge in Buddhism or some shit like that.

No, I’m not finished, I’m writing another one right after this.

January 21, 2006


Filed under: Uncategorized — ononehand @ 9:40 pm

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