Well, it truly has been forever and a day since I updated. Last time I wrote, I had merely been accepted to UCSC, and here I am in my spring quarter in my dorm writing about what has happened in the long time in between.
Porter college is my home at Santa Cruz. I am a proud memeber of A2north (http://geocities.com/a_2_north) the performing arts hall. Porter is somewhat officially titled the arts college, and unofficially the gay college. It's home to the Lavendar Lounge, the Queer Fashion Show, and a gay married C.R.E. with an adopted son. The university as a whole has been named the most gay friendly public campus. It's an easy place to be gay.
We had a coming out dance which was a lot of fun and well attended by queer and queer friendly people. Not to mention the fact I was an attendee at the UCLGBTIA conference (which is now the western regional GLBTIA conference).
But really, what does it mean to be gay at a place where it's easy to be gay? It's been a big step for me in being comfortable and not having to look over my shoulder. I am an all girls Catholic school graduate, you know.
It means a queer identity isn't all of me, it's just something that is part of me. I don't carry around like a weight the way I once did. I am open and joking about my love life and my friends. And as I mentioned, that's easy up in medical-marijuana-just-south-of Sa_n Francisco-Santa Cruz. How about coming home?
Well, at home, my parents are still up tight, but the fact I have somewhere else I consider home makes them more tolerable. But how about relating to home?
I went out clubbing in Hollywood at an 80s themed place called "Clockwork Orange" with a dear (and very gay aristocratic friend) and we had a blast. We danced, we checked out people, and I even chased a girl around all night to find out she was straight. I didn't have the paranoia of being afraid of her sexuality, I was comfortable enough with mine to go for it without the assurance of hers. And I was wrong (although I have to really wonder about her...) and it wasn't a big deal. It was her loss really.
It's more of a battle to deal with people staring at my purple hair or making comments about my strict vegetarianism which is an identity I am struggling for. I worry about making sure I can afford to dry my clothes (quarters are a hot commodity) and spending time at the 7-11 at 2 AM when I get a craving while pulling an all-nighter.
And it's a very good feeling.