On “Butchness.”

Two relatively recent events surrounding the concept of “butch” identity have induced a bit of reflection for me. This is a bit long and rambly, folks. You’ve been warned.

“It’s a Girl!”

Today, I spent several hours at a local Nature Preserve and pool. Admittance is limited, since space in the park near the pool is extremely limited. Our group got there shortly after the park opened, paid our way in, and parked. We all geared up and made the quarter-mile steep-grade trek down to the pool.

Life is Filling with Win.

Life has been good to me, as of late.

Mature v. Old: Differentiate. Discuss.

I had a better narrative written here, but have decided not to post that. I find it too revealing; not necessarily of myself, but of others. I don’t know how these people would react, if they were to read such an in-depth story of our interactions in such a public space. This, of course, assumes that the individuals involved know of this thing’s existence and check it with any sort of frequency ever. However, I’ve gotten my ass bitten severely by assuming otherwise in the past, so I figured I’d play it safe[r] this time.

The Birthday.

The Birthday passed without much fanfare, thankfully. A few people caught on to Meredith O.’s lead on Facebook and said something. current commented on another social-networking site.  I think I let it slip around some other folks on campus, but fortunately they didn’t make a big deal about it. The biggest deal was when Mikey O. [of Meredith O. relations] came skulking around my house to deliver an adorable present combo from him and Meredith [oof, grammar issues?]. He skulked around my house [got there by memory, cute] because he couldn’t swing somehow planting the present on my apartment bed while I was gone. That would’ve been the creepies.