A question for my hundreds of followers...

What's one of your favorite comfort foods?!

Mine is obviously string cheese.

Just another weekend.

Home sweet home.

Phew. Three days and 4958.5 miles.

I left Harrisonburg with little attention to the bittersweet closing to my first year of apartment-living because I was too busy trying to remember to empty the fridge out of spoil-worthy foods and not forget anything for home and pride. That said, we cleaned out Taco Bell's beef and tortilla supply as I recklessly abandoned by pescatarian inhibitions on the way out of town and took to an evening in Fredericksburg. Highlight: The men fresh out of their mason meeting in the bottom floor bar of the Kenmore Inn flaunting traditional colonial redingotes and tights with far-from-fake à catagon wigs.

My pride virginity was lost to a beautiful sunny day and the most idiosyncratic gathering I have ever seen in Washington, DC. Never before have I really felt tandem with the activists I so often preach about. It is one thing to know there must be people fighting for queer rights, but entirely another to encounter--in the flesh and screaming at the top of their lungs--more than the twelve or fifteen I'm used to at JMU. As corporation after corporation paraded past with queer employees and free throwouts, consolation flooded my heart; the blood leaving it shooting not just oxygen, but hope and change to my fingers and toes. Just in time I suppose, for dancing the night away in half-nude sexual freedom.

Rolling in at 5am to Fredericksburg, I woke at 10 to hit the pool for some quality time with Marjorie, fam, girlfrann, and enough sun to darken me four shades. Departing quickly for Washington-Dulles International Airport, I flew through security and over the U.S. to stop in L.A. for an evening of mini-pizzas, Pizookies (ice cream-covered giant cookies) and an old friend.

I finally knocked my terrible impression of Southern California the next day as Katrina and I went on a pleasant bike ride through the heart of L.A. and more tanning and swimming at Loyola Marymount University's pool.

Boarding a plane that afternoon to Kona, Hawaii, I considered running back through security for the phone charger I left, but thought better of it. Topped the three day trip off with a bottle of Merlot under the Hilo rain with all the people I have missed the most. Picture on the left taken at Hilo Farmer's Market.

Innerference

A friend of mine (who is celebrating her birthday today... Happy Birthday! Without your birth my life would not be the same!) has taken to choosing about the endless varieties of craigslist offerings to really find what it is she has been looking for: uncomplicated, gratifying, self-esteem pumping hookups. I'm well aware "hookup" always fails to connote any real meaning, but for the future of whatever it is she decides to do with these explorations, we'll leave it in ambiguity.

So far, she has received: free Dave's delivery from a previous hookup and most importantly, what I would refer to as the puppy serum for relationships. Where in this unique situation, each party can resolve to whatever identity they see fit for themselves and the person with which they are connecting with; the relationship will linger just long enough to put both through a complex wave of flirtatious and optional-eternal role-playing.

Am I brave enough to try it? Absolutely not. If anything though, all of the chats we've had about these craigslist conquests have showed me what I truly appreciate about this friend: this kid is not afraid of anything, and most importantly, not afraid of acknowledging what she needs and getting it for herself. Do I wish I had this trait? Absolutely. How many of us really can articulate our needs, when we need them?

I leave with a relevant t-shirt, entitled Innerference taken from Blend Apparel.  One of my favorite clothing companies, run by who I'm sure (if I ever met them) would be some of my favorite people. Perhaps if there was just a bit more communication between the brain and the heart, the world would be better off.