The Strange History of Don't Ask, Don't Tell

If you haven't seen the documentary: The Strange History of Don't Ask, Don't Tell, then you should.

Am I a lesbian? It makes no difference.

I don't agree or disagree with issues of basic human rights based on how I'm personally affected. I look at the "issue" of gays in the military and ask myself, "Well, they are already there . . . why should they have to hide?"

They make other people uncomfortable.

I live in the deep south . . . my marriage to my white husband makes other people uncomfortable. Yes, in 2011 this still happens. I see it. It's not in my head. So, we shouldn't be allowed to be married? We should have to hide our relationship because it makes other people uncomfortable?

But that's different! How?

Because I can't help being hispanic and he can't help being white. I have a lot of gay friends, believe me they have no choice in whether or not they are gay.

What about group showers?

Now, I can't speak to the military here so I don't know how often service men and women have to shower together in a group. But, I do know that your beer belly, saggy ass having self is in no danger of being on the receiving end of an unwanted advance.

Can't they just serve quietly?

No. "They" won't keep trying to make sense of how to serve with dignity and honor while being asked to lie.

The Pentagon formally repealed its ban on gays and lesbians in uniform on Tuesday, September 20, 2011 at 12:01 a.m., allowing soldiers for the first time to reveal they are homosexual without fear of official retribution.

I regret not marking this on the date it happened.

I know one thing for sure. I don't have the courage it takes to volunteer for military service, but I'm damn thankful for our service men and women who do: straight, gay, lesbian, bi or transgender.

Now With A Lot Less Crying

Being unemployed is weird.

I don't have to get up at the same hour I used to, but I still do. Then I lay there wondering where it is that I have to be and it's nowhere. I thought about pulling a Costanza and just show up where I used to work. Communication isn't exactly their forté so I bet I'd only get a few raised eyebrows.

But alas, I am not crazy so I'm not going to do that.

I've sent out countless cover letters and resumés. There are a few jobs that I'm genuinely interested in and a few others that would pay the bills. I am waiting to hear back on a few other leads as well.

Nothing new to say here, but the good news is I'm no longer crying once an hour. Yay!

Dog Park and Friends

Yesterday I spent most of the day crying and fretting over how we're going to pay the bills in a few weeks. Then Steve came home and reminded me that we are in this together and we are going to get through it. After a shaky inhale I nodded my head and said, "I'm going to Zumba."

So, I called my good friend Heather and said, "Let's do this!" When I arrived at the gym Heather said, "I can't believe you're here. I'd be in bed." I laughed and said that was a pretty accurate description of most of my day. The thing is, I have been severely depressed before and I don't want to go down that road again. So, even when I don't want to I have to haul my ass out of bed and rejoin the living.

After class Heather and I made plans to meet the following moring with our dogs at the dog park. My dogs are a bit neurotic and Heather's dog is a tiny bit skittish. Heather and chatted and the dogs chased, peed and chased.Again, this activity made me haul my ass out of bed. I'm grateful to friends like Heather who are encouraging without being overwhelming.

When I returned home the dogs crashed and I worked on my resume. Making yourself follow a schedule will give you something for which to stay motivated.

Up in the Air

It's been said that women write more in there diary when life changes are happening.

Lucky you!!!

So yesterday I was laid off due to a reduction in force. I did not see it coming as my performance was always regarded highly. Pardon my language, but I felt dick slapped.

The Director of HR and my supervisor walked into my office and closed the door. It is never good when they close the door. C said, "This is not going to be easy." My my supervisor, we'll call him The Albino, said, "No, it's not." I just said, "Oh."


And I thought to myself, "This is BULLSHIT." It was as if the adults from the Peanuts cartoons were talking to me: wonk, wonk, wonk, wonk, wonk.

I was given the option to pack my desk right then, or return the next day to do it. I just wanted to leave so I did. I grabbed my purse and got the hell out!.

Ahnalise Caedon Cabus - September 4, 2011

My cousin D was raised with my parents. His mom lived in our house as well so we were definitely a different kind of family. I was eight when he was born so for me, D was really more of a little brother than a cousin. I even remember at one point overhearing him tell a friend that I'm his big sister. I've been lucky to have a little brother.

D is 28 now and he is at least six feet tall. He's built like a linebacker and he has the heart of a Care Bear. He and his girlfriend just had a tiny little baby girl. She weighed 5 pounds and 18 ounces at birth. She's a wee munchkin.

All of the clothes bought for her are for a much larger baby. I went out this weekend and purchased some swaddling cloths, 5-8lb onesies and a princess blanket for her crib. I have to admit I'm not crazy about her name: Ahnalise. I think Anne Elise or even Analeigh would have been lovely. But, she's adorable no matter what her name.

Newborns make my heartache. I look at their sweet little faces, and I hurt for the unknown challenges they'll have to face. The bullies on the playground whose asses I want to kick. The mean girls who will make middle shool a nightmare. But mostly I want to keep her from getting her heart broken for the very first time. I want to tell her she's beautiful and perfect and that stupid boy has no idea of the big mistake he just made.

Sweet Ahnalise I hope your years are filled with sweetness and light. I hope you know what a strong woman you're going to grow up to be one day. And never forget, good girls don't make history.

Love,

Your Aunt Melissa