Notes from the Red Bird House

It's begun. And I am made to listen to eight hours of Christmas music a day. Even better my store manager wants me to say, "Merry Christmas", to all our customers. In my next life, I want to live in a non-Christian country so I don't have to put up with this crap. Argh... Christians. It's been awhile since I've lit them up, but 'tis the season. I hate Christmas for a variety of reasons. I am most certainly not a fan of Christianity, but I can't help but despise the bastardization of the religion. It pains me and I know that's just weird. In my esteemed opinion, Christmas should be a religious holiday, like Ramadan or Yom Kippur. However, those fucking Christians had to go and screw up their holiday. It's their fault. Let's place the blame where it belongs. The Jews didn't fuck up Christmas, nor did the heathen Pagans. No, this one is all on the Christians (well, except the really weird ones that don't celebrate any holidays at all)...

If I list the rules I said I wouldn't break, we'd be here half the night. And I have to work early in the morning. She is everything I'm not supposed to want. Yet... Yet... For some reason, I'm doing all kinds of things I shouldn't do. I know better. I guess. I've thought a lot about rules lately. Rules are necessary. They are. They keep us in line and out of trouble. They keep us on the right side of right. Yet... Yet... Sometimes left is so much better. Sometimes we just need to step outside and enjoy the view from the other side. We know it's wrong. Or maybe it's just not right. Yet... Yet... We try. We try so very hard to resist. We hang out. We have a drink (or two). We talk. We keep our distance. Yet... Yet... Something draws us together. Until we can't resist. And we give in. Just a kiss. It's just a kiss. Slow and sweet. Yet... Yet... There's more. Even with all the rules broken, there's more. Yet... Yet... She leaves. Thankfully ...

I'm having a huge internal debate. Usually when it's time to shave my head, I shave it. No questions asked. Either the mood strikes or I just can't take it anymore, but the result is that same. I get out the clippers and go for it. Right now, the mood is striking and my hair has been totally out of control for days, maybe even weeks. I can't take it. It's got to go. Except... I may want to keep it. And I'll tell you why. People keep telling me to. Yes, I know. I seldom do anything anyone tells me to do. However, in this case they are kind of right. My hair does look cute a little longer. When I shave the sides and let the top grow, I get a lot of compliments. Whether it's faux hawked, spiky, or laying flat, people seem to like it. And I like. Of course, it's a helluva lot easy not having any hair. No thought. No bed head. No worries. I also had an experience this past week that really made me enjoy having hair. Keep in mind that my hair hasn't been t...

I've given it a little thought this morning and I'm pretty sure. I'm just about over the holiday. Yes, I'm thankful. Blah, blah, blah. But the rest just has to go. I'm done and it's not even 10am. What am I going to do today? As little as possible. No family. No celebration. Not that I wasn't invited. I was. And just as I do every year, I turned down each and every invitation. I know my friends mean well, but spending holidays with other people's families really sucks. It makes me sad for something I can't have and likely never will have. I'm cool with that. I face it every day and I don't feel sorry for myself. Ever. It is what I chose and therefore a fact of my life. However, holidays can be a little rough if I don't handle them properly. So how do I handle them? I stay away from those situations that bring stress, anxiety, and sadness. Usually this means being alone. I go about my day as if it was a normal day off. I drink coffee, writ...

The scent took me by surprise. I stood up straighter. My heart beat faster. I knew she was there somewhere, just not that close. Not yet. I was prepared to see her. I knew I would. It was inevitable. I was prepared, ready. I was strong. I could do this. I could see her and not give anything away. Cold shoulder. Yes, that was the correct route to take. Let her be. Leave her alone. Speak only when necessary. Then from behind, the scent washed over me. Unmistakeably her. I had no idea her scent, her perfume, would make me react as I did. I couldn't move. I was paralyzed. I should have turned to talk to her. I didn't. My face would give away too much. I spoke without looking up. The scent grew stronger; I think she must have moved closer. She had no idea what she was doing to me, what the scent of her was doing to me. I stepped to the side. Distance. I needed distance. I could not look at her for fear I would reach out to touch her. Finally she walked away and I was left with only...

"Yeah she's heaven on the eyes But boy she's hell on the heart..." ~from "Hell on the Heart" by Eric Church I've grown tired of women. I've been officially a lesbian for roughly a dozen years and I'm done. I can't take it anymore. Women suck. I don't want to like them or love them anymore. I don't want to believe a word they say. I don't want to feel the softness of their skin or taste the gentleness of their kiss. I don't want to be tortured by the scent of their perfume or by the look in their eyes. I don't want them to choose someone other than me. And I most certainly do not want to watch them walk away. I've done too much of all that. I'm tired and frustrated and wildly out-of-sorts. What I want is for them to leave me alone until they know what they want. Trust me, women don't have a fucking clue. They think they do and that's their problem. They think they have their baggage under control; they can ...

I have maybe a half a dozen rules that I live by. I also pretty much adhere to the Ten Commandments. Not because I fear Hell and eternal damnation, but because they just seem like the right thing to do. So, yeah... Six rules. Maybe eight at the outside. Keep that in mind as I make this next statement - I have broken three of those rules in the past ten days. Three. Fifty percent. That's a lot, I think. It's not like I set out to break all these rules. It just sort of happened. I knew what I was doing. I'm not going to fall back on the "I was drunk" excuse. Nope. I was drunk (no denying that) and I knew exactly what I was doing. And I thoroughly enjoyed every moment. Before you get excited thinking I'm going to tell you all about the rules I broke, I'm not. Hell no. I may be all about speaking my truth, but I still get to have a few secrets. In this case, I'm going to have three. Three fun little secrets. Wow... Yeah. Fun. My rules are just a way to kee...