these words are my diary screamin out loud and I know you will use them however you want to...

Discrimination... period

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2009/10/15/interracial-couple-denied_n_322784.html

Sunday, while lingering over brunch, my daughters became wide eyed when talking about discrimination. We asked if they knew what the word discrimination meant. My baby shot up in her seat,

"Lincoln! President Lincoln! He didn't like that and stopped it!"

I was so proud of her. We continued talking about the many forms of discrimination; they were dumbfounded when they learned that even after Lincoln, black and white people still weren't "allowed" to love each other, to choose to spend their lives with each other, prefer each others company or get married. We talked of religious people refusing to marry people if they couldn't belong to the same religion.

"Like Jews or Mormons!" My older daughter said.

"Yes baby." I said. "Exactlly like that."

Thats not right... was the decision arrived at the table. No one should bully anyone. No one should choose another's life. I love my girls. I know one day, they will remember the IHOP conversation. I pray one day, they remember the IHOP conversation and raise their voices in objection when when they realize that they will not make as much money as a man, doing the same job. When they see that at least one in 10 of their friends will never be allowed to marry because they prefer the company of the same sex over the opposite, or if they fall in love with a man or women of another color.

We talked of Halloween, of genocide, of college, of Red Ribbon Week, of good and bad choices, of discrimination, of bullying, of shoes and ships and sealing wax and cabbages and kings...

I raise it all unto the Goddess of the heavens to remind them silently in their dreams that fairness and acceptance is the way to peace within their own soul.

Live and let live , it is a balancing act

You Don't Always Get What You Want...

I won't have my girls for Halloween this year. However, I was able to take them to Boo at the Zoo!

Come LOOK!

Words of Thanksgiving...

It started with a magic back pack slung over my shoulder...

and my journey began. I could never have made it through all of this without my partner Gina. She spent hours on the phone with me before she moved to be with me. Helping me try to pull together college level stuff from my tired 50 year old, high school graduate head. She listened to my fears and tears. She celebrated with me when things went well. We built a business together, we had a really good calculator stolen from us, she always, always, believed in me. When she came for good, she then gave even more by helping run my household and raise my babies, build a new family, laundry, dinners and still all the school support. How do you find a way to say "thank you" for that? She really did all the hard parts, I just showed up in a classroom everyday. I think she should be graduating with me. She certainly will be in my heart.

Drinks are on the house!

File This Under: LIFE IN IDAHO

Buy a new truck, get a gun free!

i.cant.get.it.out.of.my.head

There Comes a Time

In every one's life, I would think, we move to a space with someone or something in our past. Be it a mistake, a bad relationship, an angry word, a misstep, something when you realize that its been smoothed over by time and the violent and relentless pounding of the ocean breaking over you, throwing you, stealing your breath and filling up your lungs until you think, hope you have drowned. Just when you can't stand it anymore, you hit the surface just long enough to gasp for air and do it all over again.

And then silence. You are safe. You are on the sand and warm and happy and the sea is calm, not looking anything like the raging ogre which threatened to kill you from the inside out.

A few nights ago I found myself on the warm sand laughing hysterically about finally not feeling a damn thing from words thrown at me for amusement and entertainment. For literally years, a woman whom I loved, the first woman I loved, has been darting in and out of my life, throwing hateful, nasty words at me. For a while, it hurt. For a while it bothered me, for a while I introspected, for a while I blocked each and every ip address she would come in on to my blog. Finally, I find myself with no desire to lift another finger to do any of those things again. Because it doesn't matter.

I could go on and on with "how I hope" or "if only others knew the hateful side". But honestly. I think life takes care of itself. I hope nothing except that one day she finds herself on that warm sand. Preferably on a separate beach far away from my sacred solitude. But in her own sacred solitude, nonetheless.

I forgive you jen, will continue to forgive you. I will forgive you for as long as you need forgiving. That is the gift I give to you. That is what matters to me.

Stones

A moment in my hands
years tumbled by the sands
They mean nothing to me
They’re rocks
Randomly shaped into hearts
Each one with a story
A memory
An Emotion
But they’re not mine
Not my stories
Not my memories
Not my emotions
no intense animosity
Will allow me to toss away
Someone else’s memories
Someone’s emotions
Someone else’s stories
They belong in a dish
where she keeps her ocean treasures
Not in my hands
Where they mean nothing.

Senior Photos

Well really only one for now. The client is in the driver's seat at the moment for approval and suggestions for tweaking this and that. But until then I have completed my first set of Senior Photos and I will be ready for next year graduation business! I am excited to jump into the world of senior pictures. I am going after those who one: do not have wads of money to throw at photos that will collect dust in the attic as some point in time. And two: I want the client, which really IS the Senior, to get what they want. Parents have all sorts of ideas about the lavish sets little johnny and jennifer should be involved with when really little john may want to go downtown and catch some action on his skate board instead. It's their day, it should be their pictures. I hope I can find a good balance between the two.

Why Boise First United Church of Christ is My Home...

republished with expressed consent Rev. Kim M. Cran, Senior Pastor, 2009



Dear Members and Friends of Boise First UCC, I greatly enjoy the privilege of conducting wedding ceremonies. From the initial conversation when couples share with me their desire to marry, through our discussions about their hopes and dream, joys and sorrows(including their plans for the ceremony), on through the joy of the day itself and the blessing of watching them grow together as a couple – weddings are a high point of pastoral ministry. In my sixteen years of ordained ministry, I have officiated at over three hundred weddings. In this regard, I have been truly blessed.

Since my arrival in Idaho, one area that has not been a blessing is the pain and difficulties that lgbt couplesshare with me regarding the process of being a couple in Idaho. There is no legal marriage ceremony for gay couples, nor are legal marriage ceremonies that are conducted in other states recognized by our state. There is no legal protection against discrimination against gay couples, and spousal benefits, when available, are rare. I was stunned to learn of the legal expense gay couples must endure in order to try to secure a fraction of the rights straight couples enjoy just by having a marriage license. The stories I have heard and the struggles I have witnessed bring tears to my eyes and anger to my heart. This is discrimination, and it is wrong!

Hearing and witnessing the discrimination our lgbt congregants and friends experience as they faithfully live out their marriage vows leaves me with a serious ethical and pastoral dilemma; I believe it is wrong for me to provide a service (signing marriage licenses) for one group of congregants and friends that I cannot provide for all members of our community. When I sign marriage licenses for some, I participate in the very process that actively excludes others.

I am certainly not the only UCC minister to feel this way. For many years, our denomination, both at the national and conference level, has spoken out against this form of discrimination. Many ministers throughout the UCC have, as an act of conscience and justice, refused to sign marriage licenses until they could sign them for all couples. Within our own Conference, the ministers of the Ashland Congregation has taken the step of refusing to sign marriage licenses until the discrimination against gay couples is ended. This decision was overwhelmingly supported by our Conference and our sister churches.

I shared this ethical and pastoral dilemma with our Church Council at our meeting in June, and asked Council to reflect on and pray about this situation. We shared a good discussion at this meeting, and agreed to talk about it again in August.

At the Council Meeting in August, I shared with our leadership team that, upon careful reflection and prayerful consideration, I felt I could no longer participate in signing marriage licenses for some until I could sign them for all. Following some discussion, I was delighted to receive the unanimous support of Council for my decision.


Therefore, as a matter of conscience and justice, I will not sign another marriage license until I can do so for all couples who come to the church seeking a wedding ceremony. I will continue to enthusiastically work with all couples who wish to have me preside at their religious wedding ceremony. However, in the case of straight couples, they will have to make other arrangements for the signing of their marriage license (and can do so through the office that issues their license). This will mean an additional step, and some inconvenience, for straight couples. But I would hope that any couple who would choose to affiliate with this church would understand our commitment to justice and equality, and would welcome this additional step as a way of standing for justice.

If you have any questions, please feel free to speak with me about this matter. May the day come soon when this and all forms of discrimination end, and all of our congregants and friends have access to the blessing of both the church and the state on their loving, committed relationships.

Faithfully yours,

Rev. Kim M. Cran, Senior Pastor

I'm Here, I'm Queer!

National Coming Out Day 2009

Within the walls of this blog contain my story, if you can wade through all the other stuff as well. Its a journey, without a destination I believe. I have written and written since 2006. I decided today I would show my face, tell my story in video. Why? I believe it is about faces and voices as well as words. To those of you who are out, thank you! To those who are coming, be safe. To those who are not ready, you are loved.

*disclaimer: if you choose to watch this video and at the end of it do not like it you cannot sue me to get your four minutes and fifty-eight seconds back. proceed with caution.

May all good things come to you
love
nina

Tomorrow is National Coming Out Day

I, by no means, would pressure anyone to ever do something they are not ready for. Its a big deal. Although you hear many stories of people being so afraid to say it, and then having those around them say, "We already knew, we weren't sure you did though". Most times, it isn't like that.

Our children have it a bit easier these days to be and act as they are. When I was growing up, just having the wrong kind of jeans on was enough to be scorned for an entire school career. It always brings pride to my heart and tears to my eyes when I see a young person outwardly showing in some way, they are gay and who the hell cares. Good for you! But still millions of children are shunned and abandoned by their families to begin a life of truth about themselves in a very harsh environment. It isn't easy, even as an adult to take that step, for a young person I can't even imagine the horror.

So, if you are in a good, safe place right now in your life. You know its time, for you. Then remember, the more our voices are heard, the more our faces are seen, the easier road we make for those who come after us. We owe much to those who came out before us. And so it goes...

Come out, Come out wherever you are!

This One Goes Out to All Those Appalachian Bi Polars Hangin Out in Hotels in NYC Tonight

48 Hours

That is what I have this weekend. To let them play with friends they haven't seen in weeks. Have conversations around the dinner table. Take them to church to stay in touch with loving accepting people who have to fight just to have the same space that others take for granted; people who love them for who they are, only hours before I have to "give them back". I light a candle and hold the hands of my congregation and pray that somehow, something in the last 48 hours, stays in their hearts and minds. That life should be lived with your feet on the ground and defined by how you treat others and not by the decorations that surround you. 48 hours.

I Have Just Begun An Affair With James Kavanaugh

I am one of the searchers.

There are, I believe, millions of us.
We are not unhappy, but neither are we really content.
We continue to explore life, hoping to uncover its ultimate secret.
We continue to explore ourselves, hoping to understand.

We like to walk along the beach, we are drawn by the ocean, taken by its power, its unceasing motion, its mystery and unspeakable beauty.
We like forests and mountains,, deserts and hidden rivers, and the lonely cities as well.

Our sadness is as much a part of our lives as is our laughter. To share our sadness with one we love is perhaps as great a joy as we can know - unless it be to share our laughter.

We searchers are ambitious only for life itself, for everything beautiful it can provide.
Most of all we love and want to be loved.

We want to live in a relationship that will not impede our wandering, nor prevent our search, nor lock us in prison walls; that will take us for what little we have to give.
We do not want to prove ourselves to another or compete for love.

For wanderers, dreamers, and lovers, for lonely men and women who dare to ask of life everything good and beautiful.

It is for those who are too gentle to live among wolves.


-James Kavanaugh-

$10 kitty

Last year my daughter and her best friend became suddenly aware of the plight of animals left to linger and then die at animal shelters. This awakening came, I suppose because of the stories behind my partners animals that moved into the house when she did last year. It was almost like the Brady Bunch. Except she forgot to bring Alice. God, we sure could have used Alice.

We have a little yorkie that was snatched from a puppy mill. She is tiny and mighty. Not a single mean bone in her body. She is prone to small seizures if she gets too excited and chokes a lot because of her mouth and throat are just too small for her uvula. She also had to have teeth pulled... too many teeth, not enough mouth.

We have another yorkie, whom I like to call "Who's yer daddy" because well... he is twice the size as tiny but mighty and looks like a cross between a fox and a question mark. Daddy was a traveling salesman... Seriously, his hind end curves around and arrives almost the same time his shoulders do. He has Gene Simmons syndrome. I have never seen a tongue as long as his. There is no room in his mouth for it. If he were a frog he would be the best of all frogs.

Then there is the 160 lb Mastif. Hit in the head with a shovel from a breeder who was just "trying to protect herself" when she finally brought food into the tiny enclosure that he and several other puppies were kept in. He jumped up with his front paws in joy for company and the end of hunger. Whamo. Shovel to the head. He has a flat head now. We joke that he is our coffee table. But really, its no joke. They had to pull back the skin over the crack in his skull. He is blind and old and never has every shown a sign of aggression in his life. The lady with the shovel was banned from breeding animals for life.

Then the cats. There is George. George is a girl. I don't know why her name is George. But if I can change my name to Nina, she is allowed to be called anything she wants to. She was found in a haystack on a horse farm born to a feral cat. From what I understand she spent the first several months living in the closet, even taking her meals there, until she felt safe enough to come out. She wouldn't come inside last night even though we told her it was going to be cold. She just finished pawing her way underneath my snuggy and laying close to me letting me rub her ears until she warmed up. Then she was gone. She has use for us humans, until she doesn't, the secret life of cats. Mostly, she beats up on her two sons.

There is Amos. He is a beautiful gray cat who, in sunlight has black stripes. He rolls over and lets you scratch his stomach and steals my chair the minute I get up from it. He is huge. How that cat ever came out of his mother who is half his size I will never know. Perhaps that is why she beats up on him.

Then there is Salem. But I have called him Satan since he moved in. He is unfortunately, aloof, feral and will never be a real part of the family. Every now and then we actually try to force him to let us hold him but he just doesn't want anything to do with us. He isn't mean and he puts up with us. But "He is the cat who walks by himself and all places are alike to him.". He knows where the food is. He knows I will accommodate him and throw him snacks I give the other cats so that he doesn't have to come close and be frightened. He is loved just as he is.

So why am I rambling on about my family? I was prompted by a blog post from my Animal Rescue hero. But it didn't seem appropriate to offer up this indulgent post in the midst of an obviously political, hot button issue close to her heart, and apparently to others as well. So I will talk about $10 kitty here instead.

When the girls raised money at school for the Humane Society and took the money in. We wandered through to see the animals their money was going to help. We ended up in the cat room. Kittens were bouncing around in the cages and families were ooohing and awwwing over all the cuteness going on. I admit. So was I. I love kittens and the magical way they play. Our cats are past the magical cat toy phase. But while I was wandering there in the corner was this old orange and white cat. At least I think it was a cat. So much hair. He came to me immediately and reached his paw out to me through his bars. I read his stats posted on the side of the cage. He was old and in need of dental work. I saw the mark down on this cat. $50, $35, $25, $10... the $10 was in red. It mentioned how long he had been there. We both knew things just weren't going his way. He couldn't compete with all the exuberance around him. He just wanted to find someone to pay his ransom of $10 and let him curl up in some one's lap and stay there for the rest of what was left of his life. I stayed with him. But I couldn't take him home. We are already being harassed by neighbors who think we are animal abusers. Unfounded and investigated by the way. Which probably left them gunning for us.

So what is my point? There is nothing wrong with bouncing new kittens. One day I may have one. But if you see $10 kitty, and you have room for someone who is down on his lucky and options, think about him. I think about my $10 kitty everyday and have a heavy heart that I just didn't go ahead and pay his ransom. To hell with the neighbors. They probably would have never seen him anyway. I have visions of him lying on my pillow with the sun streaming through the window as he slipped away happily loved, finally for the small price of $10. I'm sorry $10 kitty.

Marked

It's been in the making since 2006. Something to fully express from the deepest darkest part of my body to the outer surface for everyone to see. I dreamt it up, found a custom artist to draw it and poof! I have a tattoo...
It symbolizes the chains I have lived in until I realized I was a lesbian.


This is me signing my life away.

This is me before I decided I needed a xanax.



Looking at the outline and taking a little break.




I found my happy space. The vibration from the machine filtered down into my feet. It was almost like meditation. Or a slow delicious orgasm. God I was in heaven. I get it now. Its a very sensual experience. One I will most likely have again.

I told him I would kiss him but I didn't like boys so I hugged him instead.



There it is in all its beautiful glory. Shaded and perfect. My own story, on my skin, to tell to anyone who is interested.



Thanks goes to Justin who has been doing this for 7 years. 2 years apprenticing and 5 years lettin' it fly. He "got it" with very little direction from me. He understands the importance of and the sacred nature of symbolism.

photography: gina starr

InkSpot Tattoo
1400 W Broadway
Boise, Idaho 83706
208-906-2937

She Blushed

my hand on her thigh,

her hand shyly over her eyes.

beauty unfolding before me,

like day break, like sunset,

layers of delicate places,

unseen, unknown, undiscovered,

a sacred temple i entered humbly.

~nina~

Guilt

Guilt has a purpose I suppose. It helps our psyche maintain homeostasis. It helps us walk through life making sure that we are treating others as we would ourselves.

Guilt, when not in check can run rampant through your life and you give away your power trying to make everyone else feel safe or "better" about what you have chosen to do. You also allow your mind to run rampant and imagine even more things to feel guilty about just so you feel appropriately laddened with baggage. You find yourself apologizing about everything from your reevaluation of yourself (whatever that turns out to be) to world hunger.

When I came out as a Lesbian, realistically I knew the huge upheaval that was coming. Was I sorry? Was I guilty for turning every one's life upside down? Yep. I felt guilty for not just keeping it a secret and living the rest of my life as a upper middle class housewife and forget about who I really was. I had so many commitments to and expectations from my children. To and from my husband, to and from everyone around me. Just the words "I'm Gay" sent the whirlwind that was my life into a sudden desolate wasteland with everyone standing there circled around me looking confused and betrayed and angry.

Then my husband panicked. He began acting as if I were somehow going to just disappear with my children off to, I don't know really. Some secret spot in the world where gay people abduct their children? He began to treat me as if I had less integrity as a parent or a spouse. As if being gay and moral cannot coexist in the same body. That it suddenly negates the 10 years he had lived with me and knew me and my actions toward others.

So in walks Nina the Overcompensator. I continually tried to reassure him that he was not going to lose his little girls. I bent over backward, to having have dinner with us at night before he would take them home to all of us going to movies on the weekends they stayed with me. He would call lonely and in an empty house and my heart hurt like hell for him. My fault, his loneliness. Nina the Over Compensator also walked into the lawyers office when the divorce began. I wanted to continue to prove that I was not a monster that I let my desire for his comfort over ride the rights I was giving away. Hoping somehow this grand gesture would be taken as such and never used against me.

I find myself in that very place now. My guilt has turned to anger. And desperation. The same desperation which I was so careful to tend to and ease for my grieving exhusband so long ago. He has a new wife now. He just doesn't need the inconvenience of the kids real mother. 48 hours every two weeks should be sufficient for us all to be together. He wants, he hopes that I just slip under the surface so he can get on with his shiny new life, with all the privileges and finances afforded those who live in that alternate universe which I suffered so.

Moral? Fight like hell to keep 50/50 joint custody of your children from the very begining. Go ahead and feel guilty for the life disruption. Drop the guilt at the door when you start wanting to prove to people you are still moral, fair, and still have the best interests of the children even though you are gay. Its ridiculous we should have to prove those things in the first place.

I no longer believe people play fair. I no longer believe that promises are worth anything unless they are on paper signed by a judge. Even then, as we speak, he holds my children against the court visitation rules. So let me be your cautionary tale. Did you just come out? Get over it, FAST! Start protecting yourself from every direction you can with a lawyer who knows what they are doing. Don't expect anyone to play fair. Chances are, they won't.