I friggin love this.

When am I gonna learn...

...that Sunday night shows are rarely a good idea? I'm clearly not in to work yet, sitting at home, nursing a hangover that is not equivalent to the amount of beer I drank. Damn you age 30... you are looming entirely too closely. Regardless, I needed the alt-country/rockabilly show I hit up last night. I needed to abandon Coordinator me, and just be Sarah Stangl for a little while. And maybe I needed to prove that being this close to age 30 is no big deal. Clearly I was wrong about that one.

I did hear some damn good music last night though. I went to see Jason & The Punknecks. If you get the chance, you should definitely go see them. If Johnny & June had happened post-punk, they would've been Jason & Polly. We all know I'm generally not a fan of female vocals, but Polly's June-Carter-esque vocals sucked me in. I originally wasn't thrilled with the opening bands on the list, but discovered a Kalamazoo gem, Brother Bill. They might have been a little too heavy on the "country" side rather than the "alt" side if it weren't for their amazing slap-string-bassist. He was probably one of the best slap-string bass players I've ever seen. (That's saying a lot, actually.) I'm looking forward to seeing them again, if only for the bass. Just as I'm jonesin' for Iowa City and a Will Whitmore show, I also got to see the one-man-band Smokestack and the Foothill Fury. He was fantastic. And grateful for a beer. Even if PBR was too "high-end" for him. I can't even help it... my farmgirl heart loves that toe-tappin' folk/country/bluegrass/roots music... especially when a slight punk influence is involved.

Combined with the roller derby game I saw earlier yesterday, I had a pretty good weekend. Even if I do feel like complete and total shit today.

Equality, A Bloodhound, Zombies, and Beer

After much worrying, and lots of mental preparations for supporting hundreds of students that would not deal well with a loss on the city ordinance... we won. 62% to 38%. The city of Kalamazoo is now safe for LBGT people-- well, at least there's recourse if it isn't ($500 fine). I was kind of at a loss when I realized that if the ordinance didn't pass I'd have at least 150 students in need of one giant hug. My faith has been restored in the community I've ended up living in for a couple years longer than originally planned.

Hank is doing rather well. He's fairly well adjusted, anyway. He's still not very happy when I leave him home, but the howling has tapered off and at least it doesn't last all day anymore. This also means that generally, if I have somewhere to be after 10 p.m. (quiet hours at the apartment complex) I have to find a dog-sitter. Finding a dog-sitter isn't all that easy, considering that when I do leave him somewhere, he tends to howl and whine the entire time I'm gone. Granted, the last place I left him for an hour or so while I went to a student meeting, he hadn't been to more than once. Nor had he spent much time with those friends. Maybe he'll eventually get used to it. Luckily, most of my friends are pretty patient. This weekend we've had a bit of a love-hate relationship. He's rather antsy and difficult to please. Although I think his frustration only increases because I have yet to figure out what it is that he actually wants.

Megan has a buddy from grad school visiting this weekend up in Traverse City, so we're spending a weekend apart. As much as I miss her and as much as I wish I could see her this weekend, I'm trying to make the best of it. The last week or so at work was hell, so I'm in dire need of a recharge. I got Day By Day Armageddon and Max Brooks' Recorded Attacks on Friday, and they couldn't have arrived at a more perfect time.

Last night I went to see LVNMUZIQ at an art show. I love Liz from LVNMUZIQ. She's become a friend since I first got her a gig at Pride in 2008. I've supplied her with a few gigs (Pride & on campus), and she's supplied me with amazing music. I was listening to her album, Contemplating the Void, when I drove up to meet Megan for the first time. She's pretty damn awesome.

I got home by 10:00 and took the dog out, hoping it'd be the last time he'd need to go out so I could settle in to bed and read Day By Day Armageddon. I honestly didn't think it'd be that good. Max Brooks has been so good at the zombie fiction genre, that I didn't leave a whole lot of room for anyone else to be quite as masterful. The book is comprised of journal entries from a man in the military (who deserts rather quickly) and his experiences trying to stay alive in the first few months of the zombie outbreak. It was very well done, and sucked me in rather quickly. I was about halfway through the book, and at one of those points that you start to question whether or not the things happening are true or not, and even if they are happening to or have happened to, you. Hank decided he had to go potty. (Of course he did.) So. I put my book down and talked myself up, preparing to go outside of my locked door, into the dark, next to the woods. I had my big ol' dog right? In the book, one of the survivors has a whippet that helps them find many of the threats by raising her hackles when one is near. I wasn't sure what I would do if Hank raised his hackles... but I went outside anyway, cursing myself for not having a baseball bat, or even a large mag-lite. Hank finds himself unable to go potty anywhere but the dog park, so we walked the 1/2 block or so down to the dog park, me looking around like a crazy woman the whole time. While in the fenced in area (tall fence, pretty secure...no resources, no tools, not really even a stick to be found...but fairly secure? I guess?) I looked over at the woods. The edge of the woods are probably 15-20 yards from the edge of the fence. I am generally convinced that a zombie or Michael Myers will walk out of those woods. At some point, Hank stopped sniffing around and stopped and stared into the woods. I hate it when he does this. I tried to rationalize with myself, reminding myself that there are any number of critters out there, and he probably just saw one of them. He wasn't sounding off, so it wasn't something he'd identified. Then I heard the sounds... leaves crunching, branches snapping, coming closer...fuck. I looked around. I tried to estimate how close it was. I tried to figure out an escape plan. I tried to tell myself that there are deer in the woods. It's just a deer. It's just a deer. Itsjustadeeritsjustadeeritsjustadeer... the noise stopped. Hank stood there. Staring. I stood there, trying to get Hank to come to me so we could get back to the safety of my third floor apartment. He just stood and stared. And then went back to sniffing for a moment...then perked up again and stared. I'd started to relax, but my anxiety was still high. Something was just beyond the edge of the woods and I knew it. I listened to the sound of cars driving by. The quiet of the night. It wasn't the zombie apocalypse. It wasn't happening. Just as I started to get myself calmed down, a deer BURST out of the woods and stood on the grass at the edge. When I say the deer "burst out" I mean there was a loud crash and suddenly where there was only dark woods, there was a face. One part of my brain said "Oh look! A deer!" while the other part freaked out. That was also the part that screamed. And probably the part that made me wet my pants. *sigh* Hank looked at me like I was insane. I probably am. I should really re-think reading such things at night when I know that I'm going to have to go outside at some point. Yep. I'm ridiculous.

Regardless of my little scare, I finished the book and was able to sleep. I may or may not have started another list of things that I need to start stockpiling in the event that such an apocalypse were to occur. Whatever I needed to do to sleep.

Today I did a ridiculous amount of laundry, and now I'm settling in with some PBR and Season 3 of Dexter. Tomorrow I get to go to a roller derby game (hurrah!). Afterwards, a punkabilly/alt-country band is playing at a newer place in town. I'm hoping I can make it there. I could use a good punkabilly show. The plan is that I'll be as good as new by Monday morning and able to carry on. No better way to fight a little burn-out that tearing it up, eh?

Next weekend is the big gay prom event that my student organization throws every year. My mom and step-dad will be visiting that weekend and accompanying me. I'm pretty excited. I have yet to decide if I want to dress classy or absurd... we'll see. Its tough at an "anything goes" event! The most exciting part of the prom event is that Megan and I have come full circle. We celebrated our official one year anniversary last weekend. Our first big public event, however was this prom event. It's pretty exciting to be doing the same things again. I haven't made it all the way around with anyone for several years (6 years? I think? 7?) so this is quite the accomplishment. I'm marrying her so I knew we would make it all the way around, but its still pretty amazing to me. We're doing well. Very well. :-)

Anyway. Back to my PBR and Dexter.

At Peace

I realized recently, when I got some quiet time and took an actual day off, that it doesn't matter how others fight the fight. The way I fight the fight is different and is still important and the way they fight the fight is different and still important. I'm done being angry about it and frustrated because nobody understands belief-forming systems or rhetoric or any of those things. All that matters is that we are all fighting the same fight. And some day, it's going to matter. And it won't be about whose fight was better or more effective. All that will matter is that we won.

Burnt out? No, just burned.

This post is not what it started out as. Multiple edits, deletes, and finally just a realization that I had to wrap it up, was the only way this got done. I hope it's not too random or incoherent. As usual, you've been warned.

I can't tell you when it started, because I don't know. If you want to know what "it" is, I'm not sure I can even explain that to you. Just a long line of pure bullshit that has about pushed me over the edge. I'm sure all of it happened before, I just apparently had more of an ability to blow it off. Or maybe it's one of those things that built up. I don't even know at this point, and it doesn't really even matter.

I figure I can start this post with the beginning of this semester. I feel like at that point I should've had a good indication of what was to come, but apparently I didn't. Again, I've gotten entirely too complacent and feeling entirely too safe. That's never a good idea. So Sarah, what the hell happened? you may be asking. I'm getting there. Damn. Be patient.

At the very first big fall event of the year, an older woman with the grossest teeth I've ever seen decided to tell me how "unhappy" my kids looked and that I could not possible be happy being with a woman and how could I even "imagine that" and how did that even work? *sigh* It's rare that I get comments like that. This lovely woman took up a good 40 minutes of my time. I think my favorite part about the conversation that she insisted we have was that it took place in front of a student who was not out to her parents because they say stuff to her like that all the time. I ended the conversation by informing the woman that I probably live a far more virtuous and more "Jesus-like" life than she does. This conversation bothered me for days. Weeks really. The feedback from those present on how well I handled it actually didn't help. Why is this disgusting 50-something woman with disgusting disgusting teeth and horrible breath who probably couldn't procreate with someone that wasn't a family member telling ME how horrifying it was that we "allow" people to be "this way"? And at the very end of a very long and very busy event, was she really telling me that my students looked "sad"? I'm sorry lady. They look TIRED. Do you know why they look TIRED? Because we have to do this work because fucknuts like you go running your goddamn mouths with all sorts of mis-information and made up bullshit. Ugh.

Then the panels began. Most of them thus far have been for freshman classes. I'm thrilled that we managed to get a panel in every single first-year-seminar class, but it also means that I've had no less than 3 panels a week. Again, totally fine. Not a problem right?

One of the first things I noticed and continued to hear in these classes is that 18 year olds honestly believe that it is illegal to discriminate against gay people. I shit you not. They think that all we want is marriage. And even then they are a little concerned with that since "Isn't marriage a religious institution?" Why yes Timmy, it is. But you see, church and state are not all that separated sometimes and the state utilized the same terminology thus causing all of this silly confusion that results in the ability for everyone else to get married except for gay people. (I honestly blame the glbt movement for this. But I'll talk about that more later. Right now I'm busy complaining about straight people.) All of these assumptions didn't really set me off until a student that recently graduated posted a story on Facebook saying that he had interviewed for a job and was told that while he was an excellent candidate, but that the company was very conservative and that he wouldn't be called back for a second interview. Several of his friends decided to say things like "that's illegal." When I said it wasn't and that this is why laws like the Employment Non-Discrimination Act (ENDA) were being worked through federally. They argued with me. (Out loud, but without typing, I said "These are clearly not my students. I'm motherfucking Sarah Stangl. I know my shit.") My frustration grew.

The next actual incident I can actually pinpoint as increasing my frustration to the point of anger was in a panel. A student wrote on a feedback form: "Have someone that is anti-gay to provide some perspective on all sides of the issue." This wasn't the first time I'd gotten a comment like that. It really wasn't even the fifth or sixth time. Early on in my job, on a day when I lacked sufficient tact, a student asked if there was a group at the university that talked about how it wasn't okay to be gay. I responded "Sorry. Being homophobic isn't in the non-discrimination policy." Not my best moment... After that I began to respond with more tactful answers such as pointing out that we were talking about basic equal rights and that there seems to be no shortage of anti-gay propaganda and the value of such programs in providing a human face and experiences of individuals that are "just like the rest of us."

This entire time, while all of these things are happening, I'm going around telling my own coming out story. I'm relaying the struggles that intensified as I got older, knowing I was different, but having no idea what to make of it until much later. I'm also starting to be painfully aware of all of the extra concessions and adjustments I've made throughout my life-- from picking a graduate school, to job searches, to coming out to my mechanics. All the while remembering the words of my mother, telling me how much more difficult life would be if I couldn't just "deal with boys." It's okay. I'm okay. It just contributes to an increasing frustration while one is working with students that have had it far worse (and some far better) than I did. I'm good at dealing with it. I'm good at blowing off the criticism and reminding myself how necessary the work that I do is. An ELCA (the good Lutherans) campus minister that has become a friend once asked me "Don't you ever get tired of being gay?" I said "Don't you ever get tired of being a man of God?" I'm a preacher's kid. I know how to do this stuff. I balance my life out as much as possible. Just like my Momma does.

Here's part of the issue: One of the things that I talk about regularly in educational programs on campus is that being gay or lesbian or bisexual or trans or genderqueer or queer or whatever is a very small part of our lives. We have a lot of other things going on. We have different jobs and interests and hobbies and such. At this point, students that are paying attention will ask "Then why are we talking about it?" Because that one little teeny tiny thing about our lives is the one thing that can become huge when you consider that it can take away our families and friends. It can cause us to lose our jobs and our housing. It can be the one thing that makes someone decide that we are a good target for their own insecurity and anger. And we aren't just talking about gay people-- we're talking about people that have mannerisms or styles of dress that might be slightly less feminine or less masculine than is "expected." So yeah, it's a big deal. (I'll spare you all the rant about the shifting expectations of masculinity and feminitity and the ways in which everyone varies...for now.) Anyway, back to my point-- Even though there's a whole lot more to Sarah Stangl-- it's my being a lesbian that defines me-- and continues to. For those of you that know me rather well, you know how well I'm dealing with this... I really love it when people define my entire being with one little label... (If you missed the sarcasm, you might as well stop reading my blog...)

So, Sarah, do you ever get tired of being gay? All the fucking time. Especially when being gay means that THIS is what I do. Of course that realization angers me even more when I cannot even begin to consider not being an activist and not doing the work that I do. Then again, that realization is generally combined with the realization that I shouldn't even have to DO what I do. But yes... on to the rest of my long, meandering, angry post...

If you haven't already gathered, I'm working my ass off. Visibility of my office has increased substantially after my 2 and a half years of hard work. This is good, but I'm not entirely sure how I did this before "part-time." Between panels and trainings, and students stopping by my office, I have little time for anything else. Of course, there are lots of "anything else" situations. There's collaboration with community organizations and campus departments. And there's our big fat assessment project that we are hoping will provide us with everything we need to make this a real, permanent, full-time position. This means I've got faculty and staff from all over that are looking at our organizational structure, programs, resources, etc. Apparently what this means to most people is that they get to express all of their ideas about how such things should be done. I think my favorite suggestion was when someone suggested we "blow our whole wad" on one big event bringing someone amazing to campus. I said "Great idea. Problem is, a $500 budget doesn't really count as a 'wad'." Wanna piss me off? Tell me that even though I haven't worked less than 10 hours a day for weeks I'm still not doing enough. Also, try to tell me that even though being in my office has proven to up the numbers in terms of face-time with individual students, that I should be out on campus more. Yeah...nevermind that half of my days are out on campus and in the community. But most people don't know that. Why not? Because they don't ask. Isn't it obvious that if one person doesn't see me that means that I'm never around? (again...sarcasm...)

Clearly Sarah this isn't all you are angry about! You promised us ANGER!

I'm getting there. Hold your horses.

I suppose I should give a little disclaimer here that I have written and deleted this next bit at least 7 times. I hope that what I end up with isn't as offensive as the first 7 times I wrote it. I'm sure it won't be because I'm moving on from a couple things and trying to finish this post...

Here's the thing-- it's not just people on campus-- it's people everywhere. I hear over and over and over again from people how they want leadership opportunities, education, and socializing opportunities. So, I build those. The community resource center builds those. We build them together. And every damn time, fuckers don't show up. They just don't show up. Either it was a "bad night" or people had to work or (most commonly) people just "forget". The excuse that pisses me off the most is when people "didn't know about it" when its something that has been on our websites for weeks. We've tweeted it. We've put up flyers. We sent out press releases. But no-- there's absolutely no personal responsibility in terms of individuals. We are expected to get our information to them. They aren't going to look for it. Add to that our limited staffing? Try getting volunteers to work at things like that? It's not even the getting volunteers to work at things that bothers me as much as people that decide to "plan" something and when it gets to the last minute the default people to throw it to are those of us that are busy enough doing our regular stuff.

So what's my point of this whole entire post? First, I just want to scream "fuck you!" We want this that and everything else, but how many of us are actually willing to work for it? And if you are willing to work for it, are you willing to consider others work as important in its own way? And to everyone else, my god will people just get their heads out of their asses? Since when are equal rights something to be contested? But you know what? I'm not even that angry at those people. I'm more angry at the community that says shit like "At least there weren't a bunch of drag queens walking around" when they talk about a national march. Was assimilation actually our goal? Maybe? But can we stop this whole "we're normal! we're not like those freaks over there!" bullshit? We've got national organizations that pull that crap-- essentially "disowning" these huge parts of the queer community because they aren't as "palatable" to the national audience. And what about the whole "marriage" movement? I've come to the conclusion that someone (or several someones) thought that if we could just be "normal" and prove that we're "like everyone else" that we'll gain basic things like protection from discrimination. Really? That was your answer? "Hey, if we just get married, everyone will accept us! They'll have to! We'll fight all those stereotypes! Nevermind that most of those stereotypes are unfounded (ie. straight people have just as much promiscuous sex as gay people)! We should fight them anyway! And we can do that with this great institution!"

I'm just...ugh...I'm just done. I'm tired of being criticized for not doing enough. I'm tired of being a rational, far-sighted individual looking at broad implications of messages and projects that we focus on in a sea of people that can't see beyond the damn nose on their face. Yeah, I'm criticizing the movement. I'm criticizing our leadership. (What leadership?) And yet... can I really leave it all? No. I can't. Why not? Because dammit it's still about me.

What do I want? I want everyone, not just the queer community, to learn basic rhetoric and belief-evaluation. (Surprise surprise...) I want people to get over their damn selves and understand that we are all fucking freaks in our own ways. As long as we're talking about consenting adults? Who the hell cares? I also want people to give up their tight hold on these ridiculous concepts of masculinity and femininity that don't even HOLD anymore. I want people to stop complaining when they aren't willing to DO anything about it. Bah. We bitch about Obama asking "what has he done?" Fuck that. What have YOU done? What are you going to do?

*sigh*

Perhaps that was more anti-climactic than planned. The whole post took multiple turns and detours. I couldn't say what I wanted to say because I have to be careful about who finds this and who reads this. I even debated on whether or not to post it. But why have a blog if I can't even vent on it from time to time?

Let's just say I'm very ready to leave and move up north and teach applied ethics courses at a community college...

I'm formulating a new post-- it will probably be long and angry, but allow me to give you a taste of my life lately.

In a panel today a freshman asked, "Why don't you have someone on these panels that is anti-gay? Wouldn't that provide more perspective?" They also wrote this on their evaluation.

*sigh*

Happenings and Adjustments

I think about blogging a lot more than I actually do... I should fix that.

Hank is adjusting rather well, considering he was shuffled around who knows how many times. We've got a little separation anxiety, but it consists more of mournful howling/braying when I am gone. My neighbors thus far are understanding, and/or uncaring as most of them are gone during the day as well. One neighbor informed me that the howling is a little less every day, so that's good to know. I am often wondering on my way home what I will need to clean up, but that seems to be more due to Simone engaging Hank in a game of chase... The cats haven't really warmed up to him yet, probably because he's just so big. That, and I'm sure they are a bit horrified by the noises coming out of his mouth. Simone got to the point that she will play a bit with Holden, but I think it will take longer with Hank. Baxter is pretty much completely freaked out and as far as I can tell, isn't eating as much as he should be. Then again, it is Bax, so I'm really not worried. He'll get over it. Having a dog also requires me to get more exercise than I usually would, and our morning and evening walks have already resulted in me losing 7 lbs. Funny how quickly it comes off when I'm not just sitting on the couch. HA!

Classes start after Labor Day, but I've been busy with my part of Welcome Week. I have apparently trained and encouraged my volunteers too much, since my usual stand-bys when I need assistance are busy as welcome-week ambassadors or working on the city ordinance campaign which has resulted in me doing a lot more manual labor and tedious tasks than I generally like. However, I'm used to be a one-woman-show, so picking up and doing it all isn't that unexpected. I've got a nice long weekend, which will be rather helpful in me really getting some rest and getting caught up on housework and such. It's a whole lot easier to get "Hank-ready" when I have learned what "Hank-ready" actually means.* I'm looking forward to getting my spare bedroom cleaned up and unpacked and organized a bit.

Tonight I guess I am doing a bit of work, as I've got a couple students coming over for dinner and a Sarah-lecture. By "Sarah-lecture" I really mean a discussion, as they've received ample leadership & activist training, but have yet to really understand concepts like "burn-out" and "self-care." Funny, national organizations don't really talk about that and if they do, they seem to talk about it in a not-so-helpful way. They do that sort of thing when you get to my level and we're talking more about professional development, but apparently not when you are in your early 20s and just starting out. So annoying.

*Really it just means that I need to eliminate items that Simone can knock off of things in the event of a chase...

Welcome Hank!

Hank Steve McQueen Stangl-Ward has arrived. He got a clean heartworm test on Thursday and has joined our family. Yep-- 2 dogs, 2 cats-- does it even need to be said that there are 2 women in this family too?

Hank is a 3 1/2 year old Bloodhound. We wondered for a bit if he was mixed with something else, but have come to be pretty certain that he's full-blooded. It helped as he got healthier and put some good weight on. He's up to 97 pounds and feeling pretty good. The heartworm treatment was pretty hard on him, but he's gained weight and has stopped shedding so excessively. He's got an amazing personality and was definitely ready to come home with me. It's been a bit of an adjustment...more of an adjustment than I naively planned on. I think part of it has been my fault, and part of it is adjusting to life in an apartment after having been shuffled around a tad. It will take us a bit, but I'm feeling fairly confident that getting a routine set and making some minor adjustments will be all he needs.

Hank and Holden get along great and even had a brotherly wrestling match last night. I do, however, feel a tad sorry for my neighbors since they decided to do this around midnite... I should probably go talk to my neighbors downstairs anyway. Even though their dog barks all day, I should probably apologize for Hank's contribution to that. If getting Hankers into a routine isn't enough to get rid of some of that barking (ie. howling/braying/yelping/"crying all the time") I may need to make my neighbors all cookies to achieve some time to rectify the situation... I think once he establishes that I will *always* be back, he'll feel a lot better. I think discovering that he can go back and lay on my bed might help as well.

So far, Bax & Moni haven't really "met" him. They were quite intimidated by his size and hid as soon as he came home. They have yet to venture out very far. Bax has kept his distance, but has expressed his need for attention loud enough that we have been prompted to go back and give him some snuggles. I'm sure they'll figure it out soon enough.