Have you ever read a story that seems so out-of-this-world that, even when faced with a barely legible claim of being “based on a true story”, doesn’t seem like it would ever be possible? Like a now-famous celebrity that had just happened to be at the right place at the right time, or a professional athlete that just happened to have their best game yet — the day a professional team scout was there to see it.
These events are all obviously unlikely (and incredibly lucky), but still believable, right? What about when everything continues to line up for those people afterwards – what if that professional athlete won the lottery a week later? What if that celebrity got their first acting gig AND a major modelling contract in the same month? Would it still be believable? These are the lives we write books about, the people we pay craploads of money to watch movies about — are we envious? Or are we just trying to see what it would be like, without all the inevitable hardships and bullshit, without having to commit?
My history, my life, is one of those stories that when people hear it, even in snippets, are quick to jump to the idea of an autobiography.
This conversation usually goes something like this; I give a brief overview of something to do with my life experience, the person stares at me in disbelief — “that really happened to you? you should write a book!” — and I respond, happily, with a reply I’ve slowly adopted from my mother over the years:
“… but no one would believe it.”
It got to the point where my best friend and I had planned an entire cast of celebrities to play out the most insane events of my time on this planet so far.
Melissa McCarthy was going to play me, by the way.
Alas, I was never one of the lucky ones to get discovered flaunting my little 12 year old body to “Ain’t No Other Man” on stage in a small Ontario town (even though I won); I wasn’t blessed in being born with wealthy parents that could give me gold-clad diapers and a life worthy of Bill Gates — though I’ve been incredibly blessed in other ways and recognize that deeply and truthfully.
I was just a really sensitive, emotional and intuitive kid born into a world that was becoming convoluted, confusing and hard at an alarming rate. I stick to the theory that I just didn’t know how to keep up and hold onto my softness, but for a child to have to deal with a feeling that is impossible for them to understand — I think the proper description for what eventually happened was nothing short of “implosion”. I was just really messed up and, in turn, have had some pretty messed up experiences since (more on those later).
So — I’ve come a long way since then. I’m a month shy of 26, I’ve been a student, business owner, mother, partner, daughter, sister. I’ve been an addict, and not; I’ve been healthy, and not. I’ve done some really stupid things, and some not so much — and I’ve been through a lot to get here. I’m excited to look back, get a little nostalgic, and share some mental photographs of what I’ve learned over the (VERY) short time I’ve been alive, with you. Jo is always reminding me that I have important things to say, and I’m starting to realize that even if my story isn’t “believable” — it’s still worth being told (and is pretty entertaining at times, if I’m to be so bold).
I’m grateful to you, our readers, for committing to coming on this ride with us. I think we each have amazing things to offer, both independently and as a unit. My hope for this blog is that we can meet and connect with some incredible people, while keeping away from the haterzz, as well as share our stories and experiences so as to maybe help you — and if it doesn’t “help”, even if it makes you think about things a little bit differently, I’m happy with that too.
So, are you ready to explore our universe? Buckle up, put your helmets on…
Houston, we are All Queer for Takeoff.