How long can a blog remain dormant and still be viable? We’re about to find out.
I last posted to Pucker Up Buttercup nearly thre
e years ago. Since then, she (yes, she … Buttercup identifies as female) has sat un-updated and, I’m assuming, unread. An abandoned blog, adrift in the Blogosphere, like a tumbleweed spinning across the desert, accompanied only by the sound of crickets and the occasional howl of a lone coyote.
At least, that’s how I’ve thought of her, and I’ve felt guilty for it. Buttercup deserves better. She’s a good blog and I’m proud of her. But, when you’ve got a case of the bipolars, it can be difficult to be a consistent blogger. And when you’re inconsistent, the time between posts can be erratic. I’d have good spells where I posted nearly every day. Then I’d fall in the hole and not make an appearance for weeks or months.
One of the weird things about being a lesbian, and I assume the same holds true for gay men and others of a non-heteronormative persuasion, is that there’s really no societal rules to obey or milestones to reach. For instance, I’ve never looked at my watch and thought, “Oh shit! I didn’t realize how late it was. I better hurry up and find a husband!” And although things are much different now, it wasn’t all that long ago that no one would have thought to ask when I was going to get around to birthing some babies. Back then, lesbians just had dogs. Now we’re collecting babies like they’re on sale at J. Crew. 
For far too long there’s been a feud between lesbians and bisexual women … sort of an LGBT Hatfields and McCoys. Some lesbians apparently think that bisexual women are just refusing to admit that they’re actually gay and claim to be bisexual to keep a foot in the hetero word. And there are those who warn that bisexuals always go back to the D. As one who’s been dumped for both the D and the V, let me just say for the record that they both suck. Finally there’s the camp that says being in a relationship with a bi woman means making allowances for her to dabble in her other gender attractions. 
I find it very difficult to understand the level of anger and hatred some people have toward the gay community. I understand that there are folks who find the thought of two men or two women kissing icky or unpleasant (mostly two men, though … the public seems to have a strong fascination with most girl-on-girl activity). But I don’t see how that discomfort turns to rage and loathing. Some people find sushi distasteful, but they don’t hate sushi fans or want to beat them up or deny them rights because of the cuisine they enjoy. 
If I had my druthers, I’d write in long hand. My thoughts seem to flow better, I have something tangible to show for my work and I don’t edit myself while I’m writing as much as I do when I’m typing.
Here we are, heading into the second week of June, and I haven’t even started my Gay Pride Extravaganza shopping yet. It seems the holiday season just sneaks up on me somehow. In the Spring my brain is all anticipatory and abuzz with party plans and gift lists and then BAM! I’m midway through June without a single thing done.
I woke up fat not long ago. Not Lifetime Network and TLC fighting for the rights to my story fat, but definitely heavier than I’ve ever been. And logically I know it happened over time, but the older I get, the faster time seems to fly. Remember how long it took to go from your 16 year milestone of getting a driver’s license to your 21 year milestone of being able to drink legally? Eons! I had to drink illegally for years just to cope with time’s refusal to hurry the hell up. Those were the slowest five years of my life. Do you know how long the most recent five years took to pass? About 37 minutes. At this rate I’ll be dead before I finish this post. 
he way it really happened or simply the way it’s been remembered, I can’t say for sure. But family history has it that my mother was so enamored and protective of me that she didn’t let anyone — including my father and grandparents — hold me for the first six weeks of my life. So it’s not surprising that at an age when other babies were being potty-trained and learning to walk, I was perfecting my ability to manipulate my mom in order to get anything my devious little heart desired. 
Pucker Up Buttercup 