my lack of filter does not justify yours

I initially intended to avoid this subject in this blog for a multitude of reasons, however I was naive in believing that this subject did not merit being addressed publicly.  This is not gay propaganda, nor is it bashing any particular group.  Please read this and take an honest look at yourself... Am I talking about you?  Even a little bit?  Even if I don't know you?


For those who are close to me, you know I am a very open person and will talk to anyone about anything, assuming respect and good taste are present.  Well, assuming makes an ass, as we all know.  I thought that we, as a society, were beyond the slurs, terms of degradation, and judgement without reason.  I thought that people were actually starting to accept people for who they are- nurture and nature.  I thought that, as individualistic as this country is, it would be uncommon and unnatural to pigeonhole persons based on a lifestyle choice (or non-choice), ethnicity, body type, or any other non non-sequitur when it comes to knowing another human being.  I thought that people could actually look at others and say, "This is who they are, I choose to love them".  I thought wrong. I assumed.  I'm an ass. 


Why was I naive enough to let go of the notion that people have their own agendas?  Better an ass than an asshole, I believe.  I understand that I am not without fault, however I do pride myself on accepting people for who they are.  My sister is a perfect example: she and I are very different people with different lifestyles and we do not always see eye-to-eye.  However, I know who she is on the most basic level, and would not try and change her.  On the more complicated levels, her choices may differ from mine, but I do not see them as wrong because we differ.  I see them as hers, and as long as she is alive, happy & not wasting her life away doing something self-deprecating -or not doing anything at all- then I choose to support her.  (For the record, she just landed a huge career opportunity and I am very proud of her.) 


Enough walking on eggshells.  I am proud of who I am, I was born this way, and I love me.  Not like... LOVE.  I am a product of nature and nurture.  I can look at humans without a filter, and though I feel I was born with this ability, I have worked hard to hone this ability over the last ten years.  I love people.  Not men.  Not women.  People.  I love to love people for who they are in their soul- regardless of their gender.  I see people without judging them or judging myself for caring about them.  You like what you like, you love who you love, & you are who you are... You can always better yourself, but you cannot change who you innately are.  If I choose to bring a man to introduce to my loved ones, I am asked the following questions: 

"How old is he?" 

"What does he do for a living?" 

"How'd you two meet?" 

However, if I were to bring a woman, under the same circumstances, the questions & statements differ tremendously: 

"Guess you've never had sex with a real man."

"How do you have sex?" 

"Can I watch/join you?"

Seriously?  I'd put some serious money on the notion that just reading those questions made some of my readers uncomfortable; now imagine hearing them out loud and in front of the person you brought, assuring them acceptance was just a click away.  I see where people might be inquisitive, not being a part of that world, and that is absolutely fine, but it all comes down to respect.  Ask if you can talk to me about it, don't just offer your penis up on a plate; I am pretty sure I can find one on my own, thanks.  Also, just because a woman can be attracted to another woman, does not mean the following: 


1. She is attracted to every single woman. 
2. She has no standards in her selection process. 
3. She will have sex with any man.
4. She is down to have sex with you and your girlfriend/friend/buddy/dog/homeless guy. 
5. She is a toy, play thing, piece of meat, or non-human. 
6. She has "Daddy Issues".


That being said, I have none of the above in my little black book: I'm a lady.  Though I pride myself on not being like other girls in many ways, you still have to talk to me with the same respect you would a normal girl... Scratch that.  I want more respect.  I don't lie, cheat, steal, or play games, and I put it all on the table.  If every conversation we have turns sexual or to my experience and dating history (usually focused on women, because men are simple creatures) then you will shortly find our conversations will dwindle quickly to non-existent.  There is so much more to me than that, and if you cannot see that, or don't care to explore that side of me, you will never explore the side of me you are showing obsessive tendencies toward.  Treating a woman- or anyone, for that matter- like a science experiment or social abnormality is uncharacteristically crude, even in this desensitized world we live in.  We clear?  Use your filter, have some respect & remember that people who live differently- be it sexuality, religion, or otherwise- does not make them subhuman and something for you to dissect at your own discretion.  You cannot put me into a box, you cannot force me to label myself or my core feelings, nor can you force me to be anything but a happy, free individual.  

Proud to be me.  No labels. 

For the first time in my life, I have experienced serious judgement from loved ones in my life, simply because of my lack of filter, as I like to call it.  They call it my "sexual choice".  Newsflash: I didn't get a say.  It'd be so much easier to just know, as some people do, that there is only one choice.  The entity that is "me" knows that there is no obvious choice.  When I find that person, I will know it is the right one for me to be with... I don't give a half a damn which department they shop in.  Why wouldn't you want someone in your life- friend, family, coworker- to be happy?  Misery loves company?  Since I was about 12 or 13, I can remember being as fascinated by the female form as the male form.  At my 16th birthday party, a good friend of mine and I decided to kiss.  Admittedly, it was exciting (and she was a good kisser) but I wasn't dying to date her or vying for her attention afterwards.  We just stayed friends, and it worked.  It also didn't feel unnatural.  That doesn't mean you can objectify me now, nor does it mean I am better than you, nor you than I. 


The most painful of all the things I have experienced in my life- from high school horrors of being attacked in every way for being a published model to having my figure criticized by complete strangers to losing loved ones- the most excruciating is the rejection from someone you admire.  I have had men I was being courted by drop me upon finding out I have been involved with women.  I have had many, many men spout out the three aforementioned questions, and then ad-lib a myriad or other moronic statements.  The day that stopped me in my tracks, was the day a close friend's mother informed me that I was the problem.  This coming from a supposed 'Gay Rights Activist' and 'lover of the arts'.  To this day, when our paths cross, she refuses to address me, even when I have shown her nothing but respect, mature demeanor, and given zero reasons for her to have any distaste.  Obviously, I have lost a massive amount of respect for her, but it still kills me that she just doesn't understand me, my lifestyle (whatever that means), or anything about the variety of personalities encompassed within whatever community he thinks I am a part of.  There are so many types of people out there: malicious, altruistic, artistic, selfish, brilliant- the same is true in every race, sexuality, gender, ethnicity, religion and so on.  Like what you like, but keep an open mind and use your damn filter.  All people have feelings, not just straight ones. 


I'd like to introduce my audience to something called NOH8.  The NOH8 Campaign is a photographic silent protest created by celebrity photographer Adam Bouska and partner Jeff Parshley.  It initially was in direct response to Prop 8 in California, however it has become a wide-standing statement against hate in general, especially towards the LGBT (Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual & Transgender) community. Take a minute and check it out, if you haven't already.  

Courtesy NOH8

I am not asking you to make a public statement supporting anything, I am merely asking you to take a moment to consider that your preconceived notions, snap judgements, or even learned behaviors could be wrong, hurtful, & damaging to the relationships you have in your life.  "Not In My Backyard" and "Don't Ask Don't Tell" don't fly anymore, folks.  If you were unaware, we are officially in the Civil Rights movements of the newer millennium.  The 1960's showed tremendous change in how African Americans were treated in America (which took too damn long) and I would like the 2010's to show incredible advancement in the acceptance of LGBT individuals- not tolerance.  

We can easily forgive a child who is afraid of the dark; the real tragedy of life is when people are afraid of the light. -Plato

Thanks to all of you who love me and the people in your life unconditionally.  xx.a

it slipped her mind...

 I love my mother.  She took a fall last November and hit her head, though there were no signs of a concussion, she was much more tender than she should have been for almost three months.  When she went to her doctor, he issued an order for an MRI to make sure everything was alright.  Everything was fine, except for this bit of brain tissue seeping down the back of her spinal column.  Excuse me?  


Note: I left out a lot of details in this blog, as this was a very private struggle and I want to respect my mother's privacy, as well as protect my readers from details they might not be able to handle.  


Flash forward a few weeks and there I am sitting in the neurosurgeon's office at Loma Linda University Hospital, cracking jokes with my mom while we await a doctor we had never met before.  Apparently, a Chiari 1 Malformation  is a simple thing to see on a CT Scan or MRI, as it was with my mother's case, but our case was a bit out of the ordinary.  Luckily, it was caught before any major damage was done (such as explosions within the spinal column or leaking of CSF (spinal fluid).  However, this particular medical condition is typically diagnosed when the individual is in their twenties, not their fifties.  The doctor was wonderful, approachable and professional at the same time, and he informed us that we had to make the decision as a family.  My father, sister and I informed our mom we would support whatever measure she wanted to take, but we all felt that the surgery seemed like the best possible approach, as it was both corrective and preventative.  After a week or two of deliberation, my mom scheduled her surgery and the wait began.  And then the wait ended, when the neurosurgeon's office called and moved her surgery up two weeks.  

Fears, hopes, concerns, facts, opinions, fantasies, nightmares, and history aside: We had the unknown.  We all went to bed, said our prayers, and hopped in the car before dawn to head forty minutes east to hand the person who gave me life to someone I had met one time.  In true Cartwright fashion, my mom realized she didn't have her night driving glasses and asked me to drive about halfway down the street.  We exited her car and did a Chinese Fire Drill, waving our arms and flailing about to make my sister laugh, who was following in her truck behind us.  When we checked in to pre-op, my sister and I laughed with my mom the entire time.  We blew up latex gloves and made them talk like turkeys, we chatted with the nurses, and even asked if there were any cute, single anesthesiologists around (ok, my sister didn't... Don't judge me).  We each kissed her "see you later" as opposed to "goodbye" and hollered down the hall that we were quite jealous of all the drugs she got to take, and requested she save us some.  We both made sure to smile big, as the last thing we wanted her to think about were her two daughters smiling with confidence and love. 

Jesus watches over us.
Jesus, and an Asian lady.

Sister sleeping:
Rare, but sweet. 

ICU Official Sleep Pack:
Be jealous.

 Those were without a doubt the longest 7 hours of my life.  Even with the incredible staff at Loma Linda going out of their way to keep us informed with Patient Relations personnel and text message updates (yes, you read that correctly), it was nerve-wracking, gut-wrenching, and all together draining.  When she finally came out, she had some trouble with the anesthesia and her lungs.  What was supposed to be a few days in recovery and a basic hospital room, turned into four long days in ICU.  The first two days were slow and painful.  It was so incredibly difficult to see my mom in so much pain, as well as so confused.  the doctors assured me that this was in fact not something we should be overly concerned with.  My sister and I were in the ICU every few hours and slept on the floor of the hospital waiting rooms for four cold, hard nights.  Every second was worth it when, on day 3, we went upstairs to see mom and the light was back in her eyes.  She was eating a bit, she was cracking little jokes, and (most importantly for me) she was once again flipping me off for my smart ass mouth.  There's my mommy.  I felt my heart beat again for the first time in 72 hours.  Thank God. 


I never left that hospital, not once, for four days, and my sister only to grab us food once or twice.  The night guards, nurses, receptionists, doctors, and even the families of other patients in ICU knew us and asked about our mom's progress every day.  My friends were calling and texting, facebooking, and bringing coffee to the hospital (Loma Linda is Seventh Day Adventist... No caffeine anywhere on campus!) and sending love & prayers, I know because we could feel them.  Family was bringing food and stopping by to sit with my sister and I as we watched everything from which drugs she was on to her vitals.  The abundance of support was refreshing and appreciated beyond expression.  I truly think it was all the prayers and love sent to her, in addition to her sheer will to be a badass, that helped her do a 180 in the ICU and shock everyone around her; even her doctors.  

Contrary to popular belief, hospital floors are not
conducive to sleep.  Or avoiding back injury.

She is now home and resting.  She is still dizzy, a bit sore & has a minimal appetite, but she is kicking ass in my book, and I am so proud of her.  She loves showing off the crazy scar she has on the back of her head and neck, and gets her stitches out tomorrow.  Thank you to all of you who went out of your way to be there for her and for our family.  We couldn't have done it without you.  Please know, if you ever need anything, I am forever in your debt.  Unless you need help moving this Saturday, I am actually really busy.  xx.a

Love for Lala (my mom) from the best people in the world.