Kid-knees

I've never been one to fantisize about having children. Perhaps it's the whining or the screaming that turned me off. I suppose cleaning up scraped knees and changing dirty diapers seemed unappealing too. But, the likely reason for my apathetic stance on birthing babies, was the belief that because I identified as "lesbian" (more on how I loathe labels later......I'm sure), having children seemed to me, an utter impossibility.

Much has changed since the first time the inner-dyke in me roared: Ellen came out, Anne Heche flipped out, Rosie and Kelly had a baby, Tom and Nicole split, and I realized boys had more to offer than the sometimes putrid smell they leave behind upon exiting a room. It's not some life-altering newly-found enlightenment, however, that prompted me to share with you today. The idea of allowing total strangers to peruse my inner-most thoughts has always seemed, well, rather creepy to me. But, armed with an acute sense of "me" I've started blogging. To thrive personally, I've come to believe, I must force myself into the unknown, into the uncomfortable, and perhaps even into the areas that creep me out.

Last week I was told I likely have kidney disease. Unfortunately, this disease is the same one that attempted to ravish the youth and liveliness from my father 10 years ago. I've seen this beast in action, watched it thrive, and witnessed it nearly take my father's life. But, I've also witnessed its defeat, its submission. Thus, the kinetic energy of my sadness is presently focused on the disease rather than my woes. I'll whip it, and if I don't? Well, at least I started blogging.