Transplanted Life
Saturday, February 19, 2005
 
Getting set
The Marathon is fun, because how often do you have to really provision yourself before going to a movie? Normally, I'd be good with just a purse, but since I'm bringing a pillow, I think it might be wise to use a backpack, which is also filled with stuff like a toothbrush and toothpaste, more snacks than strictly necessary, a notepad, some juices... You'd think I was going camping or something.

I wasn't quite sure how to dress - the weather gods, not wanting to make things easy on us, dropped the temperature what feels like thirty degrees yesterday, but it's not like I'm going to be going outside the heated movie theater that much. Comfort, I figure, is key, so jeans and a sweater, although I know I'm going to be really cold if I have to stand in line for very long. There's some folks who arrive early because they think waiting in line is an important part of the event, but, really - it's too cold for that.

Anyway, Telly should be getting here in a few minutes. I think I'm starting to get the hang of how to act around him, just treat him like a good friend of the opposite sex. I suppose it would be easier if we actually had a long-standing relationship. One thing I noticed last night (and before) is that he gets uncomfortable when I talk about sex. He can say "lookin' sexy" or make comments about "our" mother apparently being on the promiscuous side, but seems to prefer not to know about me every having had a physical relationship. He apparently also expects me to believe that if Maureen were straight, they still wouldn't do anything other than hold hands.

So, the plan is to meet up with him here, so that we just bring one backpack between us, and then connect with Kate and Alan at the theater. Yeah, she just called, said they'd met up in the hallway last night, and he sounded interested, so he would be coming today.

Well, doorbell's ringing. Time for 24 hours of movie madness.

-Martina
Friday, February 18, 2005
 
Those who don't like it when I talk about movies should probably find something else to read this weekend.
It's the weekend of the Boston Sci-Fi Film Festival, with the centerpiece being the twenty-four hour Marathon. Used to be the Marathon was the whole event, but now in an attempt to become more Film Festival-y, they've added opening and closing nights. Hasn't yet seemed to net them any nifty previews yet, but who knows what the future will bring. I was hoping this would get us a sneak of The Hitch-hiker's Guide to the Galaxy, Godzilla: Final Wars or even Serenity, but instead we get The Creature From the Sunny-side Up Trailer Park.

Which was kind of neat. Telly IM'ed me the other day to ask if I was busy this weekend; there was some thing up in Vermont that he didn't want to deal with by himself. I told him sorry, but I don't actually know these people you're talking about. He says he really wishes he could pull that off, but he'd slip and not act ignorant. I say it's not an act, I really am ignorant... And that didn't sound right, even as I said it. Anyway, I mention the Marathon, he says it sounds like fun. I tell him Kate's got an extra ticket, and if she hasn't gotten up the guts to ask Alan...

Turns out she hasn't, so Telly decides to buy it off her, and meets us at the Somerville Theater just before 7pm. It's the first prolonged exposure Kate has had to Telly, and he amuses her no end. She sees more of a resemblence than I do, and says it's good for me - that her own siblings are a pain in the neck, but she wouldn't trade them for anything. She can't imagine what it's like to grow up without them.

Anyway, the director of tonight's movie was in attendence, one Christopher Coppola. Yes, of those Coppolas. There are an awful lot of them. It's funny, kind of, because the guy looks like a biker, but every once in a while, in the middle of a sentence he'll sound just like his brother, Nicolas Cage, for a word or two.

The movie is kind of silly, but it is, ironically enough, sort of about siblings in its way; as the protagonists are half-brothers who have never met, one white and one black, but cast and acted in such a way that it's not tough to believe they're related. I ask Kate afterward if there's anything like that between Telly and me. I don't see any resemblence, and I didn't grow up in the same house as him, but is there something biological that comes through? She says there are a few small things, not really much that's behavioral, but we've got similar ears, of all things, and the same habit of using our toes to scratch the backs of our legs every once in a while. Which is something I never realized I was doing.

It's funny; I couldn't see any resemblence between me and Telly because I would just look in a mirror and see "a woman", but having Michelle's brother around is kind of giving me an opportunity to looks at this woman, specifically, and see what she's made of.

-Martina
Wednesday, February 16, 2005
 
The best part of Valentine's Day
Half-priced chocolate the day after. Mm-mm. If you don't mind buying heart-shaped things for yourself rather than waiting for some man to give them to you. Of course, most of the stuff that's on sale at the supermarket is some kind of peanut butter cup or Butterfinger, which means they sort of function as a laxative. Perfect for a Valentine's Day metaphor, eh?

I hated that made-up holiday as a man, and now... Well, I find it makes people crazy. Like, Maureen's worried not wanting to call one of the girls she met in the club Saturday night too soon after the "holiday" for fear of looking like she's just calling because she feels depressed and pathetic after spending Cupid Day alone.

Maybe next year I'll have a properly romantic one; I thought I did last year, but now, retroactively, now that I know it wasn't Carter I was with. Kind of taints it, doesn't it? Two years ago, I remember being with Maggie. We'd just been together for a little more than a couple weeks and still completely crazy about each other. Five months we were together. Five months as boyfriend and girlfriend compared to almost a year as girlfriends. Neither time was I sure that I'd found "it", but both times...

Well, at least it seems Kate did better. Looks like I get to meet this "Alan" this weekend at the Sci-Fi Film Festival.

-Martina
Sunday, February 13, 2005
 
Maureen thinks she's soooooo clever
Not much to do last night, so when Maureen asks me if I'd check some places out with her, I say sure, what the heck. She wants to be able to recommend and describe places for guests with first-hand experience, but, at the same time, she believes in the buddy system, so that there's someone to help her get home if she "tests" too many Manhattans, or for strength in nunmbers should some guy who's not easily discouraged start hitting on her. It is, I've found, a solid plan. I used to joke about girls being herd animals, but not any more. Guys are bigger than us, and it takes them less time to get tipsy because of that.

I have to think about it, though. For Maureen, this sort of thing is instinctive, it's been pounded into her head practiclly since birth. Me, I'll feel like doing something, and I'll just do it, and because everyone's used to girls acting like Maureen (well, not necessarily like Maureen, but more like her than me), I get tagged with a not-quite-accurate brush. I've only come close to getting in trouble a couple of times, and it'll make me more worried than I was for a few weeks, and then I'm back to normal.

The point of all this is that I didn't find anything terribly odd about Mo asking me to come along, so I put on some black stockings (when you're not seeing anyone, there's not a whole lot of incentive to shave your legs on the weekends), changed my clothes, and headed out. It's not until we actually get inside that I realize there are no guys.

I pull Maureen aside, and ask what she's doing, and she says she's sorry, but she didn't want to come alone and she didn't think I'd be her wingman if she just asked. I sigh, tell her how peculiar the word "wingman" sounds coming from a 5'4" Christian lesbian's mouth, and say lying's not cool. I mean, if a pair of girls comes up to us, am I supposed to lead one of them on, or say sorry, I'm straight, so if you're trying to hook up, you're just wasting your time while my roommate chats up your friend?

And, besides, how's this supposed to work? You go into most bars, see two guys or two girls together, and you think they're friends looking for the same thing. In here, how are people supposed to know we're not an item?

This puzzles her, so we just try to watch our body language. Don't pull close to each, no touching, actually lean away from one another when appropriate and possible. It was kind of nerve-wracking, actually. Just going someplace to hang out, get a drink, etc., shouldn't feel like work.

It was kind of embarrassing when the first lady who approached us and asked if we were together started talking to me, and I said sorry, I'm just here to support my friend. She tried not to look disappointed, mumbled something about Maureen not being her type, and awkwardly backed away.

She did get a couple phone numbers as the night went on, though. I actually wound up talking to a pretty cool blonde for a while while her friend talked with Michelle. She said I must feel pretty weird coming to a gay bar, and I said, well, maybe, but I was a man in a past life, so being in a situation where one's trying to hook up with girls isn't a complete unknown to me. Oh, she says excitedly, you're into spirituality. Nope, I say, hard science, baby. And I lay a condensed version of the story on her, and her reaction is obviously that I'm pulling her leg, but she can't trap me in anything. By the time she and her friend head out, she's actually saying that this stuff with basis in researchable fact sounds cooler than her psuedo-science.

So, as I told Kate at the Sunday morning movie club this morning, I went to a gay bar and converted a girl. Although that would sound a whole lot better if I had a different set of genetalia.

-Martina

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Note: This blog is a work of fantasy; all characters are either ficticious or used ficticiously. The author may be contacted at JaySeaver@comcast.net